A few weeks ago one of my brother Legionary priests passing through Rome (who’d prefer to remain anonymous–not to be confused with Anonymous) treated me to a gelato, which anyone who has visited Italy knows is ice cream, but taken to another level. If you ever pass through Rome, have a gelato at Old Bridge (and if you need someone to show you where it is, I’ll be glad to help you[mental note: resist temptation to request reimbursement in gelato, and erase this mental note before posting]): they have a website and its great gelato. But I digress.

It was a beautiful warm fall day where the weather had not decided to turn crisp yet, and that combination of climatological factors where the gelato starts to melt and drip as soon as you try to eat it. In that moment, looking down and seeing drops of it spattering on the ground, I had an insight in how much life at times it like a gelato: every drop spilt was a moment of fulfillment wasted, so every moment was to be lived to the utmost to savor as much as possible. That’s not a cause for regret, but for relishing every moment of life like it’s one big gelato. Before anyone takes that in a hedonistic sense and goes off like a weapon of substance-abused destruction, the point is not the gelato, but the joy and reason behind it. Even when life is not feeling like a gelato, there can be a joy behind living it. That joy come from having an attitude of gratitude and not just an attitude of simple fleeting “fat-itude” (don’t bother looking it up on Google Translate or in the dictionary).

An attitude of gratitude gives thanks and gives back for blessings received; an attitude of fat-itude just enjoys a stomach full of turkey and passing out on the couch in the afternoon watching football games, and then the moment is gone. An attitude of gratitude stems from always counting your blessings, even when they don’t seem preset or forthcoming. It goes from gratitude for one gelato to gratitude for a life of blessings exchanged with family and friends, and a desire to share those blessings with others in thanksgiving so that they too can adopt an attitude of gratitude. This gelato was just one stop along a lifetime of friendship lived in mutual gratitude.

The Eucharist is an act of Thanksgiving. I haven’t celebrated yet today because at midday a person from an Islamic country who’ll be joining us for Mass has just recently converted to Catholicism (another cause for thanksgiving), but I’ll be remembering you all with gratitude. Happy Thanksgiving.

 

 

During my summer visit to the United States I heard the expression “staycation” for the first time. Since I had been absent for about a month and a half from Rome for various reasons, this year I decided, before even knowing the term existed, to do a staycation there for my vacation: day trips to places around Rome and relaxing at home. As of this writing I’ve lived in Rome, off and on, for eleven years. As a brother, and as a priest occasionally, I’ve had to opportunity to see the city with family, friends, and pilgrims. I never went out into the city to see things that just interested me; usually I just suggested places to the group I was with and accompanied them wherever they wanted to go. This staycation was the perfect opportunity to visit those little places away from the beaten path that I’d always wanted to see, and to visit some places I’d not visited for a while for lack of an opportunity. This is not a recommended itinerary for people visiting Rome for the first time; there are tons of things that are a higher priority.

Day 1: The via Appia Antica, Domine Quo Vadis? Church, and the Catacombs of St. Sebastian.

I drew on old knowledge to find the bus stop for heading out to the area of the Catacombs, and much to my chagrin found out the bus stop had been moved. With the triumph of modern technology I was able to find the new bus stop without losing much time, but then the bus didn’t come…and didn’t come…and didn’t come. Undeterred, I checked on Google Maps how long it would take to walk from the bus stop to the first stop, the Domine Quo Vadis? Church (around 35 minutes), and went walking to it instead. Part of the walk was on the via Appia Antica, closed to traffic, so it was a beautiful, peaceful walk. This was probably the road in which Paul was led in custody to present his case before the Emperor when he came to Rome.

The Domine Quo Vadis? Church is built near the spot where tradition says what when St. Peter was going to abandon the city during the persecution, he saw Our Lord heading into the city, and when he asked Our Lord, Domine quo vadis? (Lord, where are you going), he replied that he was going into the city to be crucified again. Peter got the message and returned into the city. According to tradition the Lord’s feet left an imprint in the stone where he stood; the original is at the nearby catacombs of St. Sebastian (right photo below), and a copy is here. I visited both sets on the same day, not sure which was a copy of which. I also prayed at St. Sebastian’s tomb.

