A Lenten Exercise: Santa Sabina

The view from the Aventine Hill toward the Vatican

Exams are finally behind us once again, and after a crazy semester, another that looks to be just as harried started on Monday. The first few days and weeks though usually aren't too overwhelming and I'm hoping to finally make good on some of my promises to get to some long-awaited and long-intended posts on the past few months. Thanks to those of you that are still reading and commenting -- I hope to be around a bit more as the second semester progresses.

Today, as you may know, is Ash Wednesday and thus the start of another season of Lent. You might remember my thoughts from last year on the season of Lent and the Roman practice of visiting various "station churches" throughout the 40 days. Each day, a different church is designated as that day's station for the inhabitants and visitors of the city as they progress toward Easter. It's an ancient practice that enjoyed popularity during the early Middle Ages and again during the days of the Reformation and counter-Reformation. The NAC community is one of the few groups who practice this collectively and we're joined most morning by various Italians and English-speaking emigrants who worship with us.

The Basilica of Santa Sabina

The apse of Santa Sabina

The Basilica of Santa Sabina is the traditional home of the Ash Wednesday liturgy. The NAC has a Mass at 7 a.m., followed shortly thereafter by the Dominicans, who are based at Santa Sabina. Finally, in the early evening, the Pope travels to Santa Sabina to celebrate Mass with guests and members of the Curia. Situated on the Aventine Hill, one of the famous "seven hills of Rome," Santa Sabina was likely built atop the home of the Roman widow Sabina, who converted to Christianity with her slave Seraphia and was martyred with her around the year 125 AD. Their relics rest beneath the main altar. The original church was built in the early 5th century though the modern church dates from the Middle Ages. The apse of the basilica features a fresco of Christ as both preacher and font of living water for the universal Church. In the wooden doors leading into the basilica is one of the oldest depictions of the crucifixion of Jesus. Martyrdom, often by crucifixion, was an imminently present reality for the early Christians, and thus such scenes were not needed or wanted in art. However, by the 5th century, Christianity was the religion of the empire and the crucifixion of Christ was seen more and more as its foundational event.

Detail of the crucifixion scene at Santa Sabina, one of the oldest in Christian art.

So that's the first of the 40 station churches. This year, I've teamed up with a few seminarian buddies and fellow bloggers to mark our progression as we make our way through the station churches and toward Easter. So, each day, we'll visit the church designated for that day, and then one of us will blog about it. The idea is to help you viewers at home get a fuller taste of what the station church practice and Lent in Rome are like. I'll try to update this blog occasionally with some of the posts that I write, but most of the daily write-ups will be on my friend Victor's blog since he came up with the idea: http://seekmeandlive.blogspot.com/. You can also check out the websites of my other friends who will be contributing: Doug (http://whatfuturedoihave.blogspot.com/); Colin (http://www.sactownseminarians.com); Dave (http://thebrotherinrome.com); Francis (http://francismarotti.blogspot.com); and Fr. Adam (http://fatherrust.blogspot.com).

I should be back soon with some details on some recent travels, visits from family, and other recent happenings. For now, enjoy the online station church guide!

On Christian Unity and in Defense of Life

Friends, sorry for the recent absence. I hope you all had a great Christmas holiday season. If you checked this site over the past month or so, there's been nothing new since my post on the meaning of Advent. Hopefully, you found that reflection to be pertinent to the Christmas and Epiphany seasons as well. As always, I would have enjoyed posting more but time is always at a premium of late.

I stayed here in Italy, mostly here in Rome, having the privilege to host my family who came over for about two weeks. More on that soon. In all, it's been a refreshing if busy month, and as I move into exam season once again, I am grateful for the blessings that I've received over the past few weeks, primarily their presence.

One of the highlights of the past month has been the opportunity to participate in quite a few papal events. I'll elaborate more soon, I hope, but for now, I thought I'd draw some attention to some comments Pope Benedict made yesterday that I thought are very important for all of us. As you may know, this week is the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, when all Christians of good will gather together to remember the importance of ecumenism, stressed in a new way at the Second Vatican Council, and to ask God to aid -- or, indeed, lead -- those efforts to once again be the one Body of Christ. Pope Benedict's words from yesterday's Papal Audience were, I think, helpful in several ways.

First, we must remember that our primary struggle is not about the doctrinal questions with other Christian communities, but rather fighting together against the skepticism regarding the Gospel and indifference regarding the divine which we see in the modern and secular world. Second, our prayers for Christian Unity cannot be an ancillary project but instead is integral to the very mission of the Church, i.e. proclaiming the Gospel to the world, and as such should be of primary importance in our prayer. Finally, we can't delude ourselves in thinking that this unity will come about as a result of our own efforts. While we must continue to work at ecumenism, the one who will see this work to completion is no human but rather Christ himself.

The theme for this year is "You are witnesses of these things," words from the Gospel of Luke which the Risen Lord says to his disciples. But what are these things? And how are we to be witnesses to them? Here's some excerpts from the Pope's words:

If we look at the context of the chapter, "these things" means above all the cross and resurrection: The disciples have seen the Lord's crucifixion, they see the Risen One and thus begin to understand all the Scriptures that speak of the mystery of the passion and of the gift of the resurrection. "These things," therefore, is the mystery of Christ, of the Son of God made man, who died for us and was resurrected, is alive forever and thus the guarantee of our eternal life.

