As noted far and wide, today is Mozart’s 250th birthday.

Elizabeth Lev has a Mozart in Rome story at ZENIT.

Mozart is often associated with the Freemasons — he joined the Masons of Vienna in 1784 — and "The Magic Flute" is held by many scholars to be a Masonic opera. The most important moments of his life, however, took place in the Catholic Church.

Mozart was born on Jan. 26, 1756, and baptized Catholic with the name Johann Chrysostom Wolfgang Theophilus. "Theophilus," which means "lover of God," was soon transformed into the more celebrated moniker "Amadeus." He married Costanza Weber in the Cathedral of Vienna, his children were baptized Catholic and he was given last rites by a Catholic priest.

In this light, the visit to Rome must have held great meaning for the 14-year-old Catholic Mozart. Immediately upon entering the city through the splendid Piazza del Popolo, the young Mozart and his father Leopold made their way to St. Peter’s Basilica. Thanks to Wolfgang’s fine clothes and Leopold’s clever strategies, the two were allowed through the Vatican gates.

It was Holy Week in Rome — Holy Tuesday to be exact. Pope Clement XIV was busy serving meals to the poor gathered in the Vatican, shortly before celebrating Mass in the Sistine Chapel. The two Austrian musicians managed to find their way into the papal presence and then accompanied the court into the chapel….

All week, the programming on our local classical music station – which it seems is coming from a national feed? Does anyone else’s station have this? – Anyway, they’ve been featuring NPR’s Fred Child all week, on the spot in Salzburg.

I was struck the other morning by Child’s reporting of going to various rooms and houses associated with Mozart, and his continued, astonished repetition of "This is where this happened. I’m standing where Mozart composed…." and so on. It was definitely a sacred space kind of vibe.

Earlier in the week, I heard another report – on All Things Considered or something – about the demolition of the old Motown office building in Detroit, and what an amateur historian had rescued from the place before it went down. It was the same kind of reverence – he had the playsheets, the recording schedule of Let’s Get it On, notes from Marvin Gaye to his wife, and so on. He had this stuff associated with these holy moments, and it was deeply meaningful to him.

I’m not criticizing that, at all. Such is human response to those whom we revere. I could have stood at the door of Flannery’s first floor room at Andalusia for hours, I think, trying to catch vibes, to sense a spirit of creativity, to connect.

So yes, we all have our people, our places, that somehow speak to the best of what we believe human beings can do. We go to those places, we make pilgrimage, we can’t believe we’re actually there.

It’s okay for Mozart, Marvin Gaye and Flannery O’Connor. MIght just be okay for St. Paul, St. Therese or you know, Jesus of Nazareth, too. Just might.