Back & Forth, Ten Weeks In

Myself, Paola & Fr. Austin at Fiumicino Airport,
just minutes after arriving in Rome!

Believe it or not, I’ve now reached the tenth week of my year as a missionary here in Rome. Now about one fifth of the way in, I’m beginning to get a glimpse of life in this little corner of the world, and yet so much still feels new and interesting every single day.

I remember on the first day here, just a few hours after arriving on Roman soil, saying something like “every five minutes I go back and forth from ‘ok, I can do this, I can totally live here’ to ‘oh my God, what am I doing here – how the heck am I going to do this?!’” Fr. Austin, my supervisor and rector at St. Paul’s suggested I should write down that feeling and re-read it later because it would surely change over time.

Looking back after a fairly short period, in some ways I still feel that way, and in others I do feel myself gradually changing. Just as much as I was split 50/50 wavering back and forth the day I arrived, that sensation hasn’t gone away just yet. In fact, it’s almost as present now as it was when I began.

I said I would never get used to the way Romans cross the street (they mostly just dart out into the street, confidently assuming that cars will stop for them in due course), or the way our church shakes as if it were in an earthquake zone when the local metro train passes directly below it. I said I could never adjust to the convoluted layout of the roads, or the hard-to-find street signs, or the altogether confusing public transit system in this town either. And yet these little aspects of life have become sort of second nature to me already.

Sharing a meal with JNRC refugees and guests
for the Islamic feast of Eid Al Adha.
Across the table more than 4 languages were spoken!

Yet so much of life here, though I experience it every day, never ceases to surprise and amaze me. The extraordinarily multilingual world that exists in this city, particularly hear in this tourist- and immigrant-filled section of one of the world’s most popular travel destinations, causes me to reflect every day on my own language and to strive to learn others. The extraordinary beauty of the Roman Forum, the Vatican, the Coliseum, the Trevi Fountain, Piazza Novona, Piazza Quirinale, the Spanish Steps and so many world-renowned landmarks that all lie within walking distance of my front door surprise and delight me every single day. It amazes me to recall that people like me have been enjoying this city, walking down the very same streets and through the same buildings that I traverse since the days before St. Paul himself stood here.

Paola and I take selfies at the Coliseum & the Vatican

But not only does this curious city give me that odd back-and-forth insider/outsider fluctuating feeling, but even more so of my ministry at this incredible parish. This past month, especially since our remarkably talented parish administrator has been out of the office on an extended leave, Paola and I have experienced odd variations of familiar comfort and absolute confusion in some pretty healthy intervals.

In addition to our service with the refugees in our refugee center (a topic on which I’ll reflect in more detail in my next post), we have been spending a great deal of time in the parish office, attending to the wide and diverse needs of this congregation community. I wrote here about the curious and wide-ranging constituencies which share the building and the ministries of this church, and virtually all of them intersect at the administrator’s desk. Sometimes this means serving on the altar, working out the acolyte schedules for the upcoming Sunday, or printing the Bulletin for worship services, or sending out the weekly email of upcoming events and reflections – all pretty standard tasks for which a lifetime as an Episcopalian and 3 years of seminary have trained me well. And then I start to feel good, getting that “I totally know what I’m doing here, this is fine, I’ve got this” sensation that plants a smug little grin from cheek to cheek.

And then the phone rings. Unfortunately for me, most of the phone calls here are in Italian. Usually it’s inquiries about concerts or other requests from members of the local community – nothing particularly menacing in general. But my Italian is still embarrassingly rudimentary enough that I shake like a leaf every time the phone so much as chirps at me, desperately searching around the room for a staff member who speaks the language with any fluency. Thankfully there are many Italian speakers on staff, and one can usually be found. But I never feel quite as hopelessly lost as when a Romanesque voice appears on the other end of the line.

Likewise in the time I’m blessed to spend at the JNRC. I’ve been fortunate to work with a dedicated committee to plan an annual Christmas bazaar to raise money to support the Refugee Center. This work of fundraiser planning, after years working in churches and on political campaigns, feels quite natural for me, even in a new environment. And yet oftentimes coming down to the Center to simply spend time with our guests can be much more daunting for an introvert like myself. It takes quite an expenditure of energy and fortitude to determine who speaks English (or whether I can get by with my limited Italian knowledge) and for that matter what to talk about. How can I find common ground, bring them joy and experience our shared humanity with people whose experience has been so radically different from my own? These are concerns, fears, demons in many ways that are difficult for all of us to shake.

Front cover of the church magazine, Fall 2015

For Paola too, the pendulum swings between confidence and nervous energy on a minute-to minute basis. Being a very new Episcopalian not interested in ordained ministry, the “churchy stuff” as I call it, (acolyting, bulletins etc) can be truly untrodden territory whereas I am much more at ease. But speaking with the Latin-American congregation and taking photos to share the JNRC’s story are real talents for her that far surpass my own. In our recently completed work on this season’s Church magazine, my skills with English writing and religious affairs, and hers in translating and graphic design complimented each other perfectly! We both learned new things and produced a product of which we can be very proud.

I think it’s safe to say that we will continue to have many moments of light and dark, comfort and confusion throughout our time here and beyond. That’s why we moved here, and in some ways I think that’s what life’s about. Pray for us, dear friends in Christ, as the journey continues and I look forward to keeping you posted as the days and months increase.