Sacred Triduum in Montepiano and a visit to the Loggia

Just under two weeks before Good Friday we received a liturgical distress call by way of a doctor who helps us with sports injuries (brothers play a lot, brothers twist ankles, lots of brothers, ergo we really appreciate all the medical help we can get). A community of consecrated lay women (not Regnum Christi, my movement) needed a priest to celebrate the Sacred Paschal Triduum for them in Montepiano, a small community to the north of Florence. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I convinced myself due to an initial miscommunication that they were cloistered Carmelites, therefore going to the parish was not the ideal option for them (if at all), and volunteered to go, since one of my dear friends is a cloistered Carmelite nun in Valparaiso, Nebraska. I had already celebrated the Sacred Paschal Triduum four times: twice in the United States as chaplain for Overbrook Academy, and twice in Switzerland for a group of English-speaking girls from Overbrook’s sister academy in Ireland, Woodlands (who were in Switzerland for a ski trip). Liturgically the Sacred Paschal Triduum is one of the most complex moments of the year, since Easter is considered the feast day of feast days, but after four times I wasn’t too worried.

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The plan was to ride up to Montepiano with the doctor on Good Friday, celebrate the Sacred Triduum, and then ride down with him on Easter Monday morning. That was how it worked out for me, but he had a lot more driving to do. Two days before the trip his elderly mother had heart problems and the day before the trip she had a pacemaker installed. He didn’t tell me until Good Friday morning when he came to pick me up (please keep the family in your prayers; she is doing much better now). God bless his generosity; he dropped me off in Montepiano (almost four hours driving), returned to Rome to be with his ailing mother in the hospital, and then he returned early on Easter Monday to bring me back to Rome. Upon arrival I found out the “cloistered Carmelites” were actually a community of consecrated lay women, the Little Community of Mary, Servant of the Lord (in Italian: Piccola Communità di Maria, Serva del Signore). They’d been founded in Umbria but now were in the diocese of Prato. These were the only ones. They prayed the Divine Office together at times during the day, spent quality time in front of the Blessed Sacrament, and also worked around the property that was a sort of country ranch before they moved there. One of them cast the Paschal Candle we used from beeswax and was also a carpenter.

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They had their duties and projects and attended to them in prayerful silence, therefore is was a pleasantly quiet place to stay, simple but joyful. The most potential anxiety came from learning the Exsultet, the Solemn Easter Proclamation in Italian. I learn music by ear and had a hard time finding a recording, but in the end it worked out, although I improvised a little based on how I’d learned the melody in English. The liturgies were small (a dozen people at most), but simple and beautiful. At the end of the Easter Vigil I was asked to bless some eggs, an Easter tradition, and then I brought Jesus back to the tabernacle where he belonged. They had arranged a snack and asked me to come and bless the snack, some giant chocolate Easter eggs and panettone (a delicious fruit cake, in this case the Colomba di Pasqua variety). They told me the “blessing” they wanted was for me to break the chocolate eggs first so they could be distributed, kind of like when the wedding couple cuts the cake (it was a good thing I hadn’t been asked to bless the real eggs second; I would have smashed them). So after my best karate chop we enjoyed some chocolate to conclude the evening and welcome Easter.

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The following Saturday, back in Rome, one of my confrere’s who works in the Vatican arranged for a tour for us of the Vatican Loggia. I stood in front of the wooden doors to the Sistine Chapel that everyone saw on television a few years ago when the conclave began to elect Pope Francis. Unfortunately I can’t share photos of the Loggia because they’re copyrighted and I don’t want to find out if there are Swiss Guard special forces, but I can share some views of St. Peter’s Square from a new perspective.

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Transit Strikes and Assisi Trips

A few months ago a consecrated woman whom I’d served as an auxiliary chaplain while living and working in Rhode Island contacted me by e-mail and asked me to come with her pilgrimage group to Assisi as chaplain for a day. The group was from Houston, TX, and it was the last day of their pilgrimage, March 18, nestled between St. Patrick’s Day and the Solemnity of St. Joseph. It would be my second time in Assisi, and the first time I hadn’t had much time to see all the sights, so not only was I happy to help, but happy to visit Assisi again.

