In February I had the privilege of going on pilgrimage to the Holy Land for the first time with parishioners from St. Brendan the Navigator. I am indebted to my family and the parish for their generous support in enabling me to make this trip, and I am also indebted to the pilgrims who graciously provided their photos, since a few days of mine were lost while on the trip.

Day 1 (Sat. Feb. 2): Arrival in Tel Aviv and Trip to Tiberias

On February 2nd, the Feast of the Presentation, I flew from Rome to Tel Aviv, Israel to begin the pilgrimage. The majority of the other pilgrims were coming from GA, so their flight departed from Paris just before my flight departed from Rome, and we arrived within about fifteen minutes of each other. Rome was cold and rainy. As we approached Tel Aviv I got my first view of the Western coast of Israel, on the Mediterranean Sea. It looked more arid than the Italian coast, but there was still green. The buildings were clustered into complexes, square shaped, in pale sandy colors.

This was the farthest East I had ever been. My travels were to the United States, Canada a few times, Mexico once, and parts of Europe. As I met the main group and we boarded the bus the sun had set, so as we went northeast to where we’d be lodging, Tiberias, I couldn’t take in much scenery. What struck me was this was the first time in a long time I had visited a country where I could not understand the language at all: the signs were in Hebrew, some also in Arabic, and if you opened Google Maps many of the places appeared in Hebrew too. It was the first time I’d seen the parishioners in about four and half months, since I had been teaching in Rome since September, so it was a happy reunion. There were also two pilgrims from my home town of Watsonville, one of whom had been my classmate at Moreland Notre Dame School.

As we drew nearer to our lodgings in Tiberias I was struck by how similar the neighborhoods were organized like Europe (at least Italy and Croatia): larger apartment buildings, and lots of little stores. Our guide explained that we had avoided the usual rush hour traffic because the Jews were in the Sabbath rest from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday. They were only just coming out to shop after having been gathered in homes or hotels with their families. The next day that I would see them walking around, some with the kippah (little skullcaps), some with the black suit and black brimmed hat characteristic of Rabbis. Sunday for them was the first day of the work week, just as Monday is for us in the U.S.

I was somewhat awestruck as I arrived in the Holy Land. It was similar to when I saw Pope John Paul II in person for the first time in 1999, or visited the Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima about a year and a half ago. I was visiting what some describe as the “Fifth Gospel”: where Jesus became flesh, was born, grew up, did his public ministry, suffered, died, rose, and ascended into Heaven. I was visiting places mentioned by name in the Old and New Testaments. The Saturday before my departure for the Holy Land we had our monthly retreat in Rome and I went over the itinerary spiritually and prepared notes so that each day I could begin by spiritually meditating the places I was going to see and the events I was going to recall. These stories had reached me as I was raised in California, and now I was going to where these stories actually happened.

On this first night the main chaplain for the pilgrimage, the pastor of St. Brendan’s, described what our stories were going to be like: stones thrown into water, leaving ripples in their wake. Our stories would ripple out among our families and friends. With today’s technology we have so many ways to communicate instantly. Imagine for a moment how the Word of God reached you. Person to person, generation to generation, going where they traveled. The first decades of Christianity had only the Old Testament in writing (which also began as oral tradition); the rest was witnesses and testimonies.

We maintain contact, but I would argue that we rarely achieve that same level of witness, or even communication, that we did before. That’s one of the reasons why I prefer to blog. Social media gets more visual, but also more terse. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but it still pales to telling a story, which requires attention, interest, and, to a certain degree, commitment on the part of the listener. If it’s a “good” story (engaging and interesting) it gets shared. The Holy Land helps us remember the greatest story ever told: that of Jesus, the Word of God, a story which has affected us all.

Day 2 (Sun. Feb. 3): Nazareth, Cana, and Mt. Tabor

The lodging I had in Tiberias had a wonderful view of the Sea of Galilee, also known as Lake Tiberias. We were up north in the area where Jesus was born, and today we were going to his home town, Nazareth. Even the second day of the pilgrimage, as I watched the dawn and sunrise on the Sea of Galilee I was in awe, wonder, and gratitude for having had the opportunity to come on pilgrimage here. I like to do my due diligence, so before I left Rome I went through our itinerary, looked at spots on maps, and got a general idea of what we were going to see each day. A few minutes before we got onto our tour bus a pilgrim in my group pointed to the body of water and asked me what it was. I told her (“The Sea of Galilee. Really? Really.”) and her jaw dropped, and she all but ran to get closer to the shoreline for a picture.

As I was meditating that morning it occurred to me that during this pilgrimage we would be doing geographically what we normally did chronologically: during the liturgical year we commemorate the mysteries of Christ’s life that occurred in what we call salvation history. In the Holy Land, if you visit a place where an event happened, you can celebrate the liturgy for that event instead of the liturgy scheduled on the general liturgical calendar for that day. Case in point: the Annunciation. On this day we visited the Church of the Annunciation in Nazareth that was believed to have been built on Mary’s home when the angel Gabriel invited her to become the mother of God (see Luke 1:26–38). So we used the liturgical prayers for the Solemnity of the Annunciation, usually celebrated on March 25th.

We contemplated Jesus’ hidden life in two ways on this day:

1. His private life. We were in his home town, where he grew up, and spent years living with the rest of the Holy Family before beginning his public ministry. The streets we walked were built on the neighborhoods where he played, visited family and friends, etc. It was also a place of the hidden life of Mary, who treasured things in her heart, and of Joseph, who quietly worked as a just man and provided for Mary and Jesus. It teaches us that even a hidden life can be a holy life, a lesson many contemplative nuns and monks live even today, but not just them; every believer is called to simply do their part in the family and strive for holiness without a lot of fanfare.
2. His divine life. There was also another hidden life to be revealed: his divinity, which we contemplated later in the day by visiting Mt. Tabor, where the Transfiguration took place.

In the Church of St. Joseph, in the same complex as the Annunciation, we celebrated the Mass of Annunciation, and in the opening prayer and Gospel the Missal made a point of adding the word “here” to underscore that the event we were celebrating took place in this town. After Mass we went down below the main church to see the spot where Joseph’s workshop was believed to be, the reason why this church was built on this spot. At the base of an altar a Latin inscription read hic erat subditus illis (here he was obedient to them), referring to Jesus being obedient to Mary and Joseph (see Luke 2:51).

We returned to the Basilica of the Annunciation after Mass to visit the first floor. Below was an altar that said: Verbum caro hic factus est (Here the word became flesh), the spot where Gabriel invited Mary to become the Mother of God, she accepted, and the Word became flesh, touching humanity in a way that would transform it for the better forever. I choked up contemplating here the human life that Our Lord took up here alongside his divine life and never relinquished.

After the Basilica we visited the spot, adjacent to a Melkite (Greek Catholic) parish where the synagogue of Nazareth was believed to have stood. Our Lord had attended Sabbath services there, and it was probably also the place where after revealing he was the Messiah he told his former neighbors and friends that they shouldn’t expect much wonder-working and they almost threw him off a cliff (see Luke 4:16-30). Our guide Ghassan (who went by Gus during our visit) pointed out that this was probably why Capernaum became his new base of operations, a place we’d visit later in the pilgrimage.

At the Church of St. Gabriel (run by the Greek Orthodox) we visited the well where Mary probably came often with Jesus to fetch water. Inside the church there is a place where you can still hear the water running.

The plaza outside this church still had Christmas decorations up (the tree in the photo below is in four pieces: it stands fifty feet tall). Catholics celebrate Christmas starting on 12/24, the Orthodox celebrate on 1/6 (when Roman Catholics celebrate the Epiphany) and the Armenian Orthodox celebrate it on 1/18 (in the Holy Land the Orthodox use a different calendar which is twelve days later, therefore they celebrate it on 1/18 instead of 1/6). The Christians in the Holy Land made an extra effort this year to place Christmas decorations in public places and show their presence. Currently Christians represent 2% of the population of Israel (source) according to an article published at Christmas. In the occupied Palestinian territories they make up 1.25% of the population (source). In and around Bethlehem Christians were 86% of the population, and by 2016 dropped 12%. “Across the West Bank, Christians now account for less than 2 percent of the population, though in the 1970s, Christians were 5 percent of the population” (source). They are suffering a lot to give witness in the lands where Jesus lived and walked and deserve our support and prayers.

Being in the Holy Land was an ecumenical (inter-Christian) experience. Not only were the holy sites under the stewardship of Catholics and Orthodox, but pilgrims of various Christian confessions come as well. In the restaurant where we lunched there was an Anglican group, and later this day we visited a site along with some Romanian Orthodox, who stopped at spots and sang prayers.