However, by knowing Christ -- this is the essential point -- we know the face of God. Christ is above all the revelation of God. In all times, men have perceived the existence of God, an only God, but who is far away and does not show himself. In Christ this God shows himself; the distant God becomes close. "These things," therefore, above all with the mystery of Christ, is that God has become close to us. This implies another dimension: Christ is never alone; he came in our midst, died alone, but resurrected to attract everyone to himself. As Scripture says, Christ created a body for himself, gathers the whole of humanity in his reality of immortal life. And thus, in Christ who gathers humanity, we know the future of humanity: eternal life. All this, therefore, is very simple, in the last instance: We know God by knowing Christ, his body, the mystery of the Church and the promise of eternal life.

We now come to the second question: How can we be witnesses of "these things"? We can be witnesses only by knowing Christ and, knowing Christ, also knowing God. But to know Christ certainly implies an intellectual dimension -- to learn what we know of Christ -- but it is always much more than an intellectual process: It is an existential process, it is a process of an opening of my "I," of my transformation because of the presence and strength of Christ, and thus it is also a process of openness to all others, who must be body of Christ. In this way, it is evident that knowing Christ, as an intellectual and above all an existential process, is a process that makes us witnesses. In other words, we can be witnesses only if we know Christ first hand, and not only through others -- from our own life, from our personal encounter with Christ. Finding him really in our life of faith, we become witnesses and can contribute to the novelty of the world, to eternal life.

A good reflection, I think, not only on the faith we share with all Christians but on the essential importance of a real and personal relationship with the Lord as the necessary foundation of all that we do.

* * *

While the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity is the main event in the worldwide Church, at home in the States, this week and weekend also see the many public displays of protest at the violence done to life, especially in the abomination of abortion. On Saturday, tens of thousands will gather for the national March for Life in D.C. to recall and protest the 37th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. I encourage you not only to pray for an end to abortion and all offenses against the right to life, but also to get involved in some visible and active ways.

First, check out the USCCB's web page on Pro-life activities, and especially join spiritually in the National Prayer Vigil for Life on Friday evening. Second, although you may not be able to be physically in D.C. this weekend, consider signing the Virtual March for Life to add your voice and name to the many who are taking a public stance against this violence. Finally, although not directly related, I pass along the link to the important Manhattan Declaration which defends the institution of the family and the rights of conscience and religious liberty. More than 400,000 have signed this landmark declaration, itself a statement of what can be achieved when religious groups set aside differences and unite to stand up for truth.

In these days when relativism seems ever on the rise, and religious sentiment ever in erosion, let us join together not only in prayer but also recognize the importance of action, speaking out against injustice. As the great Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whom we remembered earlier this week, said, "History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people."

The Meaning of Advent

As the song goes, "It's the most wonderful time of year." I don't know about you, but I find that it's often also the busiest. It's easy, I think, amidst all of our various activities -- wrapping up school or work before the holidays, completing our holiday shopping, arranging our travel plans to visit family and friends, emotionally gearing up for seeing family and friends, etc. -- it's no wonder that we can become distracted and even burned out even before the big day arrives. It's all too easy to lose sight of the season we're currently in. No, I don't mean Christmas ... not yet anyway. Rather, until the 25th we're in the season of Advent, a season of preparation and anticipation that, if entered into properly, increases the joy and meaning of Christmas when it does arrive. The last week of Advent ramps all this up with a more urgent call to prepare ourselves for the imminent coming of the Lord. As we begin the week before Christmas Day, I thought I'd take a little time and offer an Advent reflection that may help us to re-orient ourselves before it arrives and remember the reason for this season.

The word "Advent" comes from the Latin word advenire, "to come toward," "to arrive." It's the opening season of the liturgical year and calls us to at once remember and also prepare for the coming of the Lord Jesus. Having ended the year with reflections on the ultimate kingship of Christ, culminating with the Feast of Christ the King, and looking forward to his Second Coming, we begin our "New Year" meditating on similar themes but with a slightly shifted focus. Whereas the liturgical year ended on a triumphant note, celebrating Christ as the king of all the universe, the one who has already won the fight against evil and put an end to death, and we begin Advent recognizing that our present reality is not always reflective of this truth. The kingdom of heaven has truly come, and yet, is still coming to fullness. This is the principle -- commonly found in theology but not always easy to live with -- of living in that tension of "already, and not yet," where we know and experience in a limited way the once-and-for-all-time victory over the forces of darkness that has been won by Christ in his paschal mystery ... and yet we wait for the full flowering of victory.

Advent thus is a time to re-enter into the mystery of our existence in the here and now, i.e. after the Lord's first coming to Earth, and before his second coming in glory. In our lead-up to Christmas, we focus not only on that first coming when God forever changed human history by becoming Man, but also that second coming in which we will be drawn up into the mystery and living presence of God in a very real way. Advent is a season of preparation and introspection, examining what in our own lives is limiting us from experiencing the love of Christ and his full coming into our own lives. This is the third coming of Christ that you may sometimes here about -- the coming, the welcoming of the Lord into our own hearts.

