The Circle of Faith

At first, their song went almost unheard. The tumult of voices and laughter and a steady stream of worshippers spilling out of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, a crowd happy at the end of the Easter Vigil and the resurrection of their Lord, at first obscured the crowd of joyful singers. As they sang and danced in celebration, they offered hands and made spaces for the growing throng of onlookers. My friends and I were soon drawn into the circle. Those baptized and received into the Church by Pope John Paul II himself that night, were of every race and ethnicity, yet carried flags not of nations but of love and faith.

The Easter Vigil Mass is traditionally the longest celebration of the year in which Catholics remember the highlights of thousands of years of Jewish and Christian tradition, sacramentally welcome newcomers to the faith, and celebrate the night upon which all Christians believe that sinful humankind was forever redeemed. When I began to dance with these newly baptized converts in St. Peter's Square, the "real" world of conflict and anguish fell away for a few moments. I was amazed, once again, at the universality of the Roman Catholic Church.

"You are Peter, and upon this Rock I will build my church," Jesus said to St. Peter. Though Christians disagree on what Jesus meant, to Catholics it is clear that at that moment Christ formed the holy Church which has continued for 20 centuries. The Catholic Church is built upon sacred scripture and tradition, helping breathe life into the worlds of faith and action alike. Today, it is led by Pope John Paul II, whose most recent encyclical, "Fides ed Ratio" (faith and reason), speaks clearly to the rapidly accelerating pace of information transfer and change that "can leave especially the younger generation, to whom the future belongs and on whom it depends, with a sense that they have no valid points of reference." Where is the reason, the rationale upon which the rock of the Church can rest in our skeptical world? Though prayer is highly effective, for some of us, pilgrimages can help this little problem.

Every year many pilgrims continue the tradition. When I went to Rome during Holy Week to join the Easter celebrations, my happiness extended beyond my dreams of the Yankees winning the World Series. To those who make the journey, this Holy City offers reasons for faith. Pilgrims can visit the Basilica of St. John Lateran and climb (on their knees) the "Holy Steps" of Pontius Pilate's palace which Jesus traversed several times on the day he was condemned and crucified. Less dominating, but more profound, in the Church of the Holy Cross of Jerusalem, large pieces of the crosses of both Jesus and one of the thieves crucified with him are displayed in a side chapel, along with two thorns from the crown of thorns that adorned Jesus' head in his final hours.

But is it tangible relics that make faith real to us? Most Christians do not get to see the excavations around the tomb of St. Peter nor the chains which once imprisoned him, yet they believe. With their faith alone, they gain knowledge of the "truth that sets them free" (John 8:32).

Of course, many reading this will not share the faith of faith of those dancers in St. Peter's Square. The simple faith I found in those dancers and in a unity of belief and love exemplified by the Pope's Easter greeting in 61 languages the next day were reason enough for me.

Christa M. Franklin '99 is social studies concentrator in Currier House. Her column appears on alternate Mondays.