In the afternoon we traveled to Cana, the spot where the first sign chronicled in John’s Gospel took place (see John 2:1-11). On the facade of the Church, at the top, the statue of Mary was highest, showing her intercession done on the newlyweds behalf when their wine was running out. In a beautiful chapel flanking a gardened courtyard our married pilgrims renewed their wedding vows. One couple had been married for 56 years. Cana was also the town where the second sign chronicled by John’s Gospel took place: a centurion asked Jesus to heal his servant in Capernaum and Our Lord did so without having to see him (John 4:46).

Day 3 (Mon. Feb. 4): Our Lord’s Public Ministry

The third day of our pilgrimage was dedicated to visiting various sites around the Sea of Galilee where Our Lord did his public ministry. We began by visiting the small park of Kursi, where the ruins of a Byzantine chapel and monastery had been unearthed commemorating the spot where Jesus had encountered the man afflicted by the demon(s) who identified themselves as Legion who asked the Lord to let them pass into a herd of swine that rushed into the water and drowned (see Mark 5:1–20, Matthew 8:28–34, and Luke 8:26–39). A small hermit chapel above the site gave a wonderful view of the Sea of Galilee. We were blessed with a clear day, but windy. We spent a half-hour or so sailing on the Sea of Galilee, with breathtaking views all around. Being a flat boat it was surprising stable, despite the whitecaps all round us, and covered, cutting down on the wind. The uncovered bow, on the other hand, was another matter. The wind blew very strong there and could have easily blown somebody careless overboard. At least one hat was lost in the expedition.

In the late morning we made our way to the Mountain where Jesus taught the Beatitudes. I and my brother priest took turns presiding over Mass and preaching the homily. It was my turn. Theologically the pilgrimage had already been mind-blowing, so I started by sharing with them a couple of the reflections I’ve already shared in this blog, and added the example, taken from St. Augustine, that the sour note of sin in the “symphony” of history had been brought into harmony again by the corrective note of Jesus’ Incarnation. That corrective note sounded sour to the people used to listening to a symphony distorted by sin. Each Beatitude begins “Blessed are they who…for they…” If you take those marks of being blessed the world would consider you crazy (poor of spirit, meek, mourning, etc.). Saint John Paul II in his encyclical Veritatis Splendor taught that the Beatitudes are attitudes spurred on by promises (see n. 16). When the Church beatifies someone she declares that they lived these beatitudes in their earthly life and now experience those promises fulfilled in Heaven. That beatific life starts here in our earthly life: the Beatitudes shape our attitudes and we place our theological hope in the promises Our Lord made for those who life them (the Kingdom of Heaven, to be called children of God, to be consoled, etc.) and that leads to a beatific life here and now that people notice, leading them closer to Our Lord.

The area is called Banias, from Arabic, but that is actually a corruption of the original Greek word, Panias, which referred to the fact that a temple dedicated to the Greek god Pan was built on this site, along with some other pagan temples. The pagan temple had a grisly tradition: in a large cave there was a large hole over the river that ran below it. They would sacrifice a goat to Pan by throwing it in the hole. If the dead goat did not resurface downstream it was believed that Pan had accepted the offering. If it did resurface, Pan was displeased with the offering and a child had to be thrown into the hole as atonement. A graveyard had been found containing the bones of the goats that had resurfaced.

When Our Lord told Peter that the gates of Hell would not prevail against the Church (Matthew 16:18) it’s very likely his disciples had the foreboding cave of sacrifice used by the worshipers of Pan in mind. Caesarea Philippi was an opulent center of pagan power, but eleven of those disciples would go on to evangelize the four corners of the known world and bring them the Gospel. Those opulent temples today are ruins that were buried for centuries before archaeologists dug them up.

Day 5 (Wed. Feb. 6): Mt. Carmel, Caesarea Maritima, Jerusalem

On the fifth day of our pilgrimage we started making our way down to Jerusalem using the coastal road. In the late morning we arrived at the town of Haifa, where the Carmelites have the Stella Maris (Star of the Sea) convent, on Mt. Carmel. This place is not only special for the Carmelites; they trace their origins back to the prophet Elijah, and in the convent’s main chapel they have the cave where Elijah took refuge and hid when paganism was dominant among the rulers of Israel. It was on this mountain that the famous face-off between him and the four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal is believed to have taken place (see 1 Kings 18:17ff.). The main church has a beautiful image of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, with the brown scapular, and I prayed for the Carmelites I have had the privilege to know, as well as all those who wear the scapular. We celebrated Mass in a chapel in the convent.

After lunch we continued down to the other Caesarea–Caesarea Maritima (Maritime Caesarea)–on the coast, a seaport build by Herod the Great. Pontius Pilate had his headquarters here, and a stone was found here bearing his name, one of the few extra-Biblical artifacts proving his existence. Herod built a huge palace here, and Herod Agrippa I (as recalled in the Acts of the Apostles–he had unsuccessfully imprisoned Peter and had had James beheaded) was struck down here and died due to his arrogance (see Acts 12:19-23). It was also where the first pagan was baptized by Peter: Cornelius (see Acts 10:24). An amphitheater was unearthed that has incredible natural acoustics, as well as a hippodrome where horse races took place. The area was not completely pagan: among the ruins was found a column head with crosses worked into its design, as well as a statue of the Good Shepherd.

Phillip the Deacon lived here, and when St. Paul was visiting at one point (he’d passed through there more than once) a Christian prophesied his imminent imprisonment (Acts 21:8–14). Paul was taken prisoner in Jerusalem and when the Romans discovered that the Jews were plotting to kill him they transferred him, heavily guarded, to Caesarea, where he remained imprisoned for two years (see Acts 23:12–35, 24:24–27). In the ruins of Herod’s Palace there is a Roman Praetorium where it is believed that Paul was imprisoned and possibly made the appeal to Caesar that resulted in him being sent to Rome (see Acts 25:1–12; 27-28). After Jerusalem was destroyed by the Romans in 70 A.D. it became the center of Christianity in Palestine.

After spending a few hours at Caesarea Maritima we headed to Jerusalem. It was rush hour, but when we approached the city our guide welcomed us to Jerusalem. Jerusalem is at a higher elevation, so when the Bible speaks of going up to Jerusalem it is speaking literally. It struck me as we arrived that I, too, was “going up” to Jerusalem, just as many pilgrims had done for millennia. We would be staying at the Notre Dame of Jerusalem Center, and as I was heading to my room I saw they had a chapel on the first floor and the Blessed Sacrament was on the altar for Adoration. They have Adoration every afternoon for about an hour. I found out that the chapel was Our Lady of Peace, and as I was praying there I though of everywhere the Lord had taken me since I answered his call in 1996: it was after attending Mass at Our Lady, Queen of Peace Shrine in Santa Clara, CA on the feast of the Nativity of Mary that I said yes to the Lord’s invitation to study for the priesthood. Our Lady of Peace in this chapel was smiling down on me again, twenty-three years later, and she had helped me come on pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

Day 6 (Thu. Feb. 7): Bethlehem, Ain Karem

Our first full day in Jerusalem we headed to Bethlehem, which was under Palestinian control since 1995. After shopping at a gift store owned and operated by Palestinian Christians we headed to the Church of the Nativity, under the authority of the Armenian Orthodox. The entrance to the Church is very low; it was modified in the year 1500 to hinder looters, but now it has a spiritual significance: if you want to enter the place where Jesus was born, you have to bow your head. We lined up and each of us had a moment to kneel before a star indicating an opening in the floor where you could touch a part of the cave in which Jesus was born.

After visiting the spot we went to the nearby Catholic church of St. Catherine of Alexandria for Mass in the chapel of St. Jerome. We celebrated the liturgy for Christmas Day. I asked to preside over this Mass because St. Jerome is the patron saint of Croatia, and the chapel is named after him because St. Jerome lived there for thirty years while translating the Bible into Latin (an edition now known as the Vulgate that replaced the old collection of Latin translations called the Vetus Latina). Croatians are known to have short fuses, and St. Jerome, who was from the Dalmatian coast, was no exception. When he lost his temper he purportedly said “Forgive me Lord, I am Dalmatian.” He also tried to channel that anger into something constructive: learning the ancient languages that would enable him to translate the Bible. Jerome is famous for saying “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ” (from the Prologue of his Commentary on Isaiah).

