Happy Memories: Rome & Assisi Pictures

Sophia from China reflects on the Rome & Assisi Pilgrimage

One of the Language and Catechetical (LCI) students from China named Sophia composed a "Thank You" note regarding the recent school pilgrimage to Rome & Assisi.

I have left the letter "as-is" so the syntax and grammar isn't perfect, but it's pretty remarkable after such short study of the English Language.

These few paragraphs are very moving as it is evident her very depths were touched by the Lord in these places....

__________________________

Thanks be to God for helping this pilgrimage ‘’Rome and Assisi trip’’ and traveled safely. Thanks LCI program and our benefactors and Franciscan University and also the priests, all the people who are praying for LCI, there are too many people I am deeply grateful.

I enjoyed every moment during this pilgrimage, it is the most amazing moment I’ve ever had. My heart lost in Rome and Assisi.

By looking forward to this pilgrimage for ages, dream became true; I remember before we left, I was so excited, not only did I bring my own wishes and prayer, but also my parents and my siblings’. They were excited as me.

That was we just arrive in Rome, we couldn’t wait to go to St. Peter’ Basilica and Square. I was shocked, incredible exterior of St. Peter’ Basilica and huge Square. I prayed in the before the Altar of St. Joseph, for China, for the people who doesn’t know Jesus; for LCI program and all the kind benefactors, etc. The next days, we followed the tour, visited many famous churches, every detail was gripping, especially the day we saw Pope, even it was a little bit boring, because most the time the language I couldn't understand, but the most gripping moment is Pope gave the blessing. And also, the most favorite part, the ''Holy Steps'', Which is Jesus met Pilot; when I knelled down every steps, I was deeply touched, how God loves us; he was really became man, was stepping these steps, for our salvation, was crucified, totally give himself to us, therefore bring us new life.

I won't forget the day in Assisi, the birth place of Francis, the moment he gave back his father everything he had, money even his clothes in the street and said :''I am on longer call you father, but rather 'Our Father who art in heaven'. Francis, such a good example for us, give up his rich family and ''rebuilt God' Church''. There is a French author said:'' The saddest thing in the world is not to be a saint.''

My family is waiting for me to tell them all about this Rome and Assisi trip, I will show them the pictures and tell them all my experience. Tell them the story about Francis, about St. Peter' tomb, catacombs etc.

Of course, the pizza is my favorite food in Rome, it is so delicious. I wish I could make it for all of you.

Where Jesus Wants to be Most

A blog post by Trish Irvine, Spring 2010

During the course of my time in Europe, I have seen many churches. While in Rome I was able to enter into some of the most beautiful churches in the world. The basilicas are famous for their antiquity and artistic wonders. As I wandered through Assisi, I was able to pray in beautiful churches as well. At the hermitage of St. Francis, the areas of prayer seemed notable for their austerity and simplicity. One of the most beautiful chapels I have ever been to was at my sister’s convent in Pennsylvania—the bare, wooden floors, the large, dark crucifix, and the altar made from a tree trunk made the simplicity obvious yet gorgeous. In a different way, St. Peter’s Basilica caused me to reflect on God as I gazed at the giant statues and ornamental features. When done correctly, both the simple and the ornate can cause the faithful to enter into prayer.

It is a natural thing, as a Catholic, to hone in on the beautiful places that house our King and go there to worship. In the midst of the gothic spires and baroque architecture, it is easy to forget that the person who lives within is the same person who lives in every Catholic Church around the world. He is no greater or lesser in the soaring cathedrals than in the simple country church. He isn’t more or less present if his tabernacle is made of wood or pure gold.

