For the first time in Rome, a major one-man exhibition featuring works by Alexander Calder gives us the opportunity to see up close the American artist’s famous Mobiles and Stabiles, wire sculptures, gouaches, drawings and oil painting and explore the fundamental stages of his creative cycle. From October 23, 2009 to February 14, 2010 the show at the Palazzo delle Esposizioni documents Calder’s entire creative cycle.
more…

The adventure continues.  We traveled mostly by train, and had a fantastic time.  I hope you enjoy the photos!

Paris:

Cinque Terre:

Rome:

That was it!  By the end of our trip, we were exhausted, but we saw so many amazing things, it was totally worth it.  Thank you to the family members that made this incredible trip possible…and thank you soooo much Katie & Benny for getting married in Italy!  Haha.

Pictures from good times in Madrid, Rome, at school, with friends, of my drunk boyfriend and my sister’s wedding in august. I Just felt like sharing them with you guys (although there is a lot)

Our senior picture in high school. We are suppose to be “the new universe” (it was my idea!).

“Jazz hands!”. In Copenhagen with my class, learing about global warming. Very exciting..

My sister’s wedding in Broholm, Denmark

In Madrid with classmates. I’m wearing a grey dress and a red clutch.

Natasha, Androkles and me, eating a plum at St. Peter’s Square

Troels aka. Leonardo DiCaprio’s brother from another mother, getting cozy with ladies

I’ve become a big fan of Fr John Hunwicke, a Church of England priest of the staunch Anglo-Papalist type (a subset of High Church Anglicans with a definite Romeward orientation) who also shows a high degree of interest in Eastern Christianity.

A recent series of posts at his blog, concerning the opening prayer Te igitur from the Roman Canon and its relation to ecclesiology, seems worthy of discussion here at Eirenikon, in part because a small minority of Western Rite Orthodox Christians under both the Antiochian and Russian Patriarchates pray the Roman Canon and include, in the Te igitur, commemorations of their Patriarch, Metropolitan, Holy Synod, local Bishop, President of the USA, etc.

[Whom to name in the Te Igitur?] Note that I do not say “in the Eucharistic Prayer”. Because the EPs of other rites and the newer Roman EPs may have a different theology from that of the Canon Romanus.

More than half a century ago, Dom Eizenhofer (Sacris Erudiri 1956, 75 gives the Latin summary) demonstrated, in my view conclusively, that the word “Communicantes” goes grammatically and theologically with the end of the Te igitur (Memento being an originally diaconal parenthesis). The grammar is “una cum …communicantes”. And that the theology of the Prayer means that our sacrifice is commended to the Father as acceptable because we are offering it in and for the Church in union with its [earthly] head the Bishop of Rome. He backs this up with a great many pieces of contemporary Latin showing that the language expresses the ideology of the Roman See at the time the Canon acquired its present state: that being in communion with the Roman See is the touchstone of Catholic communion.

Of course not everybody accepts that notion. But what Eizenhofer’s demonstration makes clear is that it would not be proper to substitute another prelate for the Roman Pontiff unless one were prepared at the same time to argue that he is not just a Catholic bishop, not just the Head of a Communion, but the actual Prelate communion with whom gurantees one’s Catholicity. So the old Anglo-Catholic ploy of naming the Archbishop of Canterbury, or the Orthodox ‘Western Rite’ practice of naming a Patriarch, are improper unless one really does believe that communion with that prelate is the universal touchstone of whether anybody is in full commuion with the Church Catholic. (original post)

…..

My previous post on the Te igitur leaves a big question: how does its conclusion fit in with a situation in which Christendom is divided? Does it mean that only those in full canonical communion with the See of Rome should use the Canon Romanus?

I think this does not necessarily follow. The solution, I feel, may be offered by the CDF document Communionis notio of 1993 (para 14). A valid Mass offered in a community which lacks full communion with the See of Peter, by its very nature as a Eucharist of the Whole Church, “objectively calls for” the “universal communion with Peter”. I feel that therefore those in this sort of anomalous situation do appropriately name the Successsor of Peter since their Mass “objectively” calls for full communion. And this is even truer, a fortiori , when the celebrant subjectively longs for such full communion and has no desire to adhere to any schism.

This is a good opportunity to repeat that Communionis notio, like its successor Dominus Iesus, was a document unfairly attacked by bigots as “unecumenical”. Both are quite the opposite. They provide an impetus for properly based ecumenism by their teaching that a Particular Church, which has a Bishop and valid sacraments, is a true Particular Church and ipso facto a local manifestation of the Church Catholic even if it is not in full canonical communion with the See of Rome. Disunity will wound it because it lacks the Ministry of Peter which is organically internal to a properly constituted Church but this does not deprive it of its status as a true particular church. The CDF went on to balance this by saying that the Roman Communion is also itself wounded by the disunity because it is deprived to a degree of universality. (original post)

…..

