<![CDATA[St. Francis Pilgrimages

<![CDATA[St. Francis Pilgrimages - Blog]]>Tue, 28 Nov 2023 06:21:15 -0400Weebly<![CDATA[In the Footsteps of Padre Pio]]>Mon, 23 Jan 2023 15:37:38 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/in-the-footsteps-of-padre-pio

Bret Thoman, Anna Maria Marrone, and Mario Caruso stand in Pietrelcina in front of of the Porta Madonnella. (Photo by Bret Thoman)

“The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). The Greek word translated as “dwelt” (ἐσκήνωσεν; “eskēnōsen”) means, more literally, “put up his tent among us,” or “tabernacled, sojourned.” Drawing on Old Testament imagery (see Ex 25:8–9), within this tent or tabernacle, God would “dwell in our midst.” Using poetic imagery, St. John’s message is that the Word is the new mode of God’s presence among his people. The tent is the world, which is now indwelt by Jesus. Christ is begotten as a man and has fully informed the world.

The specific place where Jesus dwelled most of his earthly life was his hometown of Nazareth. Scripture reveals that most of Jesus’ early life was ordinary. In Nazareth, he grew up and “was obedient to [his parents and] advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man” (Luke 2:51-52). Even during his ministries – in which he began publicly performing miracles and healings – he did ordinary things. Within these mundane events and happenings, extraordinary things occurred.

It is said that one cannot fully know someone else without visiting the place where he or she grew up. At the affective level, for those who love Christ, there is something moving about walking where Jesus walked and touching his land. One feels a special closeness to Jesus after seeing the vistas his eyes gazed upon. As anyone who has been on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land can attest, visiting the places where Jesus lived leads to a more profound understanding of the Scriptures. Indeed, after a visit to the Holy Land, one never hears the Gospels in quite the same way.

Like Christ who was formed in a very human way in his hometown of Nazareth, the saints, too, led human lives. They were not formed in a vacuum. In their own hometowns – among parents and relatives, educators and catechists, friends and companions – their personalities, minds, and spiritualities were formed. They are people, and they have their personal story. Padre Pio was no exception.

In Following Padre Pio: A Journey of Discovery from Pietrelcina to San Giovanni Rotondo, author Bret Thoman takes a look at the life of the great stigmatized saint in a novel way: by personally exploring all the friaries where he lived. The reality is that Padre Pio was the progeny of a people. He was formed by those of his native town, as well as the friars of the Capuchin Province he entered. Just as Christians explore the Holy Land to know Christ more intimately, by visiting Padre Pio’s friaries, one can understand him better.

The birth home of Padre Pio in Pietrelcina (photo by Bret Thoman)

Combining scholarship, studies in Franciscan spirituality, and personal experience, Thoman has created a fresh, new narrative about Padre Pio. Drawing on the Letters of Padre Pio, the early Italian sources, and updated biographies, this book generously adds to the repertoire of works on the Capuchin saint from San Giovanni Rotondo.

But this book is more than another “Life of Padre Pio.” With Pietrelcina as his base, Thoman sets out each morning to all the friaries where Padre Pio lived. In the “Footsteps” sections, he accompanies the reader into these special places with captivating storytelling and detailed descriptions of what he encounters.

The province of Sant'Angelo and Foggia (currently renamed, Padre Pio and Foggia) is vast. It covers three regions.

A 16th-century map of the province of Sant'Angelo, in which Padre Pio entered.

For the drafting of this book, the author followed Padre Pio’s life from his birth and childhood in Pietrelcina, through his entrance into the Capuchin Order and various assignments throughout the vast Province of Sant’Angelo and Foggia, and finally to San Giovanni Rotondo where he lived for five decades.

The first excursion begins in Morcone, where the future Padre Pio entered the novitiate in 1903. After making first vows, he was sent to Sant’Elia a Pianisi to begin his studies. The next ten years were spent among various friaries throughout the vast Province interspersed with stints back home at Pietrelcina for health reasons: the Sanctuary of the Madonna dei Monti in Campobasso (1905); San Marco la Catola (1905-1906); Serracapriola (1907-1908); Montefusco (autumn-winter, 1908); Gesualdo (1911); Venafro (October-December 7, 1911); and Foggia (1916). Finally, he ascended the Gargano Promontory where he would live in the rural friary outside of San Giovanni Rotondo. There he would remain for fifty years until his death on September 23, 1968.

