PAX

First I want to apologize for my grievous failure in not updating sooner. I'm certain that during the last two weeks I've forgotten some details from our trip to Assisi. I'll do my best though. To begin at the beginning we read the start and the end of The Life of St. Francis by St. Bonaventure. Just in reading that I started to get excited for the trip. I hadn't realized it but my dislike for St. Francis of Assisi Parish (ever since their stacked basketball team dominated the middle school basketball league) prevented me from really learning about this amazing Saint. This weekend would have been great even if all that happened was that I got over my mental block towards St. Francis.
After we checked in a few of us went and walked around Assisi. It was such a quaint little medieval town. I hadn't started to notice it yet but there is a peace there that is tangible it hangs in the air and seeps into every corner of the little town. The highlight probably had to be when we dropped into Chiese Nuovo, a beautiful little church that claims to stand on the birthplace of St. Francis. As we were in there looking around my roommate, Jared Rovny coughed and it and it boomed through the little church. I stopped as I was halfway out the door and was like wait a sec. I asked Blaise if he knew the Salve Regina as I turned around and went back into the church. So we went back in and sang one of the most amazing Salves I have ever heard sung by two of the most mediocre voices. The sound was incredible. It multiplied and filled the whole church as if an entire choir had joined us. Pretty cool. That night I went walking with a group led mainly by Catherine Lepel who has a real problem in that she seemed compelled to take every staircase we came too. Thus we were zigzagging all over Assisi (there are a TON of stairs in Assisi and I think I walked about all of them. lol.). We ended up on the hill above Assisi next to the Fortress. I distinctly remember being a little spooked. I've never had a real love for being out in the dark probably due to the times as a little kid I had to walk out into the pasture in the middle of the night to get cows in with the coyotes howling. It was windy and desolate up by the fortress and I know at one point I kind of got annoyed with myself being creeped out and prayed something like, "God take away all my fear except my fear of You" (This will be significant later). The next morning after breakfast (all the meals were incredible, like really delicious, by the end I was feeling a little torn to be eating such good food in a town so pervaded by the ascetic spirit of St. Francis.) we went to the Basilica of St. Francis for Western Theological Tradition class with Dr. Dawson Vasquez. This class in addition to what we'd read from the Life of St. Francis really enhanced the weekend because I had a grasp of what the spirit of St. Francis was which filled the town.
Now it starts to get good. Ha. After lunch we started the hike up to the hermitage of St. Francis which would be an incredible, transformative experience for me. It was a pretty difficult walk up a paved road into the mountain behind Assisi. When I reached the hermitage I realized how definitely worth it the hike had been. I remember touching the moss on one of the trees as we entered and being struck with the thought that the water on my fingers felt like Holy Water. That was just the spirit of the place though. If the town of Assisi was peaceful then this place, to which St. Francis came when he wanted to get away from Assisi and pray in solitude, was peaceful beyond all imagining. We walked through the little series of carved out rooms which contained the tiny cave in which St. Francis slept on the bare stone when he came there. If I was tasked with defining the word humble I would simply show a picture of this tiny cave with low narrow doors and a simple stone altar just large enough to hold a few people at a time and yet filled with the fullness God. It was impressive in a way that all the cathedrals and basilica's of Europe cannot begin to compare to. After that I walked a way on the little dirt paths that wind up the mountain next to the hermitage. Eventually I left the group I was walking with and just sat down on a rock on the side of the hill. I was thinking how full of the spirit of St. Francis this place was when I was struck by a thought. In Providence's immense goodness I realized that as a result of his life and sainthood, the spirit of St. Francis was the very spirit of God. I still can't really describe it but for probably one of the first times in my life I realized that I was completely in the presence of God. I can still see those simple unassuming trees moving in the breeze in front of me and I imagine I probably always will. After sitting there in awe for a while I walked back down to the hermitage because it was about time for mass. The rest of the weekend it was a bit of a challenge to restrain from singing every hymn I knew in praise of His goodness. As I was walking into mass one of our RA's, Mary, stopped the little group I was with and asked if anyone would like to serve or lector. I was almost to volunteer to read because I have always loved doing that for mass, when Mary asked me to serve. After I agreed to I realized that it had been a real example of obedience and as I served during mass it was with the knowledge that I was exactly where God wanted me to be doing exactly what he wanted me to do because I had said yes to His request through my RA. The gospel at mass also struck me. It was the story of the storm at sea when Christ was sleeping in the stern. After the apostles in their fear woke Jesus he rebuked them saying "Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?" What an answer to my prayer the night before on that hill overlooking Assisi and what call teaching us how to live our lives, with faith. As we were walking back down to Assisi that evening David Ringwald, one of my former roommates, mentioned how much he would love to be up at the hermitage at sunrise. Instantly, with out really thinking about how crazy it would be to wake up early enough to walk for an hour in the dark to get back up to the hermitage, I said yes. God wanted me there though, and inside myself there was something that knew without a doubt that I should go with David.
The next morning to my amazement I woke up immediately when my alarm went off just before 5 am. That never happens. I am so not a morning person and it normally takes a good number of snooze buttons before I can drag myself out of bed. But God had plans for me that morning. As we took off back up the mountain that morning in the dark it started to feel a little stupid because our legs were still really sore from hiking that way the day before. Knowing what lay at the end of the road helped though and we were making really good time. As we were taking one particularly dark and steep shortcut off the road something started to feel a little weird about the trail. When we got back up to the road we realized the strange stuff underfoot was snow! Overnight it had snowed on the mountain and there was about an inch of immaculate, untouched snow starting about halfway up. It was still really too dark to see much but just the pure presence of the snow left us both in awe. When we reached the gates of the hermitage about 6:30am in the predawn darkness we realized it didn't open until 7 and so we decided to say morning prayer under the little light at the gate. The setting was profound but the morning prayer from Liturgy of the Hours seemed to be coming directly from the mouth of God to us at that exact moment. I think David must have had his week and readings markers messed up because I have been completely unable to restructure it looking through my brievery. This incredible morning prayer reached it climax at the Canticle of Zechariah which was "Jesus rose early in the morning and went up to a quiet place to pray." All glory and praise to God. As the dawn slowly came, we started to realize in the gathering light just how stunning our surroundings were. It didn't even matter to us when the gates never opened at 7. We ended up going back down the mountain without ever going in but our joy was in no way diminished. As we were going down the mountain I asked David if I could have his brievery so that I could read the psalms as we were walking down, and he in turn asked me if I could read them aloud. So we walked down the mountain taking turns reading the psalms out of Office of the Readings. Between the morning prayer and the office I can recall some of the psalms that we prayed. Among them were: "Who can climb the Lord's mountain and stand in His holy place? The man with clean hands and a pure heart, who desires not worthless things" and "Grow higher ancient doors let Him enter the King of Glory (slightly ironic as the gates never opened) and "Come, let us climb the LORD'S mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, That he may instruct us in his ways, and we may walk in his paths." As went down the mountain I felt like we were two heralds coming down from God's mountain proclaiming the Good News. As we rounded the last corner and Assisi came into view we marveled again at God's goodness because even though it had been around 30 minutes since dawn the sun was just starting to hit the clouds above Assisi coloring them rose. As we neared Assisi and looked back up the mountain I was in a bit of disbelief that only a few minutes ago we had truly been standing in God's holy place. How clearly Providence had willed for us to be there at exactly that point in time! God is so good!
It's probably easy to understand then how my entire semester since then has been changed by this amazing weekend. I'm still thinking about the lessons I learned about obedience, sacrifice, and above all His abounding love for us. Hope that despite the length, this post was half as enjoyable to read as it was to write. If nothing else it was so good for me to sit and recollect this profound movement of God in my life. Maybe take some time and think how He has been working in yours. And may the peace of God that surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus!