The First Reading, from Isaiah (9:1-6), spoke of the light having dawned. With the Savior’s birth he too has come to light after spending nine months in Mary’s womb. Reading the Gospel (Luke 2:1-14), the story is written like a dawn that leads to daybreak: the moment of birth is quiet and uneventful, then one angel appears to the shepherds, then suddenly there is a blaze of heavenly glory rejoicing over the news. The Lord chose a quiet, poor birth to teach us what really mattered: God and each other. He didn’t need a palace with the finest amenities: he had Mary, Joseph, and his Heavenly Father, and that was all he needed. We’re brothers and sisters in Christ, the family of God that we call communion. The Lord wanted to bring us his peace, a deeper peace that he showed us from the manger.

After the Grotto we visited a park that had been a shepherd’s field, possibly the one where the angel appeared to the shepherds, but at least a place to picture the scene. In the park they had a cave with a chapel that is basically laid out like a cave used as a home in Jesus’ time to give us an idea of what the cave in which Jesus was born might have been like. It had sections for living space and for keeping the animals safe at night. We sang Christmas hymns here and just sat back and imagined it all. There is also a church on the property commemorating the angels appearing to the shepherds and singing.

To conclude the day we went to the town of Ain Karem, where Mary hurried right after the Annunciation to help her pregnant cousin Elizabeth (Luke 1:39–40). Zechariah and Elizabeth had two homes: one in a valley and a summer residence that was higher in order to alleviate the heat. On the spot of the lower house is the Church of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist. The walls outside the church have the Benedictus of Zechariah (Luke 1:67–80) written in various languages, the first words John the Baptist’s father said after his encounter with the angel Gabriel (Luke 1:5–25). At the spot commemorating his birth it says hic precursor domini natus est (Here the precursor of the Lord was born).

The Church of the Visitation is a short hike from there. The panorama photo below is looking back toward the Church of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist.

The Church of the Visitation is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen, with the Magnificat of Mary (Luke 1:46–56) posted in various languages.

The Italian architect Antonio Barluzzi (1884-1960) designed many of the churches we visited, and his work is breathtaking. He helped construct or restore twenty-four structures in the Holy Land. In the lower church on the site the Visitation (Luke 1:39–55) is depicted, as well as the slaughter of the Holy Innocents (Matthew 2:16–18). A large stone is preserved here that is believed to have miraculously hid Elizabeth and baby John from the soldiers seeking to slaughter John.

An upper church was so beautiful it left me speechless, so I’ll let the photos do the talking.

Day 7 (Fri. Feb. 8): Mt. of Olives & Mt. Zion

The next day we left our lodgings at 5:10 AM to walk through the quiet morning streets of Old Jerusalem over to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, where we had Mass scheduled for 5:30 AM at the Chapel of Calvary. The Church of the Holy Sepulcher is a complex covering various spots. As we entered we saw the stone on which the Lord, after having been taken down from the cross, was anointed for burial. To the left stairs wind up to Calvary (the overhead shot below is taken from those stairs), the chapel where we’d celebrate Mass.

To the left of the Calvary Chapel, separated from us by a wall, was the chapel of the Orthodox with an altar built over the spot where Jesus was crucified. We waited in line to go up to the spot and reverence the place where Our Lord sacrificed himself to free us from our sins. We’d return to the Church later on our pilgrimage to visit the Holy Sepulcher. Every surface was decorated beautifully, a far cry from the desolate carnage that had taken place there on Good Friday, underscoring the sublime nobility of Our Lord dying on a Cross for our sins.

After returning to our lodging for breakfast and mandatory caffeination we headed out and up to the mountain facing the Temple, to the Mount of Olives, separated from the Eastern side of Old Jerusalem by the Kidron Valley. We started near the top, at the small structure built over the spot where Our Lord ascended into Heaven, then started making our way down the mountain to other sites, along the road where the Palm Sunday procession is held each year.

Another Church recalled the spot where the Lord taught the Our Father to his disciples, and the Lord’s Prayer was posted in various languages throughout the complex. A vast Jewish cemetery covers the mountain. The Jews have an interesting custom: as a sign of respect for the dear departed, a visitor leaves a loose stone on top of the tomb. They do this, as I found out, because they hope those stones will be used to construct the Third Temple. The First Temple was the one started by King David and finished by King Solomon, and was destroyed by the Babylonians. The Second Temple was built by Herod the Great and stood in Jesus’ time, then it was destroyed by the Romans in 70 A.D. If you look at the cemetery photo below you’ll see a golden dome in the distance. That’s where the Second Temple stood.

To visit spots on the mountain we sort of zigzagged down, arriving next at the church of Dominus Flevit (Latin for “the Lord wept”), the spot where Jesus looked upon Jerusalem before entering and wept because they had not welcomed him as the Messiah and he knew the city would be destroyed (see Luke 19:41–44). We took our group photo at this spot because a terrace on the property afforded a magnificent view of the Temple area and the wall around Old Jerusalem, a wall built by the Ottomans in the 16th century.

The Kidron Valley is also covered with tombs, and in the center of the Eastern wall is a sealed gate, the Golden Gate (also called the Eastern Gate). For both Jews and Christians this is where the Messiah will make his triumphal return to Jerusalem. In the case of the Christians we believe the Messiah already passed through this gate on Holy Thursday after being betrayed and arrested in Gethsemane. The Muslims also believe a great prophet will come and use the gate in an apocalyptic event. It was closed by the Muslims in 810, reopened in 1102 by the Crusaders, walled up by Saladin after regaining Jerusalem in 1187, then the Ottoman Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent rebuilt it with the city walls and walled it up in 1541. The last photo below is a close-up of the Golden Gate from farther down the mountain.

We finished the morning visiting the garden of Gethsemane, where a patch of olive trees is preserved, including a olive tree two thousand years old, probably a witness to Our Lord’s suffering and betrayal here. The Church of All Nations was also built here, which we visited for the first time, planning to return there two days later for Sunday Mass. Before the main altar of this Church is the stone where the Lord knelt and prayed.

In the same complex we headed below to visit the tomb of King David. There were two entrances, one for men, the other for women. Men had to enter with their heads covered, so those of us who weren’t wearing hats took a little white plastic/polyester kippah (the Hebrew word for the skullcap; in Yiddish it’s called a yarmulke) to cover our heads while we visited. As I prayed quietly in front of the tomb there were also Jews with their prayer shawls and wide-brimmed black hats reading from small prayer books and bowing repeatedly toward the tomb. Outside the doorway leading into the tomb were some pews where Jewish children under an adult’s direction were also saying prayers. The photos here (except for one photo I found on the Internet, bottom right) are from the side for women, since my photos were munched.

We walked over to the Church of the Dormition, where it is believed that Mary was assumed into Heaven (some say it took place in Ephesus). It is called the Church of the Dormition because of a longstanding Eastern Christian tradition that Mary did not experience physical death before her Assumption; she simply fell asleep. When the teaching of the Assumption was formulated as dogma in 1950 it simply affirmed that “having completed the course of her earthly life” she was assumed into heavenly glory, respecting a legitimate difference of Christian opinion regarding the details.

The last stop for the day was St. Peter in Gallicantu, referring to where Peter, having denied Jesus, heard the cock crow (Gallicantu in Latin), just as Our Lord had predicted (see Matthew 26:74-75, Mark 14:72, and Luke 22:60).

This Church is built on the ruins of Caiaphas’ palace, where Jesus was taken for questioning by the High Priest. This panorama shot is the chapel below the main church level.

In this same complex was a dungeon where prisoners would be hung by their wrists or left suspended in a pit. Our Lord probably hung there on Holy Thursday evening before they took him to Pilate. At the spot where he was probably suspended between Heaven and earth (the round hole depicted in two photos below), now a stone chamber with faint red crosses traced on the walls, we read Psalm 88: “For my soul is full of troubles, and my life draws near to Sheol. I am reckoned among those who go down to the Pit;…” (vv. 3-4).

We visited the main church level last, and I asked forgiveness for any infidelity to Our Lord and renewed my desire to care for his flock, just as I had done at the Church of the Primacy of Peter. It was another church by Barluzzi and also beautiful in its design.

Since we’d had a long day we returned early to our lodgings. Being Friday afternoon, our guide explained that the Sabbath would begin for the Jews at 3 PM and would last until nightfall on Saturday. Observant Jews would remain home and do no work, walking to synagogue services. Certain neighborhoods were closed off to traffic by the police, because if an unwitting person drove into them their car would be trashed by outraged Jews (with no guarantee that they wouldn’t get a thrashing too). There was a luxurious shopping mall we passed frequently, and when the Sabbath started, it closed. Some families would gather in hotels instead of their homes to rest and observe the Sabbath.

