Modern Rome sits somewhat north of the ancient city, and the Vatican sits on the far side of the Tiber, or, from the point of view of Horatius, on the wrong side of the bridge.
The heart of Old Rome, the Forum and the area around it, are, naturally, in ruins. But the Romans that followed the empire apparently didn't build many new structures on top of the old; they displaced themselves somewhat north of the Forum, the Palatine, and the Aventine hills, and left the forum for history.
The road running from the Forum to the Colosseum, the Via Sacra, is intact, as is the Arch of Titus.
The Colosseum itself is still in remarkable condition. Some modern work has been done to shore it up, but it was done skillfully and unobstrusively. Here is the Colosseum in a little bit of morning fog.
Next to the Colosseum is the Arch of Constantine, also in remarkably good shape.
After walking around the Forum and Colsseum on May 1, my wife and the Colossus-In-Laws hopped on the metro to go to St. Peter's to see Pope Benedict XVI give his first blessing. Our adventures were just beginning.
We had not previously experienced any street crime in Rome. But that day, the Metro was packed. We had trouble getting everyone on the train -- and I went last. As I got on the crowded train, I saw my father-in-law was in a struggle with a young man. I thought it was just some routine shoving back and forth until my father-in-law said to me, "His hand was in my pocket".
My father-in-law is a big man -- not taller than me, but broad, with very strong arms and shoulders. When he was young, he used to work summers as a roofer. Although he is seventy, he is still not a man I would pick a fight with. He had the pickpocket's arm grapsed firmly and would not let go.
Some yelling had broken out, and two carabinieri entered the car, grabbed the guy, and yanked him off the train.
A young man who was next to my father-in-law was having a heated discussion with him in Italian, which my father-in-law does not speak. Both my father-in law and I thought he was a friend of the pickpocket who was complaining about his friend's rough treatment -- he looked young enough to be a student. He finally, in poor English, got across the point that we were to get off at the next station with him to talk to the police. We replied to him in in Eric Cartman fashion. He trumped us, also in Cartman fashion, with this line (or words to this effect). Turns out he was a cop. Serpico produced some identification which satisfied us that he was an undercover cop, and he was angry because a) we were saying we didn't want to get involved after he and his boys had caught a pickpocket red-handed, and b) we were not particularly respectful before he identified himself as Johnny Law (which problem he could have solved by producing the badge a little earlier).
We got off at our stop; and in the train station, we went with Serpico to fill out a statement. So, we did our civic duty, SPQR and all of that. When we were done, we thanked the officer, who, frankly, still seemed pissed.
Then we went on our merry way. I said to my father-in-law, "I'm glad you didn't kick his ass", which made him laugh; we could imagine what the kind ministrations of the carabinieri would be if we had assaulted an undercover officer.
The blessing in St. Peter's Square was a remarkable event. St. Peter's Square was designed to hold about 60,000 people; I'd estimate that the number was probably closer to 80,000 on that day. Benedict began promptly on time, and spoke in slow, and apparently unaccented Italian; the Italians we spoke with said that his Italian is excellent.
He was amplified, but I was still struck by the resonance and the power of Benedict's voice. He has a deeper voice than you would imagine; somewhere between Gandalf and Treebeard in it timbre, as well as in its seriousness of purpose. It's a voice that bespeaks a powerful, thoughful mind.
There were pilgrims from all over the world there; Benedict noted the ones from Hungary.
And that's when an idea began to form in my mind.
Underlying all of the European countries there are some common ties. Those ties are the ties of Rome, the eternal city. The ties are either from the ancient empire, whose roads still lead back to Rome, or to the Church, which is the heir to the Empire.
Around us were Italians, Spaniards, Germans, Hungarians, Poles -- all unified by a common religion, all coming to see the same man -- the head of our church. And many of these people were young.
It struck me that if there were a man to rouse Europe from its stupor, and to waken its age-old sense of moral conviction, that there is no one more ideally suited to do this than the Pope.
This pope.
John Paul II was focused outward, to the far marches of the church, to Africa and Asia. He was about expanding the frontiers of the church, taking it into places to which it had never before dared venture.
But I suspect that Benedict has a slightly different mission. He seems to understand that the church, while growing on the periphery, is sick at its core. I think he will be a Pope focused on European renewal, on returning the faith to its ancient roots. The Church is, because of history and the ancient bargain it struck with the Romans, a European institution, first and foremost. But it has, perhaps, ignored Europe for too long.
Europe has all of the Churches; but they are largely empty. A Pope who could get Europeans to come back to the church would be a Pope who could strengthen the Church immeasurably.
I think that we have such a Pope. I am predicting that if he journeys to Germany this summer, he will be greeted by surprisingly large and boisterous crowds. And I'm predicting those crowds will be filled with young people, saying "Give us guidance" and "Tell us what we must do". The moral laxity and permissiveness of Europe has proven itself empty of meaning, and I suspect that the younger generation of Europeans might be inclined to look again to the faith for meaning, guidance, and purpose.
Americans see the Europeans as cynics who have become too devoted to their own comfort to make hard decisions, to kneel before any God, or to even take up arms in defense of the common Empire. But when I was in Europe I could almost feel that this was changing. I suspect that the Europeans, though sick at heart, are not quite dead yet.
