I planned to go back to our lodging directly after my time exploring the Cathedral, but I the exit I left through was literally right in front of the entrance to the bell-tower and, since I still had quite a bit of time left before dinner and had already paid the price of admission, I ended up going up all 414 steps, which was super painful, and I probably wouldn’t have made it if there hadn’t been so many intervening platforms to give me a chance to stop and regain some level of composure. The stairs had that nice Roman steepness, and the corridors were very narrow with no handrails, so passing people was pretty nerve-wracking, but I made it to the top and it was absolutely beautiful and completely worth it.
I ended up sitting by a window and reading some of 1 Corinthians, and therefore was sitting right below the level with the tower’s bells when they rang out at 5:30. It was deafening and an altogether immersive experience.
Once on a retreat, a priest was talking to our group about methods of continual prayer. The one that stuck with me most was the idea of putting your hand to your chest to feel your heartbeat and reflecting on this miracle by which we are alive – a tangible reminder that God is always present with us.
I’m trying to remind myself of this when my heart begins racing before I speak in front of a group – rather than a sign of panicked anticipation, it is God reminding me that I’m never alone, he will always be by my side and lend me support. I’ve just recently had the idea that, just as it is in our weaknesses that we are most open to God’s agape, maybe my natural physiological aversion to speaking to groups an exemplary opportunity for God to help me realize His plan for me.
My involvement with Liturgical Ministry has been an important component of my faith since elementary school, and so I offered to help Father Gerome here in Rome as a lector, since that was the niche which was available to be filled. He is very taken with my style when lectoring and has often asked me how I am able to read the way I do. The simple answer is that I don’t know, it’s just how I read, but I don’t know that I would say that it “comes naturally” because I engage in this activity in opposition to a strong sense of stage-fright: racing heart, shaking legs, and if I talk for long enough my throat starts almost to close up. But most observers aren’t able to see all that; when I gave my valedictorian speech after going on and on to my mother about how much I was and was going to die when standing in front of 2000 people, she commented on how calm and collected I appeared, even though I confirmed that I was indeed falling apart internally.
Though I haven’t quite worked out what I think my vocation will be, I am fairly sure it will incorporate some manner of speaking to my brothers and sisters in Christ to share His words of salvation, and so this hurdle is something that I have long recognized needs to be overcome rather than submitted to, but recent reflection seems to suggest that in this very weakness I am finding the strength to follow God’s will for me. When I make the effort to speak in public, or at least in front of groups, the unescapable racing of my heart should be my reminder that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Phil 4:13)
Sitting there in bell tower with the resounding gongs resonating through my entire being, I allowed myself to embrace this reminder of His presence.
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