The 1984 Statement of the Joint Commission for Theological Dialogue between the Roman Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church which included such heavyweights as John Zizioulas and Joseph Ratzinger described mention in the Canon of the bishop by virtue of communion with whom one offers Mass as “essential”. This may seem a trifle overstated – after all, there are extant Eucharistic Prayers which have failed to do this; are they therefore lacking an ‘essential’? – but I believe it does express the ancient notion that the Bishop is the true primary celebrant and, as S Ignatius put it a long time ago, that Eucharist is to be accounted bebaios which is celebrated by the Bishop or by one to whom he commits it.

In the Te igitur of the Roman Canon, the mention of the Bishop is not a prayer for him but an expression of the fact that the presbyteral celbrant offers qua delegate of that bishop.

Together with the mention of the Roman Bishop, the Te igitur thus gives full expression to the synchronic unities which constitute a particular Eucharist as the Eucharist of Christ’s entire Catholic Church, and not a ritual activity of a local gathered and autonomous group. The presbyter is at one – ideally! – with his Bishop; the bishops of the world are at one with each other through the ministry of Peter. Ideally! (original post)

We cannot go all the way to Italy without having gelato! To maximise the number of flavours tried, we split each and every cup we ordered. The place we frequented the most was Il Gelato di San Crispino, purveyors of artisanal gelato made with top quality seasonal ingredients; their gelato is considered some of the best in Rome. Of course, the best comes at a price with what I consider a “regular” sized cup of gelato coming in at about €3.50-4.00. They don’t offer cones.

We ran into one branch by the Pantheon and this became our go-to place in the area. Our first cup was of two flavours of sorbet: pomegranate and bergamot. Wow. It sounds cliched but the pomegranate really was full of the flavour of the fruit while the bergamot was so highly scented, almost like perfume. Very fruity and not too sweet.

As soon as we finished that cup, we turned around immediately and headed back in. This time, hazelnut gelato and gelato di San Crispino (a honey cream). These were much richer and creamier, as expected. Their eponymous gelato was like dunking my tongue into a pot of honey while the hazelnut was exactly that – nutty.

On another visit, we split three flavours in a larger cup: pistachio, lemon and pear. The pistachio was a little weaker than I expected – I’ve been spoiled by the delicious gelato at Oddono’s in London. Lemon was wonderfully citrusy while pear was my favourite of the lot – you could almost detect that slight graininess of the fruit.

This really was some of the best gelato we had in Rome. OK, a massive craving for gelato has now set in…

Il Gelato di San Crispino
Piazza della Maddalena, 3
00186 Rome, Italy

This is the branch near the Pantheon that we frequented but there are a few other branches in Rome; all are listed on their website. Too bad we didn’t fly out of Terminal A at the airport – there’s one there!

1.  Thank you to John Wesley. We missionals/emergents like to stir things up a bit, raise  some hell, speak out boldly against injustice, reach neglected communities, and open the church doors in real ways to those who wouldn’t step foot in to a church in a million years.  I think the life and works of John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, grants us that permission even if the established church frowns on or is disinterested in such  activities.

2.  Thank you to the early church. Despite the overwhelming violence and power of the Roman empire, these earlier followers of Christ  persisted and still show us 2,000 years later that love wins and that another way is possible.

3.  Thank You  to the prophetic church. Yeah, somewhere along the way (think Constantine but probably way before that as the church became more and more succesful) the church lost its way.  But the link between  mainstream religion and injustice is an age old problem ( the need for social propehtics like  Micah, Amos, Isiaiah in the first place).

Instead of liberation and community, the churches began to preach and practice and protect the status quo.   Whether it was St. Francis of Asissi, Dorothy Day, John Wesley, Dr. Martin Luther King, or countless others whose names history has forgotten, these communities figured out creative ways to be faithful witnesses of Jesus Christ, in spite of violent threats and raw military and economic power or just plain ole’ apathy.

4.  Thank You to EmergingUMC2 and beyond. Much thanks to the 30 or so United Methodists who gathered this November to talk about the possibilities of restoring missional methodism.  As a participant, it was inspiring to hear all the amazing things going on across the country as Methodists struggle to rethink church. Let’s hope this conversation keeps going.

5.  Thank You to the Emergent Conversation. I first started hearing about the emergent conversation a few years ago and it saved my faith or at least my participation in a church.

6. Thank You to no More George W. Bush in public office. Yeah, this is a cheap shot, but it is a little disconcerting that George W. Bush and Dick Cheney both claimed to be United Methodists.  That presidency might say more about the failures of the United Methodist church than anything else.

7. Thank You to the GBOD worship website. If you ever find yourself needing help with a worship service, check out the General Board of Discipleship’s worship webpage. Consistently updated and always helpful.

8.  Thank You for some good Methodist blogs. Check this blog’s home page for them.

9.  Thank You to The Future. More and more, it looks like the future of the church  will be missional and emergent.  Here is Phyllis Tickle’s take on it.

10. Thank You to Jesus Christ.  Not in that cheezy I just won the super-bowl kid of way, but for not letting fear or the quest for prestige and power get in the way of God’s plan.

