La chiesa, via della Vigna Vecchia
Sixty-two thousand miles away from my California home, there is a group of people who share the same foundation as I do. It’s a community that sees this world and knows God’s truth like I do. The magnitude of this hit an eye-popping me once we began singing, in Italian, a song deeply familiar to me in English. I love languages and the significance of their differences. More beautiful, though, is how faith is independent of them all.
There is war in this world, much of it based on religious institutions. I’m experiencing, however, that my personal peace is supremely universal. Moreover, it’s the greatest thing when my friends share that knowledge with me: I’ve been able to sneak huge grins at Caro and Thomas when something arises that we completely relate to/know from home. (Plus, we all come in handy for translation purposes – definite bonus.)
Which reminds me: imagine my surprise when my host family first welcomed me to pray in Italian for us all before dinner (as I did tonight, incidentally). That’s been fun! With such limited vocab, believe me – I’ve had to get creative.
Secondly, how ridiculously random is it that a Korean community meets at my church afterward for their service, too? I had been wondering about it since I found out last week.
Thirdly, how ridiculously random is it that I ran into two women of that community today at a cafe nearby? They were speaking Korean, and I threw out all qualms to approach them. Of course, we got to conversing – in Italian – and now of course I’m going to scope that scene out.
Small world. The more I see it, the smaller it gets.