The Visitation, Domenico Ghirlandaio (1486-1490)

Because of this, because we know the whole salvation story even as we wait for its final fulfillment, Advent is also a season of hope and expectant joy. This past Sunday we celebrated the third Sunday of Advent, popularly called Gaudete Sunday, that is, "Rejoice!" The Church invites us on this day to pause from our preparatory, even penitential, self-examination and emphasize the ultimate purpose of the season for which we're preparing -- namely, the imminent coming of our Lord, the reason for our joy. This joy is symbolized even in the lighter tone of the liturgy -- the color of the vestments and the wreath candle for the week are the lighter rose color while the readings, from Zephaniah and Isaiah and Paul to the Philippians, tell us remember our joy and confidence in God.

However, this joy, while real, is not yet full. We've not yet reached Christmas, symbolic of that first coming of our Lord in his Incarnation. And we're still pilgrims in a world full of sickness and suffering, where the forces of darkness and evil remain clearly at work before us and can seem at times to be very much still in control. We await the second coming of the Lord, when we will be "gathered together to him" (2 Thes 2:1) and when all evil shall be wiped away. Until that time, we are invited to welcome the Lord into our hearts in a very real if mysterious way. If amidst the hustle and bustle, we can quiet ourselves and reflect a bit, we can gain an understanding into what this is all about. I very much believe in the power of God's Providence, that despite the evil and pain of this present world, God is still at work in transforming us and our world. I read an Advent reflection by Fr. Thomas Rosica recently that I liked:

The message of Advent is not that everything is falling to pieces. Nor is it that God is in heaven and all is therefore well with the world. Rather the message of Advent is that when every fixed star on the moral compass is wavering, when all hell is breaking loose on earth, we hear once again the Baptist's consoling message: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God."

That "way of the Lord" that we must prepare is the highway to our own hearts -- just as God entered the world as a Man so too does he wish to enter into our hearts, engaging each of us in a deeply personal way. It is this joy that fills the season -- that it is God who yearns for us, that the creator and ruler of all the universe wishes to enter into a loving and personal relationship. Every part of our life is changed by this knowledge -- we come to understand ourselves not as powerless but with the potential to do good as children of God; we view others not as enemies or nuisances but as our brothers and sisters who deserve our concern and charity; we approach the problems of today not with bitterness and cynicism but with a hope and confidence that Providence is at work still; and we confront the realities of suffering and death not with despair or disillusionment but with faith in the salvation that awaits us in the next life.

St. John the Baptist, Leonardo da Vinci (1513-1516)

Recently, Pope Benedict gave a reflection on the importance of Advent to the sick and their caregivers at the Hospice Foundation of Rome. Though his comments were directed toward those who are experiencing pain in a very real way, I couldn't help but feel that his comments held a measure of relevance for all of us, in whatever way we find ourselves weighed down by suffering and doubt in our lives. He says:

In the light of faith we can read in sickness and suffering a special experience of Advent, a visit from God, who, in a mysterious way comes to bring liberation from solitude and meaninglessness and transform suffering in time into a meeting with him, into hope and salvation. Your illness is a very painful and unique trial, but before the mystery of God, who took on our mortal flesh, it receives its meaning and becomes a gift and an occasion for sanctification. When the suffering and discomfort are the worst, know that Christ is associating you with his cross because through you he wants to speak a word of love to those who have strayed from the road of life and, closed within their empty egoism, live in sin and separation from God. In fact, your health conditions testify that the true life is not here, but with God, where every one of us will find joy if we humbly walk in the footsteps of the true man: Jesus of Nazareth, Master and Lord.

This, I think, is the true meaning of Advent for all of us. Our lives here on earth are, it seems, a kind of extended Advent. Jesus is coming -- at Christmas, at the end of the world, and into our hearts -- and it is in him that we take comfort, in him that we have hope. We live in a fallen and unjust world, one which we must not abandon but must continue to help understand the salvation of God which comes through Jesus. Yet, the season of Advent and its progress toward Christmas help us also to remember that we are merely passing through, that we are pilgrims on the way to our true spiritual home. As Fr. Rosica points out above, our task now is much like that of John the Baptist, always pointing the way to Christ for others and welcoming him as our Lord and Savior.

May these last few days of Advent be a time of blessing and fruitful anticipation for all of us. Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus.

Catching Up (part II): Pilgrimage to France & Ordination 2009

Prior to the ordination, looking from the Altar of the Chair backward toward the Basilica's entrance.

I've been meaning to get on here for a few weeks but time always seems to be in short supply. When the older guys said that second year is a big step up from first -- in terms of new obligations and responsibilities -- they were certainly right! Various projects keep piling up as classes head toward Christmas break, and I'm also doing some logistical planning for a visit from the family, who arrive for the holidays in two weeks. It'll be their first time in continental Europe. I'm excited to see what they think of it and to relive through them my first European experience. We're going to see a lot hopefully, but it should be a nice chance to relax and spend some time with them.

As the second part of my efforts to bring the blog up to date on events of the last few months, I thought I'd look back on the College's October diaconate ordination and my subsequent pilgrimage to France. I wrote a bit about diaconate ordination in Rome and what's all involved here last year, when two seminarians from Little Rock were ordained. This year, one Little Rock seminarian, Joshua Stengel, was ordained a deacon here in Rome though four others were ordained in the US. We're all very excited because 2010 will be the largest priesthood class in more than 20 years, as five men will be ordained priests for the diocese! The next class in 2012 is my own.

