Within two days 2020 will be upon us, and I thought it would be good to take some time during the Christmas break to remember some of the best of 2019. I already wrote at length about my pilgrimage to the Holy Land in February, but there were also many other memorable moments in 2019. After finishing the first semester at Regina Apostolorum in Rome and going on pilgrimage I returned to the United States on February 14th and returned to the parish rhythm of life with a few weeks of Ordinary Time before Lent began on March 6th. During Lent all parish priests organize and help with Penance Services in their parish and neighboring parishes, so Lent was full of extra sessions of Confession.

On March 30th I gave a presentation on our Holy Land pilgrimage and practically every pilgrim, along with other parishioners, attended, including some from out of state.

On March 31st I gave a presentation on the sacraments of Holy Orders and Anointing of the Sick to our RCIA group as part of their catechetical preparation. On April 12th I presided over a live Stations of the Cross. The parish is undergoing a heavy renovation, so we had to be a little creative with the route, but it’s a very powerful presentation. On Fridays in Lent the Knights of Columbus host a fish fry, so people coming out of dinner (or going in) joined the Way of the Cross procession. A powerful evangelization event. On Good Friday (April 19th) I and other priests heard confessions all day except for a brief lunch break until the Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion in the evening (and then a few more penitents after that). On Holy Saturday (April 20th) I presided over midday prayer and blessed Easter baskets, a tradition from Slavic Christianity that is growing. That evening at the Easter Vigil I sang the Exsultet (the Solemn Easter Proclamation).

Part of our parish renovations is the addition of a new chapel, and the pastor asked me to help with the artistic designs in the chapel, including the altar, ambo, and baptismal font. Meetings and conversations began in April. The renovations and new chapel are being finished over the next month, so when I return to the States in February it should all be done.

The week after Easter week the parish fathers went to Tybee Island on the outskirts of Savannah for a few days of rest after all the Lenten and Easter excitement. On the way down to Tybee Island we stopped to visit the beautiful Church of St. Joseph in Macon.

On May 13th I visited the Museum of Aviation in Warner Robins, GA.

In the first week of June I spent a week of working vacation in Keystone, CO. The community had their vacation schedule in Colorado for the first two weeks of June, and I had to prepare for an academic seminar at the end of the month, so I brought my books and read with liberal sprinklings of hanging out with the fathers. Colorado is a beautiful state. I’ve never seen so many shades of green in the trees. I returned to Georgia in time to walk the parish Navi-gator 5K on June 8th (thanks again to everyone who sponsored me and pledged donations to the parish). It was pouring rain, but fun as always.

The academic seminar was held in the last week of June in Oxnard, CA at the Santa Clara Retreat Center (the airport shown is LAX). It was a Fides et Ratio Seminar organized by the Faith and Reason Institute, and the topic was priesthood, right up my alley. Several other priests participated (about twenty-five participants in all) and we had some great discussions. As proof of what a small world we live in I saw one of the participants a few months later in Rome at St. Peter’s Basilica, chaperoning students on pilgrimage.

In July I gave two catechetical talks to elementary school students about All Saints and Pentecost. Some of them dressed as saints for the All Saints talk, so I dressed in my cassock and explained to them why it was not a costume.

In August I visited home in California at the start of the month (good to see many of you while I was visiting). The blue ocean below is the Pacific, seen from the Santa Cruz wharf, with the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk in the background. It was a clear day and I could hear people on the rides at the Boardwalk.

I returned to Georgia, then continued my vacation by driving down to Louisiana. I hadn’t driven there since 2003, and I hadn’t visited since 2008. I had a tranquil vacation, staying with the Legionary community in Mandeville, reading, walking, watching videos, and visiting with old friends. I returned to the World War II Museum, which when I last visited it in 2003 was the D-Day Museum, and it had changed a lot. I highly recommend it if you ever visit New Orleans. It originally opened in New Orleans because the landing boats for D-Day were manufactured there.

On my walks I ran into some large spiders that spun webs across the trail. They were about two-thirds the size of a Tarantula. I later discovered that they were Golden Orb Weavers and not harmful to humans (unless you count psychological damage). On a rainy day I pushed through one’s web with my umbrella unknowingly and it later crawled up into the inside of my umbrella (in the woods, unlike space, people can hear your scream, but thankfully no one was around…to hear me scream). Thankfully it was a large umbrella so I got it out pretty quickly.

I returned to Georgia before vacation was over for a day trip to Chattanooga, Tennessee, where a World War II landing boat, still sailing, was docked for a few days, the USS LST 325. They fired the forward gun at our request (not loaded, but it made the same noise as the genuine article would), and I was able to sit in one of the side turrets and look menacing. It was not far from the Tennessee Aquarium, which is one of the best fresh water aquariums in the world, along with a good salt water aquarium. I am not in the cage below for trying to fire to gun on the ship; it is a shark cage, and no priests or sharks were harmed in the taking of the photo.

On September 7th we organized an investiture ceremony at the parish for the brown scapular of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. I was amazed at the turnout. People had asked individually over the months leading up to the ceremony, thinking a blessing of the scapular was enough (it’s not; there are some devotional commitments to make too), so we decided to organize it and it was a good First Saturday gift for Mary.

On September 14th the parish had a half-day pilgrimage to the Trappist Monastery in Conyers, GA. I had heard of it for two years and it was my first opportunity to visit. The serenity and silence there were palpable and wonderful. Their simple monastic rule of life, inspired by St. Benedict’s ora et labora (pray and work) reminded me of my Novitiate days. What impressed me most was their church, made from cement that they had brought and poured wheelbarrow by wheelbarrow. They arrived in Conyers from Kentucky with not much more than a barn and some property and built a wonderful monastery and retreat center. At midday we attended the Divine Office with the monks in the main church.

On September 18th I return to Rome for the first semester (still here as of this writing), starting eight days of spiritual exercises that same day, and then a week and a half of class prep before classes began for me on October 8th. In addition to classes in October and November I was preparing a paper for a Christology congress scheduled for November 21st. The paper I contributed was on the complex reality of the Church in the light of the mystery of the Incarnate Word, a thought inspired by Lumen Gentium 8. I’ll be publishing it in English sometime in 2020 and it will be published in Italian as part of the congress’ proceedings as well.

Thanksgiving is not celebrated in Italy, but I didn’t have classes that day and it was a nice quiet day. We had turkey for lunch and pie, which is not guaranteed in Italy, so it reminded me of how much for which to be thankful. In December I had a nasty cold/flu that pretty much knocked me off my feet for three weeks, so it was a quiet month. It didn’t keep me from visiting the Galleria Borghese on the 1st, before I got sick. No photos were allowed inside, but they had several wonderful works of Bernini.

On December 23rd I concelebrated at St. Mary Major’s for the the thirteenth ordination anniversary of my class. The silver reliquary above the Missal below contains relics of the the Lord’s crib. We celebrated Mass at that altar, down below the main altar. The altar trimmed with blue is the altar Salus Popoli Romani (which means “salvation of the Roman people) where Pope Francis comes before a trip to pray. The icon at its center is believed to have been rendered by St. Luke the Evangelist in the first century A.D.

We’re still in the octave of Christmas, so have a Blessed Christmas and New Year.

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.

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.