I am certainly not arguing for one type of architecture over the other, but it is an interesting concept. Jesus isn’t reserved for the rich or only partially present to the poor. One of the best realizations I came to during my travels was about where Jesus prefers to live. He has a preference. I was in the Melk Abbey church (Austria) and gazing at the splendid beauty around me. I remembered it again as I was in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome and was surrounded by rich symbolism and intricate mosaics. Jesus—despite all of the grand churches, cathedrals, and basilicas, regardless of the small chapels and country churches, besides the fact that there are many a magnificent tabernacle, monstrance, and ciborium ready to hold Him—would rather dwell in me. Perhaps it isn’t a really profound thought, but it struck me deeply as I prayed in places of such intense beauty. Many of the basilicas were under construction for decades, striving to make a better home for Jesus. Am I that dedicated? It is certainly food for thought.

A Journey Through Venice and Siena

A Post by Trish Irvine, Spring 2010

Prior to the pilgrimage to Rome and Assisi, I had the opportunity to travel through the northern Italy and visit Venice and Siena. It is strange how it all works out—I had no desire to go to Siena and now I hold it fondly as one of the most peaceful places I have encountered.

We took an overnight train to Venice. My parents told me stories of things being stolen and constant flicking on of lights on the trains by the conductors. To my pleasant surprise, the travel went beautifully. We disembarked in Venice with all of our possessions (this is in part, I believe, to the fact that most of the passengers were Franciscan students) and a fairly good night’s sleep.

Venice, however, greeted us with rain. In case we needed one, men were covering the exit, selling umbrellas. They speak very good English, we discovered. That was a general theme—if they are selling something, they can speak English. It came to be seen as both a blessing and a curse. Wandering around Venice, we took in the aspect that makes Venice famous—the city is sinking and water is covering the streets. The natives are easily recognizable due to the nice goulashes they are sporting. Those who are visiting are easy to pick out as they are wearing tennis shoes, flip flops, or, in my case, winter boots. Platforms are set up around the city in order to make navigating easier. However, I found myself wishing I could just splash through the shallow water in rain boots instead of being confined to set pathways.

We were able to visit St. Mark’s Church for a few minutes. I think it must be one of the first times, however, that I have been ousted from a Catholic Church. Naturally, we all had our hiking backpacks on as we walked around Venice. We entered the church and knelt to pray. Soon, though, a man came over and told us we had to leave because we couldn’t bring luggage with us. I was puzzled. I had thought it might be edifying to see a group of young people immediately kneel to pray instead of gawking at the ornate church. Although I understand the importance of limiting tourists, I felt that it would be hard to misinterpret our intentions. Nevertheless, we complied with his request and left.

One of the highlights of Venice was being able to ride on the famous gondolas. We bargained a little with the gondolier and after dividing the price four ways, it wasn’t too bad. I think the man truly believed us when we said we were not wealthy college students as we poured our 2 Euro pieces and random bills into one of the girl’s hands for payment. The best part of the ride was when we were paddling along the side streets. Peaceful canal-streets with quaint bridges were part of the delightful landscape. Despite the light rain throughout the day, it disappeared for a couple hours and the sun warmed us as we floated through the streets. One of my goals of many years was fulfilled in a forty minute ride through the streets of Venice in a gondola.

That evening, we left for Siena. I wasn’t able to appreciate the vastness of the city’s beauty until the following morning. Our room had a balcony with a spectacular view of the city. The night before I had sat outside and gazed at the lights. It was a wonderful experience: the air was still warmer than the Austrian temperatures I was used to while near silence reigned over the city, but it was far from oppressive, rather it was a freeing silence.

In the morning, I went onto the balcony and took in the morning sun on the Italian houses. Birds chirruped in the early morning air and it was truly magical. Italy was like a dream that I stepped into. We were able to ask a friar and he exposed the Eucharistic miracle for us. I thought he would just leave us, but he proceeded to give us a mini-homily explaining the miracle and emphasizing the true presence of Jesus. He left us for a few minutes and when he returned we were singing “The Prayer of St. Francis.” He seemed pleased with us. During my time there I kept thinking, “Am I really here? Walking down the streets of Siena in the early morning? Praying in front of St. Catherine of Siena’s incorrupt head? Adoring the Eucharistic Miracle of Siena? Am I truly experiencing an Italy I didn’t even think to dream of?” The peace of Siena was similar, although not exact, to the peace that I experienced while in Assisi. When I remember that I had been indifferent to visiting Siena, I have to laugh. Sometimes you think you know what you want but you are really absolutely clueless.

