The Italian Memorandum

 One day in December, while walking between the Castle and the Cathedral of Milan, we heard some very elegant electric guitar music echoing between the stone walls.  There he was sitting on the ground playing Imagine by Lennon.   He played slowly with delicate finesse.   Then, while admiring his instrumental work (because the lyrics are wanting), I looked down to see he had no legs (uhm).   His gift was undoubtedly despite his severe limitations.   Again, recently, in the cavernous chambers of the Metropolitana, I heard Mozart being played by a gifted violinist.  We understand such beauty when it comes to music because of the immediate feedback.  But, sometimes in the cause of Christ there are no immediate overtures or encores.   But, we believe that one day things will resolve when the books are opened.

The great Luciano Pavorotti said, “I think a life in music is a life well spent, and this is what I have devoted my life to.”   We understand that not long after the Italian tenor said those words he passed on into the great hereafter.    Someday, perhaps not long from now, we may like Pavarotti reflect back on our life and muse about what our gift has been.   And, like the music of Pavarotti, though he is gone, his music plays on.

We recently came across an anonymous line which we dedicate here and now to those of you who have left your gift between the Castle and the Cathedral of Milan (Acts 20:35; 2 Corinthians 9:11).   “Some people come into our lives and quickly go.   Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts.   And we are never, ever the same”  

Pantheon

The Pantheon is larger than one might imagine and truly surreal.  Rome has been called the Eternal City for some solid comparative reasons.  However, at

base of the Spanish Steps

the base of the Spanish Steps, immediately to the right, there is a multi-level, albeit, modest home known as The Keats-Shelley House.  Bob had heard of this place some years ago.   Then, recently, in a visit to Rome, he found it just as predicted.  As Bob stood in the room where Keats died and looking out the very window that John must have peered himself many times, he was reminded of an old text from one of the prophets—“All souls are mine”  (Ezekiel 18:4).  Whereas, Shelley was lost at sea in Italy, Keats died

room where Keats died

here in Rome of tuberculosis.  Both men made lasting literary contributions. Both died relatively young. And both had to leave “the Eternal City”.

But, the thought that Bob would like to leave here is how he found a young British (not Italian) museum curator knitting away on the second floor of the Keats-Shelley House.  There she was in the quiet of that Italian afternoon keeping watch over the literary shrine to the memory of these two British poets.  That somehow seemed appropriate (see also Proverbs 15:3).

approaching Spanish Steps