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Date: 2006-02-09

Benedict XVI's Love of Dante; Why Fish on Fridays?

"The Divine Comedy" Resonates

By Elizabeth Lev

ROME, FEB. 9, 2006 (Zenit.org).- Benedict XVI's new encyclical on love came as a surprise to most everyone. Some wags commented on the paradox of the "German Shepherd" exclaiming that God is Love. Others are amazed that the erstwhile watchdog of Church doctrine would choose to dedicate so much ink to social teachings.

My surprise had nothing to do with this. I was floored when the Holy Father said he was inspired by Dante.

During an audience with members of the Pontifical Council "Cor Unum" on Jan. 23, Benedict XVI introduced the new encyclical saying that the 14th-century Italian poet Dante Alighieri had been instrumental in his meditation on the true meaning of love.

Why would this avant-garde theologian, eyes firmly fixed on the contemporary Church and its modern maladies, draw from 700-year-old poetry to describe love? Could he be teaching us that the great works of Christian art -- whether literary, musical or visual -- have lessons and messages pertinent to us today? What sweet music to the ears of an art historian.

But Benedict's mention of "The Divine Comedy" resounded not only in my professional life but in my personal story as well, since this magnificent poem changed the course of my life.

I first moved to Italy in 1989, drawn to its art and history but indifferent to the 2,000-year-old presence of Christianity. I had left my own Catholic faith far behind, and to me the many churches of Italy seemed merely dusty places housing good paintings.

Six years and three unbaptized children later, I began graduate work at the University of Bologna with a yearlong course on "The Divine Comedy." Reading the Italian poetry, I was increasingly captivated by the richness of language and fascinated by the wealth of allegory.

And yet I did not really understand this tale of conversion. Following Virgil and Dante into the circles of hell, I admired the style but refused to see the content.

Dante's vivid descriptions and musical rhyme, however, began to seep through all my filters. I began to dream of the laments in limbo, as in the Canto IV of the "Inferno," "sighs that trembled the timeless air: they emanated from the shadowy sadness." These were people who had not sinned, but were denied "Baptism, portal to the faith."

These words weighed on me so much that I had my children baptized. At the time they were 6, 5 and with my little boy approaching his 1st birthday. My whole family rejoiced that they were finally received into the Church. Less than one month later, my youngest son died in an accident.

Only one thing gave me comfort. My son was in heaven. I could explain to his sisters that their brother was with the angels. Dante had saved my son's eternal life.

I wish I could tell you that I turned my life around the very next day. But like Dante's journey, which must cover a lot of ground, I too had -- and have -- a long road ahead. I had made it out of the inferno, and imagined my life would be spent circling around the high mount of purgatory.

In the beginning of the third book, "Paradise," Dante warns that this book is for the few, that many should not read on as they will get lost along the way. I have always stopped during the complex visions of Paradise, feeling unfit to continue. Benedict XVI's encyclical offered me a new challenge. Perhaps through the teachings of the Holy Father and the art of Dante, even I can achieve a better vision of God as love.

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Trivia to Be Proud of

A few weeks ago I was given a little book called "Why Do Catholics Eat Fish on Fridays? The Catholic Origin to Just About Everything," by Michael P. Foley. I started reading it on the bus or in line at the post office, delighted to discover how many things we do or say today have their roots in Catholic tradition.

I spoke to the author, a professor at Baylor University in Texas, about what inspired him to write this fun, fact-filled book.

"I kept running into fascinating facts about the Catholic origin to everyday things, such as the pretzel, cappuccino and Groundhog Day, and after a while it occurred to me that this would make a great book," Foley told me.

But striking a more serious tone, he added, "When the coverage of the clerical abuse scandals reached its pitch, it seemed that American Catholics could do nothing but hang their heads in shame.

"Clearly these abuses were abominable, yet they did not accurately reflect the Catholic contribution to the world, which is a far better place thanks to the Church's teachings and traditions. So I guess you could say that the book was also intended as a morale booster."

From one researcher to another, what I really wanted to know was where he found all this great information.

Foley told me that he started by keeping "a file of all the interesting Catholic tidbits that I came upon. The research was great fun because it allowed me to visit parts of the library I had never been to before. Since I am a theologian in patristics, the Church Fathers section of the library is well-traveled ground to me, but being able to visit the floor holding the books on sports, chess and playing cards was a rare treat. It was like being granted a special visa."

