Chanting monks at sunset

Four times a day, there are monks chanting in San Miniato al Monte the basilica on top of Piazzale Michaelangelo.  So at sunset today, I climbed up the hill to listen to them.

The cemetery at San Miniato al Monte

It was this sort of ethereal religious experience.  Sitting in the basement of a church on top of a hill overlooking an ancient city of art listening to monks sing Gregorian chants.  There were beautiful painting on the ceilings, and Latin verses were carved into the marble on the floor.

But there was also this intangible human element to it.  One of the monks showed up late, rushing into the room, his robes lifting up just a little to expose the fact that he was wearing Birkenstocks and socks.  He kept rifling through the pages of his songbook looking for the particular page the other monks were on.

There was another monk who could not stop smiling, like the seed of the music had wormed its way deep inside his soul, and he could not stop the light from spilling out through his grin.  He was young, he had not yet learned to look somber while he sang.

This picture reminded me of some photography I'd seen on Dad's Tumblr

On the walk home, the sun was setting.  And there is nothing more beautiful than disappearing light and city and river all rolled into one.

Yumm :) A post monk chanting treat.

The city at sunset.