Back in the Notre Dame of Jerusalem Center I was praying the Sorrowful Mysteries in the chapel and as I was contemplating the Agony in the Garden it dawned on me that I had just been there a few hours ago. It’s hard to put into words what I felt in that moment. When you have actually been there you will never be the same again.

Day 8 (Sat. Feb. 9): Dead Sea Region

On Saturday morning we headed to Bethany, two miles as the crow flies from Jerusalem and under Palestinian authority, but a little farther by bus because the security walls built by the Israelis meant we had to made a long loop to get there. On the outskirts of Bethany signs warned Israel citizens not to enter because their lives would be in danger (a stock photo is below that resembles the sign I saw; I’m not sure if the wording was exactly the same, but it did warn Israeli citizens their lives would be endangered).

In Bethany we visited the Catholic Church of St. Lazarus, built in the area of Lazarus’ tomb, and the ruins of what is believed to have been the house of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. We celebrated Mass at a chapel in the complex, then after a brief pause for shopping and camel rides (yes, camel rides; no, I did not ride a camel) we headed down to one of the two spots of the Jordan where it is believed Our Lord was baptized by St. John the Baptist.

Scripture talks about going down to Jericho, and that is no exaggeration: the Dead Sea region is the lowest point on earth. As we headed down signs along the highway showed how far below sea level we were travelling. Until now we had been travelling through fertile areas, very green despite the climate. Now we were heading into the desert. Bedouins, nomadic Arabs, still set up settlements in patches of desert, using more advanced materials than their ancestors, but still living a nomadic existence. A lot of places along the road had camels in addition to cars, though it wasn’t clear to me whether the camels were just for tourists.

At the Jordan many Christians of various denominations were present, including those going into the waters for baptism. Our guide explained that, for some Christian denominations, coming for another Baptism in the Jordan (which is not the Catholic faith: we believe in one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins) was akin to the forgiveness Catholics receive through Confession. Across the river from us was the country of Jordan and an Orthodox Church. We renewed our baptismal promises, and then headed to the modern town of Jericho for lunch (as opposed to the ruins of old Jericho).

We also stopped at a spot in Jericho purported to be where Zacchaeus climbed the sycamore tree to see Our Lord (Luke 19:1–10), complete with a sycamore tree (and vendors hawking their wares–I stayed on the bus). We also stopped at a good spot to view an Orthodox monastery on the mountain where Our Lord was tempted by the Devil (time constraints and past failed attempts to visit the monastery made us skip it for more time at the Dead Sea).

Our first view of the Dead Sea was from the ruins of the Essene monastery at Qumran. The Essenes were an ascetical Jewish cult preparing for an apocalyptic event. They withdrew from Jerusalem into a monastery where they dedicated themselves to Scripture, ritual purification, and ascesis. The ruins were full of baths and aqueducts for taking water between the pools.

In the caves at Qumran a shepherd in the 1950’s made one of the greatest discoveries in the XX century of Biblical archaeology: the Dead Sea scrolls. In eleven caves at this site approximately 230 Biblical scrolls were found, fragments of text from the Old Testament in Hebrew. Among these scrolls were Biblical manuscripts a thousand years older than any manuscripts previously discovered, and they showed the Masoretic text (the Hebrew text of the Old Testament) was remarkably similar to the later text. The caves also held a lot of manuscripts from the Second Temple period. From this site we could also see Mount Nebo in the distance, the mountain where the Lord took Moses to see the Promised Land before he died (Moses was not allowed to enter the Promised Land, just to see it from afar–see Deuteronomy 34:1–8).

Day 9 (Sun. Feb. 10): Old City of Jerusalem

Our last full day in the Holy Land began back at the Church of All Nations at Gethsemane, where we celebrated Sunday Mass at the altar standing behind the stone on which it was believed Our Lord prayed and suffered. The informal title of my homily was “Where the rubber hits the road.” Whenever we celebrate the Eucharist the sacrifice that Christ made on the cross is made sacramentally present to us. Christ’s entire life is salvific: everything he said and did, even his attitude. When we celebrate the Eucharist at Gethsemane we are sacramentally taken back to that moment when he kneeled and prayed on the stone before us that the cup of his suffering be taken away, if possible, but that the Father’s will be done.

The previous Friday morning we’d celebrated Mass at Calvary, where his sacrifice took place on the Cross, and at Gethsemane we recall the moral suffering of Christ that went along with that physical suffering. Our Lord in creating us in his image and likeness gave us the gift of freedom, the freedom to choose our path, to do good and avoid evil or vice versa. Some people think that means freedom should be total, but lose sight of the fact that with freedom comes responsibility and consequences. Our Lord at Gethsemane is contemplating all the moments where we used our freedom irresponsibly; sin prevents us from growing spiritually and it hinders others from growing as well, separating us from God and from others. Sin has a price and consequences throughout salvation history.

Our Lord assumed a human nature because through that humanity he willed to redeem us, and the moment of Gethsemane reminds us that in his human nature he is trembling at the thought of what he has to undergo to redeem us from our sins. He is contemplating man’s sins throughout history. He is taking the bill for those sins upon himself, and it is a big, big bill. There was no declaring bankruptcy or skipping town. In this moment he in his humanity (since in his divinity the will to redeem us with himself and his Father is steadfast) is testing to see if there is any other way, because he is scared, just like we all get scared when something demanding is asked of us, something that seems beyond our strength.

In one account of the Temptation in the Desert is says the Tempter withdrew to await a more opportune time (see Luke 4:13), and the animated feature The Miracle Maker depicts the Tempter returning at Gethsemane to tempt Our Lord once again. This teaches us that temptation is not sin. Our Lord is like us in all things but sin. It’s okay to take a moment to ask, “Can I really do this?” It is not a sin to be afraid of doing God’s will, just as it was not a sin for him, in his humanity, to be afraid of doing his Father’s will.

The sleeping disciples remind us that, like Our Lord, those difficult moments we face, moments where it is difficult to surrender ourselves to God’s will, are moments of solitude where even those closest to us cannot help us. In the moment of Gethsemane some speculate that Our Lord was contemplating all those who would accept his gift of redemption, a cause for consolation (the Blessed Mother, the Saints, etc.), and all those who would reject it, a cause for sorrow (Hitler, Stalin, all those involved in atheist or totalitarian regimes, those who twist religion into something horrible, like terrorists and “fundamentalists,” unrepentant sinners). Despite this he has a heart that is willing to embrace all those people and pay that bill. He stood up with the decision made and strong in his humanity, and the repeating of “Thy Will Be Done” before he did shows he was gathering that strength in prayer. The big decisions are not made in a snap and done, we must persevere in our commitment. I invited those participating in Mass to contemplate what Gethsemane they were facing in that moment so that they could take it to prayer and gather the strength to surrender to God’s will, unafraid of being afraid as Our Lord was.

After Mass we headed into the old city and walked the Via Dolorosa, a path for the faithful to walk and pray the Way of the Cross. Near the start of our visit we stopped at the Church of St. Ann, believed to have been built on the site of her home. In this site were also the ruins of a Crusader complex over the pools of Bethesda, where Our Lord healed a paralytic who was waiting for a miraculous healing by being placed in the pool (see John 5:1–18).

The church was also built built at the time of the Crusaders (XII century), and below it was the spot where it was believed that Mary was born, commemorated by a small chapel. The spot where Mary was believed to have been born and Gethsemane were the two most powerful places for me of the whole pilgrimage.

The last stations of the Way of the Cross were inside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and we finished the Way of the Cross and then got in line to go inside the Holy Sepulcher itself. We were in line about 30-45 minutes, but we were lucky, because at peak times it takes hours to pop into the tiny Sepulcher and pause for just a moment to see the spot where Jesus rose from the dead.

After lunch we made one last official pilgrimage stop: the Western Wall at the Temple Mount. This wall was part of what remained of the Second Temple, and Jews gather here to pray and to tuck written prayers in the nooks and crannies of the Wall. Atop the Temple Mount is the Dome of the Rock, which only Muslims can enter. Security to come to the wall was tight and cameras monitoring everything, since any incidents in this area would spark a lot of trouble. The Orthodox Jews would not want to walk up on the Temple Mount for fear of treading on the ruins of the Holy of Holies.

The Dome of the Rock, with a large golden dome, is the third most sacred site to Islam, and it is on the spot where the First and Second Temple stood (see 2 Chronicles 3:1). It is also believed to be Mount Moriah, where Abraham was going to sacrifice Isaac at the Lord’s command (see Genesis 22:2). The photo below from Wikimedia commons shows the dome seen from the plaza of the Western Wall, the large wall below it in the photo.

