33 Blog Post Sunday, October 6, 2024 “Inebriated”
I bet you thought that my theme, ‘inebriated’, had to do with consuming too many Amalfi Spritzes, but that is not the case, as much as I am now a huge fan of the limoncello-prosecco beverage. One is just fine, thank you. Not enough to inebriate anyone.
Inebriation was a word that came up at church this morning. On a lovely, cool morning in Minori, I walked by the Mediterranean Sea to the Basilica di Santa Trofimena, which is just five minutes from our hotel. Of course the service was in Italian, but I was able to translate all the written text using Google Translate, an app on my phone. As I’ve said many times, having phone service/internet while traveling is the single most important thing we need. And this is one of the reasons: at a certain point in the Eucharistic Prayer, where the priest is praying that we are nourished by the Body of Christ, the Google translation said the most wonderful thing. First the translation said that “He who eats this bread, eats fire and Spirit.” Have you ever experienced Eucharist as being fire in your heart, your body, your life? I thought that was worth meditating on, and it gave me a new way to think about this shared meal. Eucharist as fire. Astonishing.
And the other translation that gave me a whole new perspective is when the priest referred to Eucharist as both nourishing us and inebriating us. In other words, is it possible to get drunk on God? To be inebriated isn’t just drunkenness, though. It also means to be exhilarated, to be intoxicated in a way that charms us, that makes us slightly silly with joy. I really love that idea. We think of God as so serious, so big and so important, so far away, and yet this fancy Italian service included a prayer that we would be inebriated by the Spirit of God, filled with bubbly joy. Consuming fire, experiencing inebriation. This is exactly why I am going to church every Sunday even when the language is not familiar. God is faithful. God speaks all languages. God works in mysterious and wonderful ways.
After church, I met Alistair for cappuccino and pasticceria (pastries) on the street where we are staying. And after fortifying ourselves with Italian sweets, we changed into our hiking clothes for the trek to Amalfi which is south-west of Minori, and it is a larger, more well-known city on the Mediterranean about 4 miles away via a trail that includes an incredible number of stairs, once again. As much as I enjoy hiking, one of the best moments for us (at least for me) was when we clearly began the downhill portion of the walk. Whew!
It was important for us to see another city close by, and Amalfi is a city where lots of people stay, far more than at Minori. Here’s the challenge—it was packed, packed, packed with tourists. We were crushed, pushed, bumped into. Yes, it was beautiful. Every city on this east coast of the Amalfi area of Italy is breathtaking. The buildings in Amalfi were particularly arresting because some of them are built into the actual stone, many are dramatically located nearly straight up on the mountain face. But it was so much more crowded and less ‘local’ feeling than Minori. As we watched new vacationers stream off the ferry at the shoreline with their luggage, we had compassion on them. That luggage was going straight uphill, no matter where those people were staying. But there were also ‘luggage mules’ close by—three-wheeled, tiny electric trucks that would transport the luggage to hotels for a fee, a fee well worth paying!!
After our long walk, we decided to take the ferry back to Minori for only 5 euro each. A trip that had taken us hours over the mountain took only 7 minutes by ferry and the spray of salt water soaked us, and the rush and bump of the waves was exhilarating. It was my first taste of the Mediterranean. I laughed the whole way. Hmmmm….I was kind of inebriated, I think.
When we got back, we couldn’t go inside. It was too beautiful out, and families were walking by the sea, so we decided to keep walking up to the very top of the city. Alistair was trying to find a place for me to run safely, so we walked up, and up, and up so more. (For those of you who are interested—more than 30,000 steps today!) Still not sure it makes sense to run here, plus we seem to be doing some good work on all these stairs, and tomorrow is our last day, but if we were here any longer, this would certainly be where I would run. The only problem? 100% uphill, at least on the way up. And then 100% downhill
It’s impossible for me to think of leaving Minori. I love this little town where everyone seems to turn out in the evening, where older gentlemen occupy the park benches, and families play on the playground on the shores of the sea, where the Guides (boys and girls who are in a co-ed organization much like Boy or Girl Scouts) were harvesting the olives from the trees on the esplanade (the walkway by the sea) using long-handled rakes and nets to capture the olives. I am just a little, well, inebriated, by the atmosphere here, aren’t I?
I know the limitations of this, trust me. Perhaps the fact that this time is so brief is what makes me love it so quickly, so fiercely. Perhaps it is the unexpected beauty that makes me surrender myself, or the challenging walks that are keeping me healthy and fit, or the sea that changes color by the minute, the sky that endlessly spreads out to meet the horizon of the Mediterranean. It is certainly my deep connection with God that gives me the gratitude, the understanding and the language of thanksgiving that continues almost without words as I absorb even more of the Italian culture each day. Is this reality? Of course not! And I know that. But it is relevant and important and life-changing for me and hopefully for Alistair as well. It is both restful and provocative—good aspects of a sabbatical, I think.
Tomorrow, on our last day here, we will hike straight up the mountain. There will be no downhill, only our arrival in Ravello which is the town that crowns the mountain above our heads. And there will be no ferry to take us back home. We’ll need to walk back down the way we came, thousands of steps that can sometimes be more challenging than the way up. We are starting early in order to do all the hard work before the heat of the sun becomes too intense. And of course, we still have to do laundry before the next part of our adventure on Tuesday morning, which is traveling to Salerno, down the coast, to pick up a rental car in order to drive across the boot of Italy. Next stop after that—Matera, Italy where the population used to live and work in ancient caves. It is the third oldest city in the world after Aleppo and Jericho.
This time is going by so quickly and with so much joy and discovery on my part. Today I received the unexpected gift of realizing that it is not only ok, but it is good to be inebriated by this beautiful place which was envisioned, created and blessed by God—just as Johnstown, Gloversville, Broadalbin and any town or city where you live has been envisioned, created and blessed by God. Maybe the lesson is to learn how to be charmed and maybe even a little bit inebriated by God on a regular basis, to see what it is that God has done, is doing, in our own backyards. I bet the colors of autumn are breathtaking, for example, and isn’t every autumn different and beautiful in its own way? (See my picture of pumpkins growing at one of the terraced farms—gave me the flavor of fall from far away.)
May you be inebriated by God, wherever you find yourself traveling.
ML+