Van 24 tot 28 december zal Wendy met haar lief naar Italië trekken. Haar lief wil namelijk nog een marathon forceren voor 2009 de geest geeft en omdat de coast-to-coast marathon rond Napels daar het meest geschikt voor leek boekten we een vliegticket en hotels. 2 dagen Rome en 2 dagen Sorrento om precies te zijn.

Vandaag krijgen we bevestiging van het hotel in Rome en waar zitten we dus op 25 december? In Vaticaanstad!

Wendy vindt dat niet minder dan hilarisch!

…if you zoom in, you can still see the blue paint on her fingers…

Nicola Cosentino

Rome, 25 Nov. (AKI) – An Italian Senate on Wednesday rejected a request by Naples prosecutors to arrest junior government minister Nicola Cosentino for alleged links with the local mafia or Camorra. According to Italian media, the committee voted 11 against and six in favour of the arrest, while one committee member abstained.   

Usually one might not think too much about the Washington Post closing its New York bureau.

But:

On Saturday, April 2, 2005, Pope John Paul II was taking his last breaths in this world.

I was watching the t.v. coverage with my brother in his office–at the New York bureau of the Washington Post.

It was Easter vacation time.

I got tired of watching t.v. I walked over to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to pray and console people. Very soon the Pope died.

It was an afternoon I will never forget. May our beloved late Holy Father rest in peace.

…Here’s a question. Why aren’t the Georgetown Hoyas playing in the Old Spice Classic this year? (Feel free to comment, whether you know the answer or not.)

…Happy Thanksgiving!

November 1st 1849 — Rome

While the horses in our caravan wet their lips in the warm sunlight; I am taking the opportunity to record the events of the last day. I feel at ease with the folks who are helping me, and I hope that they will understand when I have to part company with them later this evening. I am indebted to them and to the lady who sent me with them. I honestly believe that if not for the assistance of the Contessa – then I would not have left Rome as a free man.

It was soon after my last diary entry upon departing the library when trouble ensued. My ruse in the library worked splendidly but it was not long after I stepped outside their doors when I was spotted by a soldier on horseback. Running to evade him with tremendous vigor, I was lucky to gain considerable distance through the curving cobblestone streets and narrow alleys. The sounds of the clopping hooves were getting closer as I scanned the area for a proper hiding place. I saw a cemetery to my left and I noticed that it was surrounded by the customary cypress trees. This would work perfectly for me but I had to be nimble in climbing the branches. The needles scratched my face and wrists as I nervously climbed, but I was certain that I was safe. Clearly the advantage was mine as I confidently awaited the approach of the horseman in the shadows of the cypresses.

The horseman passed the grove of cypress trees and did not once look my way – only racing into the square ahead in the distance. As a precaution I held my breath as he passed, much like I have done many times before while running from those in pursuit. My breath heaved mistily into the brush of the trees as I released my exhaustion. As I listened to the sounds beyond my panting, I heard familiar noises. I focused on the chatter and banging and I knew that I was close to the workers at the fountain. In my flight from the soldiers, to my refuge in the library, to the chase to the cemetery – I had come full circle to where I had started my explorations earlier this evening.

Alerts echoed forth from the fountain as the horseman rode round the square issuing warnings of my possible presence. There were shouts and quite a clamor – for the horseman had riled the others into a frenzy. My initial reaction was to climb down the cypress trees and flee the cemetery – getting as far from the fountain as I could, but something made me change my mind. As I climbed down the branches I heard a set of horses clopping towards me – it was a wagon with one man driving the two horses and another man with a broad hat holding an upright rifle in his hands. Still and silent, I was poised in the cypress listening to them converse as they slowly approached.

One spoke in broken English with an Italian accent and the other spoke in American English. I heard the first intelligible utterances from the driver and he mentioned that The Gentleman had not been seen or heard from for the entire night – the workers and soldiers had feared the worst. The rifleman was quick to reply and told the driver that he was not worried in the slightest bit. He explained to the driver that The Gentleman is practically indestructible – no adversary he had seen could best The Gentleman in any form of combat or game of intellect. The rifleman explained that The Gentleman would eventually find his way back to the fountain but until then it was agreed that he (the rifleman) was in charge of the operation. The rifleman continued to explain that The Gentleman would want the cargo in the carriage wagon delivered promptly at dawn as directed by the official orders in the letter sent by Lord Suffington.

I was immediately curious – what could it be that was so important that The Gentleman would be directed to leave Rome to escort the wagon and cargo elsewhere? As I pondered this and once again held my breathe, I heard and then saw a horseman approach the rifleman. The driver halted the two horses and the rifleman called out to the horseman in greeting. The horseman came to a halt and proceeded to tell him that I was somewhere in the vicinity and that the other soldiers were scattering to search for me. The rifleman ordered the horseman to be careful for he said that I was considered by the House of Suffington to be dangerous and that I was expected to be caught alive. The rifleman said that I would probably not get very far with the network of strict checkpoints posted on every route in and out of the city.