We would be traveling to Assisi by train, so the day before the trip I checked the train times and the app on my phone included the seemingly innocuous note on each train time: “Strike?” If you want to know the word that either chills the blood of any Italian or at least makes them roll their eyes in frustration, it is sciopero (“strike”). The only exception are the transit workers who are on strike and the children (school gets cancelled).

When public transit is involved there are at least five unions in play that I managed to identify. The sciopero is announced in advance; for the trains it would be from 9PM on the 17th to 9PM on the 18th, while the buses and the subway in Rome would be from 8:30AM to 12:30AM (they wanted to strike for 24 hours, but the Prefect of Rome apparently had the authority to issue an ordinance reducing it to four hours). There were also rumors that the taxis would also go on strike. The sciopero wouldn’t be for all public transit; the unions were required by law to provide basic services, basically enough to get you to work in the morning and back home in the evening with a lot of hassle. However, some trains between major cities were cancelled outright. I attempted in vain to confirm whether the Assisi train was going to be cancelled as well.

The group was out in the city when I found out, so they were blissfully ignorant of the potential transit doom looming over them. I managed to reach them by cell and warn them that the train might be cancelled and I would be in touch if I got any more information. If we couldn’t confirm it, we’d go to Termini Train Station and hope for the best. The worst case would be spending another day walking around Rome, and I know the city pretty well and could show them some places off the beaten path.

In the end there was no way to confirm the train, so early Friday morning I left on the legally mandated strike-proof train to Termini Station. On the train to Termini Station, even before the day was confirmed, I experienced a great peace, because I knew that God had planned for it to work out one way or another: if Assisi was cancelled, I could show them things in Rome. It reminded me of something I learned when I organized pilgrimages for college students as a brother, what I called the Providence train: amidst logistical challenges and seemingly impossible situations, God is working hiddenly and if he wants something, it will happen, no matter how impossible it seems. The pilgrimages were such a cluster bomb of Godincidences at key moments that in my frequent train rides in the city during them I realized that Providence was very similar: God knew the schedule, the track, and the destination, all I had to do was find and get on the train at the correct time.

The consecrated women organized the pilgrimage confided to me that when they heard of the possible cancellation they had no anxiety whatsoever: their pilgrimage had been a series of Godincidences already and they knew things would work out. I have to admit in my old age I was a little more anxious about the whole thing. Thankfully the Assisi train was not cancelled, although we had a brief scare when the person checking tickets on the train (well underway) warned us that the train crew may decide to not go as far as Assisi due to the strike. It was a wonderful opportunity to convert angst into hope; the train continued to its final destination and we arrived in Assisi right on time. Our Lord didn’t want to disappoint a group of pilgrims on their last day. We were blessed by a clear crisp day just before the end of winter. Assisi is a beautiful town; you can hardly take two steps without being able to take a beautiful photo from practically any angle. More beautiful are the stories of St. Francis, St. Clare, and all the Franciscans and Poor Clares who had answered the Lord’s call to Francis to help rebuild His Church.

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We started at the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli (St. Mary of the Angels). Inside this basilica a tiny church is preserved, the Porziuncola, where Francis spent time praying at the beginning of his spiritual conversion; it’s there that the Franciscan movement started. The entrance to this little church within the Basilica was also aptly the Door of Mercy for the Year of Mercy underway; the pilgrims with me had crossed eight or nine Doors of Mercy during their pilgrimage.

After visiting Santa Maria degli Angeli we took a bus up the hill to the older part of Assisi, praying that the bus was not on strike. Thankfully it wasn’t and, while we were waiting, an elderly Franciscan nun greeted us who was also waiting for the bus. Our first stop was the Cathedral of Saint Rufinus, the first bishop of Assisi who was martyred in the third century A.D. Near the cathedral was the spot where St. Clare was born and raised. The main entrance to the cathedral was flanked by two majestic stone lions.