All the cells where Padre Pio lived have been preserved with vintage furnishings to make them look exactly like they were in the early twentieth century. Additionally, each site boasts a small museum with relics and artefacts from his life. Numerous photographs are included in the book.

The journey throughout the vast Province of Padre Pio was not easy. The author logged over 1,500 kilometers (930 mi) on his vehicle to reach the sites spread out across three southern Italian regions. Many are in remote mountain locations making them difficult to find and hard to reach.

But the difficulties were countered with rewarding visits among the friars, sisters, and laypersons the author met along the way – including some who knew Padre Pio personally. Their testimonies and stories are the highlight of the book.

Bret Thoman poses with Father Emidio Cappabianca, OFM.Cap., a friar in Gesualdo.

Padre Emidio goes through his personal collection of relics of Padre Pio.

In Gesualdo, for example, the author met Fr. Emidio Cappabianca, who was with Padre Pio when he died. Friars like him - and others the author met along the way - were the highlight of the journey in the footsteps of Padre Pio.

Walking in the footsteps of Padre Pio brought to life this great saint of the twentieth century in a remarkable way. The author's faith was strengthened as he came to know Padre Pio more deeply.

For those who will never be able to visit the friaries of Padre Pio personally, this book is like a pilgrimage that can be taken from one’s armchair at home. It is worth the trip.

"Following Padre Pio: A Journey of Discovery" is available on Amazon in ebook and paperback. Click the above cover to be directed to the link.

]]><![CDATA[The Voice of One Crying out in the Desert... in Florence!]]>Sun, 18 Dec 2022 13:30:28 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/the-voice-of-one-crying-out-in-the-desert-in-florence

The Duomo of Florence (Photo courtesy of Bret Thoman)

St. John the Evangelist begins his Gospel with an exhortation from the other St. John – the Baptist. When asked who he was by the priests and Levites sent from Jerusalem to interrogate him, he responded, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord” (1:19-23). He was quoting the prophet Isaiah, who said, “A voice proclaims: In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God!” (40:3).

This phrase of the Baptist is richly drawn on in liturgies during this period of Advent. It is a calling to prepare oneself for the coming of the Messiah. It is an exhortation to repent.

St. Matthew adds a phrase to John the Baptist’s plea, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (3:2). He is calling his listeners to have a change of heart and conduct – to turn their lives from rebellion to obedience towards God.

The Baptist’s plea is both literal and figurative. He spent most of his life as an ascetic preaching in the desert. He was in the lower Jordan Valley when this exchange took place. Those who have been on pilgrimage to the Holy Land know that the land surrounding the Jordan River to the east of Jerusalem is arid and lifeless. On the obligatory excursion down to the Dead Sea, a good guide will point out Bedouins who still live in the area. Other than them, there is not much there.

But the biblical meaning is more profound. St. John’s reference to the wilderness suggests that he was calling his listeners to come into the desert. The spiritual meaning of the desert is that it is a place of temptation, but also an oasis for allowing God to speak.

I experienced this voice recently. However, I was not in the wilderness of the Judean Desert. I was in a place quite the opposite: the crowded, metropolitan city of Florence – a veritable cultural and artistic mecca. And a secularized desert.

Bret and his family in Florence. (Photo courtesy of Bret Thoman)

Last week, my family and I went to Florence for the holiday weekend of the Immaculate Conception. I was delighted we went, though it was rainy and very crowded due to the holiday.

I love Florence. This is the city where I came to love the Italian language and culture. When I was 19 years old, I spent my first summer outside of the United States learning Italian as an undergraduate student in Florence. Later, for my master’s degree program through Middlebury College, I spent an entire year in the Renaissance city studying at our on-site campus, as well as at the University of Florence.