While I personally started with the chapter on the arts, I asked Foley what the most interesting thing he learned during his research was.

"The importance of words, which is reflected in my chapter on Catholic, anti-Catholic and post-Catholic terminology," he answered. "It was a little disturbing to see how so many quintessentially Catholic terms like compassion, charity and victim were redefined during the modern period to the extent that even Catholics no longer know what they truly mean."

As Italy gears up to host the Winter Olympics, it seems that there is even a Catholic angle to these ancient pagan games.

"Yes indeed," answered Foley, "the motto for the Olympics -- 'Citius, Fortius, Altius,' or 'faster, stronger, higher' -- was coined by a Dominican priest. But because the father of the modern Olympics abhorred Christian moderation, he changed the order to 'Citius, Altius, Fortius' instead to stress 'the freedom of excess.'"

So Catholics should hold their heads high, not bow in shame. Foley observed that "the Church's confidence in reason aided by faith, her incarnational love of beauty, her passion for justice, and her institutional stability have all had an extraordinary effect on our education, arts, music, law -- even our measurement of time. The West would simply not be the West without the Catholic Church."

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Der Führer's Berlin

In the compelling 2004 German film, "The Downfall," viewers witness the harrowing final weeks of Hitler inside his bunker in Berlin.

One of the most memorable scenes in the film shows Hitler, just apprised of the loss of one of his legions, turning away from the harsh realities of a lost war, to gaze at his dream of a new Berlin. A scale model of what was destined to become the capital of the German Empire stretches out on an enormous platform, a breathtaking horizon littered with the finest architectural monuments copied from Hitler's conquered lands.

The juxtaposition of the small, dark unkempt Führer, and the pristine snow-white models of man's greatest architectural achievements is unforgettable.

Hitler's vision of a Berlin reborn was indeed very real. And the design had been prepared by his personal architect, Albert Speer. The Führer, a frustrated artist himself, enjoyed the company of Speer and personally oversaw the creation of the plan.

Speer's memoirs have given historians a good idea of what the new capital would have looked like, but last month new information came to light regarding the design. The heart of Hitler's new Berlin was to have been modeled after St. Peter's Square.

After the fall of Berlin, the Russians brought thousands of pieces of artwork, archives and libraries back to the Soviet Union. Over the years, this treasure trove of documents and masterpieces has resurfaced at what could best be described as a slow trickle.

David Sarkisan, director of the Moscow's Museum of Architecture, however, divulged last January that 200 boxes of files and papers belonging to Speer had been rediscovered and the understanding of Hitler's monumental plan became more complete.

Speer's design for the Führer's ideal Berlin recreated the great buildings of Paris and Rome organized along the same axis as the Roman Forum of the Empire. The principal axis of the city was to be a 3-mile avenue running north to south similar to the Via Sacra of the Roman Forum.

In the Forum, this axis was delineated by the Capitoline Hill on one side, crowned by the temple of Jupiter and by the Arch of Titus celebrating the conquest of Jerusalem in A.D. 71, a fact which would have held special pleasure for the Nazi leader.

In Hitler's grandiose scheme, a giant, domed building modeled after Michelangelo's work on St. Peter's Basilica served as the northern boundary. Hitler's colossal dome would have been 700 feet in diameter -- 16 times larger than the one in Rome.

On the southern edge, Hitler commissioned a copy of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, but again so large that the French arch could have been contained in its opening. Doric-style temple fronts and immense porticos enriched the plan.

But the core of Hitler's Berlin was to be enclosed by a gigantic travertine colonnade, re-creating the grand oval of Bernini's St. Peter's Square. The piazza that represents the Church's universal embrace to all peoples would become a wretched travesty enclosing the perverse heart of the Third Reich.

And in the center of the square, on the site the granite obelisk which witnessed the martyrdom of St. Peter almost 2,000 years ago, Hitler intended a statue of his ally Italian dictator Benito Mussolini. A startling testimony to the Führer's determination to utilize the trappings of Christianity while rendering it void of its foundation and its meaning.

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Errata corrige: I fear that while my studies in the humanities have been increased, my mathematical skills have correspondingly deteriorated. In my last Rome Notes, I aged poor Mozart by 100 years. It is the 250th anniversary of the birth of Mozart, not the 350th. My thanks to the countless attentive readers who pointed this out.

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Elizabeth Lev teaches Christian art and architecture at Duquesne University's Rome campus. She can be reached at lizlev@zenit.org.