Roman Drivers

During my recent trip to Rome, I enjoyed several excellent meals at local restaurants. Dining out from the hotel was a thoroughly enjoyable part of the trip.

 

One evening I joined Ben and his wife and daughter for dinner. We took an Uber to reach our destination.

 

I can say from that experience that the legend of the aggressive Italian taxi driver is no myth.

 

Ben and his family took the back seat, and I sat up front with the driver. I greeted the driver, who had the look of the disheveled uncle you need to keep your eye on at weddings. He spoke no English, but he turned and gave me a mischievous wink.

 

It was a hint of what was to come.

 

To say that the driver confirmed the stereotypes is too generic, so allow me to provide a few details.

 

I noticed no speed limit signs, but I imagine this driver would have taken them merely as suggestions rather than laws.

 

Abrupt changes of lane were routine.

 

At one point, the driver pulled into the oncoming lane to pass a slower car. To get the oncoming automobile to slow down, he proceeded to honk the car horn vigorously and repeatedly.

 

I turned to speak to Ben in the back seat, and he and his family were all staring wide-eyed and in a state of near-shock.

 

“If any of you want to sit in the front seat on the way back, I’m OK with that,” I offered.

 

Nobody laughed, but Ben did show me his phone's screen, explaining that the estimated drive time had suddenly dropped from 17 minutes to 7 minutes.

 

After the driver dropped us off, Ben looked at his phone’s map and announced that we were not at the restaurant he’d told the driver to take us to, but that’s OK because we spied several promising restaurants near the spot where we had been dropped.

 

Not that we explored the options: we sat at the first table we came to so as to recover from the white-knuckle, kamikaze taxi experience.

 

Sometimes legends, stereotypes, and myths are rooted in history.

 

And sometimes legends, stereotypes, and myths are the history.

 

 

Tenebrae on Maundy Thursday

Today is Maundy Thursday, and this morning at church we sang Tenebrae.

Tenebrae (Latin for “darkness” or “shadows”) is a profound and deeply moving Catholic liturgical service, observed during the Sacred Triduum — specifically on Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday.

 

In the pre-1955 Holy Week liturgy, Tenebrae was celebrated on the evening before each of these days, i.e., on Spy Wednesday (looking at you, Judas), Maundy Thursday evening, and Good Friday evening.

 

It is a time of intense mourning and reflection, as the Church commemorates the betrayal, Passion, and burial of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

 

The Tenebrae service lasts for about two hours and combines the Office of Matins and Lauds, the first two hours of the Divine Office. It is chanted in a darkened church, with only the light of candles to illuminate the sacred texts.

 

At the front of the sanctuary stands the Tenebrae hearse, a triangular candelabrum bearing 15 candles:

• 14 candles represent the Apostles and faithful followers of Christ.
• The 15th candle, placed at the top, symbolizes Christ Himself, the Light of the World.

After each psalm is chanted, one candle is extinguished, plunging the church ever deeper into darkness. This symbolizes the abandonment of Christ by His disciples and the growing darkness over the earth as He approaches death.

 

After the 14 candles are extinguished, the single white candle — Christ — is hidden behind the altar, symbolizing His burial in the tomb.

 

At the end of the service, a great noise (strepitus) is made — at our church one bangs on the pews; some places slam books on the choir stall. This represents the earthquake at the moment of Christ’s death and the confusion of creation in the face of the death of the Creator.

 

Then, in silence and darkness, the hidden candle is returned to its place — not extinguished.

 

The texts of Tenebrae are drawn from:

• The Book of Lamentations of the Prophet Jeremiah, chanted in a mournful tone, lamenting the desolation of Jerusalem — foreshadowing the desolation of Christ's Passion.
• The Psalms, particularly those that prophesy the sufferings of the Messiah.
• The Responsories, which offer deeply poetic and sorrowful reflections on Our Lord’s Passion.

 

These are traditionally sung in Gregorian chant, with a haunting and meditative quality that leads the soul into contemplation of the Mystery of the Cross.

Tenebrae is a powerful act of devotion, inviting the faithful to accompany Christ in His abandonment, agony, and death. It is a moment to enter into the heart of Holy Week, to keep watch with the Lord in His darkest hour, and to meditate on the gravity of sin, the depths of divine love, and the hope of redemption.

 

The Royal Colors

Yesterday was Passion Sunday - from the old Latin word "passio," which means "suffering" or "endurance."

All the crucifixes and pictures in the church were draped in purple, the color for mourning, but also for royalty.

 

It's a salute to our Lord Jesus Christ, who loved us so much that He suffered on the cross for our sins - a royal king paying the debt owed by His people.