Benedict XVI's Love of Dante (the author's reversion story)

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.

Liz Lev teaches Christian art and architecture at Duquesne University's Rome campus. She also writes a lot for Zenit and is a tour guide in Rome. She is a great lady and mother. This is another of her recent articles:

Where Down Is In - A Pizzeria With A Heart For Service

A quiet affirmation of life takes place everyday in the suburbs of Rome. Here a family pizzeria demonstrates the dignity of every person.

An enterprising Roman family cooked up an idea to find jobs for their son, who is affected by Down syndrome, or Trisomy 21, and his friends. They opened a little, hidden-away pizzeria where the kids could work as waiters. The eatery, in the Via dei Sulpici in the Appia/Tuscolana area, has turned into a bustling, busy locale.

I went to try it out for myself last weekend, bringing my toddler son, Joshua, who also has Down syndrome. We came into a cheery, lively entrance, decorated with photographs of Down children posing with various Italian celebrities.

Although the restaurant was full, the staff found time to exchange pleasantries and to fete Joshua. After dinner I spoke to the woman who started this initiative, Augustina Balsamo, mother of 21-year-old Valerio (our waiter), and president of the Cooperativa Sociale Girasoli.

"I created this cooperative six years ago to try and help young people like Valerio to find work and to develop skills to allow them to find jobs on their own," Balsamo explained.

"Then we hit on the idea of a restaurant which would not only give the kids work, but also integrate them socially while encouraging people not to feel awkward around people with disabilities. This is our fifth year in business," she added proudly.

Valerio, Viviana and Claudio serve at the tables, sometimes up to a 100 people a night. How do people react to being waited on by someone with Down's syndrome? I asked.

"We're pretty out of the way, so most of the people who come here know what we're about and come because they're curious or they want to help or just because they like the good mood and good company," Balsamo replied.

"A couple of times people just happened in and when they saw that the waiters were all Down, they got up and left," she said. "Sometimes you have to be patient with people who don't understand."

More brightly, Balsamo remembered that several times "people had come and eaten without realizing they had been served by someone with Down syndrome."

I asked her how she as a mother felt about this whole experiment.

"Great," she answered, "they're more mature, they've learned responsibility, they communicate better and they have dreams and plans for the future."

She went on: "The most successful part has been the interaction between the so-called normal people who work here and the kids. Everyone is natural, easygoing and the staff has learned that they're just regular kids."

"I think this place is important because here, you see what would usually be hidden away. These are nice, friendly, sincere kids, why should they be kept out of view of the public?" Balsamo asked. "It's not so bad to be served by a Down waiter, is it?"

Then she interrogated me. "How was the food? Did you like it?" I told her (honestly) that I had enjoyed my dinner, as had my family.

Balsamo relaxed and smiled. "Very good," she said. "One may be sympathetic or want to help us out, but the bottom line is, if the food isn't good they won't be back."

God bless her and her family.

I've found that I like John Ciardi's translation the best.
The Inscription on The Gates of Hell From Canto III:

I AM THE WAY INTO THE CITY OF WOE.
I AM THE WAY TO A FORSAKEN PEOPLE.
I AM THE WAY INTO ETERNAL SORROW.

SACRED JUSTICE MOVED MY ARCHITECT.
I WAS RAISED HERE BY DIVINE OMNIPOTENCE,
PRIMORDIAL LOVE AND ULTIMATE INTELLECT.

ONLY THOSE ELEMENTS TIME CANNOT WEAR
WERE MADE BEFORE ME, AND BEYOND TIME I STAND.
ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE.

Also, the Gustave Dore prints have always fascinated me.

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