Archbishop Carlson ordains Joshua Stengel for the Diocese of Little Rock

The ordination was, of course, very nice. Several groups from Arkansas were able to come over, including some priests and seminarians, members of the Serra Club from Little Rock, and family and friends of Joshua. Archbishop Robert Carlson of St. Louis presided at St. Peter's Altar of the Chair as a total of 30 men were ordained deacons for a host of dioceses in the US, from Orange, CA, to Newark, NJ, from Crookston, MN, to New Orleans, LA. As was the case last year, the event was a great chance to remember why it is that we are here at the NAC, i.e. to return to the United States to serve the people of our respective dioceses and preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The emotional boost from diaconate week is a great blessing for all involved, not only those that are being ordained. Whether it's listening to the bishop's homily on the meaning of pastoral ministry, or seeing the love and pride of those family members for their son/brother/nephew as he gives his life for the Church, or receiving encouragement from visiting pilgrims for those of us still working hard to reach that same point -- it goes along way to sustain us through the long year.

Joshua (far right) and fellow new deacons

The ordination weekend also afforded me the chance to spend some time with two priests and two seminarians from Little Rock who had made the trip over. Neither of the seminarians had ever been to Rome before, and so amidst the ordination events, we also took time to give them a brief tour of the city and its treasures. The weekend after the ordination we decided to make a pilgrimage to France, since students are free to travel after the ordination Mass. I had been to France several times before, most recently to Toulouse and south central France at Easter, but it had been several years since I'd been to Paris. Even more interesting for me was the chance to journey to Ars-sur-Formans, the little village north of Lyons where St. Jean-Marie Vianney lived and worked as a parish priest. You might recall might my reflection on him last year on this blog. After I wrote of it, his good example of priestly life has become even more relevant to my life since then. At the opening of the current Year for Priests in June, Pope Benedict declared St. Jean Vianney, previously the patron saint of parish priests, as the patron saint of all priests and, consequently, the model of all priestly virtues. The declaration is a fitting one since 2009 also marks the 150th anniversary of his death. As you can imagine, the chance to journey to France to see the relics of such a saint was quite opportune and fitting for the larger ecclesial context of the year.

Ars is a difficult place to get to. The Curé of Ars, as St. John Vianney is commonly known, lived a fairly unremarkable life, from an outsider's viewpoint -- he was of humble origins, was not terribly brilliant, and served as the parish priest for a very small (then and now) country town for over 40 years. Rather it was his extraordinary spirituality and his deep love and pastoral care for those he encountered that made him legendary even in his own day. Unlike a place like Lourdes, however, Ars has remained relatively unchanged since the saint's own time. There's no established tourist industry that's grown up around it, and getting there can be a chore. The cheapest option for us ended up being flying to Paris and taking the high-speed TGV to Lyons, a regional train from there to Villefranche-sur-Saône, and then a taxi from there to Ars-sur-Formans. It's worth it though. One really gets a good insight into what the town was like in the Curé's days and its serene setting in the countryside of southeastern France.

The Sanctuare de St. Jean-Marie Vianney. The saint's modern shrine was added to the town's medieval-era parish church.

After settling in at the newly constructed Jean Paul II Center for Priests, we made our way to the Sanctuaire de St. Jean-Marie Vianney, the town's medieval parish church which has now expanded to include the basilica shrine of the saint. Amazingly, we were able to have Mass at the side altar that serves also as the tomb of the incorrupt body of St. Jean Vianney. It was a powerful experience for me of what the call to priesthood, especially diocesan priesthood, is all about. St. Jean-Marie did not found any religious orders or rise to any prestigious offices during his priesthood. He worked many miracles and had legendary spiritual gifts, but all of these were given in service to the people whose souls he shepherded. His commitment to preaching, to presiding at the sacraments for many hours every day, and to sacrificing and suffering for his flock are stark reminders of the commitment every priest is called to have to those he serves. It was a very great blessing to be able to celebrate Mass gazing at the body of the man who is patron of all priests and to do it with men who I, God willing, will one day serve with as a brother priest for the Diocese of Little Rock. I thank God for that gift, and I continue to reflect on it months later.

Celebrating Mass at the tomb of St. Jean-Marie was an awesome experience.

The resting place of St. Jean-Marie. His remains are incorrupt.

We spent the rest of that day looking around the very humble home of the saint, located next door, and spending time in prayer and reflection. The next day, we made our way back to Paris to enjoy some of that city's spiritual and cultural treasures. We took advantage of some priest-seminarian hospitality and stayed at the world headquarters of the Society of Saint-Sulpice, a community of diocesan priests that specializes in training seminarians. Their center, located in the 6th arrondissement and not far from either Montparnasse or the Latin Quarter, is ideally located for quick access to many of the city's attractions. Since I was the only one who had spent some time in Paris, I acted as an unofficial tour guide as we hit some of the highlights of the city, including the Eiffel Tower, the location of the now-demolished Bastille, and the always impressive Arc de Triomphe. Watching the various people out and about enjoying the lovely fall evening, we also enjoyed a nice dinner along the famous Champs-Élysées.

