‘Pasta-Tense’ Perspectives on Italy

The Roman Colosseum, a vast amphitheater of historic lore,
remains a visual wonder to this day.

Do you have any idea how much old stuff they have in Italy?

In the United States, a building 25 years or older becomes a prime candidate for being razed, to be replaced by something shinier, sleeker and, well, newer. Not in Italy, or much of Europe for that matter, as I had the pleasant opportunity to observe. One reason for my recent blog “sabbatical” was that my wife and I had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to join a group tour of Italy. As a result, I can now attest there’s a lot of old stuff there – REALLY old stuff.

Unlike in the USA, where we’re quick to demolish domed stadiums, retail stores, hotels and all sorts of other structures the moment they start to exhibit the first signs of age, things in “the old country” were built to last. Perhaps, even as they were being constructed, architects and builders were considering how these grand facilities would present themselves years later in what we could term, the “pasta tense.”

Take the Roman Colosseum, for example. The revered amphitheater was built in the first century A.D. Even though it has taken a beating over the years, it remains a stately icon of history. No one’s booking the Colosseum for sporting events these days, but neither is anyone in Rome contemplating tearing it down and replacing it with a shopping mall or condominiums.

Artwork that defies description can be
seen everywhere in the Vatican.

The Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, known best for Michelangelo’s wondrous ceiling paintings, is young by comparison, dating back only to the 15^thcentury. But more than 600 years later, it still mesmerizes many thousands of visitors daily, not only for its artistic beauty but also for the compelling spiritual messages captured by each work of art. The imagery – and truths – throughout the Vatican have endured the passing of time.

This “built to last” philosophy was evident everywhere we went, whether it was ancient Assisi, birthplace of St. Francis; the ruins of Pompeii, reminders of the once-prospering Roman city buried by the 79 A.D. eruption of Vesuvius; the hillside city of Montefiascone, or picturesque seaside communities like Positano and Sorrento.

Rock formations off coastal communities
like Capri command a sense of awe.

The imposing “faraglioni” rock formations off the island of Capri, which have adorned travelogues as well as theatrical films set in that area, leave their own lasting impressions – not of human imagination and construction, but of natural wonder.

During our 12-day travels across what the natives know as Italia, I found much to take note of and ponder. But the enduring qualities of what we saw firsthand ranked right at the top of the list.

Pride of workmanship, perseverance and creativity were represented in each, but in many cases, we could see another quality on display: devotion to the Creator God. In my view, it was a manifestation of the admonition from Colossians 3:23-24, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward.”

Renaissance painters, not only Michelangelo but also masters like Sandro Botticelli, Pietro Perugino, Pinturicchio, Domenico Ghirlandaio and Cosimo Roselli, labored countless hours on frescos and draperies to create scenes that depicted biblical characters and stories. Even if these artists were commissioned and compensated for their work, there is something exquisite and timeless about their work that could only have come through labors of love for their God.

Michelangelo's famed Pieta in St. Peter's Basilica.

Everywhere we visited in Italy we found churches and chapels boasting a level of craftsmanship rarely seen in our contemporary world. In fact, you might say in some respects they have an otherworldly quality to them, work undertken as a form of worship.

I suspect undergirding some of these projects was King Solomon’s declaration in Ecclesiastes 9:10, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.” If only we could see more people pursuing their work with that sort of passion and motivation today.

Nonchalant With the Divine?

You’ve probably seen photos or replicas of the famous fresco painting, “The Creation of Adam,” that adorns the ceiling of the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel in Rome. This meticulously conceived work by Michelangelo from the early 1500s is one of the iconic creations in the world of art.

Books have been written about this singular treasure. Art critics through the centuries have been enraptured by its beauty, as well as its profound emotional impact upon all who view it. Recently, someone drew my attention to an intriguing detail in this scene depicted from the book of Genesis.

One of the best-known sections of the painting represents the hands of both God and Adam at the moment of creation. God’s right hand appears to be reaching out in earnest, desperately seeking to touch Adam, the first man. Adam, on the other hand (literally), seems nonchalant, his left hand almost limp, displaying little exertion for reciprocating toward the Divine.

If a caption were written, Adam might well be saying something like, “Oh, hi. How ya doin’?”

Perhaps in Michelangelo’s mind, Adam was just awakening, groggily becoming aware of what was happening. So in that context, the less-than-earnest effort displayed for reaching toward God might be understandable. But it occurs to me that this must be how God views how we feebly approach Him at times.

If you’re a parent, you remember how eagerly we’ve been greeted by our children when we returned home from work or an errand. “Mommy, Mommy!” or “Daddy, Daddy!” they scream with delight, running toward us for a welcoming embrace. By the time they’re teenagers, however, that enthusiasm is usually gone. We walk into the room and all we get is a shrug or “Hey,” while they stay focused on the text they’re sending, a game on their tablet, or the TV show they’re watching.

Sometimes we’re the same as believers. Early in our walk with God, we’re all “Daddy, Daddy!” – or “Abba, Abba!” to use the correct biblical term. But as months and years in our spiritual journey wind along, our excited greetings degenerate into a casual wave. The effort to get ready to attend a worship service starts seeming like too much trouble. Even though we know it would be good to devote some quality time each day to prayer and studying the Bible, it seems there’s always something more urgent to address.

That’s why I often try to remind myself that unlike Adam’s depiction in Michelangelo’s masterpiece, I need to pursue the Lord as eagerly as He has pursued me. “O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1).

More and more it seems we’re living in a similarly “dry and weary land” where fervent faith isn’t “cool.” But that doesn’t mean it’s not important and shouldn’t be cultivated. Do we thirst and long for God, as the psalmist writes?

Taking a lackadaisical attitude toward our relationship with God, fired up only by the furnace of crisis and then soon cooled afterward, runs the risk of becoming like the church of Laodicea, described in the book of Revelation: “I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! Because you are neither hot nor cold – I am about to spit you out of my mouth” (Revelation 3:15-16).

In other words, if the idea of spending time with God no longer lights your fire, check to see if your wood is wet!