Priceless Quotes

Father Paul Murray, my professor at the Angelicum, is simply a gem! He's got a little bit of Dr. Regis Martin in him, but he's a little less theology and a little more peotry. I highly recommend him to anyone coming to the Angelicum. Here are some quotes he shared with us in his class:

"Don't let studying interfere with your education." - Robert Frost
Yeah, I should say none of us are having a problem with that over here in Rome, Bob.

"Christians should look more redeemed." - Nietzsche
Perk up Christians! Do you know what you have? Act like it. No wonder so many are skeptics.

I asked Mark for advice about a risky decision I had to make. He tried to encourage me in an "you only live once, seize the moment" sorta way. Here was his uplifting advice:

"You're going to go home and work a crappy job you hate for the rest of your life. Then you're going to die. So, go for it."

Anyone else feeling stab-yourself-in-the-eye-with-a-pencil inspired?

Lorretto, Me and Sister Julianna

Sister Julianna and I ditched Rome for a day to head out to Lorretto on the other side of the Italian Penninsula, where the house of Mary is said to be located.






Sister and I in Lorretto after a busy day of walking around.















A view of the entrance to the basilica area, overlooking the eastern coast of Italy.







The last of many many steps up to the House of Lorretto.











Peering through the street to the church.







Lorretto from down town. It's higher up than it looks!!

We Interrupt This Blog Series...

We interrupt this blog series to bring you a special, live bulletin...


Theft Leaves Traveler Without Memories, Sanity

Rome, Italy--Breaking news just being released publicly after nearly a month. Amy, Lover-of-Onions, failed to report to faithful blog readers that her camera was lost (and or stolen) in Krakow's famous cathedral.

Once the seat of John Paul II when he served as bishop of Krakow, the cathedral is filled with tourists, offering pick-pockets, vagabonds, and ne'er-well-doers a susceptible crowd and an easy escape once a theft has taken place.

"I just don't know what happened," explains a flabbergasted Amy. "One second I had it, and the next, it was gone!"

Her touring companion, Nathaniel, Taker-of-Nice-Pictures, was also at the scene. Sources close to him report he isn't convinced any wrong-doing was involved and believes the camera to have been lost, rather than stolen.

When pressed on the issue, Amy admits, "I can't really say it was stolen for sure."

But in the same breath, she insists that the fact that it wasn't recovered, means it must have been stolen.

"The cathedral was just closing as we were running up to the clock tower," she recounts. "As soon as we got to the top, I realized my camera was gone. I frantically dragged Nathaniel back down about six flights of stairs to look for it."

Amy insists there is only one place she could have left it, a pew where she was sitting moments before ascending the tower. "We literally came back down five minutes later, the cathedral was already closed, and yet, the camera was gone."

Officials at the cathedral, who agreed to speak to us only under the cover of anonymity, agree that nearly everyone had been cleared out of the building during the time of the incident.

"Since the pew was the last place I had it, even if I'd left it there, it should have been there when I got back," says Amy. "If someone found it and didn't turn it in, that constitutes stealing."

Amy attempted multiple times to contact cathedral officials about her camera, in the hope that it may have been turned in. But nothing was recovered, and all parties involved have dropped the investigation.

"It's gone!" Amy somberly concedes. "All my pictures of Prague and Krakow, gone with it."

It has also been reported that only intimate friends of the victim were informed of the tragedy. When asked why she is only now going public with this information after over a month, Amy responded curtly, "I hadn't blogged that far yet. I'm only on Lisbon's blog, Krakow came after."

And after nearly a month of healing, Amy is ready to move on.

"There's a new camera in my life now," she assured us, "The Canon S2."

But can any camera ever replace the memories and the fondness with which she used her Konika Minolta, her first digital camera?

"Heck ya!" she exclaimed. "That old Konika was a piece of junk. I mean, it was nice for my first digital, it did the job, but this Canon rules!"

But just as soon as she dismissed her old camera, a shadow of emotion crossed her face, like a song from her youth playing music of happy memory, "I did like the way it fit in my pocket though, all cute and square-like."

But like so many lovers and melodies, sometimes cameras too are lost forever. "All we can do is move on," says Amy, collecting herself again. "And I'd like to thank Mr. and Mrs. Robins for helping me move on, bringing me a new camera, and showing me how to use it."

"Oh, and of course my family and friends," she adds, "especially my dad, who has been very supportive during this whole ordeal."