Enjoying Paris' lovely fall weather.

The Arc de Triomphe. No we did not run across 5 lanes of traffic.

Though my traveling companions were spending a few more days in France than I, including a trip to Lisieux to see the shrine and relics of St. Thérèse, I had to return on Sunday to prepare for the commencement of the new academic semester that week. Before departing though, I wanted to make a stop at two of my favorite churches in Europe. The first, Sainte-Chapelle, is one of the most famous examples of Gothic art -- maybe its most famous display of stained glass -- in the world, though its often overlooked by tourists. Located on the Île de la Cité, it was built as a private chapel of King St. Louis IX in the early 13th century to house relics of Christ's passion, including, according to tradition, a piece of the True Cross and the actual Crown of Thorns. The chapel's design arises from the rayonnant development of Gothic architecture, which sought to emphasize to the extreme the effects of natural light and a weightless feel to the actual structure. The effect is striking as the whole chapel is bathed in various and dancing colors, as light streams in from the windows depicting scenes Genesis to the Last Judgment. It's a marvelous experience -- if you ever find yourself in Paris, do not miss it.

Sainte-Chapelle's amazing stained glass windows

Notre Dame and the island it sits on from the Left Bank.

Finally, no visit to Paris would be complete without a visit to Notre Dame de Paris, the city's famous cathedral. A few blocks from Sainte-Chapelle and on the same island in the Seine, Notre Dame is one of the first and one of the finest examples of Gothic architecture. Its considered a masterpiece due to its wonderful balance of sobriety and flair, gravitas and grace, material splendor and spiritual beauty. I had the good fortune to be reading a book the spiritual relevance of Gothic architecture at the time of visiting -- Fr. Robert Barron's Heaven in Stone and Glass, which I highly recommend -- and I could immediately sense the connection he describes between Notre Dame's architectural elements and spiritual themes. The whole purpose of the building is to ward off the evils of the outside world with its imposing facade and gargoyles while providing inside a warm and centering experience of the divine, through the high vaulted space, the beautiful stained glass, and the interplay of darkness and light. One could spend hours or even days wandering around and noting carefully the symbolic wonder of every sculpture or glass panel. Unfortunately, I only had an hour or so before it was time to return to Rome and the reality of a new set of classes to devote myself to. I enjoyed my time in Notre Dame though, and in Paris as a whole, and I look forward to returning soon.


I hope this holiday season finds each of you well and receiving some of the peace and hope of Advent as we approach Christmas. Many blessings!

Armistice Day & Harry Patch

The calendar has turned once again to Veterans' Day, the day on which we honor all of the US military veterans. While ever mindful of their service and sacrifice in making our nation what it is today, I think we Americans can sometimes lose sight of the larger significance of why this day falls on November 11.

For the rest of the world, especially Europe, November 11 is Armistice Day, the commemoration of that day in 1918 when the Allied Powers and the Central Powers ended hostilities with the pre-dawn signing of an accord in a railway car in the Compiègne Forest in France. The Armistice with Germany signaled the end of the fighting of World War I, a war which claimed the lives of nearly 18 million people, wounded millions more, and forever changed the face of Europe. It has various incarnations among the European countries -- it's Remembrance Day, for example, in the UK -- but is celebrated everywhere with a feeling of great gratitude and deep sadness.

This past July, the last British veteran of World War I died at the age of 111. Harry Patch, "the Last Fightin' Tommy," refused to speak about the war for some 80 years, until 1998 when the number of living WWI veterans began to dwindle quickly and he was approached by the BBC. His memories of the war are poignant and terrible, and he remained a committed anti-war advocate until his death. In July 2007, he visited Flanders to mark the 90th anniversary of the Battle of Passchendaele, in which he fought. While there, he took the time to meet a German veteran of the battle, to pray at the tombs of fallen comrades, and to remark, "War is the calculated and condoned slaughter of human beings. It isn't worth one life."

A few months ago I came across the following video in honor of Harry Patch and the men that fought with him on the Western Front. I was deeply touched, both by the images and by the music. The latter is "Harry Patch (In Memory Of)" by Radiohead, a personal favorite of mine, and the lyrics are words spoken by Patch in an interview in 2005. A word of warning: the video contains some actual World War I footage, which might be disturbing for some. However, for me, it is that footage that is most poignant. For those who wish to explore further, there are several other moving tributes to Harry Patch and his comrades on YouTube which I'd encourage you to check out.



In tribute to all of our Armed Forces veterans who were willing to pay the ultimate price in service and patriotism, and in remembrance of all those who indeed did so, Happy Veterans' Day. Thank you.

Catching Up (part I): Summer in the States

Classes are heating up here in Rome, but the weather's turning decidedly colder. It's one of my favorite times of year, although the fall colors are decidedly rarer here in the heart of Rome. While our responsibilities and tasks are as numerous as ever, the daily schedule has also settled down quite a bit from a few weeks ago. I thought I'd take some time then over the next few weeks to play catch up a bit. I realize that it's not possible to recap everything from of the last few months, both in the U.S. and here in Italy, but I'd like to write on a few of the highlights anyway. This will probably be a little disjointed, but what the heck.