Day 2: The Capuchin Ossuary at Immaculate Conception Church, Santa Maria sopra Minerva, and Castel Sant’Angelo

There’s a church in Rome nicknamed the “bone church” because it contains an ossuary with the bones of deceased Capuchin friars from the convent built there. I’d always heard about it, but never visited it. Pictures aren’t allowed, out of respect for the dead, but beyond morbid curiosity that attracts visitors of all stripes (the skeletons and bones are arranged, sometimes artistically), for me, as a religious too, it made me remember how even our bodies are at the Lord’s service in death, and it puts all the grand plans you have for life into perspective.

Santa Maria sopra Minerva is a beautiful church with Gothic architecture (a rarity in Rome–I love the blue arched ceilings) and the tomb of St. Catherine of Siena and Fra Angelico (it’s a Dominican parish). Castel Sant’Angelo is now a civil military museum, but I’d never gone close to it, so I just admired it from the outside.

Day 3: San Nicola in Carcere, the Holy Stairs, and Santa Croce in Gerusalemme

After my trip to Bari a few months ago one of my confreres (a fellow Nicholas) told me about a basilica dedicated to St. Nicholas in Rome, commemorating when he was censured at the Council of Nicea in 325 for denouncing the heretic Arius and reinstated after a miraculous intervention by Our Lord. The basilica had a side altar dedicated to Our Lady of Guadalupe where a special Mass is celebrated on the 12th of every month, and an interested interpretation of the Way of the Cross. Little did I realize that it would set the tone for the morning. It was Friday, and Friday is when we remember Our Lord’s Passion. From there I visited the Holy Stairs (after passing through the Imperial forums) that a tradition says were the stairs to the Praetorium where Pontius Pilate condemned Jesus, and Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, where a relic of the True Cross and other objects related to the Passion are kept, including the titulus, the wooden sign that was placed over Our Lord’s head on the Cross.

Day 4: Villa Borghese

This day happened to be our weekly community day, so we spent the morning walking in the Villa Borghese, a beautiful large park with some fabulous views of the city, and then I orchestrated a lunch rendezvous for the community in a nearby Burger King.

Day 5: San Lorenzo fuori le Mure, Campo di Verano cemetery

This day I visited the basilica of Saint Lawrence Outside the Walls, which has the instrument of martyrdom of the deacon and martyr, as well as the body of Blessed Pius IX. The basilica is on the outskirts of a huge cemetery, the Campo Verano (summer field), with various artistic tombs and monuments.

Day 6: The Isola Tiburina and the basilica of St. Bartholomew

There is a small island on the Tiber river that winds through Rome that is named the Isola Tiburina (the Tiberine Isle) that you can walk onto. On this island is the basilica of St. Bartholomew, where the bones of the apostle are kept. I also walked along the Tiber a few times (up on street level).

Day 7: Piazza del Popolo

On this day I walked from our center down to the Piazza del Popolo, which has three churches. I spent some time in Santa Maria del Popolo that has two works by Caravaggio: the crucifixion of Peter and the call of Paul.

Day 8: The Tre Fontane Abbey and St. Paul’s Outside the Walls

For my last excursion I went to the Tre Fontane Abbey (Three Fountains), the place where St. Paul was martyred. When he was decapitated, as the story goes, his head bounced three times, and at each spot where it bounced sprang a fountain. A church is now built over the three fountains. Considering Paul’s amazing journeys as an apostle I think it can rightly be considered one of the greatest finishing lines in salvation history: he raced for the crown of eternal life and won it here. It’s a beautiful, quiet place. From there I walked to St. Paul’s Outside the Walls, where Paul is buried (under the main altar, as was recently confirmed by archaeologists) and I was ordained a deacon in 2006.