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After visiting the Cathedral we made our way to the Basilica of St. Clare, where she is buried. In a side chapel is also the Crucifix that was originally in the Church of St. Damian. One day when St. Francis was praying before it the Crucifix spoke to him told him to help rebuild the Church. From the plaza of the Basilica there were wonderful panoramas of the Umbrian countryside.

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After lunch we concluded our visit with Mass at the Capella della Pace on the grounds of the Basilica of St. Francis. After Mass we saw the frescoes rendered by Giotto in the upper basilica, visited the tomb of St. Francis, and passed through the second Door of Mercy. The fresco that struck me the most was one of a dream the Pope had in Francis’ time seeing the little friar of Assisi sustaining the Church. St. Francis had responded generously to the Lord’s invitation to help rebuild His Church, and through the Franciscan testimony of radical Gospel poverty, simplicity, and joy they continue to sustain the Church, even to the degree that our current Holy Father chose to take the name of Francis, a historical first. The poverello of Assisi has made a lasting positive impact on the Church.

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After a wonderful day I didn’t worry too much about the return train being on strike, and we returned to Rome with no problems. In my homily I told the pilgrims to remember that the graces of a pilgrimage are like time-release capsules: they keep giving us new insights in good and bad moments, so it is important to jot them down and not forget them. At lunch everyone was sharing their spiritual experiences on the pilgrimage and it was clear that our pilgrimage would be a source of grace for many years to come.

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The Last Judgment: Correcting Exams, 1st Semester 2015-2016

A Stanford professor giving a presentation at Stanford’s Center for Teaching and Learning once recalled an interview he’d heard with a supermodel who said that if she wasn’t so beautiful she’d be a teacher. It evoked a nasty expression floating around: “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” I’m sure there was some resentment toward school in whoever coined that saying. Exams for the first semester have just ended at my university, and it’s time to correct exams and grade not only the students, but the teacher. If they don’t learn I have to also examine if there was anything in my teaching that could have been better. It occurred to me, now that I have corrected 63 written exams and have only 8 to go (along with some make-up quizzes) to share a glimpse under the hood of teaching by sharing my exam correction “station”:

I’m sure I’m also letting my muse wax literary because after considering the same set of questions and the students answers to them 63 times  throughout the week it’s good to get a mental breath of fresh air. I have retouched the photo to blur out anything identifying the students or their answers, since everyone is innocent until proven guilty. The top left stack are the exams already corrected; the bigger that stack gets, the more relieved the teacher gets (or the more alarmed, depending on how the students did). The bottom left are the exams to be corrected (small, which is inversely proportional to the hope elicited by having so few left). On the chopping block at center is the next victim, I mean, exam, to be corrected, with a pen carefully chosen for its vivid red ink for practical and symbolic reasons too lengthy to dwell on.  The exam under scrutiny is poised upright for ergonomic correctness and to avoid back strain hunching over exams, not to mention the psychological imprudence of hunching over your students work. A computer is off-camera to the left in case I need to confirm the occasional fact, but since I’ve given the course for four years, most of it is in my head already. I also have a “Smile, Jesus Loves You” pencil normally positioned nearby (it is the Year of Mercy, after all).

Every answer is like every student: a universe. I try to impart knowledge and to encourage not only retention, but learning and reason, and each answer shows where the student is on that scale with regard to the question at hand. Does he understand the question? Is there a learning or language difficulty (everyone in my course must know Italian, but only a handful are Italian)? Did he study? Did he do the prescribed reading? Did he attend class? Did he pay attention in class? Did he take notes? Is there a learning or language difficulty (depending on how the answer is going that question may come to mind more than once)? As you read the answer you can discern invention, memorization, fiction, desperation, and innovation, but the main thing any teacher wants to see is learning. In the case of teaching theology you also have to assess whether the answer reflects what Revelation (Scripture and Tradition) has said regarding the question, not just personal reflections lacking a Biblical or doctrinal foundation, and be on guard out for unwitting heresy, apostasy, and schism (they’ll have years of study to do it wittingly, so you have to head them off at the pass).

