Padua (Part 2)
(March 19)
(For part 1 of this weekend, see Venice below)
Padua - a city that truly surprised me with its loveliness, was just a short train ride from Venice on our way back to Rome. Pilgrims shouldn't be daunted by the questionable train station. We caught a glimpse of it on our way to Venice, which almost kept us from visiting on the way back. But Saint Anthony insisted and so we ventured beyond the graffitied concrete, smarmy characters, and twisted barbed wire at the tracks into the city proper.
There, we found - big surprise - a number of glorious churches and a beautiful and rather large piazza. We hadn't been in the piazza more than ten minutes before several locals proudly boasted that we were standing in the largest piazza in all of Europe. A few minutes later, a street vendor bragged that he sells pizza in the second largest piazza in Europe. Finally, another Paduan asked me if I knew I was in the third largest piazza on the continent. "No, I didn't," I answered honestly, less than a few minutes ago I thought it was numero uno. He was a bit dejected and confused when I didn't look impressed. But although I'm not entirely sure where this piazza stands in the rankings, it is certainly big, and gorgeous with its large fountain centerpiece and numerous statues lining the same fountain's extensive channels.
But we hadn't traveled to Padua to stand in the first...second...third largest square in Europe, we came to pay homage to St. Anthony of Padua at his basilica. The Basilica was incredible - yes for it's splendid architecture, yes for its patron's tomb, but mostly for the spirit which uplifts this holy place. If not for this spirit, the church would simply be another objectively beautiful edifice, and St. Anthony just another objectively dead guy. But though he’s dead in the medical sense, St. Anthony is very much alive in every other non-objective way. I can't recall seeing such consistent and genuine devotion at any other pilgrimage site in Italy. Everywhere else, gauckers usually make up about 97% of visitors, whereas true devotees make up only 3%. But in Padua, it seemed everyone there was imbibed with hope and devotion as they past his tomb. Pilgrims physically clutched it with their whole being, fervently kissed it, or carefully placed written petitions at his feet.
This faithfulness was not without exception of course. Snappy-happy, tripod-toting tourists shall never be dissuaded from capturing the perfect shot no matter how many “no-camera” signs are posted, how many evil glares are shot their way when they use the forbidden flash, or how many pilgrims’ prayers they interrupt with their fumbles and giggles. Still, I maintain that the proportion of devotee to gauker was higher than any other place I’ve been to.
In addition, the Dominicans that run the basilica are incredible! They have a multimedia presentation of St. Anthony’s life available in several languages and hand out information cards that aren’t just factual, but pastoral and catechetical. I was highly impressed at their eagerness, which was not to sell souvenirs or charge an entry fee, but to draw the flocks of visitors from all walks of life to the spirit of St. Anthony and the life of the Church.
One additional note: I had the most amazing piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever had in my life in Padua at a little store across from the basilica. I can’t even describe the texture and flavor of it without doing its memory a terrible disservice – so I won’t even try. I just want to make it a matter of record that this piece of cake, would that it could have lasted forever, was mind-altering and time-suspending. I wish to remember for many years to come that if only for a brief moment, I tasted something so good. I’m hoping this paragraph will serve the purpose of reminding me of that in the future.
(For part 1 of this weekend, see Venice below)
Padua - a city that truly surprised me with its loveliness, was just a short train ride from Venice on our way back to Rome. Pilgrims shouldn't be daunted by the questionable train station. We caught a glimpse of it on our way to Venice, which almost kept us from visiting on the way back. But Saint Anthony insisted and so we ventured beyond the graffitied concrete, smarmy characters, and twisted barbed wire at the tracks into the city proper.
There, we found - big surprise - a number of glorious churches and a beautiful and rather large piazza. We hadn't been in the piazza more than ten minutes before several locals proudly boasted that we were standing in the largest piazza in all of Europe. A few minutes later, a street vendor bragged that he sells pizza in the second largest piazza in Europe. Finally, another Paduan asked me if I knew I was in the third largest piazza on the continent. "No, I didn't," I answered honestly, less than a few minutes ago I thought it was numero uno. He was a bit dejected and confused when I didn't look impressed. But although I'm not entirely sure where this piazza stands in the rankings, it is certainly big, and gorgeous with its large fountain centerpiece and numerous statues lining the same fountain's extensive channels.
But we hadn't traveled to Padua to stand in the first...second...third largest square in Europe, we came to pay homage to St. Anthony of Padua at his basilica. The Basilica was incredible - yes for it's splendid architecture, yes for its patron's tomb, but mostly for the spirit which uplifts this holy place. If not for this spirit, the church would simply be another objectively beautiful edifice, and St. Anthony just another objectively dead guy. But though he’s dead in the medical sense, St. Anthony is very much alive in every other non-objective way. I can't recall seeing such consistent and genuine devotion at any other pilgrimage site in Italy. Everywhere else, gauckers usually make up about 97% of visitors, whereas true devotees make up only 3%. But in Padua, it seemed everyone there was imbibed with hope and devotion as they past his tomb. Pilgrims physically clutched it with their whole being, fervently kissed it, or carefully placed written petitions at his feet.
This faithfulness was not without exception of course. Snappy-happy, tripod-toting tourists shall never be dissuaded from capturing the perfect shot no matter how many “no-camera” signs are posted, how many evil glares are shot their way when they use the forbidden flash, or how many pilgrims’ prayers they interrupt with their fumbles and giggles. Still, I maintain that the proportion of devotee to gauker was higher than any other place I’ve been to.
In addition, the Dominicans that run the basilica are incredible! They have a multimedia presentation of St. Anthony’s life available in several languages and hand out information cards that aren’t just factual, but pastoral and catechetical. I was highly impressed at their eagerness, which was not to sell souvenirs or charge an entry fee, but to draw the flocks of visitors from all walks of life to the spirit of St. Anthony and the life of the Church.
One additional note: I had the most amazing piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever had in my life in Padua at a little store across from the basilica. I can’t even describe the texture and flavor of it without doing its memory a terrible disservice – so I won’t even try. I just want to make it a matter of record that this piece of cake, would that it could have lasted forever, was mind-altering and time-suspending. I wish to remember for many years to come that if only for a brief moment, I tasted something so good. I’m hoping this paragraph will serve the purpose of reminding me of that in the future.
posted by Amy at 9:40 AM
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