I did not hear the rest of what was spoken because I was too flattered to actually be considered dangerous. Yes, enamored I felt for once in my faithful duties in subterfuge of the House of Suffington. I have often perceived myself in this manner but never have I never heard myself described as such. I admit that it pleased me to hear this for once, however time for gloating and prideful reflection would have to come later for I had to act quickly. As the horseman was ordered to carry on with his search and rode away, I silently climbed down the branches. The driver cracked his whip and just as the horses jerked the wagon on its way – I jumped onto the back and climbed onto the top of the wagon. I had found a way out of the city!

I listened as I nestled underneath a canvas cover to the top of the carriage wagon and I could hear that we were riding towards the fountain. Digging had ceased and all I heard were arguments from the obvious tension that results when underlings are left without a clear leader in a dire situation. The arguments ceased as the carriage wagon got closer. Apparently the rifleman spoke the truth for I could hear order resume as the presence of this man gave them comfort and nerve. But he knew as well as I that there was no substitute for their true leader – The Gentleman.

The rifleman ordered several guards to stay with the carriage and to not touch the cargo under any circumstances. He told them that it would be several hours until dawn and that he would personally undertake an investigation of the tunnels for any sign of The Gentleman. I assumed that he would endeavor to track him to the place where I forced him to plunge into the underground river. This was the last I heard from the man for some time.

For several hours I waited on top of the wagon – as frozen as an icicle, but I was not bothered by my predicament at all. However, I was slightly uncomfortable in my left arm, but nevertheless I laid still. I had thought about making an attempt to steal the cargo when it sounded as though all the soldiers and men had dissipated but they soon returned to within earshot. That plan would have to be undertaken when I was outside of the city limits. I considered many possibilities as I lay there patiently waiting until I heard the third rooster crow in announcing the coming dawn. Perhaps it was to shun the overlap of the beloved dawn with the blight of the moon; but that third crow of the rooster marked the return of the rifleman.

At the same time the rifleman returned, I heard the arrival of the same driver who took his place at the reins. The rifleman shouted orders in French to others in the vicinity and I could feel that we were in motion. The driver asked the rifleman about their heading and he replied that they would meet other armed escorts on horseback at a checkpoint on the northern partition of the city. He also explained that with their assistance that they would be able to travel safely for days on the roads that led to a village in the mountains of Spain.

I remember hearing about that place while I travelled with Percy. It was part of a public works development plan as a joint venture between Gustave St. Denis and Lord Suffington. Knowing what I do about those two supposed philanthropists; I was certain that no good could come from the safe delivery of this cargo. I was incredibly curious about the contents of the cargo but alas I had to remain still and hold my position on top of the carriage. The bumps on the cobblestone streets and the greater speed at which we travelled made it more difficult for me.

At last the horses slowed and halted at the aforementioned checkpoint. I could hear discussion and orders given by the rifleman. His commands were specific concerning the positioning of the accompanying escorts but all I heard from him was drowned out by the whimpering and eventual barking from a hound dog that jumped onto the driver side of the carriage. The carriage wobbled and shook as the dog howled in excitement. I knew that I would be found – there would be no more hiding and concealment from those that hunted me. I had to act fast or be shot on sight and so I gambled on a hard brash surprise.

I pulled my knife as I listened to the soldiers approach the wagon. From below my waist to my heart I ripped through the canvas and I rolled on my back – thrusting my legs high into the air, over my head, and then rolling backwards to topple over the top of the carriage. It was very acrobatic and again it was a gamble – but it worked, mostly. I had the good fortune of kicking the driver in his head and knocking him off of the seat of the coach. The dog charged after me but the driver fell upon his jowls instead of myself. I struggled to claim the whip from the hand of the bewildered driver as I felt the butt of the firearm of the rifleman slam into my shoulder. I was not so foolish as to ignore the best of the bunch; but without control of the horses – I would be captured. I ducked to avoid another strike of the rifle and I raised my arm in blocking. Oddly, the jerk from my blow was enough to take it whip from the driver. The other men were closing in on me and I knew that they held their gunfire only because of my proximity to their superior.

I shouted and with my left hand I cracked the whip on a sideways slant; sending the horses, the rifleman, the cargo, and myself speeding into the rosy glow of dawn on the streets ahead us. I focused primarily on driving the spooked horses; who were not reacting well to the sounds of gunfire from the soldiers. Normally, I would have been frightened, but I somehow I felt differently… I had gambled heavily so far in Rome and I have been lucky all the way. With great confidence I made the decision to push my luck even further when I calmly explained to the rifleman that he could pull the trigger and take the easy route to fulfilling his duties. I reminded him that he would have to live with the disrespect and scorn of The Gentleman. For the rest of his meager life he would know that he was not good enough to beat the spotty-faced lad from Fairsae and far worse for him would be the fact that he had robbed The Gentleman of his opportunity to make an example of me. In essence, I was challenging the man with the barrel of a long firearm aimed at my temple and calling him a coward. I am amazed that it worked and doubly amazed that I am still alive.

