I have had the lovely opportunity to travel recently. On my way home, I stopped for a few days in Rome. And late one afternoon after an enjoyable day of wandering the ancient streets, sitting with my aperitivo in a small trattoria, the couple at the next table struck up conversation with me. They were from Sweden and had, that day, been to the Vatican museums. I asked them how they found their time at the Vatican and the woman, peering over the straw in her aperol spritz, observed with a groan: ‘it was hot, it was dusty, it was old’. It was a reminder to me that we all see things through different eyes.

To my eyes, there is so much beauty in this Roman world. Streets peppered with huge churches – so many icons and so much magnificent art. So many candle lighting opportunities! And each occasion I walked past the Vatican there was a crush of people – queuing to get into St Peters, queuing for the museums, walking and wandering in St Peter’s Square. And I pondered – what draws people to this sacred site? 

When I gaze at the artwork in the churches my thoughts are drawn to its creation. This was an artist’s way of expressing their love of God, and their sense of the sacred. It is awe-inspiring – in some of the churches every centimetre of space crowded with richly coloured biblical images. When I watch people drop their euro into the tin and light a candle, I am reminded that this is a symbolic action that transcends time and age. 

And I wonder about how far we have come since the Acts of those early Apostles. Their stories have been nudging and guiding us throughout this Easter period with the sustained readings on weekdays and on Sundays. They have shared their travel stories with us. We have learned that they prayed, that there was a cost for their proclamation of the Gospel. That they shared and broke bread. That at times they were not welcome and yet they were undeterred. And at times we may have smarted at the urgent and uncompromising message they offered about the need to witness and proclaim. We have been 21st witnesses to their work of healing, teaching, care of the poor. Theirs was a rolled up sleeves, journeying together approach to mission. They left dust behind. This insight to the beginning church is instructive. 

Leap forward a few centuries to 1962 and in his opening address to the Second Vatican Council, Pope John XXIII noted that the ‘political and economic challenges of the times; a pessimism about the future of the human condition and a desire for a ‘new enthusiasm, new joy’ impelled him to convene the Council. He observed that the ‘human family is on the threshold of a new era’ and warned against guarding the treasure of the Church as though a ‘museum-piece’ but to rather ‘ensure that these treasures are relevant to the modern age’.  Fifty-two years later Pope Francis, in speaking to participants at an international conference, observed the importance of ‘drawing from roots to move forward’ rather than becoming ‘guardians of dead traditions’. And I wonder if this is something that the older woman intuited when she visited the Vatican. She saw the dust of dead traditions. 

It reminded me that we are called to see with different eyes. To gaze at the Cross as a source of inspiration that suffering is not the final word. That the stories of our past come to life when they inform how we work today. That the beauty entrusted to us by artists long gone can open our imagination and remind us that we are not alone in our love of God – generation of poets, artists and writers uphold us. That the work of Paul continues, albeit differently, to speak of Jesus, to heal with our actions and words and to ensure that we create paths charged with hope and possibility. To bring life to this synodal path and walk humbly with each other and to continue to bring to life the story of Jesus. I suspect this requires us to unsettle the dust! 

By Cathy Jenkins