Florence is culturally rich in so many ways. Not only does it have an unparalleled literary tradition – the fathers of the Italian language, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, were Florentine – the Renaissance was conceived in Florence: Giotto, Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Brunelleschi, Donatello were all from Florence.

Uffizi Gallery paintings. From left to right: "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli; "the Doni Tondo Holy Family" by Michelangelo; "The Duchess and Duke of Urbino" by Piero della Francesca (Photos courtesy of Bret Thoman)

While the Renaissance is generally associated with humanism, it cannot be separated from Christianity. In fact, today many young, secular art students are forced to learn about Christian history, symbolism, and saints in order to understand Renaissance art. The same was true for me.

Florence played a role in my conversion to Catholicism. During my undergraduate program, on Saturdays our school frequently organized excursions to nearby cities of interest. One day we went to Assisi. While the professor guided us through the Basilica of St. Francis, he did so as an academic. But I – a total agnostic at that point in my life – curiously, received his words spiritually. I had never heard of anyone doing something so profound as St. Francis. That day made an enormous impact on me. Two years after that summer, I converted to Christianity. Two years after that, I became Catholic. So inspired was I by the life of the saint from Assisi, I took St. Francis as my confirmation name.

So when I return to Florence today, I do so joyfully. I take delight in bringing my children to the city that formed me so profoundly culturally and spiritually. I sense that they, too, recognize the awe-inspiring beauty in Michelangelo’s David, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus and Allegory of Spring, Fra Angelico’s frescoes in San Marco, and in Brunelleschi’s cathedral dome.

A view of Florence from Piazzale Michelangelo (Photo courtesy of Bret Thoman)

At the same time, I am saddened when I return. While Florence has a rich Christian, artistic history, today it is a bastion of secularism and commercialism. It is on par with Milan in terms of fashion and shopping.

Sadly, the church is in serious decline. The archdiocese of Florence, though massive (according to the official website, the archdiocese is divided into three areas and 18 vicariates with a total of 305 parishes and 804,000 Catholics) is experiencing an enormous crisis in vocations.

Last year, the archbishop of Florence, Cardinal Giuseppe Betori, gave an interview to the Italian state media, RAI. He said, “[In Florence] next year there will be no one entering the seminary. […] I consider it one of the biggest wounds of my episcopate, because the year following my arrival [in Florence] in 2009, I ordained seven new priests, but this year I will ordain none. And next year there will be just one.”

It's difficult to know if many people go to Mass because the churches have essentially been converted into museums. (This is the case in the historic city center.) When I was studying in the 1990s, there was no fee to enter any church in Florence. Shortly after I left, the cathedral began requesting a four-lire “donation” (the equivalent of $2). Then the Basilica of Santa Croce began “requesting” it, then San Marco, San Lorenzo, Santa Maria Novella, and so on. In a short time, all the historic churches began to charge money to get in. Today, it’s no longer a donation, it’s a museum ticket fee. And it’s not cheap. Adult entrances to Santa Croce are now €8 ($8.70). To bring my family to the Franciscan church in Florence costs me €32 ($40).

I understand the reasoning behind these decisions. I recall being at Easter Mass in 1996 in Florence’s cathedral. The cardinal was doing his best to celebrate Mass despite the ruckus of the hordes of tourists in the back of the church. These were the days when volunteers were on hand to try to control the disrespectful tourists. No amount of shushing would quieten them. Entrance fees were the solution to hire the personnel to deal with the crowds.

So we went from there to here. The birthplace of the great religious artists and writers of centuries ago is now a religious wilderness. The seminaries and churches are emptied and have been converted into museums.

While ruminating on these things, and while strolling along Via dei Calzaiuoli – the road from the cathedral to the city hall square – Katia and I stopped at the church of Orsanmichele. Originally a granary, the powerful craft and trade guilds of Florence converted it into a well-endowed church in the fourteenth century. We attempted to enter and were willing to pay the four-euro fee, however, according to the gentleman behind the booth, it was closed and would not reopen until the following week. As we walked out, we noticed a smaller, more non-descript church immediately on the other side of Via dei Calzaiuoli. The door was open, and we entered.

