The Art of Rome -- or as much as would fit in a day

So, our plan for the day was to be sure to see the Pieta, which had been closed off during yesterday's mass.  Also, to visit the Sistine chapel. One of our guide books said the most reasonable way to get into the Sistine chapel was at the end of a tour through the Vatican Museums (Musei Vaticani).

So, after sleeping in (yeah!!!) and a reasonable continental breakfast, it was off to the Basilica to see the Pieta.  I was especially eager to see this, as it was the first work of visual art that had ever moved me.  I'd been to the east coast in 1964 or so for the World's Fair, and was emotionally, and perhaps even spiritually, blown away by its beauty, sensitivity, feeling.

But after waiting in the Basilica line for a bit, we decided this could wait, and that we should see the Musei early, and we could save the Basilica for later.

On our walk along the outside of the Vatican walls (Lisa: "Wow; people who think it's hard to get into our church headquarters ought to see this!"), pretty woman (seemingly sincerely) offered us tickets to a guided tour that would help us "jump the queue."  But it was a winter-time Friday, so there weren't any queues at all.

The Vatican Museums house huge amounts of art and relics accumulated by the popes over time.  They're housed in former offices and residences of the popes, so some of the art, especially walls painted by Raphael, is displayed in the setting for which it was created.

I especially loved the "Musical Angels" (or "Angelic Musicians," I can't remember which).  I'd seen posters of these, but had no idea they were housed here.  They're so pretty, the colors so vibrant.  More interestingly, each seems to have its own reasons for playing.  One caught up in the beauty of the music, another praising God, another tailoring her tune for the benefit of her hearers below.  [This one was my favorite.]

There was a stunning painting of the transfiguration of Christ in which the drama of the heavenly visitors (Moses and Elijah) and the cowed apostles is tied to a scene below of the healing of a possessed boy.

Not sure why a portrait of a penitent Jerome appealed to us, but it did.  I honor his life of service in learning enough Hebrew and Greek to create so accurate and durable a translation of the Bible.  I'm perplexed at his apparent remorse in the painting, tho' I don't know the story.