The degree of learning is not only the student’s grade, but the teacher’s as well. It’s a team effort; if either doesn’t do his share, learning does not happen. There are students who do better and students who do worse. Some students play a good game in the short, succinct answers, but then don’t go the distance on the essay question. I have the ideal answer in mind, and their answer satisfies me, disappoints me, shocks me, or surprises me (in a good way). Every time exams come around, but especially during the Year of Mercy everyone reminds the teacher to be merciful to the students. Fair enough, but mercy normally requires contrition and a firm purpose of amendment. The answer often reveals whether those elements are present.

I like to think that those who draw close to the ideal answer have learned, but the few who have surprised me with a good answer looking at the question in a fresh way show they have learned and learned to reason. No teacher can ask for more.

 

Mercy in Rome

Yesterday morning I went to San Salvatore in Lauro as a confessor for the Year of Mercy. Unlike the previous few times, this time was special, because the day before the bodies of St. Pio of Pietrelcina  (Padre Pio) and St. Leopoldo Mandić were brought to the church as two of the holiest confessors of the twentieth century. San Salvatore in Lauro is one of the churches being used in the area a St. Peter’s Basilica as a sort of antechamber for pilgrimages during the Year of Mercy: I and other priests are helping as confessors there, and, in this case, our two Saints were being kept there for a few days. Yesterday afternoon were taken in procession to St. Peter’s Basilica, where they’ll be kept at least until Ash Wednesday. I arrived around 9:30 am for a morning shift, and there was already a long line waiting to spend a moment in front of the Saints.

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Most of the attention was focused on Padre Pio, since he was more well known internationally, but St. Leopoldo Mandić was another Capuchin, a Croatian who prayed for Christian Unity as a special intention and lived in Padua and was known for being as gentle and easy on his penitents as sometimes Padre Pio was severe and demanding. They both spent long hours in the confessional for the sake of the faithful and knew each other. When I signed up as a confessor for that day I’d hoped I could hear confessions in the presence of two great religious, priests, confessors, and saints, and I was not disappointed.

There were 6-8 confessors scheduled to be in the church during these days. When I arrived the usual confessionals were full (and had lines), so they put me in the back of the church near a huge statue (slightly larger than life-sized) of Our Lord bearing the Cross and Padre Pio behind him helping him carry the cross. So there I was, dispensing Our Lord’s mercy at the foot of the Cross through administering the sacrament of Reconciliation. In all I was hearing confessions for four hours, some hours non-stop, but at midday there was a pause of about 45 minutes while they did a security check before the procession. Outside of that moment the church was full, and my confessional was right by the line of people filing through to see the Saints. Lots of foot traffic and great location equals good “business” (or, in this case, lots of confessions).

 

Cross Statue San Salvatore in Lauro

Mass was celebrated every hour and a half: I was confessing during three of them and left just before the fourth one started. I went a little over shift, and as I was hearing the last confession my substitute came into view (maintaining a respectful distance) and had to confess someone standing there while I was finishing up. On the way back to the sacristy someone else asked me for confession and I pointed them toward the statue where I’d spent four hours and said the magic words: “no line.” As a last enormous grace, after I changed in the sacristy and prepared to leave, I had the opportunity to go right into the sanctuary, since Mass hadn’t started yet, and place my hands on the casket of each Saint and pray for my penitents and my priesthood. After four hours it was the best conclusion I could hope for a morning full of mercy. Pray for confessors, and pray that everyone goes to Confession who needs it.