Orsanmichele by Guido Castelli66, (CC BY-SA 4.0)

I was surprised to discover a monstrance resting on the main altar with a Host displayed. There was Eucharistic Adoration. Katia and I immediately knelt down and devoted ourselves to prayer. The small church was conducive to prayer, as there were only a handful of people inside. In that moment, all the hubbub of the shopping and noise on the street outside disappeared. I felt the consolation and loving presence of our humble Lord. It was so refreshing.

I thought of St. Francis and his devotion to the Eucharist: “O sublime humility! O humble sublimity! That the Lord of the whole universe, God and the Son of God, should humble himself like this and hide under the form of a little bread, for our salvation.” (Letter to the General Chapter)

I thought of Scripture: “Who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness” (Galatians 4:6-7).

This is the Christ referred to during this time of Advent: “In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; in these last days, he spoke to us through a son, whom he made heir of all things and through whom he created the universe” (Hebrews 1:1-2).

Suddenly, the meaning of Advent came alive to me. The message of John the Baptist from the wilderness has always been difficult to hear – perhaps today more than ever. There are so many competing voices. But the voice is always present. Often the voice is quiet, hidden. This is because God wants our will. He never imposes his will; rather, he wishes for our cooperation. But he is always there calling.

And this Advent, his message is: “Come, Make straight the way of the Lord!

PerfectUnityOrg (CC BY-SA 3.0)

]]><![CDATA[International Travel Is Back]]>Tue, 08 Nov 2022 15:12:03 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/international-travel-is-back

International Travel Is Back

After nearly three years of lockdowns, travel restrictions, vax requirements and documentation, PCR and Antigen tests, TRAVEL IS BACK.

All pilgrimage destinations are open with no restrictions. Italy, the United States, Israel, France, Spain, and Portugal are all welcome visitors!

]]><![CDATA[International Travel Is Finally Opening Up... Really, this time.]]>Thu, 24 Mar 2022 09:24:46 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/international-travel-is-finally-opening-up-really-this-time

After two years of lockdowns, emergency decrees, Covid restrictions and rules governing international travel and life in Europe, finally, there is good news: the rules and restrictions are being rescinded. International travel is really opening up this time.

On March 17, 2022, the Italian government issued a "reopening decree" ending the emergency decree en force on March 31.

For those wishing to enter Italy, any one of the following conditions will suffice: certificate of vaccination (2 doses with mRNA or one with J&J); certificate of recovery within the previous six months; or a negative test result taken within 24 hours (antigen) or 48 hours (PCR) of arrival. This means that unvaccinated travelers will be allowed in Italy. Previously, vaccination or recovery was required along with a negative test result.

Next, the Green Pass (proof that one has been fully vaccinated, recovered from COVID within the previous six months, or has had a negative COVID test within the previous 48 hours) will be eliminated on April 30. Enacted as part of the emergency measures to encourage vaccinations, it has been required to enter most establishments in Italy, including hotels, restaurants, coffee bars, transportation, etc. As it is a QR Code issued by the health authority to Italian citizens and residents, it created confusion for non-Italian or non-EU visitors. Happily, after April 30, the confusion will be eliminated.

Similarly, the mask requirement in all indoor environments will also be rescinded at the end of April.

For now, anyone flying to or from Italy must still wear an FFP2 mask and all inbound visitors must fill out an EU Digital Passenger Locator Form. But these are small inconveniences compared to the major restrictions that are being lifted.

For official rules on current travel to Italy, visit the Italian Health Ministry website.

]]><![CDATA[An International Travel Odyssey during the Covid Pandemic]]>Mon, 12 Apr 2021 07:47:52 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/an-international-travel-odyssey-during-the-covid-pandemic

Just under three hours prior to the scheduled departure time, my father dropped me and my daughter off at Atlanta Hartsfield/Jackson’s international terminal. This was the return flight to Rome traveling internationally during the Covid virus pandemic.

I was as prepared for the odyssey as anyone could be. Travel is currently only permitted for a narrow range of categories. Leisure travel (i.e. tourism) is still not allowed. Since we are Italian and US citizens, we should have been permitted to travel. But I was prepared for any eventuality.

