A Short Trip Report

Nothing puts one in touch with one's helplessness tech-wise quite like having (1) no ability to use one's laptop to get online and (2) having the power cord fray in one's suitcase, so when access finally happens, it can't happen.

But now I have both wifi and a working power cord. And I have so much to talk about!

For the past three weeks, my daughter was working on staff at a camp in Kansas that a couple of our friends run. (Thanks to those who sent her mail. She loved receiving it, and loved you for it!) While she was otherwise occupied, my husband and I took off for Sorrento, Italy, to celebrate 35 years of marriage. The city served as our base for four days that allowed us to see the Amalfi Coast and also generous vistas of Mt. Vesuvius. We chose the location because I wanted to get to Herculaneum, as the archeological dig there played a big role in my dissertation. But, um, guess what? A big storm that hit the day we arrived knocked that site out of commission for the general public. It remained closed until the day after we left. So I guess we must return….

Gary and me at 35 years in front of the Orvieto cathedral. The bench was a temporary addition for Corpus Domini.

From Sorrento we took the train through Rome to Orvieto, a city atop a rocky Umbrian cliff that serves as home to one of Italy's finest cathedrals (and Italy has some great cathedrals).

In Orvieto, I participated in a two-week course on Medieval Christianity and the Arts and another on Spiritual Practices that featured the women mystics of the Middle Ages. Imagine two summer-school classes back to back with generous field trips. (I teach a couple of lectures on these women, so that part was a nice little foray into directly applicable professional development.)

The course was offered in Orvieto as part of a group from Fuller Seminary. I went to network with their Brehm Center folks and the faculty members teaching the course. Why? To find out what others in the field of aesthetics and theology are doing, and with a view to possibly partnering with them on a DTS Italy program.

Due to an administrative glitch, we got Gary set up nearby in a hotel for a few days before heading to Kenya, while I entered the convent with the rest of the students, all of whom were creative types. A Hollywood movie producer. A Disney animation supervisor. Some professional musicians. A liturgical dancer… Nine of us students plus three faculty and their three spouses. Think about that ratio—six for nine. Was that great? Absolutely.

I was assigned a roommate and a curfew—a flashback to dorm life. We all shared meals on most days, and one night we "kept the hours" like the monastic folks through the ages, waking every 180 minutes to pray for the world and the community around us. (Somewhere in the world, around the clock someone is praying for the sick, the brokenhearted, and all in need.) We even learned to chant and filled the convent with our sounds reverberating in the night. At dawn, we sang and danced together on the rooftop patio a thousand feet in the air at the edge of the cliff that serves as the monastery's outer wall.

Civitas was home to St. Bonaventure, who wrote the authorized biography of St. Francis of Assisi, which we read.

As you read here, we explored Aquinas's church, walked all over Siena, trekked through Assisi, and celebrated Corpus Domini, the 750's anniversary of the Corpus Christi feast. Five of us women also hired a driver on our day off and went to the amazing city of Civitas, which requires crossing a long bridge by foot and ascending a long path. No cars in that city--only motorcycles and burros. There we shared a long meal with deep fellowship.

Added bonuses in Orvieto were free attendance to some outdoor medieval plays, both of which featured Orpheus. It was even worth the 75 mosquito bites I got for being outside at night with bare arms. The next day I walked through cobblestone streets, found the pharmacy, asked for itch cream, and paid in euros—all by myself. Another afternoon, I walked to the paper store and purchased supplies for a spontaneous writing workshop I led. By the time I left, Orvieto's tiny community felt like home, and they were patient with my pitiful Italian. We slept with the windows open, dried our clothes on the line, and walked nearly everywhere.

One student described the entire experience as "Christian sensitivity training," helping us understand why some people have been and still are into relics, icons, and deep traditions that might seem foreign to the uninitiated. We even learned how to read cathedral art—what some of the colors symbolize, and how the lower panels rank lower than what's happening in the high and exalted places.

Indeed, I walked many miles. And I thrived on pasta and gelato. (In fact, by the end I actually craved a nice head of broccoli and a few carrots!)

Gary returned home from Kenya before I finished my time in Italy. And the next day, he dragged his jet-lagged bones into the car and drove eight hours to Kansas to pick up our girl. They were home when I collapsed into bed after my twenty-five-hour journey back.

I now have a mountain of paperwork and messages to answer. I got in some vacation time, but mostly I was working. I took 80 pages of typed notes, read a few thousand pages, and asked loads of questions. But being a woman, an artist, and a Christian theologian all welcomed in one place—what a joy!