Sacred Ground

I recently returned from a trip to Europe and my posts for the next few weeks will be discussing some of the experiences I had out there. My brother was already in Rome with a friend when I arrived, and the rest of my family wasn’t going to land until the evening, so my brother and his friend, Mike, showed me around the city for the day. We went to the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Pantheon, and St. Peter’s Basilica. While we walked through basilica, I was overwhelmed by the size and the beauty of the place.

Mike had been to Rome many times before, and he freely shared his knowledge about what we were seeing. He informed us that the basilica was built over Peter’s tomb, he explained what all of the saints who are immortalized in marble there did to become saints, and he pointed out different relics in the basilica, such as the spear that pierced Jesus’ side. It slowly dawned on me that Mike was a Catholic and that he really believed the things he was telling me. When that dawned on me, it changed my experience inside the basilica.

I didn’t come away from that impressive structure a Catholic, or believing in many of the things Catholics believe. For example, I seriously doubt that the spear kept in St. Peter’s Basilica is the actual spear that pierced Jesus’ side. And even if it was, it would have more historical value than spiritual value as far as I’m concerned. But seeing this place through the eyes of someone who considers it sacred, just as so many people in the world do, was a gratifying experience. After all, if someone was going to tour one of the sites that I consider sacred, such as the grove of trees in upstate New York where God and Jesus Christ appeared to the boy prophet, Joseph Smith, or Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah, I would want them to see it the way I do. I would want them to know why I consider it sacred.

That is not necessarily so they will believe what I believe, although if they did believe it that would be all the better. I would just want them to understand where I’m coming from. We Mormons have borne the brunt of our fair share of disrespect. In the eighteen hundreds, Mormons were persecuted, killed, raped, pillage, and driven from their homes and the Temple they had worked so hard to build. This happened not once, but twice, in Kirtland, Ohio and Nauvoo, Illinois. It almost happened again in Salt Lake City, Utah. In the present, Mormons have been accused of being racist, chauvinists, hate-mongers, and worse. I think that this persecution comes mostly because we don’t compromise our beliefs when they conflict with the demands of the world. Many of the things that we consider most sacred are degraded, ridiculed, and worse yet, exposed to the world’s misinformed scorn.

It hurts when people I meet let their pastors or their ill-informed friends speak for my beliefs. It’s frustrating when I cannot convince them that the falsehoods that they’ve heard are incorrect. Since I’ve had those experiences, I am very careful about not doing the same thing myself. If I am going to learn about a different religion, the least I can do is show those who believe in it the respect of learning about it from one of them, hear what they believe and why they believe it. I unexpectedly got that chance as Mike guided me and my brother through St. Peter’s Basilica, and because of that, I was better able to understand where he and the millions of other Catholics are coming from. Someday, if we’re ever in Salt Lake City at the same time, I would like to be able to return the favor.