Easter in Florence

It is Easter time and I am in Florence, along with way too many visitors from places unknown.  Tonight I had dinner at a local trattoria near my little rented apartment and as I walked across the Piazza del Carmine, I saw that the great church at one end was in fact open.  I have never entered this stark looking church, to be sure, but rather have returned time and time again to this place to see Massaccio's stunning frescoes in the little chapel off to the side called the Brancacci Chapel.  Tonight the square was pitch dark but there were lights close to the church and it appeared to be open for business.  Since my very early years when I lived in Italy I have always been drawn to entering the churches here, and so I went.  It was Good Friday, after all, and who knows what was about to happen.
After entering through spartan looking wooden doors, I entered the church which was lit and showing off its painted little chapels on the sides and felt ready for business.  Such a contrast.  Several women sat in the wooden pews and I joined them up at the front three rows back.  Since the time I was young and marched through churches it was my perception that the women were the main inhabitants of churches here...  A priest in white robes was talking to a woman up behind the altar, but I couldn't tell what they were saying.  I sat and breathed and waited.  More women came.  More lights were ignited and I knew a service was about to happen.  A large Christ on the crucifix was laying on the ground on the steps that let up to the altar,  Yes, this was the day he died...  Eventually the larger front doors of the church sprung open and a whole procession of people paraded in, led by a priest holding another crucifix, and everyone else holding small candles.  It was quite beautiful.  I stood up from my seat and moved to the side so I could see the whole procession...
I have watched these kind of processions a lot in my life and now I find them infinitely more interesting than I did back then.  I guess it's because I inhabit the spiritual realm now in my own way, and I know the comfort of ritual.  We are all trying to find our place in the larger picture, and while I used to denigrate the Catholic religion for its dogmatism and greed, I now sit there and receive it with gratitude and appreciation.  Or is it compassion for those on the challenging path of awareness?  What I was missing tonight was the pungent smell of burning candles everywhere which I associate with all the ancient churches I've walked into in Italy.  But that's o.k.  Because what I saw was a tender human drama unfolding quietly before my eyes on a chilly April night, as people mouthed prayers to the Virgin Mary in soft rippling voices.  I bowed my own head but didn't say the words because I didn't know them.  But, in a way, I think I did know them...  They were words asking for comfort from Mary,  supposed mother of Jesus, comfort and peace and wellbeing for us all.  And how can you argue with that?
In the end, it doesn't matter that I am not Christian and believing in God and Jesus, because the vision is larger than any one religion: it is about simple peace, kindness, oneness,  and wellbeing.  The Dalai Lama once said that all religions were driven by the same human need or vision and they just happen to look different.  Of course.
When I had had enough of the soft voices praying to the Virgin, I left the Carmine church with my little portion of leftovers from dinner, and I walked away into the dark night, realizing I didn't feel cold anymore.  I had communion with others I would never know and that carried me as I walked away.