Last night I was sitting in church before Mass thinking how, this time last year, we had just arrived to Venice on three water taxis which let us off right at St. Mark's Square. Then, after checking in to our hotel, I called my mother to update her on our travels.
And she had a suggestion.
"Go to the 6:45 p.m. Mass in St. Mark's Cathedral," she advised.
"Usually the interior lights are turned off to protect the artwork, even
during the day with the tour groups, but when they celebrate Mass the lights
are all on. Everything inside is illuminated, and it's not something everyone
gets to see."
We changed our plans. Dinner was postponed and our evening agenda was set
aside. We walked across St. Mark's Square to the Basilica which, when we first
walked in, was like stepping into a golden glow of shimmering mosaics,
flickering candles, whispered prayers, and the smell of incense.
All the excitement of travel -- what we had visited, eaten, experienced
-- fell away to the present of just sitting there, under a golden glow, feeling
grateful, humble, and most of all, in awe of everything.
Those same feeling returned last night as I sat before Mass reflecting on our trip. I had received so many texts
and messages asking about the trip, how it went and what we saw, what was my
favorite place or what we had purchased, but I found it hard to put 13 days of
adventure (in which we did a LOT) into a coherent response. Where to begin?
At St. Mark's Basilica.
To that sense of gratitude for safety and wholeness, because despite a million and
one things that could have gone wrong -- missed flights, lost luggage, illness,
accident, misplaced passports, bad weather -- nothing had.
To that feeling of humility of trusting in God even as we faced our fears: the
responsibility of getting everyone from here, to there, and back home again; of
leaving behind loved ones and heading out of the familiar and into the unknown,
real and imagined.
To that sense of wonder and awe.
Because we there, and we are now home.
Amen.
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