Blessings

Greetings from Rome! This week the reality that I'll actually be in an academic setting in Italy, rather than just touring Rome the whole time began to set in. This adds a sacrificial element to this blog, because while I would like to be sleeping right now, I'm instead going to offer that up for all of you and write anyways.

There have been a few things this week that have been really incredible. First off, Saturday morning we had a school scavenger hunt in Rome, which was alright. The amazing part though was when I went to the Basilica of St. John Lateran that morning with a few friends. The Basilica is beautiful but the really profound part was when we went to the Basilica's Baptistry across the street. For those of you who don't know, the baptistry is the site of the Holy Stairs which Christ ascended to be judged by Pontius Pilate. According to tradition, they were brought to Rome by St. Helen in the 4th century along with the true cross. The steps are marble and have been covered by wood to protect them but there are slits so that pilgrims can still see the actual marble and you are allowed to climb the stair on your knees. It's one of those things I still really can't begin to get my head around. Father Hoisington had earlier told me to think about how many saints had walked the same streets of Rome that I was walking, and while we were at the Holy Stairs I kept thinking that God has walked these steps that I am kneeling on. One other comment on the stair, if you can see in the picture, at the top of the stair is a painting of Christ crucified. As I walked up the stairs the crucifixion drew nearer and nearer, just as when Christ walked those very same steps he was came closer and closer to His Crucifixion.

