By Divine Intervention

Having just returned from a fantastic holiday in Rome, my original intention was to write about the religious implications of Rome and its Catholic importance. Yet still I found myself in a different mindset when I found the familiar grooves of my laptop keyboard; instead focussing on friends, and understanding how they can save us from the deepest and darkest of places.

It is here that our story begins, aboard our trusty EasyJet Airbus(this in itself a bit of an oxymoronic turn of phrase...) we prepared for takeoff. The pilot introduced himself rather politely and the cabin crew were indeed pleasant enough, save for the chief cabin steward; whose job it was to announce that there were great deals to be had on products being sold from the aircraft shop, an announcement in which he was to describe every single item being offered, pausing frequently without reason, clearly reading the same blurb that passengers were reading from the EasyJet magazine. However, sat against the window of our plane; I was drawn to thinking about the passengers who were next to me. My best friends. It was early September that we had first decided that a lad's holiday was in order, though a destination was not immediately clear to us. We had thought about the cobbled Parisian streets, and we had looked into the warm and cosy atmosphere that Dublin might be able to afford three students in November. Certainly both locations offered something unique and special but it was Rome that captivated our interests when we stumbled upon the most perfect of offers; which then eliminated any other possibilities. And so we were destined, to find ourselves in the City of God, surrounded by his most enthusiastic and dedicated fans.

Sitting at my portal - my cabin side window, I watched the clouds thin out and drift, almost enveloping our plane but at the same time not threatening our journey, rather seeming to brace and support our plane through the skies. Yet it was the people beside me that I was more drawn to. It was on the way to Rome that we had each discovered that we were all in dire straits, and for different reasons - essentially, we were three men with three problems. It is not for I to disclose who is burdened with which issue, I shall only say that all of our issues lay within the boundaries of relationships. Three uniquely different scenarios, I might add. Nevertheless between the three of us, we had agreed to discuss and solve these with a gathered combination of our intellect - one of us a dreamer and writer, one of us a mathematician, and one of us a professional sportsman. Hopefully enough of a dynamic range to offer radically different perspectives, you may have been thinking. It was as we discussed this between us that I realised how different we were, but despite this, when we come together we work. 'Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You, too? Thought I was the only one' said C.S Lewis. Well he could not have been more right in our case.

Upon entering Rome for the first time, we discussed amongst ourselves where we should be visiting first. With no part of our merry band being religious, we were seeking to be enthralled and amazed by the intensity of the act behind the stunning religious artifacts of ancient Rome, rather than marvel at the implications that these buildings held in a religious sense. Nevertheless, when we reached the Trevi Fountain; something quite profound and almost religious humbled me. As I sat alone with my back to the waters of the fountain, I uttered a wish aloud, something that I had wished for before and had not received. As I sat there uttering, with my back to the waters, I watched the people infront of me, not by the waters' edge, but standing against the stone walls that encapsulated the monument. Couples held each other, some kissing, some cuddling, some just sharing the moment together. And so I threw my coin far into the middle of the fountain, almost hoping for some kind of magical response, or some encoded and cryptic return message; a notification to advise me that my message had been received, and was at least under some kind of consideration. After all, don't you notice that everything advises you or notifies you of something, regardless as to whether you actually have anything to be notified of? I regularly receive emails stating that my 'status has changed' or that I am 'being upgraded'. Thus naturally, I suppose I expected some form of divine messaging - just for my own piece of mind. And, I believe, in some way, I received it. I saw my answer in the faces of those who faced me. I literally had offered my back to the figure in the water, instead being atuned to studying those who languished in a similar moment to my own - It may not have been my moment, they probably did not know I was watching them, yet I felt a sense of togetherness and peace as I dwelled in the moment. My evening was changed, the vibe of the holiday had changed. Inside the chapel adjacent to the fountain, my friends and I sat at the pews, silently. Nobody spoke a word, nobody needed to. In that moment, everyone was locked inside of their own minds. I felt like I was being scrutinised, being analysed - by who, I have my own theories, though I shall leave this open to your own imagination. After about five minutes of reflection, as if by telepathy, our group stood, quite simultaneously, and left the chapel.

Have I committed wrongs, and 'sins'? Almost certainly. Did I ever ask to be forgiven? Yes, I did. But it wasn't God I turned to to find it; it was the same old people, my friends. My greatest sins and errors have been reflected in the treatment of friends; and their compassion. At that moment all I could do was hold in the overwhelming feeling of love that I had for every person that I consider a friend. Of course, that feeling is more powerfully conveyed towards those who I would consider my best friends, but every 'friend' I have has shaped my life inexplicably and beyond measure. Strangely, I often ponder to myself, who needs God when I have these people? and that, by believing in some God, would I be divorcing them from my own love for them? I think I would be; I would be demoting them to something below the rank of someone else. That someone else being someone I have never met and connected with, and consequentially, don't regard a friend.

So just for me, take a small moment to think about the people that might mean this much to you, and instead of making a prayer, tell at least one of your friends that you love them. I did.