The rifleman lowered his firearm and threw his clenched fist towards my jaw. It connected on my chin – again the turbulent ride on the cobblestones helped my cause. As I consider it now, I suppose that he deserved that free shot at me – even though it did little to keep me from causing trouble. I reacted swiftly in blind response to the blow to my head and I steered right down a narrow street where I saw a handful of various vendors setting up their carts for market at the early hours of dawn. The rifleman reeled back while I got off my backside and drove my right boot into his ribcage, sending him off his seat and towards the edge of the carriage. He expected something dangerous from me and now as I reflect upon it, I see that my actions on that carriage were a direct response to The Gentleman’s assessment of me. I wanted to show him that I was truly unpredictable.

The scant vendors on the streets screamed and cursed as we flew up the narrow street. The rifleman clung to the edge of the carriage and I saw that he was lifting his leg to position himself for re-entry towards the seat where I drove the horses. I steered to my right once again and he smashed into a cart. Nevertheless he persisted and clung to the carriage. That man seemed to be a younger, more diluted version of the man known as The Gentleman and he was a serious threat to me at the time. However, I had luck on my side and I cracked the whip and flew as fast as the horses could race while continuing my efforts to press him on the side of the marketplace – hoping to scrape him off of the carriage. I shifted and slid in my seat towards the right and looked behind me. The rifleman still clung but this time at the rear of the carriage. I turned around and looked ahead of me and saw that I was fast approaching a large two tier fountain.

It was possible for me to encircle it if I slowed the horses, made a roundabout pass, and then continued up the hill. The fountain was getting closer as the carriage and horses sped down the cobblestone street and upon seeing it up close I could see something peculiar on the right side of it. At the time I was too preoccupied with the chance of the carriage toppling over as I sped around the fountain to get a proper look but alas I made a successful turn. I peeked back again and I saw my adversary looking angrily at me and I turned to crack the whip to drive the horses up a winding cobblestone hill.

All the while I tried to devise a plan, but everything was happening so fast and I could not conceive of anything worthwhile. Circumstances dictated that I strictly act on instinct and that is exactly what transpired – albeit contrary to my original scheme for the carriage and cargo. Up ahead of me and the two horses I could see a host of The Gentleman’s soldiers on horseback and on foot who were en route to intercepting me on the hill.

I saw that at the midpoint of the upward winding road was a flat clearing with an intersection and that was where I halted the horses. The soldiers were halfway down the upper section of the hill and I had very little time to react. I knew that the rifleman was climbing on top of the carriage and would soon be on top of me within a moment. I could act on one choice – although I could not help but feel the same nagging sting of regret that I felt when I tossed the chest into the underground stream just hours ago. I leapt off the coach and I released both horses from their bonds and hopped upon the horse to my left. I was forced to forsake the battle I started with the protege of The Gentleman and more importantly I had to abandon my hopes in stealing the cargo bound for Spain. It would be the second time in a day where I had to release an artifact related to the mysteries of Fairsae.

As I mounted the horse and turned to look at the rifleman to offer a condescending smirk to my dramatic departure; I saw a bird swoop in close into my field of view. I swung my horse around and looked again but I no longer saw the bird, but I noticed that the carriage was slowly descending over the crest in the hill. The rifleman sneered at me but turned his attention to recovering the cargo inside the carriage and I saw that the carriage would soon be uncontrollably speeding towards the fountain. The peculiarity that I formerly saw only as a blur in passing the fountain was now clear to me and it turned out that it was a lovely lady leaning into the bottom pool of the fountain. I had assumed that the overwhelming sounds from the gushing water had closed her senses off from hearing the imminent danger. She would die if the carriage crashed into her.

There was no other choice for me. I kicked the horse and raced the carriage down the hill. At one point I looked the rifleman in the eyes as I sped past him. Naturally, I gave him the finest boyish grin that I could muster; after all – I was known as the spotty-faced lad from Fairsae. I charged ahead as I faintly heard him curse me. The carriage rolled slightly to the left and a bit to the right as it rolled down the hill on a course towards the lady searching the fountain pool. In a feat of the most impeccable timing; I drove the horse ahead of the carriage and leaned to my right while I hooked my arm and gripped the horse with my tightened legs. I scooped the lady by her hips and raised her up to safety just a moment before the carriage crashed into the fountain.

As I prodded the horse to run faster in fleeing the oncoming soldiers, I felt a hard clunk on my forehead followed by an elbow thrown at my nose. Loud and rambling curses were bombarded at me by the bewildered lady. I ignored her for the moment and focused on getting us up the hill that I previously rode down in the carriage. The faint shouts of the rifleman could be heard beneath the continued complaints and objections of the lady who at the time must have thought she was being abducted. I was too occupied to taunt the rifleman one last time for the lady I had saved was becoming too much of a burden with her aggravated struggling.