Day 9: Mass at the Clementine Chapel, St. Peter’s

Although it doesn’t exactly count as a vacation excursion, a brother asked me to celebrate Mass in St. Peter’s for a couple celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary (congratulations Paul and Barbara). It was scheduled at the Clementine Chapel beneath the main basilica. I’d never said Mass there, and always wanted to; it’s the closest you can celebrate Mass to the place where St. Peter’s bones are located. Paul and Barbara renewed their wedding vows and then treated us to breakfast. It was a great grace to conclude my staycation outings.

 

 

After helping with final exams in Rome I headed to California to spend some time having a few “Roaming” Catholic experiences. For most of the month I stayed with the Legionary community in Cupertino, which has some majestic views of the valley:

Driving around on 280 (helping with a few airport runs to SFO) made me remember how there’s no natural beauty like the beauty of your home state. It was the first time I’d been in California for an extended period for years, and it was nice to be home.

After some much appreciated star spangled food at the LC house on July 4th (God Bless America) I headed to St. Patrick’s Seminary in nearby Menlo Park for a theology seminar on vocations organized by the Faith and Reason Institute. We spent eight days reading and discussing literary and scholarly works that touched on freedom, obedience, marriage, priesthood, and the episcopate. The participants consisted of educators from all levels of education and, in addition to participating in the discussions, I was asked to be chaplain. The seminarians were all away on summer assignments, but the peace and silence of a seminary remained. Walking down the hallway of one wing they had pictures posted of each ordination class, and I could only imaging how many of them had served me as priests when I was living in Watsonville, since this seminary also served the Monterey diocese.

A group of Legionary fathers gathered at the Legionary community to work on writing projects for the month of July; I was preparing a Licentiate-level theology seminar on priesthood in the thought of Joseph Ratzinger that I’d be giving back in Rome in October. Once a week our LC writer’s community would go out for a community day, and I got to visit the redwoods at Big Basin State Park (the first time in almost twenty years, along with Scotts Valley, where I’d worked for 7.5 years in the computer industry) and go for a walk on the Golden Gate Bridge (a first for me).

We spent most of the week in-house, each working on his writing or study project (among others, a retreat, a book, and a doctoral proposal), and we had great conversations at meals about what we were working on, Scripture, and too many topics to mention. I dropped the last father off at the airport yesterday and as I write these lines from Cupertino the writer’s month has concluded and now I’ll be heading down to Watsonville for a few weeks visiting my family. Have a blessed summer.

This is a first for my blog: narrating events that haven’t happened yet. I just wanted to let everyone know I’m in California for the next month or so and where I’d be celebrating Mass during my stay. Hope to see you!

Date	Time	Parish	City
Sun,26-Jul	7:30 AM	St. Leo the Great	San Jose
Mon,3-Aug	8:00 AM	St. Patrick’s	Watsonville
Tue,4-Aug	8:00 AM	St. Patrick’s	Watsonville
Wed,5-Aug	8:00 AM	St. Patrick’s	Watsonville
Thu,6-Aug	8:00 AM	St. Patrick’s	Watsonville
Fri,7-Aug	8:00 AM	St. Patrick’s	Watsonville
Sat,8-Aug	4:15 PM	Our Lady, Help of Christians	Watsonville
Sun,9-Aug	7:30 AM	St. Patrick’s	Watsonville
Mon,10-Aug	9:00 AM	Our Lady, Help of Christians	Watsonville
Tue,11-Aug	9:00 AM	Our Lady, Help of Christians	Watsonville
Wed,12-Aug	9:00 AM	Our Lady, Help of Christians	Watsonville

Last Thursday I finally had an opportunity to go on pilgrimage to Bari, Italy, to visit the Basilica of San Nicola and pray at the altar where his bones have been kept since 1087 after sailors brought them to Bari from Myra, rescuing them from Muslim forces advancing steadily across Asia Minor, where they’d rested for 750 years (he died there on December 6th, 343). This is why he’s known as St. Nicholas of Myra and St. Nicholas of Bari. Bari is about five hours by train or car from Rome, so I was hesitant to make a special trip, hoping some opportunity would present itself. A father in my community commented after the fact that he’d just been to Bari, and when I mentioned how I’d like to go, another father in my community (to whom I am very grateful, but who prefers to remain anonymous) offered to take me on a day trip.

