Author in the News: Dr. Dennis Ortman Visits Rome -- and Shares His Impressions in a Thoughtful Blog Post Quite Fitting for Sunday

 

ROMAN PILGRIMAGE

 

I had only one wish on my bucket list—to visit Rome. I lived there as a student nearly fifty years ago, and had never been back. Now was the time. I was excited by the prospect of visiting my old haunts. I wondered what I would discover, not so much about the eternal city, but about myself. How have I changed in those fifty years? The real journey, I realized, was inward. For the most part, I would be alone touring the city for two weeks. I expected the time to be a personal retreat, a spiritual pilgrimage. What it turned out to be was beyond my expectations.

 

I stayed at an airbnb near the Coliseum, in the center of the old city. Coincidentally, it was around the corner from the Hotel Forum where my mother stayed when visiting. The hotel became my landmark. Everything of interest to me was within walking distance. I had no agenda for each day and did not follow a guidebook. A fellow classmate had given me some suggestions of typical tourist sites, which I used as a loose itinerary. Mostly, I strolled each day in some area of the city that drew my attention that morning. I roamed the busy, crowded streets without any preconceptions about what I would find. I wandered, got lost, and stumbled upon unexpected treasures, like Bernini’s breathtaking statue of the rapture of St. Teresa of Avila in a little off-the-grid church.

 

These were my daily walking meditations. I walked with an open mind and heart. I was an observer without expectations of any particular discovery. My aim was to rest in the spaciousness of the mind, embracing all, rejecting nothing. That is how I now define prayer, paying full attention, beyond thoughts and desires. The mental stillness opens us to the Absolute, to God.

 

I also found a place of refuge in that busy city. Nearly every day I spent some time of quiet in a small chapel in the Church of the Gesu, where St. Ignatius Loyola is buried. Coincidentally, I received both my theology and psychology degrees from Jesuit universities. The chapel had a striking crucifix, which for me embodied Jesus’ total surrender to his Father’s will. If someone asks me the best definition of love, I point to the cross, which also contains the resurrection.

With this prayerful attitude, I experienced connections, sometimes surprising ones. I believe that everything belongs, fits in as a colorful thread in the rich tapestry of my life which the Divine Weaver is creating. All is changing, but the Eternal directs it all. Three areas of connection between past and present emerged in my Roman pilgrimage: age, lifestyle, and career.

 

AGE

 

I first noticed how different it is being a tourist in my seventies than in my twenties. I prepared to make my visit to Rome a walking tour. Each day I walked over 20,000 steps. In the first few days I pushed myself, walking all day, exploring many sites. I caught a mild cold, which told me I overdid it. So I began taking afternoon breaks and pacing myself. In my student days, I felt an urgency to see everything of any reported significance. I needed to take a BT (Been There) picture. I never seemed to tire. Not now. I just wanted to observe what I could at a leisurely pace (My gait is naturally fast.), as the Spirit directed me.

I am a creature of routine, up at six in the morning and in bed by ten o’clock. That routine comes naturally for me, so I followed it in Rome. I remembered the late and large dinners in Rome and wondered how I would accommodate at my age. I love Italian food and looked forward to carbonara, saltim bocca, tiramisu, and gelato. Not surprisingly, I could not follow the culinary habits of a half century ago. I enjoyed my treats, but earlier and in smaller portions. Rarely did I have more than a one course meal. With age, appetites change. Thank God!

I was also more aware of the elderly I encountered on the streets, in lines, and at the airport. I noticed their slowness, forgetfulness, and confusion, which made me impatient in my youth. Now I was more compassionate, seeing myself in the not-too-distant future.

 

LIFESTYLE

The highlight of the trip was the two and a half days I spent with my son David, his partner Kelly, and their son Jaxon. When they arrived, I changed my routine. I had a specific agenda to show them the significant places in my previous life in Rome. I first took them on a tour of the Gregorian University (founded in 1551), which I attended for five years. We affectionately called it “Mother Greg,” a moniker still used today, I learned. The place was completely renovated inside, even though the exterior was mostly unchanged. Young women from all over the world wandered the halls, unlike in my day when the university was notably clerical.

Next, we walked around the corner from the University to the Casa Santa Maria where I lived as a graduate student for a year. I wondered how we would get in to see the locked down place. Fortunately, a Mexican student from Texas who lived at the Casa came by. We asked if we could visit inside. He graciously took us on a tour of that residence which has a magnificent courtyard and chapel. Memories flooded me, especially of celebrating Mass for the Italian nuns in that chapel. The student had been studying in Rome for four years and had lived at the college on the hill. I found out about the current program and told him about the “good old days.”