The only problem with these travels is that I am only able to experience a city in such a short amount of time. Have I visited Venice and Siena? Yes. Do I know the cities? Hardly. Am I thankful? So blessedly thankful. I left Siena for Rome with an expectant heart. If my travels in a mere two days were enough to satisfy me, how much more would seeing Rome fulfill me? I had no idea.

Assisi's Enduring Peace

A post by Trish Irvine:

The day was cool and rainy, a dramatic change from the spring-like warmth of the Rome we had recently left. It wasn’t a pelting rain, but the drops accumulated over time and began to seep through our clothes. If it wasn’t for the umbrellas and rain jackets that many produced, we all surely would have been soaked. A mass of students walked the few minutes to get to the limits of Assisi, before pausing to listen to a brief explanation by a friar. After that, we began the trek upwards, in silence. The bustle and business of Rome melted away to be replaced with the tranquility and quiet of Assisi. As the group ascended, we naturally spread out, a long line of students crawling towards the hermitage of St. Francis. Winds increased as we pressed onwards. Rosary beads slipped through my fingers as I walked where saints walked to a place where saints prayed. It seemed perfect to be striving to ascend heavenwards on a Friday during Lent; I could imagine St. Francis doing the same thing. The raindrops gradually transformed into snow, but hiking made the cool air feel rather nice.

Being an introverted person, my soul soaked up the solitude of the hermitage. When I got to the hermitage, I kept walking. I passed the students praying in the different rooms and chapel, passed the students lingering near the exits, and passed the students walking near the grottos. Although I loved Rome, I needed a quiet place to rest. I didn’t know where I was headed but the less people I saw, the better I felt. An adorable golden puppy appeared from seemingly nowhere. As I turned off the main trail and onto side trails, I was pleased to discover he was following me. I began to ascend the mountain again on winding paths with the puppy trailing me. I would turn on one trail and he followed obediently. Sometimes he would race ahead and when I chose a different path he would double back and join me. He was the perfect companion for me.

I walked to the top of the trail and sat on a ledge near a little traveled road and prayed. Sometimes you can just feel God in nature. The atmosphere was perfect—the cool chill surrounded me while I was yet warm from the hike and snowflakes gently fell on me. The puppy grew bored with my prayers and I was able to sit alone in the silence and feel so close to God. He was with me as I remembered the blessings of Rome and took in the blessings of Assisi.

After a while, I wandered back to the main area and by this time, many of the other students had left. The cool air had now changed from feeling nice to being penitential. However, it seemed right and proper to be uncomfortable in a place where St. Francis would come to pray. When I finally stumbled upon the chapel, I was ready for some warmth. I had the blessing of participating, although somewhat incompletely, in Stations of the Cross and Evening prayer in Italian. The beautiful voices of the friars, sisters, and lay people mixed together in a glorious sound. I didn’t really know what they were saying but I was able to pick up random words that were rather similar to Spanish. As I walked down the mountain with a friend in the fading daylight, I found myself opening up and being very pleased with simply life in general.

Assisi. The world seems to tell us that peace is boring and undesirable. How wrong they are! “Have you noticed the peace of Assisi?” a friar was asking us during a tour. He went on to say that the lives of the saints who have gone before us still impact the city. How beautiful, to think that our lives can affect more than those we know and encounter physically. St. Francis withdrew from the world, and for a few hours, I was able to as well. St. Francis was called the second Christ because his life was an attempt to mirror that of our Savior. Jesus withdrew from the world, St. Francis withdrew from the world, and I withdrew from the world. What better plan can I have then to follow the one who so closely followed Christ?