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Christmas in Rome

Last Christmas, after having just submitting my doctoral dissertation to the Theology Department in preparation for a doctoral defense in February, I spent the Christmas break decompressing and, other than enjoying the normal liturgical beauty of Christmas, doing a whole lot of quiet recuperation (anyone who has the prepare a graduate-level dissertation knows why that’s needed–it’s a sprint at the end to finish writing and turn it in). This Christmas, with the S.Th.D. firmly placed behind my name in official academic stationery and a new job at my university (Publications Director, although Publications Manager might be a better translation) alongside my teaching duties, the work schedule and rhythm simply changed a little. I think students and professors look forward to a holiday break; usually the plan is to catch up on things while not neglecting the celebration at hand, even though often you celebrate more and catch up less. I’d say this year was still more celebration than catching up, but I suspect Our Lord had that in mind.

In my case, work lead to more celebration. Since I work as a professor for the Theology Department and am also Publications Director, I work in two sections of the university, with two Christmas parties (fortunately on two different dates). Sometimes you just have to take one (or two) for the team… I didn’t accept double gifts at least, but everyone was very joyful, and not just because of the wine. It’s great working at a Catholic university because people treat each other truly like human beings, and you can’t fake camaraderie for long. The non-academic section organized a raffle with the proceeds benefiting the poor in nearby Santa Marinella.

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On December 23rd I went to St. Peter’s to celebrate the ordination anniversary of some of my brother Legionary priests. We were ordained the same year (2006), so they adopt me as part of their class (I was ordained a few weeks earlier, but we all studied theology together). The nice thing about December 23rd is it’s the perfect day to transition from work mode to Christmas mode. It was my first time celebrating in the Chapel of Our Lady-Queen of the Hungarians down in the crypt below the Basilica. I didn’t even know it existed, and the artwork was striking, especially the life-sized statue of St. Stephen, the first king of Hungary, on the steps that lead down into the chapel. I have to admit the statue was life-like enough that it startled me as we processed in, since it seemed like someone was asking for a handout. The image of the blessed mother behind the altar was also interestingly rendered, since the chapel was inaugurated with a Mass by St. John Paul II in 1980 and the artwork was a newer style, but tastefully done.

Life-sized bronze statue of St Stephen in the Hungarian Chapel of the Vatican GrottoesIMG-20151223-WA0000Statue of the Madonna with Child behind the Altar in the Hungarian Chapel

The morning of Christmas Eve was wonderful for various reasons. When I can (and usually I can) Christmas Eve is the day I disconnect from work and prepare to welcome the Christ Child. We awoke to the early gift of a rainbow (the picture below is from outside my window). Later in the morning members of the community who were free gathered in our lounge to decorate it.

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In the evening we sang solemn Vespers in Latin, and then after a delicious dinner we gathered by community to receive our patron saints for the year (I received St. Agnes for this year) we celebrated Midnight Mass and turned in for the night (morning?). The next day my community served the brothers for lunch (an annual tradition), and I offered a Mass for family and friends.

On December 28th I helped for the Year of Mercy hearing confessions for the first time at the parish of San Salvatore in Lauro. Various parishes in the area of St. Peter’s have been designated as places for pilgrims to come for confession before going to St. Peter’s Basilica and going through the Holy Door. The Legionaries are helping at this parish, which has relics of St. Pio of Pietrelcina (Padre Pio). However, in February the parish will be hosting both the body of Padre Pio and Saint Leopold Mandić, two of the greatest confessors of the last century. What an honor to confess in the presence of these two saints. Come visit the saints and stay for confession if you visit Rome this year!

On January 3rd we celebrated the 75th anniversary of the Legion’s foundation with a concelebration and inaugurated a jubilee to celebrate our 75 years of serving the Church. All branches of Regnum Christi participated, and the all the consecrated members (Legionaries, consecrated men, and consecrated women) had a celebration dinner.

75º Aniversario en Roma

Liturgically the Christmas season ends with the Baptism of the Lord (last Sunday, January 10th), but the celebrations conclude on January 6th, the Epiphany, since on that day we receive gifts from the Magi and it’s the last day of Christmas break for the university. During the Christmas break I’d been in and out of the office, but after January 6th it was back to work: the last few weeks of the first semester before exams begin.