As at King David’s tomb men and women visited the Wall by separate lines, and men had to cover their heads. There were numerous fountains with water for doing ritual purification, and also racks of prayer books for the Jews (the book rack photo below is from the women’s side). I went up to the Wall and placed my hand on it as I prayed, and prayed for all people and religions to come to know Christ. I was amazed at how many little prayers were inserted into the Wall everywhere. I spent more time at that Wall than I expected; just as we draw near to Our Lord when he is sacramentally present in churches and chapels throughout the world, there was an extended time where the Lord was present in this Temple in a special way.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of sharing a photo on social media with a photo or two and forget that the months go by without really sharing what you’ve been up to. I like to share what I’ve been up to via blog because it lets me be more prosaic, but especially because writing gives me more time to process and share what I’ve been doing. Some moments in life are not meant to come and go in a flash, so amidst the little moments I want to share a few life treasures with you all. For those who prefer a “snapshot,” I include pictures too; consider them an visual executive summary since I know I don’t have a monopoly on being busy.

Made for Greatness Retreat (April 28)

The parish (I won’t bother naming it anymore–it’s now THE parish) organized a retreat for men that was held at Pinecrest Academy. I was there to provide sacramental support (Mass and Confessions), but I also attended all the talks and gave a talk during Eucharistic Adoration on the importance of Confession. The retreat was preached by a young Dad, Christopher Carter, who has a growing FaceBook group, Men Living for Greatness, that helps men live their Catholic vocation. A lot of the men on retreat were older than Christopher. It could have been a daunting and intimidating task, but his conviction, passion, and vulnerability underscored his message poignantly. Sometimes he was moved to tears by what he wanted to share.

My first return visit

I’ve now spent about a year helping at the parish, and before this year I practically never attended to a sick or dying person with the Anointing of the Sick and Viaticum (the Eucharist for the dying). Professors in a house full of priests focused on a different ministry–this one was eminently parochial. The grand majority of my visits are just once: I anoint the person and often never see them again. In late May I had my first experience of accompanying someone and their family all the way from hospitalization to death’s door to the funeral. A lady in the hospital asked for Confession (out of respect for her and her family I won’t mention her name) and I came. Her voice was raspy, but she was alert and asked me to pray for her (I always do, and I add the sick to our parish prayer list whenever I can).

Sometime later I received a call asking me to come to a home and administer the Last Rites. It was her again, at her kid’s home. I don’t think they even knew I was the priest who visited her in the hospital, and as they prepared her for my visit I chatted with her children and explained that I’d visited her previously. They knew death was close. She was unconscious now, making small, periodic gasps, and she had a rosary in her hands. All her children surrounded her bed as I prayed with them for her and anointed her. She passed not long after and the family asked me to celebrate the funeral, which I did.

Even when unconscious or comatose I try to say a few words of comfort to the dying, because you never know what they can hear. On this occasion it occurred to me to tell her not to be afraid of what was approaching: just like any journey she was surrounded by loved ones who were sending her off, and loved ones waiting for her at her destination. There’s no point in mincing words with someone who has a terminal diagnosis. It’s a moment to console them, encourage them, and get them ready.

Not long after I visited an elderly woman in the hospital who was giving her nurses a lot of grief and being fussy. I started praying for her and getting ready to anoint her and give her Communion, and she asked me, fear in her eyes, “Father, are these the Last Rites?” I told her with all sincerity, “I don’t know.” Our Lord could heal her, if it was his will, or he could welcome her home. I’m happy to say she called asking for Communion about a week later and was doing much better than the first time I saw her. When Our Lord calls, he calls. We’re in his hands.

Fr. Rajeev Philip’s priestly ordination (June 2)

For the Legionaries there’s been a change of planning for diaconate and priestly ordinations. Previously we were all ordained, with a few exceptions, in December. At first it was as close to Christmas Eve as feasible, but in recent years it was mid-December. The Legionaries had the most canonically brief diaconate possible (six months, and some received permission for a briefer period), so the superiors recently decided that the diaconate period should be longer, pushing the priestly ordinations out to to Easter-time. It was a good move, but it also meant I’d never be in Rome again for the priestly ordination of my students unless I made a special trip.

This year I had a pleasant surprise when one of my diocesan students, Rajeev Philip, announced that he would be ordained a priest in Tampa, FL on June 2nd. Being in Georgia I was able to fly down and participate on that special day, representing all the Legionaries who’d helped in his priestly formation. Rajeev is a Catholic of the Syro-Malabar rite, so the ordination was different in many ways, but just as breathtaking as when we celebrate it according to the Roman Rite. Clergy and family came from all over for the ordination, and I had the chance to congratulate another former student, Kevin Mundackal, who’d just been ordained a priest too. In the photo below Fr. Rajeev is to the center bishop’s left, and Fr. Kevin is to Fr. Rajeev’s left. I’m in the back left of the photo (just look for the pale shiny bald spot…). Note the beautiful vestments they wear for celebrating the Eucharist: their copes are adorned with symbols of the Eucharist and the Holy Spirit. I’m wearing a chasuble that’s normal to the Roman rite since I’m Roman rite; each priest wears the vestments proper to his liturgical rite at Mass.

St. Brendan the Navi-gator 5K (June 16)

After the ordination I skipped the flight and ran back to Georgia to get ready for the parish 5K scheduled for June 16th. I arrived in Cumming, GA on June 15th because I ran really slow. Okay, those two previous sentences were Fake News. I started a little fundraising campaign for the parish by asking for pledges for my participation in the St. Brendan the Navi-gator 5K (and I blew through my projections thanks to many of you). Registrations for the 5K were a little lower than projected, so the weekend before I encouraged people at Mass to register and told them they were guaranteed not to finish last in the 5K because I was participating. I was planning to walk the 5K. The day of the 5K (it rhymes) the registrations up-ticked. I found a great t-shirt to identify myself as their associate pastor.

On 5K day (it rhymes) I gave everyone a little pep talk and repeated my promise that nobody’d finish last while I was participating. People sign up for 5K’s oblivious to the cause or fundraiser–they just love competing. As I arrived in the parking lot some people were getting themselves “in the zone”: stretching, propped against walls and contorting themselves in strange angles, avoiding eye contact with their “competitors.” The great majority of people were just chatting before the race began.

I kept my pledge, only “cheating” (is it cheating if you’re not trying to win?) slightly and asking those last few parishioners who were walking with me (they know who they are) to go ahead of me and cross the finish line before me. I finished literally and officially last, as confirmed by the ankle device I had to wear along with the other participants. For the record, my hands are raised in victory, not because of the Sheriff’s cruiser in the background, and it is not a house arrest anklet.

Pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Blessed Sacrament (July 21)

The parish organized a pilgrimage by bus to the Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament in Hanceville, AL, where the sisters of Mother Angelica (of EWTN fame, among other things) now lived. We traveled by bus and departed from the parish parking lot in pouring rain. Ten minutes later the route was blocked by a fallen tree, then as we crossed over into Alabama the bus broke down and we were stuck in a Walmart parking lot for several hours (there are worse places to be stuck; the pilgrims went shopping). It was okay though, we had a kneeling bus, and we prayed and got back on our way. Pilgrimages are never meant to be easy.

That we arrived at the Shrine way behind schedule was an understatement, but the staff there were very accommodating (and our apologetic bus driver as well). Instead of concelebrating at their midday Mass I was able to celebrate the Sunday Vigil Mass for my group in the evening, which was Providential, since we’d be getting home late and it meant they could sleep in on Sunday (I had the 7:30 AM Mass that Sunday and the wonders of coffee kept me functional that day). The sisters do perpetual adoration, so from a beautiful large monstrance Our Lord in the Eucharist watches down on you as you adore him in the chapel. We never saw the nuns, since they are cloistered, but we heard them on the other side of the sanctuary and Fr. Miguel, one of the brothers, helped us with setting up Mass.

Vacation (August)

July ended and I flew out to California to spend some time visiting family and friends. It was wonderful, as always, to see everyone. Just before my departure some scandalous news broke regarding Cardinals, accusations, and abuse. I wrote about this in my monthly installment of the weekly e-mail (we take turns) of RC Spirituality Center (you can see it here: My white collar job). I was on vacation when this all broke, so it didn’t come up much in conversation. My first impression was that the faithful were asking us, their priests, to express outrage. I am saddened by what has happened, but I can’t foster outrage for those not faithful to their priestly or episcopal vocation any more than I can express outrage to the penitents who come into my confessional regularly to confess their sins, big and small.