Amy has moved on indeed, graciously supplying us with photographs taken right here in Rome, from her new camera.



Views from St. Peter's Square:

St. Peter's over the Tiber River












A fountain at St. Peter's












Christ, with Peter the Rock, stands above St. Peter's basilica and blesses the faithful












A painting of the Blessed Virgin commissioned by Pope John Paul II. It is the only image of her in the square.












Bottom Right: View of St. Peter's














Views from Cosmas and Damien, Amy's residence

Inside the Basilica of Cosmas and Damien











The basilica courtyard













Views from the Angelicum

The courtyard












Statue of St. Joseph in the Angelicum garden













Views near Amy's House

The street where Amy lives, not as busy as usual












The "Wedding Cake"











The Colosseo












Amy's street in the evening













Random streets in Rome



























Pigeons get friendly in Piazza Navona














And now, back to your regularly scheduled blog series...

Fatima - Palm Sunday

After Santerem, I returned to Fatima for Palm Sunday. It was really a gift to be there during this time. In the previous few days, the shrine had its share of pilgrims, but it wasn't crowded by any means. This afforded me easy access everything without the burden of waiting in line.

But Palm Sunday also gave me a feel for what the shrine was like when it was filled with the faithful. I don't remember too many details from that day (over a month ago) but I do recall the strong impression being there made on me of a faithful and simple Portuguese people flocking to pay tribute to the apparition heaven chose to give them.

One thing I found interesting, Palm Sunday isn't really so much Palm Sunday as it is Olive Branch Sunday in Europe. I'm not sure if there is a shortage of palms here, or a difference of opinion in the biblical translation. Either way, it was charming to see tens of thousands gathered for prayer and mass, waving olive branches, a sign both with divine symbolism (in Genesis the dove brings the olive branch to Noah's ark to signify land), and human symbolism (olives are a bumper crop for the Portuguese). When I returned to Italy later in the week, my housemates told me the same occurred in Italy - olive branches over palms.

There were also people processing prayerfully on their knees across the shrine's humungous square, designed to hold 1 million people on May 13, the feast day of Our Lady of Fatima, as well as people devoutly praying the rosary at the Chapel of Apparitions where Our Lady appeared to the shepherd children. Particularly moving, were the many offerings of flowers at the graves of the shepherds inside the basilica. From artists to saints, how often is it we appreciate people so much more after they are dead? Far from bouquets, the little ones received mostly beatings on account of the apparitions. Only Lucia lived long enough to see the apparitions approved and persecution end. Francisco and Jacinta died of the Spanish Influenza before they reached their teens.

(The little shepherds are not saints just yet, though Jacinta and Francisco are blesseds. Lucia died only last year, but the process for her beatification is well underway.)

Another strong impression on my memory was the approximately thirty priests, accompanied by white umbrellas, who spread out among the masses to distribute communion. They seemed to glide, lighter than air through the dense crowds under the shade of these parasols, which were used to show people where to go to find the precious Body of Christ.

I did quite a bit of fighting with myself before I left. I had planned to spend Monday in Lisbon, then fly out Tuesday. I don't really need to see Lisbon, I kept telling myself. Why not just stay here another day?. But finally, I forced myself to say goodbye to the little shepherds that had become so dear to me. Only a few days before I hadn't really known anything about their story, and yet, I felt like I was leaving loved-ones I had known for my whole life. But off I went to Portugal's capital. We can't stay on the mountain forever, after all.

Santarem (Part 2)

Santarem (April 8)

If you're going to Fatima and you have an extra morning to spare, Santerm is a must! Not for the town. In fact, I didn't spend any time in the town, but for a Eucharistic miracle.

Dating back to the thirteen century, this is one of the oldest Eucharistic miracles on record. It happened when a woman went to receive communion, but took the host out of her mouth to give to a fortune teller in return for a favor. But when she tried to leave the church with the host, it began to bleed profusely, so much so, that parishioners thought she had cut her hand. Frightened and confused, she ran home and threw the bloody host into a trunk. In the middle of the night, a strange light began to eminate from the trunk and she repented of her plan, adored the host, and returned the host to the parish priest. The priest placed the host in a wax container and inside a tabernacle.

Another miracle occured when the priest opened the tabernacle to find the wax encasing gone, and the host situated inside a crystal pyx. It was then placed in a silver monstrance where it can be seen today.