A few of the friends who were able to make it over for a little Inde

As you know, I returned to the States in late June. I had a little bit of time off to relax after a long year, and I was able to visit some family and friends, take a trip to see my sister in Kansas City, and celebrate the 25th ordination anniversary of my cousin who's a priest of the Diocese of Little Rock. A few days after the Fourth of July, I began my pastoral assignment for the summer. I was stationed in the northwest part of Arkansas, working with Fr. Shaun Wesley, who serves the parish communities in both Eureka Springs and Berryville. When I arrived, Fr. Shaun had already been working for about a month with another seminarian, Mauricio, who attends Saint Meinrad, my old seminary, but it didn't take me too long to situate myself and understand where I fit into the picture. The two parishes, St. Elizabeth in Eureka Springs and St. Anne in Berryville, each had their own character, with wonderful and welcoming people at both places. Each also had their own challenges as well and it was a really great insight into parish life in Arkansas to see the various strengths and the needs of each community.

The historic church building of St. Elizabeth of Hungary parish in Eureka Springs...

... just down the hill from the Crescent Hotel. St. Elizabeth is celebrating its centennial this year.

The biggest task of the summer -- certainly in my experience and likely in Fr. Shaun's and Mauricio's as well -- was preparing for St. Anne's first annual parish festival on July 25th, the eve of the Feast of St. Anne and St. Joachim. From the start, it was a lofty endeavor and a large undertaking. The aim was to provide an event that would bring the parish community together, introduce some of the other Berryville neighbors to the Catholic presence in town, and hopefully raise some money for the parish building fund. These weren't fundamentally easy tasks -- St. Anne's parishioners are about 50/50 Anglo and Hispanic, and Berryville is largely made up hard-working farmers and plant workers, most of them evangelical Protestant. Needless to say, it was going to take work to bring them out on a Saturday. Luckily, Fr. Shaun is a gourmet chef, so food was the main attraction from the outset -- beef brisket, pork ribs, baked beans, tomato & cucumber salad, and a host of homemade desserts from the parish community.

The festival was a huge hit. It had been a lot of work -- securing rentals, enlisting workers, endless logistical planning, pick-ups and drop-offs, troubleshooting, food purchase, food preparation, and so on. Much of that was, for better or worse, done in the last week before the day of the festival, but God's Providence was really with us and everything worked out well. In the end, we served nearly 600 full dinners (about 100 more than hoped for) and lots of other snacks, drinks, desserts, etc. There were kids' games, a kids' train, big bouncy castle things (which are, by the way, a real chore to roll up!), and live music. It was really inspiring to see the parish come together as we had hoped, and the event was definitely a showcase of St. Anne's to the Berryville community. And we even made some money, so in every aspect it was a great success. Many remarked about how they can't wait till next year's festival (and many wanted to the help of us seminarians again in putting it together), and I hope I get the chance to attend again somewhere down the road.

Having some water balloon fun with the teenagers from St. Anne during a trip to the Kings River.

That's just one event, and from only one of the two parishes at which I served, but it's a pretty good example of the summer experience for me. Being with fellow Arkansans, getting to know them, worshiping with them at daily and Sunday Mass, and thinking of what it will be like to serve them as a priest was very rewarding. I'm very grateful to Fr. Shaun, Mauricio, and the parish staff at St. Anne and St. Elizabeth for their guidance, advice, and fellowship in giving me a taste of pastoral ministry in Arkansas.

The summer also provided me a great opportunity to reconnect with some of my fellow seminarians for the diocese. First, we gathered in early July to celebrate the priestly ordinations of two of our brothers, Fr. Edward D'Almeida and Fr. James Melnick. Ordinations are always exciting events, but this was one was even more special since I'd studied with them at the NAC this past year. I was able to lector at the ordination itself and at the first Masses for both priests which was a real privilege for me. Both men are now involved in parish ministry in Arkansas, and our prayers go with them.

Fr. James Melnick (left) and Fr. Edward D'Almeida, on the eve of their ordination to the priesthood.

Hanging out with Fr. T.J. Hart (middle) and some seminarians at the diocese's Discernment House.

The seminarian community also gathered in August as we do every year to enjoy a few days of prayer and relaxation at Lake Catherine near Hot Springs. A wonderful Little Rock family has hosted the retreat for a few decades now, and for the last few years, priests from around the diocese have made the trek down to talk about their experiences, share some insights, and enjoy good food and some fun on the lake. For me, it was an opportunity to get to know several of the new seminarians whom I hadn't met before and catch up with those that I did know. Most of them were headed back to school directly, and since the academic calendar is different here in Europe, several of them will be priests by the time I get to return. It's exciting to see guys you've been in seminary with drawing close to priesthood and a good reminder for me of how close 2012 really is.

Attending a Royals game with the family in August. Dad's behind the camera.

The little bro wanted to spend his 21st birthday at a casino. Why not?

My last few weeks in the States mostly consisted of spending some time with family and friends and preparing to return to Rome. I was able to see much of my extended family in the area, celebrate my little brother's 21st birthday with him, make a little road trip with the family to get him moved into his new apartment at Creighton, and make some trips to see friends in St. Louis and Dallas/Ft. Worth. I also was checking off the list all the necessary tasks that had to be completed before crossing the pond again. It was a busy few weeks, and it was a little mentally draining to think about gearing up for another year. Thankfully, though, everything was accomplished, and when it came time to make the return journey, I was ready for it and thankful for a really great summer. I look forward to the next one!