My second impression was that things have already improved a lot since the 70’s and 80’s when the majority of these cases occurred. That impression was corrected slightly by a priest who preached my annual spiritual exercises in September. He helped me see that for the victims who were not acknowledged they re-live the horror of what they experienced every day. It is an ongoing ordeal that their Church has not acted. I pray for everyone affected by these scandals, and I assure you that my experience throughout my priesthood is that the Church is taking great pains to train everyone who works in her ministries in ensuring a safe environment for everyone. In the U.S. everyone who wants to work with youth is vetted very carefully. When I came to the diocese of Atlanta last year, the first time as a priest (I spent two years there as a brother), I filled out a lot of paperwork, had my safe environment training re-certified, and had my background checked in the States as well as in Italy. There’s still a lot of work to do to help victims of abuse and ensure that abuses of authority in these matters never happen again. Let’s pray for our bishops to have the insight and courage to do the right thing always.

Back to vacation. A generous colleague of mine in the parish took me on a day trip with his frequent flyer miles to the National Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio. I’ve always been fascinated my military aircraft and space travel. Among other things the Memphis Belle was on display, as well as a B-52 Bomber so huge it had other planes tucked under its wings (the panorama shot below is 360 degrees in one of the the hangers–the B-52 is on the left).

I then drove up to stay at our retreat center in Bethesda, MD. I visited Washington, DC for the first time to just see the monuments (a treat, since in two visits to D.C. I never had time to see the sights), spent a day at Gettysburg, stopping at the St. Elizabeth Ann Seton shrine on the way back to Bethesda, and went to the awesome Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum Annex in VA, which included, among other things, my Favorite Fighter Plane of All Time: the F-14 Tomcat, and the Space Shuttle Discovery (I’m getting excited just recalling it all). It was a blast.

After DC and a stop by the Legionary community for lunch in PA I went up for the rest of my vacation to my old Legionary community in North Smithfield, RI, and just went for scenic walks, relaxed, and watched Ready Player One three times (and the scene with Mecha-Godzilla six times at least–I’m a nerd, gamer, AND I lived through the 80’s. I admit it and I own it.). I was also able to visit with some friends in RI and MA who I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Archdiocese of Atlanta Convocation of Priests (September 10-13)

In September I attended a diocesan convocation of priests for the first time in my life in the Archdiocese of Atlanta. It was held at the Legacy Lodge at Lake Lanier. All the priests of the archdiocese attended, along with Archbishop Wilton Gregory and the auxiliary Bishop Bernard Shlesinger (Bishop Joel, the other auxiliary bishop, was actually at our College at the time in Rome attending a course for new bishops organized by the Congregation for Bishops).

We prayed some hours of the Divine Office together, concelebrated, had some long Q&A’s with Archbishop Wilton, and spent a lot of time together. I’ve never had a chance to get out to the parishes other than those in my deanery (to help with Lenten penance services), so it was a great opportunity to meet with priests from all over the archdiocese. I also chatted with Archbishop Wilton briefly and had lunch with Bishop Ned (his full name is Bernard, but he goes by Ned).

My first academic journal article published

The latest issue of the academic journal Alpha Omega, published by the Pontifical University Regina Apostolorum published my article on the expression “subsists in” in the dogmatic constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, of the Second Vatican Council. I is my first academic article, since I’ve been mostly working on publishing proceedings from a theology congress. The article is available online if you have theological interest, insomnia, a long attention span, or all of the above, and addresses the question of the relationship between the Church of Christ, the Catholic Church, and non-Catholic Christian Churches and ecclesial communities.

Legionary Priest get-together (October 26-28)

Back in Rome I also participated at the end of August in another sort of priestly convocation. Legionary priests in Rome who’d been priests for 8-15 years (priests with fewer years of priestly life or more had separate gatherings) were invited to get together at a house near Massa Lubrense, Italy (for those who’ve read my chronicles for a long time we call it Termini). We divided into groups by ordination class (mine was 2006) and spoke about our vow of poverty, fraternal life, self-care, and the use of the media.

It’s hard to describe the bond between priests ordained the same year. It was a joy to be able to meet with the priests you’d studied theology with and just talk about how the years had been and what you were up to. The last afternoon everyone gathered and the priests, one by one, shared with the group 2 or 3 things that helped them persevere in their priestly vocation. In my ordination class some have left the Legion, and some have abandoned the priesthood. This get-together was wonderful opportunity to talk among peers and share what we’d learned since ordination. Loneliness, whether physical or emotional, is devastating to a priest. Even at the archdiocesan convocation the diocesan priest lamented that they didn’t have more fraternal life due to the distances between their parishes. Let’s continue to pray for priests. I assure you we pray for all of you too.

Just a quick note to let everyone know where I’ll be celebrating Mass during my visit to Watsonville, CA at the beginning of August. I hope to see you.

It’s been four months to the day since my last post, and the best way I can summarize the last five months or so is academic life and parochial life, with a sprinkling of literary life (including this post).

Theology

I spent the fall semester in Rome teaching Ecclesiology (the theology of the Church) at the Bachelor’s level and and a small group Licentiate-level seminar on priesthood in the thought of Joseph Ratzinger. On November 9th as part of our Theology Congress I gave a presentation on the theology of an expression from the Vatican II document Lumen Gentium (n.8) describing the relationship between the Church of Christ, the Catholic Church, and other non-Catholic Churches and ecclesial communities. God-willing it’ll be published as a journal article in September. On November 11th at the College we invited American seminarians and priests living and studying in Rome to a dinner called Communio USA. After my summer experiences in the diocese of Atlanta it was nice to meet a seminarian from the diocese of Savannah, originally from Augusta. On December 13th at the plenary meeting of the Theology Department’s faculty I gave a presentation on the theology of vocation.

Priestly ordinations

On December 15th I helped hearing confessions in a retreat for families who were in Rome for the priestly ordination of their loved ones.

On December 16th I attended the priestly ordination of my Legionary brothers. Most were my students, and two were now my colleagues and confreres in the Rome Professor’s community. I was a little sad because ordination time was always in Advent, but starting this year the brothers will always be doing a longer transitional diaconate, moving ordinations to Easter-time, when I’d be away from Rome. This was the last group to be ordained priests during the part of the year I spend in Rome.

On December 17th I attended three first Masses, concelebrating in one of them. There are many beautiful little churches and chapels in Rome, so walking between them was quick. On this day and two days later (December 19th) two guest posts I had written were published on Ask Aunt Katie and uCatholic (in addition to the post of December 19th I also did another on February 20th).

On January 6th, at the end of a concelebration for the Epiphany I took a photo with one of my students, Br. Anthony Freeman. It was on his initiative, because he was about to be concluding his studies in Rome and knew I was returning to the United States in a couple of weeks. I’d first met Br. Anthony when he was just Anthony, in 2002/2003 at a boy’s retreat I was helping as a brother. At that retreat he’d expressed no interest in the priesthood, but not long after that his mother contacted me because he wanted to attend our minor seminary. “Why the change of heart?” I asked her. Apparently he’d been so adamant about entering the minor seminary that she was taken aback by my question. For me it was just a reminder that the vocation is from Our Lord; he calls. What I didn’t realize until just before this photo was taken that I was the first Legionary he had ever met. Before my return to the United States I said a Mass with him in Rome. Little did I realize how Providential this would be (more on this later).

Return to St. Brendan’s

Classes for the first semester ended on January 16th, and I returned to the United States on January 17th. The Blessed Mother was looking out for me; I dodged flight-cancelling weather in both Amsterdam (connecting flight) and Atlanta, which was under snow. Back to parish ministry, although still dedicating time during the week to study and writing. Within I few days I celebrated my first funeral. The biggest difference between academic life and parish life is ministering to the sick and dying (being on call to administer the Anointing of the Sick and Viaticum) and impromptu pastoral counseling. We have confessions schedule four times a week, and the penitents are non-stop for 2-2.5 hours on average. I’ve met beautiful souls, searching souls, and suffering souls, and I’ve tried to give an encouraging word to everyone in their circumstances. A priest doing an academic ministry usually doesn’t have this sort of ministry on a regular basis (which is why, among other things, I’d never celebrate a funeral before).