And guess what! I saw it, yes I did. In the crystal pyx. You can see the blood and the host perfectly clear. What is even more amazing, is you can get two inches from it. So many times, things like this are far away, so you can barely make them out...like St. Catherine's head. But you can go behind the altar, climb up some stairs, and look right at it - just as the literature I read about it describes.

I was so surprised by this access that I could barely gather myself in order to say a few prayers. Truly awesome.

Fatima (Part 1)

FATIMA!
(April 6-9)

Fatima was to be my first all out solo pilgrimage. Being of Portuguese heritage, I was definitely eager to see Portugal and go to one of the most important apparition sites of the 20th century. Of the big three - Fatima, Medjugorje and Lourdes - Fatima was definitely a priority for me.

Two things shaped my trip to Fatima: Sister Maria de los Angeles - my best friend during my time there, and Sister Lucia's memoirs. More on both these in a minute...

Journeying to the Old Country
I paid a few extra bucks for a direct flight to Lisbon, so it was only supposed to be a two-hour trip. An extra $25 cut three hours out of my travel time - money well spent, I thought. But all that was euro down the drain as I managed to accidentally get to the airport a whopping four hours early. I'm still trying to figure out how I did this. As an X-Files fan, I've learned that when aliens abduct you, you experience "lost time." Well, I had the opposite of lost time. I'm not sure what conspiracy theory goes with "gained time," but whatever it is, it happened to me - there's simply no other explanation. Spooky, huh?

Anyway, this made the whole trip just as long, if not longer, as if I had paid for the cheap flight. What's worse, at the Fiumicino airport, they first tell you which area of the airport to go to, then which ticket counter to check in at, then which gate to depart from. I was there so early they didn't even have my airport area listed. So, I couldn't even start the process of getting my ticket for two hours and thus there was zero advantage to arriving at the airport that early.

Seven hours later, I was all joy and anticipation as I landed in Lisbon. I still had a bit of a journey ahead of me. I had to somehow get to the bus station which was nowhere near the airport, then take a two-hour bus over to Fatima, then find my accommodations. Turns out I had to take a taxi to the bus station - never good news when one's in a major city. So, if Rome was any indication, I was prepared to dish out 50 euro for a ride from the airport. Imagine my abundance of glee when the taxi driver asked me for 5 euro...Oh yes, Portugal and I are going to get along just fine.

The bus ride to Fatima was gorgeous. The Portuguese countryside was phenomenal. The olive trees and stone buildings gave it an old country charm, but the lush, green scenery made me feel like I was riding through virgin lands undisturbed by man. In some ways, it was reminiscent of the Italian countryside, with the exception of millions of white rocks lined up in little walls or haphazardly laying in piles. This picturesque accessory made the land distinctly Portuguese.



Casa das Irmas
My accommodations were at the Dominican sisters' guest house. It was possibly the most fantastic place I've ever stayed for the price. The rooms are clean, spacious and inexpensive and the sisters are wonderful. It is the perfect location, within walking distance of the bus station and right between the shrine at Cova d'Ira, where the miracle occurred and our Lady appeared the most times, and Valihnos, where the Angel and Our Lady appeared once, and where the Hungarian stations of the cross are located. Plus, you can add board to your accommodations, where they give you all the wine you want and bottled water to take with you. It's simply fantastic! Anyone venturing to Fatima ought to stay there. End of commercial.





The Shrine - Cova d'Ira
The best thing I did for myself on this trip was let go of my expectations. It's tempting to think, as you are riding to Fatima in the beautiful, quiet, Portuguese countryside, that the shrine is going to be sitting on top of one of the many lonely hills that surround you.
Soak it all in while you can. Because the land you are passing by is a good representation of what Fatima was at the time of the apparitions. But since Fatima has become a major pilgrimage site, it's ironically one of the few hills in the area bustling with noise and tourists. There is concrete, there are neon signs, and there are lots of vendors selling cheap, plastic junk that I hope nobody would ever buy for me.
Also, don't expect the shrine to be an ornate Basilica a la Italian Renaissance. There are no tapestries, no obelisks, no marble statues by Michelangelo, no gold-laden ceilings. It's a modern shrine in a modern city. And why should it be anything else? Fatima is a modern apparition.
Indeed it was a breath of fresh air to see a shrine designed to be beautiful in the modern style.