The lady finally looked behind her to see the identity of the one who had taken her. Her lovely eyes were terribly angry but they widened like a child when she caught a glimpse of the spots on my face. Her jaw dropped at the sight of it and I simply grinned, nodded politely to her, and gestured towards the demolished carriage at the fountain site where she leaned into the pool. She noticed the damage and she calmly turned away, thanked me, and instructed me to turn right at the street ahead of us.

With great fortune and the fortitude of that horse; we evaded the soldiers in pursuit of us and found refuge on the outskirts of city in the villa of the lady whom I saved. We were greeted by two of her servants who were curtly ordered by the lady to make appropriate preparations. The lady directed me towards the wash room and to meet her for breakfast. As I waited for her to return I looked around her home. I noticed that it was relatively modest in size but extravagantly rich in decor. It seemed as though the lady was a collector of fine art and antiquities. Many of the sculptural pieces in the collection looked familiar to me. I was astonished to see some of the floral patterns that I saw in the underground chamber where I found the sarcophagus of Alsymius the Younger.

We sat at the table to partake in a hot cup of coffee along with assorted breads, cheeses, and fruits. The lady had changed into an exquisite dress and her demeanor was distinctly hospitable. She introduced herself as Alessandra di Corvoli the Contessa of Rocca di Rosa. I was famished but I always mind my manners and etiquette and so I introduced myself before breaking bread. The Contessa asked me why I was being chased and I told her with all of my Wellesly charm, and a half-full mouth of bread that I was racing the other soldiers to win her heart.

She blushed and smiled at my humorous remark along with my successful side-step of the bitter truth, but then she shifted her attitude in the blink of an eye. The Contessa’s eyes misted and her voice quivered when she began to give her unsolicited explanation of her visit to the fountain. She reached for her neck and brought forth a locket and asked me if I saw it. I nodded solemnly and examined the locket – I knew that it was this locket that hit my forehead when we fled the fountain. She turned it around and showed me a crack on the back face of it and she explained that she had thrown it in the fountain and damaged it. It was her anniversary present and although she was livid; she felt regret in dispensing with it and incidentally she was in the process of retrieving the locket when I scooped her away. A tear streamed down her cheek and she wiped it away while telling me that she had rode all the way from Milan to Rome to meet her husband for their second wedding anniversary. Instead of being greeted lovingly by him – she was coldly met by his personal servant. This servant handed her a letter from her husband with an extravagant apology which explained that he was bound by duty to accompany his friend; the Captain of The Augustina, and act as his first mate on their maiden voyage. He departed earlier in the day on his mission towards finding the best route through the Northwest Passage – and it left her heartbroken.

Her sorrow quickly turned to anger and I noticed that she was clenching her locket as she carelessly placed her demitasse on the table. My eyes widened and she observed her apparent break from etiquette and grace. The Contessa took a moment to shout at one of her servants while looking away from me at an arrangement of decaying flowers in a vase. The servant rushed into the dining hall and took it away. It was an obvious distraction but it allowed her to gain her composure and she resumed sipping her coffee. She continued her story and told me that her husband Count Silvio di Corvoli – had promised to start a family with her and to stay at home for a long time. He had broken his promise on their special day. She smiled uncomfortably and studied me for several moments while I absorbed all I heard and considered the polite response in this situation; but I struggled and could not find the right words.

Luckily she changed the subject and thanked me again for saving her while looking at me affectionately. She told me that she did not need to know why the soldiers were after me – the less she knew was better. The Contessa explained that upon her return to Rome on the previous day; she encountered many soldiers at a checkpoint. She told me that the soldiers would be after me and I would never get out of the city – only with her help could I hope to escape. Luckily for me, the Contessa promised to return one good deed for another.

The Contessa explained that her husband was a very important and successful businessman despite acting like a jackass. Her husband had scheduled shipments and deliveries that were a constant part of his work while he stayed in Rome. She told me that she would hide me inside a shipment of her husband’s cargo in a caravan that would take the roads to Milan. I was told that she would personally accompany the caravan to the checkpoint with papers signed by her husband. As soon as I opened my mouth to offer gratitude or ask her why she seemed so familiar to me; she reached across the table to bring her forefinger to my lips. She shook her head and told me again that the less she knew was better for all.

Orders were shouted and her servants bustled into action, and within moments I was whisked away by two servants. I never saw the Contessa again. However, I heard her as we rode out towards the checkpoint. Inside one of the wagons, I was locked inside a crate that was interspersed with various glassware and carpets. At the checkpoint I heard the Contessa arguing with one of the soldiers in command of the checkpoint. She yelled at him severely while I heard the rustle of papers being presented. I also heard a bit of laughter from other soldiers and members of the caravan – I assumed that she had insulted the commanding officer. After viewing the official documents presented personally by an aristocrat, the officer had no choice but to allow the caravan to pass unchecked. The officer and the Contessa said no more and all I could hear as I was carried away to safety was the clopping of hooves and the dying laughter.