Lent at St. Brendan’s

On February 14th Lent began with Ash Wednesday. We had Masses and services to distribute ashes all day, and every one, with the exception of the earliest, was standing room only. I also spent Ash Wednesday correcting final exams from my Ecclesiology course (necessary, albeit penitential if a different way). Throughout Lent, in addition to the regularly scheduled confessions, I helped out at Penance services at parishes throughout the deanery, and at the parish there were special sessions scheduled for everyone in Faith Formation. This all culminated on Good Friday; I heard confessions that day from 11 AM to 9 PM, with a quick lunch break and the Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion in between. During the commemoration we have the veneration of the Cross, and the parish does something a little different: people take turns holding the cross so that people can venerate it. Except for the start and finish its spontaneous: sometime just taps your shoulder and switches out with you. People from all walks of life, big and little, stood side by side supporting the cross beam so that others could venerate it. This Holy Week was probably the most diverse flock I’d ever been with, since previous years where either at the seminary in Rome or as chaplain for an academy or religious institute.

On February 18th I gave a presentation on the Sacrament of Reconciliation for adults who were preparing for Baptism or to come into full communion with the Catholic Church by participating in RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults). I then gave them a talk on the sacraments of Holy Orders and Anointing of the Sick on March 11th. Some were just starting the program, but many would be completing their catechumenate during the Easter Vigil.

On March 23rd I presided over a living Stations of the Cross in Spanish. The stations were set up throughout the parish property, with costumed actors. I was trying to avoid standing with the “Pharisees” watching Our Lord, but I seemed to often end up near them. Maybe Our Lord was trying to tell me something…

On March 31st at midday (Holy Saturday) I blessed baskets containing the first foods that would be used to celebrate Easter. In Slavic Christianity there is a long tradition of doing this blessing, so we organized a blessing for the parish. I wrote a article for our parish bulletin that you can view here about the practice and the symbolism of the food.

That evening, during the Easter Vigil, I would sing the solemn Paschal Proclamation (the Exsultet) and preached the homily. Three adults were baptized and over a dozen RCIA catechumens received their First Communion and Confirmation.

The Resurrection and the Life

On Easter Monday (April 2nd) I received the sad news that Br. Anthony Freeman, who I mentioned above, had been found dead in his room at the College in Italy. Apparently he had a small heart condition and died in his sleep. He was 29 years old and was going to be ordained a deacon in July. I’d been hoping to attend at least his diaconate ordination. Br. Anthony had been very active on social media spreading the faith, doing, in his words, “Catholic coaching,” and had just published a book to help millennials get closer to God entitled One Step Closer. I’ve no doubt that he went straight to Heaven. He was one of the holiest and most enthusiastic people I’d ever know. I never saw him down. I know he’s now interceding for us all from Heaven and he’ll be greatly missed.

A few days later my Uncle, George Kovacich, passed away at 94. It’s only as I write this that I realize what a sad year in terms of loss: I’ve lost three uncles (Pave Drpić, Tony Maglich-my Godfather, and now uncle George) and an aunt (Franka Drpić). I wasn’t able to attend or celebrate the funeral of any of them, or Br. Anthony’s, and a few days ago (April 19th) I concelebrated in the funeral for a friend’s mother who’d died at 93, Therese Couture, a holy mother of seven. That same day I celebrated another funeral at the parish for a dad who’d died at 41. During the concelebration the weight of everyone who’d passed away came down on me; I didn’t just pray for Therese, but for everyone who’d passed on.

As Therese’s daughter told me after the funeral, it’s a bittersweet moment, even after someone has lived a long and holy life, sweet because a long life has changed, not ended, bitter because we’re separated from our loved ones. I often wonder how non-believers handle the loss of a loved one at all. It’s no coincidence that the Easter Candle is lit and present at every funeral to remind us that life is changed, not ended, and death does not have the last word. By the grace and mercy of God we’ll be reunited with those we love one day. Thank God for the Resurrection.

Life is a beach

The week after Easter week a generous parishioner arranged for us to take a few days off at a vacation rental in St. George’s Island, FL. It’s a long island with a long beach, perfect for a nice walk along the surf line or to watch the dawn (both of which I did). It was off season, so it was relaxing and quiet.

May the Risen Lord continue to bless you this Easter season.

Some opportunities drop out of Heaven. While I was at St. Brendan the Navigator parish in Cumming during the summer the pastor, my brother priest and Legionary Fr. Matthew Van Smoorenburg, asked if I could cover for him as chaplain at the start of a parish pilgrimage that would be visiting Portugal, Spain, and France, since I’d already be in Europe. Twist my arm… I’d have an opportunity to visit Portugal and, especially, Fatima for the first time. My home parish (Our Lady, Help of Christians in Watsonville, CA) has a large Portuguese community and a beautiful statue of Our Lady of Fatima, one of my favorite depictions of Our Lady. As I was preparing to enter the seminary I’d often pray in front of that statue. So after requesting the proper permissions and the okay from my dean (since the semester and classes were underway), I spent October 31st to November 3rd in Portugal.

October 31st: departure for Lisbon

After giving class in the morning on October 31st I headed by train to Fiumicino airport for the flight to Portugal, arriving with no problems. A couple sitting next to me didn’t say a word, but their faces lit up when they saw I would sit with them and the wife gave me a thumbs up when we left the plane and a smile.

I arrived at the hotel in Lisbon as the sun was setting. The pilgrims were receiving an orientation talk by our pilgrimage guide, Jorge. I was happy to see more than one familiar face in the group, since I’d spent the summer saying Mass at the parish. It was a little surreal staying in a hotel again. I hadn’t stayed in a hotel in over twenty years (and a motel in over ten), but if anyone knows European hotel rooms they’re not much bigger than my normal accommodations at home (small, that is). The biggest difference was a TV and remote strategically positioned to be viewed from bed. I didn’t use it; other than sleeping, my hotel time was brief and consisted of catching up on my blogs and prayers before bed. Jorge had recommended trying bacalhau (salted cod fish), since the Portuguese considered it a staple dish with lots of ways to prepare it, and at dinner I tried some and loved it. The irony was that Croatians also go crazy over a stew made from salted cod fish called bakalar that my parents never let me try because they said it was an acquired taste and didn’t want to waste it on me. In California, for my parents’ restaurant, we’d travel down to San Pedro to purchase it because it was imported.

November 1st: All Saints, Lisbon, Santerem, and Fatima

The next morning we spent touring Lisbon. As our plane came in for a landing the previous afternoon I was struck by the uniformity and clean lines of Lisbon’s architecture. Our guide explained that the city of Lisbon had been largely destroyed in an earthquake in 1755 (on All Saints, 262 years to the day), and the reconstruction was so massive that the streets were laid out with great symmetry and the buildings reconstructed en masse using veritable factories of production materials.

Cathedral La Sé and birthplace of St. Anthony of Lisboa (a.k.a. of Padua)

We visited the cathedral La Sé (short for the Latin Sedes Episcopalis–see of the bishop). St. Anthony of Padua (from Lisboa, actually–ask a local and they’ll tell you) was baptized at the cathedral. I learned a local tradition of devotion to Saint Anthony that I’d never heard before: women who wanted to get married. At one point the women would tie their hair into a pony tail and cut it off, leaving it as a sign of an ex voto (a token showing that St. Anthony had answered their prayer–in Marian shrines, for example, some people leave silver hearts). It’s not done anymore, but, at the time, a women with shorn hair was considered a woman of ill repute, so it was a way of showing humility regarding what people thought of you and your reputation.

A short walk from the cathedral was the Church of St. Anthony, built on the spot where he was born and raised. It was a beautiful church. It too was destroyed by the 1755 earthquake, and the children of Lisbon went throughout the city raising funds for its reconstruction. Considering how beautiful it is, they were very successful and people were very generous.

St. Anthony is an example of how God uses everything you have to accomplish his will. At first St. Anthony went to the Abbey of Santa Cruz in Coimbra, the capital of Portugal at the time, and studied theology and Latin. It was only later that he decided to become a Franciscan after being struck by their joy and witness. As a Franciscan he traveled to Morocco, inspired by the example of the Franciscan martyrs, but fell sick and, on the way back to Portugal ended up Sicily when the ship was blown off course. From there he went to Tuscany and stayed, become known as il Santo (the Saint) by the Paduans. St. Francis of Assisi was still alive, and not convinced of the need for the friars to do studies, but, after St. Anthony was asked by his abbot to preach a homily at the last minute, he showed his eloquence and intelligence and the friars started studying under his tutelage. If not for his talents the Franciscans may have never gotten into theological studies.