Highlights at the shrine include the Chapel of Apparitions, where Our Lady of the Rosary appeared. It's an outdoor chapel, built over the little chapel that what built back in the early 1900s, just after the shepherds had experienced the apparitions.
Also there is the holmoak tree! This the original tree that was there during the time of the apparitions and figures greatly in Sister Lucia's memoirs. Of course, there is also the shrine, in which all the three little shepherds are buried, adorned with flowers brought by the many pilgrims. There is also a wonderful Eucharist Adoration chapel and a museum where you can see the crown which sits atop our Lady of the Rosary during May 13 procession, and in which the bullet that hit John Paul II is embedded.


Below the blue globe that the cross sits on, you can see the bullet hanging down. John Paul gave this bullet to the shrine after the attempt on his life. He considered it the intercession of Our Lady of the Rosary which saved him. Some years later, someone thought to place it in the crown. They were surprised when it fit perfectly inside! Nothing had to be altered!
Sister Mary of the AngelsAs soon as I arrived at the Casa das Irmas, a little sister named Sister Mary of the Angels came down to greet me. How can I describe her sweetness?
Her soft voice and thick Spanish accent make her difficult to understand, but her fiery spirit makes you determined to listen. She has an genuine smile and a light in her eyes that would make even the most stubborn atheist consider religious life just to have a measure of her peace. She is constantly fussing with her habit, trying to tuck her stubborn white hair underneath it.
"When I wash my hair it gets slippery," she told me over and over again.
She shakes terribly on account of Parkinson's disease, but that never stopped her from pouring me another glass of wine. She has a cooler in her cell filled with Coca-cola. The Coke is weaker in caffeine than coffee and it helps calm the shaking. Sometimes when we were walking along, her face would turn a little sad. When I asked her why, she said she missed Madrid, her hometown. Then we would proceed to reminisce about the beauty of Spain and the charm of Madrid. Luckily, I have been there and can whole-heartily agree with it's wonder.

Sister Mary of the Angels stands beneath the apparition
site of the Angel at Valinhos.

We spent a great deal of time together, Sister and I. She sat with me at meals (where I ate linguisa grandma and grandpa!) and took me all over Fatima to show me the important places.
AljustrelOn Friday morning, we went to Aljustrel to Lucia's house and then to Francisco and Jacinta's house. The homes are well preserved and you really get an idea of how simply the Portuguese people lived less than a hundred years ago.
The homes were poor and very small. The shepherds would be considered as living far below the poverty line by today's standards. Most people today would consider it irresponsible to have so many children in those poor conditions, and yet, Lucia says they never wanted for anything. Their home was loving and her parents spent much of their energy giving what little they had to the poorer among them. They never refused a beggar.
At Lucia's home is the well at which an apparition of the Angel took place. It is also the place where the little shepherds would go to pray and talk about their intimate mystical experiences.

Sister Mary of the Angels at the well at Sister Lucia's home.

Sister Lucia relates an occassion where the children were being persecuted on account of the apparitions. She was summoned to appear before the Administrator. Jacinta's and Francisco's parents refused to let them go as they were so little, 7 and 9-years-old. But Lucia, the oldest at 10, was forced to go and "answer for herself."
"They all took advantage of this occasion to frighten us in every way they could. Next day, as we were passing by my uncle's house...I ran to say goodbye to Jacinta...who was still in bed. Doubtful as to whether we would ever see one another again, I threw my arms around her. Bursting into tears, the poor child sobbed:
'If they kill you, tell them that Francisco and I are just the same as you, and that we want to die too. I'm going right now to the well with Francisco, and we'll pray hard for you.'
When I got back at night fall, I ran to the well, and there were the pair of them on their knees, leaning over the side of the well, their heads buried in their hands, weeping bitterly.
As soon as they saw me, they cried out in astonishment:'You've come then? Why, your sister came here to draw water and told us that they'd killed you! We've been praying and crying so much for you!'"
- Fatima in Lucia's Own Words, p. 51.
Today, you can drink from the well these little shepherds shed their tears in, praying and crying from morning to night. Sure, there are a few tiny critters swimming around in the water, but it's clean and it tastes pretty good!
In short, reading the memoirs totally transformed my experience. Had I not learned about the places and events, I would have simply been a Catholic traveling to an apparition site to satiate my curiosity. Instead, I was a pilgrim on a religious journey.
The little shepherds are a testimony to the beauty and value of redemptive suffering, the necessity of devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and the unshakable faith of little children, who are never too young to hear the Gospel.
ValinhosFollowing the tour of Aljustrel, we went to Valinhos, where the little shepherds saw the first apparition of the Angel. While the area of the shrine is littered with hotels and bustling with business, this area is quiet, prayerful and serene. Built there are Hungarian stations of the cross and a pathway connecting various apparition sites. These are amidst green pastures.