After visiting the Casa, I led my family through the backstreets of Rome and viewed some of the traditional sites—the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, and Piazza Navona. I took them on the winding path I followed each day back and forth from the University. Along the way, we had lunch at a restaurant I frequented fifty years ago.

We finally arrived at the North American College on the Janiculum Hill, where I lived as an undergraduate student for four years. Again, I was uncertain how we would gain entrance. I asked the gatekeeper. He responded abruptly, “Chiuso (closed)!” A young American theology student happened by, and I asked him if he could get us in. He graciously gave us a tour of the whole place, which has not changed a great deal from my days. In the chapel, I remembered fondly the day of my ordination to the Diaconate there. He took us to the roof of the college, to which had been added an impressive oversight room. From there we had the best view of the entire city and of St. Peter’s. I remember looking out my window each day as a student at that iconic dome. He showed us pictures of the graduating classes over the years. I found my class picture from 1974. The young seminarian from Providence and I exchanged stories about the past and present. Some things never change in this eternal city.

Our family day excursion ended with a visit to St. Peter’s basilica. The seminarian told us we could avoid the long lines to gain entrance by telling the guard we came to pray. Like every past visit to that sacred place, my breath was taken away. I pointed out some of the highlights and explained their significance to my family. I took the role of tour guide, a familiar role from the past. It seemed David and Kelly were more impressed by the grandeur and beauty of the place, than by its sacredness, as I always am. 

At the end of our visit, David said, “Thanks for showing us your old playground.” For me the play remains the same, while the grounds have shifted. 

That shift was evident to me from my view of Italian family life from my airbnb window. I was staying in a fourth floor apartment which overlooked a courtyard. Each day I observed the interaction of a family below. They were a young couple with a dog. One set of parents either lived there or visited. I noticed many leisurely family meals at all hours, even in the middle of the night. I was reminded of the transitions of my own life, from single priest, to married man, and now to single divorced man. It seems that my life has come full circle, but with a significant difference. I am living alone again, but have a large family that includes my children and grandchildren and my friends. I kept connection with them all by sending pictures. When I think about it, I am never really alone. In fact, the whole world is my family.

 

CAREER 

Before my family arrived, I visited the Gregorian University alone one day. I wandered the hallowed halls, grateful for all I learned and experienced there. Not only did I receive an excellent theological education, but I experienced the breadth and depth of our world. I studied with others from all over the world and was able to travel extensively. The seeds of a global perspective, a genuinely catholic view, were planted. At the University I chatted with a professor, learning about the current program, and with several students preparing for exams. I remember well the stress of “the push” to prepare for the ten minute oral exams. The professor could uncover a lot of ignorance in that brief time. 

Two chance encounters in the city underlined how I have integrated my past and present lives in my career. I had lunch at a restaurant run by an international order of nuns that I frequented fifty years ago. A young Vietnamese nun served me. She was friendly and asked about me. We had a conversation in my broken Italian. I told her I had been a priest and was now a psychologist. I also explained how I have become more of a spiritual director with my patients as I integrate psychology and spirituality in my work. She began to unburden herself with me, expressing her concern and anxiety about a suicidal friend. I offered her some comfort and guidance. It seemed to be a healing moment for both of us. 

A second meeting occurred spontaneously at an outdoor restaurant. I was sitting alone next to a young man who also was alone. We struck up a conversation. Our connection was immediate. He was from Baltimore and knew some priests I had studied with in Rome fifty years ago. He told me had been in the seminary, but left to become a high school teacher. He was also a church organist and taking promises to be a Carmelite lay associate. We talked about his work and dedication to his students. He expressed concern about their mental wellbeing due to the epidemic and digital technology. 

I am particularly interested now in the impact of these advancing technologies and artificial intelligence on our psyche. We agreed that artificial intelligence can never replace human consciousness and interaction. We both bemoaned the loss of the sense of self and the need for solitude to gain self-awareness. I am beginning to believe that we all live in the virtual world of our own thoughts, which we take as reality. Our thinking is more dream-like than we admit. Freedom will only come from shedding this false constructed self and recovering our readily available True Self.

During the painful times of transition from the priesthood and from my marriage, my therapist observed, “You can take the man out of the priesthood, but not the priesthood out of the man.” During this Roman pilgrimage I encountered again the truth of that statement. I am a priest forever in my work, consciously and intentionally guided by the Spirit. My former life in Rome, the eternal city, planted seeds that are now bearing fruit in unexpected ways. 

My trip to Rome was more than a walk down memory lane or even a pilgrimage. It was a time of renaissance, of personal renewal. It again reminded me of how much my life, with all its twists and turns, is of one piece. The eternal Spirit of love and truth guides me. My only prayer is that I completely surrender to it.

To see more posts about Dennis and his award-winning books, click HERE.

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