We left early from Rome and arrived in Bari at 10:30 in the morning. After a quick visit to the Cathedral, we headed to the Basilica of San Nicola. I was surprised to see that a wedding was being celebrated on a weekday in the main basilica. Since I wasn’t sure where the altar of St. Nicholas was, at first I thought I was blocked, but then I saw the stairs going down to the area beneath the main basilica. It was packed with pilgrims and the altar, in an area normally enclosed with black iron fencing (after all, at the same time sailors from Bari were deciding to “liberate” the bones of St. Nicholas from the Muslims, the Venetians were planning to do it too), was surrounded with clergy celebrating the divine liturgy. They were praying in a Cyrillic-based language, so I believe they were Byzantine-rite Ukrainian Catholics. Slavs and Eastern-rite Christians have a great devotion to St. Nicholas (which is also why I was named after him, as well as my great uncle, a great grandfather, and other family members).

I’d expected it to be quiet on a weekday, mostly empty, and a silent place to pray, but it was beautiful to see how much devotion there was to St. Nicholas. I didn’t feel my plans had been ruined; on a pilgrimage you take the gifts that God gives you. I was just moved to be in the presence for the first time of the relics of my patron saint, the man I was named after along with so many in my family. It was like visiting the tomb of a relative whom I’d never met before, an experience I had in 1977 when I visited the graveyard in Croatia for the first time where generations of my family were buried. I also knew that St. Nicholas had watched over me during my entire life, and by visiting his relics I was also thanking him for being my patron saint. I could tell you what family member I was named after, but in my family we can all point to St. Nicholas and answer that we’re named after him.

We asked an usher how much longer the liturgy would last and he said an hour, so we decided to grab an early lunch and walk a little in the city and come back when things were quieter. An hour later we returned and there was another wedding up above and either the same liturgy going on below or a second one that had begun during our absence (now I understand why some people get lost attending a Mass in Latin). I decided my optimal prayer conditions were not going to happen, so I stood in back and started praying as the divine liturgy continued. It wasn’t too distracting because I didn’t understand a word they were saying, but it was also beautiful to hear clergy intone and the laity respond in chant. As I was praying the father who’d brought me told me the liturgy had concluded and now they were lining up to go up and kneel at the altar and pray and place religious objects near St. Nicholas’ relics. Normally the altar is closed off by the iron fence. Providential opportunity! Needless to say, I got in line and tried to act Byzantine (which really translated into not doing anything disrespectful and not trying to imitate the way they do the Sign of the Cross). I was in line for about an hour (the photos are about halfway through), and everyone was quiet and prayerful–they weren’t talking, and the only cell phones that were taken out were for photos or to say prayers (along with mine, since I prayed my breviary while waiting in line).

At last my turn came. A small Eastern-style cross had been laid down at the base of the altar, and I kissed it and prayed for all the Nicholas’ and tried to pray for the one’s I knew by name, one by one (as of this writing I only forgot two of them–but I did get them a postcard). I had an image of St. Nicholas from Jerusalem and touched it to the grill work enclosing St. Nicholas’ relics, as well as a rosary ring already blessed by St. John Paul II. I was one of the last in line, and the pilgrims had left, so in the end I also got the quiet prayer time that I wanted, albeit with St. Nicholas’ altar now closed behind the fence. As I prayed others came up occasionally and reached through the fence to touch the base of the altar or leave something there briefly for a blessing, and I appreciated how fortunate I was. One young boy had to try sticking his arm through three times before he found the correct angle to reach the altar; I admired his perseverance. In the end I got all the quiet prayer time I wanted and more. The upper Basilica was now empty, so after a quick visit to the main sanctuary we returned to Rome and were back in time for dinner.

If you have an opportunity to visit the relics or a church, shrine, or chapel dedicated to your patron saint. I encourage you to take a pilgrimage. You’ll be amazed how many spiritual gifts you receive, including an greater appreciation for everything that saint has done for you.