Wax on my head

As some of you may have noticed, I stopped writing journal entries over a week ago. Someone wrote to me asking whether it was as boring for me to write the journal as it was for said person to read it….be that as it may, I received a telephone call (which trumps a mere e-mail) from another friend, whose advice was to ignore bad counsel.

Alright, so I am back to telling you what I did during the day.
This morning I made my happy way to Mass, delighted at the prospect of another high Mass. (As you can well imagine, the Mass on the 14th was extra solemn.) Indeed everything was set up in the church for such a celebration, and as I settled into my pew, leafing through my Liber and missal, the last thing I expected was for Fr. Gerard to ask me to serve because they were short one body. “Umm but Father, I’ve never--” but by then I was already in the sacristy, someone handing me a cassock and surplice, and Chris, the master of ceremonies, giving me first & last minute instructions. Thankfully, most of it consisted in “And just do what Maurizio on your right does.” I was only slightly panicked, but then the celebrant said “30 seconds!” and Chris: “Now the only difficult thing you must remember is---” and then the bell chimed, and for some reason, I found myself vested in cassock and surplice, holding a candle I forgot to light (somebody fixed this problem just as I was leaving the sacristy) in the procession towards the altar.

To me it seemed that Mass was over in no time, and I only managed to mess things up occasionally, like when I got tangled in my cassock when genuflecting and I spilled hot wax on my head (which I was still picking out of my hair over lunch,) or when I was asked to stand in front of the thurifer, I should have presumed it meant to stand facing him so I could hold the thurible open, not with my back to him facing the altar….
Well, that was Mass. After that I went to piazza del Popolo as I had planned, but my mood was immediately ruined because some silly basketball event was being held, and nonsense muzack was blaring, ruining what would have been a beautiful afternoon. I quickly made my way to Santa Maria del Popolo, but Mass was being celebrated, so I left rather quickly only after a cursory glance about, not wishing to play tourist during the sacred mysteries. The twin churches were open, but they are a particular rare case where the outside is far better looking than the inside. My destination was the palazzo Doria-Pamphili, so I walked down the Corso.

San Carlo is a particularly good example of a church that looks rather bland on the outside (in Rome, in comparison to everything else I mean) and is the apogee of bad taste on the inside. What can I describe it as? The Baroque gone bad? (And you know how difficult it is for me to say that, since I adore the baroque) A cheap opera stage set? I have never come across anything I found so dreadfully appalling that wasn’t made in the 20th century. Could we please let in the “spirit of Vatican II” into this one church and whitewash the whole thing?? Just this once??? The transept altars were beautiful and something totally different; the heart of St Charles Borromeo that is in a chapel behind the high altar is the only reason why I might return here.

I spent about two and a half hours in the Palazzo Doria-Pamphili. It has a very good audio guide of the collection, narrated by one of the Doria-Pamphili, who still live in the palace. There are wonderful state rooms, and very many amazing paintings, my two favourite being the Caravaggios. Several paintings of Eden and the four elements by Bruegel the elder were also fascinating in their details. The chapel was also quite stunning, not the least because the entire bodies of two early martyrs are propped up on couches, dressed in fine clothes with jewels and garlands of flowers. The collection of antique statues is not very exciting, but I was especially captivated by a sleeping baby Hercules, complete with mini club and lion skin.