Rome: Surpassing Expectations

We'll we just returned from yet another 10 day pilgrimage to Rome & Assisi. Hence, it only seems natural for student Trish Irvine to capture her thoughts:

__________________________________________________________________

As we were trekking to Italy, I remembered a conversation I had with a priest-friend several months prior. He had studied at the North American College in Rome, Italy and I asked him where I should go when I was studying abroad this semester. He asked if I had been to Rome and I said I hadn’t. “Go to Rome,” he said. At the time, I was rather disappointed that I wasn’t told about little Italian cities to visit or secrets of an experienced traveler. Yet when I arrived in Rome, there was a sense that “Go to Rome” was all that needed to be said. Of course, I still want to travel to little Italian cities and see more than merely streams of traffic. Rome, however, was far more than I expected and cannot merely be reduced to a ‘big city.’

I wasn’t fond of being squished in a metro or forcing myself to be aware of any potential pick-pocketers, but there were a multitude of positives. Priests travel the streets clothed in cassocks and sisters are riding the metros of Rome along with you. After seeing pictures of St. Peter’s Basilica for so long, I felt like I had come home. The arms of Mother Church were truly embracing me and I loved it. How does one go home to an entirely new place? I’m not quite certain, but I did it.

The day after we got to Rome we were in St. Peter’s Square and happened to talk to a priest from the United States who was assigned in Rome for the time. “First time in Rome?” We nodded. “Now you know what it means to be Catholic.” That seemed the perfect way to state what I was feeling. The idea was solidified when we attended Latin Mass in St. Peter’s and the petitions were intoned in French, Italian, German, Spanish, and English. The congregation then went forward and received the same Jesus, regardless of language, culture, or nationality. Such a beautiful encompassing of peoples was something I knew in theory but experienced in reality for one of the first times.

I wish every Catholic could see what my eyes have seen, experience what I have experienced, and walk where my feet have walked. I saw the physical depiction of Christ’s conquering in many places around Rome—the pagan stone obelisks covered with the cross and Catholic churches built over pagan temples or the temples themselves converted into churches. The Pantheon, for example, is now the Basilica Santa Maria ad Martyrs while St. Clemente’s is constructed over what used to be a pagan temple.

I saw Pope Benedict XVI for the first time and I felt a deeper appreciation for his role in the Church. He is much more than an adorable man or the name on encyclicals. The Vicar of Christ helps hold the Church together and leads us with more than merely human strength.

I was able to pray in front of Venerable Pope John Paul II’s tomb. When I first went into the Tombs of the Popes, I was disappointed that his tomb was roped off—I had wanted to place my rosary on his tomb. After going on the Scavi tour (a tour that allows one to see the bones of St. Peter beneath the basilica), the seminarian that led tour was asked to place our rosaries on John Paul II’s tomb. He had to find another guard to let him do it but as he placed the rosaries on the tomb, I felt tears surge up irrepressibly. How does one man affect a girl who is generations younger, thousands of miles away, and unknown to him? It is, in part, through the unity of the Catholic Church. The role of the pope isn’t impersonal. As I found out, it is intensely personal, in a deeper way than I imagined before.

I walked down the streets of Rome and Vatican City. My feet carried me around the obelisk in St. Peter’s Square, one of the last things St. Peter saw as he was crucified upside down. I traversed the aisles of many basilicas, kneeling in old pews, touching my rosary to cold tombs that surrounded saints, and walking through houses of God that are also homes to architectural and artistic genius.

Rome was not what I expected and I am so thankful for that. It surpassed the boundaries I had drawn for it and led me deeper. Rome, in a very real way, is my home. It is a place of saints and sinners, corrupt and incorrupt people, joy and sadness. It isn’t Heaven but it has one foot wedged in St. Peter’s gate. Rome is the central city of the Catholic faith and this Catholic, for a few short days, was able to rest in Mother Church’s embrace. The farewell at the end was merely “Ciao” to the physical center of the Church; we all rest within her embrace regardless of where we are.