Until next time....

From Rome and London: "Together in Unity and Mission"

I usually don't wade into the religiopolitical sphere in this blog and that's a conscious decision. It's not that the various news and events of the Church's bureaucracy don't interest me. Far from it, actually. But I know that most of you aren't interested in such things -- even if you were, there are far better places to read about them -- and this blog was never intended to become a site for relaying news and giving pointed opinion on the wider Church. Rather, it's merely a blog about my time in Rome.

Yet, in some cases, including this one, I'll make an exception, so for those that remain uninterested in such topics, please excuse the following. However, the news from Rome today deserves, I think, notable mention in that it affects not merely the Catholic Church but also some of our Protestant brethren. We've heard a lot of talk in the Church over the last 40 years about the importance of and the benefits from ecumenism, but it's rare that we see the tangible fruits of that continued dialogue with other Christian faiths. Today's announcement is a reminder that, through faith, good will, and honest communication, it is not in vain that we hope the Body of Christ -- the entire Christian community -- may once again be one. From Reuters:

Pope Benedict on Tuesday took a major step to make it easier for disaffected Anglicans who feel their Church has become too liberal to convert to Roman Catholicism.

The move comes after years of discontent in some sectors of the 77-million-strong worldwide Anglican community over the ordination of women priests and homosexual bishops.

While both sides stressed the step would not affect dialogue between the two Churches, it was clear it was taken because of the growing number of Anglicans who want to leave their Church.

The Vatican said the Pope had approved a document known as an "Apostolic Constitution" to accept Anglicans who want to join Catholicism, either individually or in groups, while maintaining some of their own traditions.

It marks perhaps the clearest and boldest institutional step by the Vatican to welcome disaffected Anglicans into the fold since King Henry VIII broke with Rome and set himself up at the head of the new Church of England in 1534.

The new structure allows for the appointment of leaders, usually bishops who will come from the ranks of unmarried former Anglican priests, to oversee communities of former Anglicans who become Catholics and recognize the pope as their leader.

"In this way, the Apostolic Constitution seeks to balance on the one hand the concern to preserve the worthy Anglican liturgical and spiritual patrimony and, on the other hand, the concern that these groups and their clergy will be integrated into the Catholic Church," the Vatican said.

Yes, that's a lot of church speak. But seeing as how so many members of the Anglican Communion were upset with recent doctrinal developments in their local churches, today's announcement responds to the desire of many (including some in the Episcopal Church in the US and the international Traditional Anglican Communion) to find some way to enter into full unity with Rome while still retaining their liturgical heritage as Anglicans. The larger ramifications of this are still to come, but the structure is in place to provide a spiritual home to those Anglicans upset with the direction the Anglican churches are moving. From the Catholic standpoint, of course, it's a time to be joyous and thankful to God that some of our Christian brothers and sisters are looking to return home to Rome.

At the same time as the announcement in Rome, a joint statement was given in London by the (Anglican) Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, and the (Catholic) Archbishop of Wesminster, Vincent Nichols. Though Anglican-Catholic dialogue has been occurring for some 40 years and has even more recently been a high priority for both churches, it's safe to say such a joint press conference is not a common occurrence:

The announcement of this Apostolic Constitution brings to an end a period of uncertainty for such groups who have nurtured hopes of new ways of embracing unity with the Catholic Church. It will now be up to those who have made requests to the Holy See to respond to the Apostolic Constitution.

The Apostolic Constitution is further recognition of the substantial overlap in faith, doctrine and spirituality between the Catholic Church and the Anglican tradition. Without the dialogues of the past forty years, this recognition would not have been possible, nor would hopes for full visible unity have been nurtured. In this sense, this Apostolic Constitution is one consequence of ecumenical dialogue between the Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion.

The on-going official dialogue between the Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion provides the basis for our continuing cooperation.... With God's grace and prayer we are determined that our on-going mutual commitment and consultation on these and other matters should continue to be strengthened.... This close cooperation will continue as we grow together in unity and mission, in witness to the Gospel in our country, and in the Church at large.

In a letter to his fellow bishops of the Church of England, Williams went on to say that the move should not be construed as an act of "proselytism or aggression" against the Anglican Church on the part of Rome.

As I said, where we go from here remains to be seen. As Archbishops Williams and Nichols noted, the ball's now largely in the hands of those who wish to seek communion with Rome. But it's a sign of the Holy Spirit's continued work in the Church that the way to such communion is now open. Deo gratias!

* * *

Today's news arouses the interest and passion of many of us who are studying to be ministers in the Church. At the risk of verging on ecclesial nerd-dom, it's exciting to see the various disciplines we're studying in action in such a current and impactful way! Speaking of studies, our classes have now begun, so I thought I'd pass along my current courses as I have in the past. It's a larger workload than last spring's was but nothing like what next spring's will be! My courses are:

-The Church of Christ (Ecclesiology)
-The Pauline Corpus (on the Pauline Scriptures)
-The History of the Catholic Church in the United States (in English!)
-Sacraments I: Baptism, Confirmation & Eucharist
-Law in the Mystery of the Church (Canon Law)
-The Shape and Theology of the Psalter

Should be a fun semester!