Site and monument commemorating
the Apparition of the Blessed Virgin Mary at Valinhos

Site and monument commemorating the apparition
of the Angel at Valinhos

Peace and quiet away from tourism at Valinhos

Along the Hungarian Way of the Cross at Valinhos

The Parish Church and CemeteryOn Saturday morning, Sister Mary of the Angels and I went to the parish church. This is the church the little shepherds attended and were baptized at! We walked from the convent and it was not close! Though, it was closer than from where the little shepherds lived. To think, those little kids, and others far less healthy than I had to walk there every Sunday, Feast Days, and other days they wanted to go to mass! I shall never complain about having to get to Mass again. It wasn't so very far, but far enough that it would be a pain to do it regularly without a car.
We went there to visit Sister's mother's grave, as the cemetery is just across the street. Just like in Assisi, every single grave had flowers adorning it. The Europeans really know something about remembering their loved ones.
Now, a little story about language. Sister had asked me to go to with her to mother's grave. She wanted to tend to the flowers on her tomb as she said were "sick."
On the way there, we stopped at a florist where she borrowed some clippers. So, naturally, I thought she was going to trim bottom of the stems to try and perk them up a little.
When we got to the grave, she grabbed the flowers and started trying to clip the bottoms, but she couldn't manage it.
Oh my gosh, I thought to myself, the flowers are plastic! She is trying to clip plastic flowers and she doesn't know it! She thinks they are real. I guess she doesn't see so well, or maybe old age has made her slightly senile, that she is trying to clip "sick" plastic flowers.
Finally, I couldn't stand to see her struggle anymore and told her they were plastic, which is why she can't clip them.
"I know that," she said.
Turns out she just wanted to separate the plastic flowers as they were bunched at the bottom, and the weight was tipping them over. Pheww! I guess she didn't know the English word for broken, so she said the flowers were sick, which made me think she was a little sick in the head.
When we had worked out the flower situation, Sister took me over to a little cafe where we enjoyed some ice-cold Cokes. Then, we called a taxi for my trip to Santerem.
Those are a few sweet memories with Sister that I will never forget!

The tombs of Blessed Jacinta and Sister Lucia, inside the Basilica

The Tomb of Blesed Francisco, located opposite
Lucia and Blessed Jacinta, in the Basilica

Chronicle of Italian Quirks

ITALIAN QUIRK #2 - Fabulous Old Ladies

Not all quirks are strange, some indeed are charming. Rome is of course, one of the fashion capitals of the world. It's not in the same arena as Milan, which boasts high fashion - models tearing down the runway in peacock feathers and diamond pashminas - things no ordinary person would be caught dead in. Rather, Rome is the capital of common fashion. That is to say, people's everyday dress is sharp, neat, and classy unlike any other city I've ever seen. Pointy leather boots up to the knees are their version of casual walking shoes, and long, black, wool coats are their sweatshirts. In fact, it has to be at least 75 outside before they'll take off these coats. There is no practicality in their attire and they always seem inappropriately dressed for the weather according to American sensibilities.

While Rome is the center, most cities in Italy are like this, taking their lead from the heart of the Italian peninsula. But what's most cool about Italian fashion is that it is for everyone! Age does not diminish an Italian's desire to dress well. And though the leather boots don't transcend the generations, the desire to look fantastic, whatever fantastic is to your generation, does.

Enter some fabulous old ladies. You see it everywhere, all the time. Old women dressed and dressed well. They don't mess around. They got the nice hats, the wool coats, the heels, the pretty blouses and most importantly, the sweet sweet shades. No white stretch pants or Keds for these geriatric women. They are looking smart and frankly, just as uncomfortable and impractical as everyone else stylin' on the streets.

Three elderly ladies looking fine at the beech.

Didn't believe me about the coat thing? It is probably 73 degrees out in April on this Sicilian beach, yet these lovely women are still donning the wool and leather.

Oh yeah, special thanks to Henrietta who had the guts to ask these women, total strangers, if we could take their picture.