The next day on Sunday, a few friends and I went into St. Peter's for mass. Mass itself was pretty incredible but then afterward everyone files out of the Church into St. Peter's Square, and then Pope Benedict came to his window and prayed the Angelus with the crowd. After that he gave a short welcome to all the different languages. That was also nuts. I'm still not sure that I believe that I saw the actual pope, wow.

Finally, today after class a friend talked me into to going to mass in Rome at the Basilica of St. Mary Major. The Basilica is to my knowledge the oldest church dedicated to Mary as the original construction took place in the 4th century. More significantly for me I consecrated myself to Mary on the feast day of the dedication of St. Mary Major last August. It was a blessed experience. I was able to attend confession, and after they finished the rosary, before mass, the congregation sang the Salve Regina, which I've loved ever since mt early morning, God squad days at Bishop Carroll. There is even more to my connection with the basilica though. The Church is built on the site that Our Lady of the Snows miraculously indicated in the 4th century. There is also a national shrine to Our Lady of the Snows near St. Louis that my family visited one time on a family vacation. I remember from that trip, an immense, tangible sense of peace at the shrine. That was the feeling I had at the basilica too, like I was home. I plan to go back very soon. One last incredible thing about Mary Major. This is the chapel under the high altar, and it is said that a piece of the crib in which Jesus was laid is enclosed there. Just a little cool.

I have been overpowered spiritually thus far by Italy. It helps that I've been able to attend mass almost everyday since we arrived, and that everywhere you look there's another huge church. Most of all though, I've just been felling extremely blessed. As I've entered different churches and basilicas I've been thinking how people often live their entire lives without ever having a similar experience. I've been thanking God a lot for this incredible gift and blessing and trying to live every moment with the realization that I may never see some of these things again. I hope all of you may be blessed to see Rome some day in all its glory. It is truly indescribable. God Bless!

Rome Sweet Home

So I figured if there is any day that I should be able to blog it should be today, before classes start tomorrow, and after having been to Rome for the first time. To start at the beginning though, its has just struck me ever since we got here how not American Italy is. I guess I should have expected that but its really strange to just feel like I'm in a completely different country. This is the view out our dorm window, which is even more amazing at sunset.

Probably the most overwhelming thing on my mind though is our first excursion into the Rome this afternoon. Incredible. There are a thousand little tidbits that I could mention but none of them quite seem like complete thoughts. And I guess that makes sense because I feel like it will probably be years before I can get a good grasp of what I just experienced. Two things jumped out from the visit though. First, when we visited the Pantheon also known as the Basilica of St. Mary and the Martyrs it struck just how enduring some of the city was. When I realized that the Pantheon was originally built to worship the Roman gods I was struck that there was actually a time, hundreds of generations ago when those deities where actually worshiped. It was astounding to realize that I was in place that was as old as many of the classic works the we have been reading. I guess I should start getting used to that feeling.

The second thing that was astounding was St. Peter's. I won't say much now just because we weren't there for a terribly long time (3 hrs) and sure I'll be back when I have more of a chance to absorb. Going to mass there was...ha I don't even know anything I could say that would be adequate. It was in Italian so I didn't understand a thing, but all the same, it was pretty crazy. I still can't believe I was actually there. After the celebrant had prayed the Eucharistic prayer which I wasn't understanding I caught the Consecration because I kind of knew what to listen for. At first I was disappointed that the Mass hadn't been in English or Latin so that I could understand what was happening, but then I had humbling thought. How many times have I attended the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass at my home parish of St. Jude's and totally spaced out until I realized it was the Consecration? Maybe that was a tiny bit of divine justice that I was unable to really fully participate in my first Mass at St. Peter's. It also led me to resolve to make a better effort to be fully present at Mass in the future.

Well that was a lot more than I initially intended to type. We'll see if I can motivate myself to do this again before the end of the semester. From Rome, God bless!


Oh and this is the tomb of Pope Calixtus III (1455-1458) which I basically had to take a picture of as he is a patron of the liberal arts.