Mosteiro dos Jeronimos monastery, Lisbon

After some more touring by bus we arrived at the Mosteiro dos Jeronimos (The Hieronymite monastery). The monastery once housed the Hieronymites, an order of monks,  dedicated to the Biblical scholar and translator St. Jerome. From laying the foundation to completion took around a hundred years (the original plan was eight, but when the taxes they’d levied for its construction swelled they expanded their plans). Being close to the harbor this monastery also became a hub for Portugal’s great exploratory achievements. The great Portuguese explorer Vasco de Gama is buried in the chapel.

The monastery was originally commissioned by King Manuel I, who had entrusted the monastery to the Hieronymites and asked that they continue to pray for him, even after his death. Given the great achievements of the Portuguese in this period it seems their prayers were answered. The monastery also showed artistic embellishments called the Manueline style, named after King Manuel I, containing many elements of sea travel and exploration.

The monks also concocted a pastry, the Pastel de nata, and solemnly entrusted the recipe to a nearby bakery, now famous, called the Pastéis de Belém (named after the district). I can attest that the pastry is heavenly (note the lower case to avoid idolatry…).

Mass and the Eucharistic miracle at Santerém

After lunch we departed for the town of Santerém (forty-five miles north of Lisbon) to celebrate Mass at the Igreja do Santissimo Milagre (Church of the Holy Miracle) and see a Eucharistic miracle from the thirteenth century. We celebrated the Mass for All Saints, and in my homily, my first opportunity to preach to the pilgrims, I told them that pilgrimages were a reminder that the Pilgrim Church on earth is always on pilgrimage, headed toward the Promised Land of Heaven. Our pilgrimage was simply a more intense part of that journey to sainthood, the sainthood every soul in Heaven has achieved by God’s grace and to which we are all called. If we on earth are part of the Pilgrim Church, in Heaven we’ll join the Church Triumphant: one Church, two states of life within her. All Saints celebrates all the saints, anonymous and otherwise, who are now in Heaven, helping us and awaiting us.

Now for the Eucharistic miracle (source). A woman faced with an unfaithful husband decided to consult a sorceress to see how she could win him back. The sorceress demanded a consecrated host as payment (which is sacrilege, for those who don’t know), so the woman took one at Mass in the Church of St. Stephen and hid it in a veil. As she left the church, with the host hidden and held to her chest, the host started to bleed and people tried to help her, thinking she had cut her hand. She ran home in a panic and threw the bloody host into a trunk. Her husband did not come home until late. In the middle of the night they were awoken by a strange light coming from the trunk. The woman confessed to her husband what she had done and they both knelt in repentance before the miracle.

A priest sealed the miraculous host in wax and returned it to the church, placing it in the tabernacle. When he later opened the tabernacle he discovered the wax in pieces and the host enclosed in a crystal pyx. The crystal pyx is now on display in a silver monstrance, with a smaller reliquary containing the wax. We were allowed to spend a moment up close looking at both (from an area behind the one you see in the photo below), and you could see the dried blood around the host. No photos were allowed, but it was a moving reminder of what a miracle the Eucharist is every day.

First arrival at Fatima

After Santerém we continued on to Fatima. It was dark by the time we arrived, but that didn’t deter us from going to the shrine right after dinner. I won’t recall everything that happened at Fatima; EWTN has a wonderful site dedicated to the topic, and I read excerpts of it to the pilgrims when we were travelling by bus. Walking into the shrine reminded me of the first time I’d seen Saint John the Paul II in person: surreal. I couldn’t believe I was actually in Fatima and at the shrine. On one of John Paul II’s visits there I watched the procession with that same image and hoped I could participate some day. Now I had my chance. That evening we attended a rosary in the Chapel of the Apparitions (the spot where Our Lady appeared), which included a candlelit procession with the statue of Our Lady in the plaza. On Facebook I asked for prayer intentions and tried to bring them all before Our Lord in the Eucharist and Our Lady.

We stayed at a new hotel that new how to cater to its clientele. There was a picture of Pope Francis at the reception desk, a shop selling religious articles, and in my room there was a Eucharistic motif to the headboard of my bed. There were pilgrimages staying their from Ireland and Africa as well.

November 2nd: All Souls, Tomar and Fatima

The next day I concelebrated in an English Mass at the Chapel of the Apparitions. In the chapel there is a statue of Our Lady on the exact spot where she appeared. After distributing Communion I walked right past it to put the ciborium back in the tabernacle and it was incredible.

After Mass we went to visit the homes of the children to whom the Blessed Mother had appeared. When the children started seeing apparitions it began with an angel who later revealed himself to be the Guardian Angel of Portugal. We visited that spot and I also had the unexpected grace to meet a relative of Suor Lucia. She was gracious enough to let us pose for photos with her. I gave her my priestly blessing afterwards and she smiled and reverenced my hands. According to our guide she was almost a hundred years old.

Tomar and the castle Convento do Cristo

After a lunch and shopping break we headed to Tomar to visit the Convento do Cristo (the Convent of Christ), a castle that was the see of Templar power in Portugal from the XII century to the XVI century. The Knights Templar (their full name is the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon–since in the Holy Land their headquarters resided on the ruins of the Temple) resisted a Moorish invasion and Christianized the region, then later funded the great exploratory push of Portugal. They were entrusted with the entire Tomar region. History buffs at this point might point out that the Templars were dissolved in the XIV century after being subjected to a smear campaign that had the intention of confiscating their assets and property. That is true, but Portugal was so favorable to them due to their help in the Reconquista that in Portugal they were re-founded as the Ordem dos Cavaleiros de Nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo (Order of the Knights of Our Lord Jesus Christ) and “inherited” the same assets and property with the blessing of Portugal’s king and Pope John XXII.

I was really struck by my visit to the Convent (castle), and not just because I am a medieval enthusiast. Hearing their history, their accomplishments, and their trials, I couldn’t help thinking about how similar the names “Knights of Christ” and “Legionaries of Christ” are. At one point our motto was “contemplative and conquering,” and expression now mitigated a little to “contemplative and evangelizing” (to be honest, I prefer conquering). While not denying that our Founder did some reprehensible things, things that did require a deep institutional review on our part and reform, it’s also true that some would accept nothing less than our complete dissolution. On my last visit home someone at the parish told me exactly that. It’s obvious that I disagree, but the important thing is that the Holy See does too, or else I’d be the first to pack my bags. Some despicable things really happened in the Legion, but some accusations are untrue.

The Knights of Christ gave not only spiritual, military, and financial support to Portugal, but cultural support as well, bringing resources from the Holy Land without which the great exploratory endeavors of the Portuguese would not have been possible, such as maps the Western world had not yet drafted. Evangelization is not just directly spiritual; it is also meant to transform individuals, societies, and cultures from within. That may no longer require swords, armor, and castles, but it does require a spiritual militancy that is willing to fight for and defend not just the truths of the faith, but the truth itself using whatever morally acceptable means are available. As Legionaries we take up that battle too. A pilgrim was kind enough to buy me a little miniature of a Knight of Christ, kneeling to pray while resting on his sword, to remind me that I too must always fight on behalf of Our Lord. When we were in the gift shop looking over the knight miniatures I pointed out the praying knight right away, and I’m glad to say that a few men on the pilgrimage followed suit by buying it too. I keep it on my desk now, near my computer, but pointing toward a portrait of Christ in my office to motivate me whenever I get an attack of laziness.

All Souls

Since it was All Souls day I took advantage of our bus trips to remind the pilgrims of the important of praying for the souls in purgatory. I explained indulgences and how to get them. If you want a recap of the importance of All Souls Day and praying for the souls in purgatory see my homily for All Souls Day. Part of the traditions of All Souls Day is a visit to the cemetery to pray for the dead. This year I prayed at the tombs of Templar Knights in the Convent of Christ. One of my brother priests also had just lost his dad to cancer, and I was happy to tell him via Facebook that I would remember his father in my Mass and during the pilgrimage.

Eucharistic Procession

We returned to Fatima and after dinner I decided to visit the shrine one last time and participate again in the procession. Since it was Thursday the procession would be with the Eucharist, and the Rosary would include Exposition and Benediction at the end. Right up my alley. I’d discovered the night before that priests could vest in alb and stole to sit in the sanctuary during the rosary and then process with the Blessed Sacrament, so this time I did. As I was vesting a priest entered who looked very familiar: it was a fellow Legionary priest, Fr. Oswaldo Verdín, who was with a pilgrimage of Brazilian Regnum Christi members. What a Godincidence. He did the Exposition and Benediction. On my first day in Fatima I missed the pastor of my home parish (Our Lady, Help of Christians) by only a few hours, who’d already been in Portugal for a few days with his group.

November 3rd; Back to Rome

As the pilgrimage continued to Spain I returned to Lisbon and flew back to Rome after three unforgettable days.