That was several hours ago and until we arrived at the pool in the stream, I stayed hidden in the wagon. Now, as I sit here and recall my past two days; I feel as though I may have encountered a potential crew member. It is this Contessa – I recall her from my dreams but only vaguely remember her image from the tattoos of the Hermit. I don’t know why I was led to meet this beautiful lady but somehow I know that I will see her again. I sure hope I do for I cannot stop thinking of her. I know that she is married but I can honestly admit that she has made an amorous impression on me. As for the Gentleman; when I meet him again, I am sure that he will never regard me again as the spotty faced lad from Fairsae,; but most likely as his equal…

What has all this to do with Jesus, Christianity, or for that matter being a Jew?

The information disclosed in this writing has been offered to Jews only, for several reasons:

To help Gentiles, Gentile Christians, Jewish Christians, and all Jews, understand the truth about the Jewishness of original Christianity: to assist Jews who are haunted by their own confusion concerning their acceptance of the New Testament and their Messiah Jesus: to aid Christian Evangelists to understand that God has not called every Jew into the ranks of Christianity: to tell everyone about the church system used by Rome to deceive the nations into accepting a man as Christ, who is a false Christ: and to lighten the burden of misguided Jews, who have converted to become part of the Gentile form of Christianity: to reduce the pain they inflict upon their own families and friends.

In so much as, the converted Messianic Jews are the ones in error, and not their families for rejecting a false Jesus.  Which rejection, I might add, will not keep them from entering heaven after physical death, as the deluded converts have been brainwashed into believing.  In the immortal words of Jesus, they err because they do not know the Scriptures…

Yet I wouldn’t want either of you Jews, Christian convert or not, to go away thinking you are right and the other guy is wrong.  That is not the case I intended to present.  On the contrary, both are right, even though the converted Messianic Jew may be misguided and deceived.

My argument has been, Jews who reject Jesus will not go to hell for not accepting Jesus.  Since the Jesus presented to the world, as stated in 2 Corinthians 11:1-5, by all Christian Churches is a phony!  Therefore, you Jewish brothers and sisters who reject the present day nonsense about Jesus are right in doing so.

While on the other hand, the converted Jewish Christians, who do not believe or realize they’ve been deceived (even though the New Testament has more warnings against being deceived than any other subject).

They have actually been called by God to cross over into the Gentile world to do a special job for God: which job is to help the misguided Gentile Christians learn the truth about Jesus (the gospel).  These Messianic Jews were called by God to be the teachers of the Gentiles, but there is little hope of them allowing the Jews in their private club: as foretold by Jesus in the parable of the rented Vineyard in Matthew 21:33 to 41.

Christians who have fallen victim to lying Roman teachings and have also been deceived into believing lies about Jesus, will not be forgiven by God for having been deceived.  The Lord plainly warned Christians to study their Bibles not to be deceived.  There is a plan revealed in the Bible concerning a remnant of Jews who would be chosen by God for this very important work amongst the Gentile Christians; but the Gentiles are in control of the kingdom of God.  They took it by force and stole it from the Jews.

The Gentile Churches have learned to deceive people well.  They have learned how to put a spin on the scriptures to use them to prove their teachings.  They have learned how to keep the remnant of Jews from becoming effective at their anointed jobs of teaching the Jewish scriptures.

Thus rendering the remnant of Jews, who were chosen by God to believe in Jesus, ineffective at helping the deceived Gentiles.  They keep these chosen Jews from following in the footsteps of Paul the Apostle; their Jewish predecessor who was destined to teach the Roman Gentiles.

The Messianic Jews are totally ineffectual and have no effect on the Gentiles in serious trouble by reason of deceit!  Therefore, both sides of the Jewish question are right.  The Jews who know Jesus is the Messiah are right; and the Jewish Old Testament of the Bible is right; and the Jews who reject the false Gentile Jesus are right; and know the Jewish New Testament of the Bible is right!

Now you will say, but Jews who do not believe in Jesus will go to hell because Jesus said, No one comes unto the Father but by Me…. Wrong again, oh misguided one!  In John Chapter 6, verses 43 to 45 Jesus said, No one could come to Jesus unless the Father draw him to Jesus, and everyone shall be taught by God. Therefore, everyone that has heard, and has learned of the Father comes to Jesus.

Not knowing the Scriptures you always put the cart before the horse.  Besides isn’t the “Me” in verse 44, “No one comes unto the Father but by Me”, referring to Jesus; and isn’t Jesus’ name the Word of God?

Doesn’t the Bible teach the Word is able to save your soul and that the Word is able to renew your mind?  The Word is the Holy Spirit. The Word is what a person has to do in order to enter heaven.

Perhaps the guy named Jesus that you purport to follow was just spinning His wheels when He told the rich young man, do the commandments and you shall receive eternal life.  Perhaps eternal life is something different than being saved?

God promised the Jews they would never be consumed, yet they die like other people.  Therefore, the consumption Jesus referred to was genocide in this lifetime and eternal death in the next life, which is hell!

God has a very definite plan for the Jews who reject the phony Jesus, and do so by God’s grace just as you Messianic Jews believe Jesus is the Messiah by the same grace… or perhaps you have set yourself up as the Judge of Israel!  Beware!  I don’t have to teach you what Jesus said about Judging.  Jews were chosen to bait the world into being jealous of them.  They were chosen by God to suck anyone into hell that would dare touch them!