The Little Flower

Today the Church celebrates the feast of St. Thérèse of Lisieux, also known as Theresa of the Child Jesus or The Little Flower of Jesus. She is, in my humble opinion, one of the most amazing saints in recent history.

By all appearances, her life was unremarkable. Born in Alençon in Normandy in 1873, she had a fairly normal if devout upbringing. Wishing to follow her older sister, Thérèse expressed a desire from a young age to enter the Carmelite monastery at Lisieux, which she finally was allowed to enter early when 15. As a nun, she lived a life of service and prayer with her fellow sisters. In her early twenties, Thérèse's health began to decline rapidly, and she died in 1897 at age 24.

Despite the humble details of her life, she was a spiritual giant. Upon the posthumous translation of her spiritual autobiography, Story of a Soul (written at the command of her superiors), Thérèse's passionate, quiet spirituality comes alive on the pages. Her story inspired many across Europe and she was canonized a saint a mere 28 years after her death. The town of Lisieux became the second most popular site of pilgrimage after Lourdes. In 1997, Pope John Paul II named her the 33rd Doctor of the Church (and only the third woman), recognizing the spiritual mastery of this "greatest saint of modern times," in the words of Pope Pius XII.


Thérèse, from a young age, had a deep and abiding love for God and wished to express this love by committing her life to his service. Realizing that she was unlikely to show her love by suffering martyrdom or accomplishing great feats, Thérèse decided that her sainthood would have to stem from transforming the mundane moments of the day into spiritual encounters with God. She writes:

Love proves itself by deeds, so how am I to show my love? Great deeds are forbidden me. The only way I can prove my love is by scattering flowers and these flowers are every little sacrifice, every glance and word, and the doing of the least actions for love.... Love appeared to me to be the hinge for my vocation. Indeed I knew that the Church had a body composed of various members, but in this body the necessary and more noble member was not lacking; I knew that the Church had a heart and that such a heart appeared to be aflame with love. I knew that one love drove the members of the Church to action, that if this love were extinguished, the apostles would have proclaimed the Gospel no longer, the martyrs would have shed their blood no more. I saw and realised that love sets off the bounds of all vocations, that love is everything, that this same love embraces every time and every place. In one word, that love is everlasting.

Thérèse's "Little Way" shows us that we need not flee to the desert or serve the poor on the street to achieve true holiness. Every action of every day can be consecrated to Christ. As Pope Benedict expressed earlier today:

Little Thérèse of Lisieux points out, as the answer to the great questions of life, the 'little way,' which looks instead to the essential of things. It is the humble way of love, capable of enveloping and of giving meaning and value to every human circumstance.... Dear friends, follow the example of this saint. The way followed by her is within everyone's reach because it is the way of total confidence in God, who is Love and who never abandons us.


I find it a profoundly hopeful thing to know and believe that human existence does have a purpose -- that our daily lives can be consecrated to that purpose -- that Love can be shown and honored in the circumstances of any life -- that, in short, holiness is possible for all of us, for any of us. Thérèse lived a simple life in rural France in the late 19th century but has had arguably more impact on the Church than any other saint of the last 200 years. She is a true model of sainthood -- daily sainthood -- that we can all follow. Let us all remember, "What matters in life is not great deeds but great love."

* * *

Thanks for your prayers while I was on retreat. It was a very restful and prayerful time for me -- a good charge-up to what I'm sure will be a tiring year. Things are getting pretty busy around here. We have diaconate ordination coming up a week from today, so guests and other VIP's will soon be arriving. The Fourth Year men are excited, I think, as are the rest of us. It's a good preview of what the future holds.

Retreating

Rocca di Papa, just over the hill from Castel Gandolfo

Just a quick post today to ask for prayers this week for myself and my classmates. We'll be on retreat, silent at that, and thus cut off from outside communication. It should be a great chance to spend some time in prayer, do some spiritual reading, and just generally work on our relationships with God as we prepare to embark on a busy year. Your prayers for a successful retreat would be most appreciated and surely felt, if you remember. Thanks very much!

I haven't been to the retreat location before, but it's near Castel Gandolfo, the residence of the Holy Father's summer villa. I did some quick research online and found this interesting story about a strange gravitational phenomenon (or, more likely, some kind of optical or physical illusion) that occurs near Rocca di Papa. Kind of interesting -- I've never heard of something like it before. I doubt we'll get the opportunity to check it out, but I do hear our retreat house has a great view!

... Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again

Greetings, friends. Long time no speak. Sorry for that. The summer's been absolutely crazy, and I haven't done nearly the job I intended to in keeping this here blog updated. I promise a report on all of the summer happenings very soon.

For now, I'm headed back across the pond to start year II of this great adventure in Rome. I go back with lots of new insights and experiences, fond memories of visits with family and friends, and a deep appreciation to our Lord for the great blessing the summer as a whole has been. The ten weeks or so flew by, and while it didn't quite seem long enough, the fact that the calendar's now at September means it's time to get back to it. I'll be returning Stateside again next summer, but the title of this post is true insofar as I don't have that return journey booked yet. Thus, you get more John Denver lyrics.

Keep me in your prayers and keep reading! I'll have more soon.