It doesn’t sound like a great profession for an entire nation of people, but neither was being the High Priest of Israel.  If God didn’t accept the offering presented in the Holy of Holies by the High Priest, he was struck dead!

To be continued…

Avro Manhattan

Avro Manhattan was the world’s foremost authority on Roman Catholicism in politics. A resident of London, during WW II he operated a radio station called “Radio Freedom” broadcasting to occupied Europe. He was the author of over 20 books including the best-seller The Vatican in World Politics, twice Book-of-the-Month and going through 57 editions. He was a Great Briton who risked his life daily to expose some of the darkest secrets of the Papacy.

Available online, free to read for all, is his sensational account of the most horrifying religious massacre of the 20th century. Including pictures, names, dates and evidence. Startling revelations of forced conversions, mass murder of non-Catholics, Catholic extermination camps, disclosures of Catholic clergy as commanders of concentration camps; documented with names, dates, places, pictures and eyewitness testimony.

In the camp of Jasenovic and Stara Gradiska about 8000 children died. By caustic soda in their water..

His books were #1 on the Forbidden Index for the past 50 years. Indeed, by the fruits shall ye know the tree. Read the whole book here:

• http://www.reformation.org/holocaus.html

The beast should be clearly visible about now..

This weekend marked the five-month anniversary of being in Europe.   It is hard to believe that it has been five months!  I have been learning a lot and have been really busy getting ready for the New Man weekend that takes place at the North American College during the weekend following Thanksgiving Day.  It will not be anywhere close to enjoying Thanksgiving Day with my family, but I guess I will try to enjoy it here.  I am thankful that I will at least be able to video chat with my family on Thanksgiving Day.

Before I continue with the travel weekend, I want to describe the Italian healthcare system.  I needed to get a vaccination for H1N1 Influenza (Swine Flu) because I have asthma and I always have problems with my lungs when I am ill.  So, my physician from Oklahoma wrote a letter attesting to this fact and one of the Sisters of Mercy, that run our infirmary, helped me make an appointment to see a doctor close to the college.  When I walked into the office I realized that the staff only spoke Italian and German.  I was able to talk with the receptionist with little difficulty, but I wanted to make it clear that I was only there to get the H1N1 vaccine.  To make a long story short, the doctor spoke English and gave me a full checkup.  He then explained that the only way to get a vaccine in Italy is to go through the National Healthcare System.  There are vaccination centers and also those same vaccines with doctors that are affiliated with the National system.  He was not.  Therefore, I had to pay 30 euro for a doctor’s appointment, only to get a prescription for H1N1 vaccine and then have to search for a vaccination clinic in the city.  (If you are in Italy and are looking for one of these clinics here is a helpful website http://www.ecodiroma.org/-vaccinazioni-a-roma.htm).  Fortunately, there is a clinic located near Castle Sant’ Angelo that I went to.  I gave them to the prescription, filled out some paperwork (all in Italian), and received the shot without any problem and for free.

This last weekend was a travel weekend here at the North American College.  After my morning classes at the Gregorian University, I walked back to the college for lunch, went to my doctor’s appointment (see above), and then met three of my seminarian friends at the Saint Peter Train Station.  The station is located very near to the North American College, but the only way to get to it is by walking all the way to St. Peter’s Basilica and then walking to the station.  Still, it is not a long walk.

We decided to visit Romania for the weekend because the US Dollar was not as weak there, but I was shocked by how much I liked the town of Cluj, Romania.  We took a two-hour flight via a cheap airline, W!zz Air, and flew into the town of Cluj.  (W!ZZ Air is a great airline with new planes and a kind crew).  The airport was very small and the weather was very cold.  It was after 11pm when we arrived and we quickly took a taxi to our hotel in the historic center of the town.  We stayed at the Hotel Melody and spent the evening exploring the town.  Everything about the town was great!  There were very large pedestrian walkways with trees and water fountains.  There were also monuments and pieces of art scattered throughout the area.  We also found the huge Basilica of Saint Michael, which was located next to our hotel.  There were also Catholic and Orthodox churches scattered everywhere.

My favorite part of the trip was the weather.  While it was very cold, it was also foggy and misty the entire time.  It really felt like I was in a different country.  We went to the Iulius Mall on Saturday, which was located a few kilometers away from the historic center.  Walking up to the mall reminded me of malls in the US.  Our first order of business when we reached the mall was to visit Starbucks!  I had a good hot chocolate and then called my family with their wifi connection.  We then wondered through the mall, ate lunch at Pizza Hut, and then went to see a movie in English with Romanian subtitles.  It felt like being in the United States, but not.  It was a nice trip and cost me less than $200 for everything (plane, hotel, transportation, food).  Romania will be switching to the Euro in a couple years, so the prices will go up.  I am glad I had a chance to go there now and I will try to go back before they switch to the Euro.