I had in hand the printed results of negative Covid tests taken within 72 hours (the PCR tests that cost $155 each). There would be another rapid Covid test at the airport in Atlanta and yet another one upon arrival in Rome. (This was a Covid-tested flight meaning we wouldn't have to quarantine after arrival.) Additionally, I had printed my PLF (Passenger Locator Form) required by the European Union to travel into the EU. Of course I had two valid US passports, as well as two valid Italian citizenship/residency cards. I had been briefed that there would be more forms at the airport.

I went straight to the ticket counter without bothering with the kiosk. There was no line.

Surprisingly, the check-in process went smoothly. I was prepared to have to prove my case, why my daughter and I fell within one of the legal categories permitting us to travel to Italy. I had heard of stories of passengers being turned away at the airport.

I was ready when the agent when we were returning [to the US]. I said we lived in Italy and this was the return flight (the outbound on our itinerary was our flight 8 days ago from Rome to Atlanta). She seemed surprised, and asked if we had visas. I showed her our Italian identity cards.

Carte d’identità are citizenship documents issued by EU member states. They are something akin to European passports as they allow for travel within EU member states. They have microchips and, like passports, contain data about the individual.

I was fully expecting to have to explain all this. Instead, she swiped my card into her keyboard. It beeped three times. She swiped it again slowly and it beeped once. Then she appeared to be reading something on her screen. She did the same with Claremarie’s card.

She seemed satisfied with everything, and she printed and gave us our boarding passes and told us to go to gate E17. But since I was so well prepared, I felt like there had to be more. I asked her about Covid testing to which she responded, “Oh, is Rome a Covid flight?” After I confirmed that it was, she said to go to the gate and someone would tell us what to do.

"But don't you want to see our negative PCR tests," I insisted, perhaps foolishly. She said yes, I showed them to her, she looked at them up and down, and handed them back to me. I thought about asking if she needed to enter something into the computer but decided against it. Why dig a hole unnecessarily?

The security experience was familiar. It took a long time, though it did not have to. Though there were only a few people who needed to be screened, there was only one security lane open.

After clearing security, I realized I could not find my cell phone. It wasn’t in my pocket where I normally keep it. My daughter told me I had placed it in the bin with my laptop. I told the TSA agent that I couldn’t find my cell phone. She went through the stack of X-ray bins one at a time shaking her head saying it surely wasn’t in any of them and was probably in one of my bags. Finally, about five bins down, it appeared standing vertically on the edge of a bin.

As we were walking away, Claremarie said that that could have ruined my day. Indeed, the process felt like walking through a mine field. I had successfully dodged the first two mines.

We walked to E17. When we arrived, I noticed that there were plenty of passengers, but no agent. I checked the time and we were about two and a half hours early.

I saw a young woman with an Italian passport in hand. I asked her in Italian about the Covid swab and if she had had hers yet. She said she had, and told me that there was a table two gates down with a cranky agent. I was to begin the process there.

She said it all took “un casino di tempo” (a heck of a lot of time).

Claremarie and I stepped back into the terminal, I looked down the corridor, and saw, indeed, two tables staffed by Delta agents, both surrounded by disorganized clusters of passengers.

We walked to the first table and I asked the agent if I was supposed to be there. He asked if I had been to the table next to him. I had not. He said to go there.

We continued a few steps to the other table. There was a surly gentleman in a Delta uniform explaining impatiently in English with an accent to an elderly Italian gentleman that he needed to use his cell phone to access a website by photographing a large QR code on a stand-up poster next to his table. The Italian man did not appear to understand what was happening.

There were about ten or so people standing semi-circle facing the gruff Delta agent, observing the scene, each attempting to get it right.

After watching an American woman with a baby in a stroller photograph the QR code, I did the same. I used my Android QR reading app to do so (I downloaded it from Playstore two days before when I had to do something similar at the doctor’s office to get my PSR test). It linked my browser to a European website. Claremarie did the same with her iPhone. I filled the info out hurriedly, answering no to redundant questions about fevers and coughs and where I lived in Italy.

About the time I completed the form, the Delta agent brusquely dismissed some more Italians who couldn’t produce an email. I stepped forward. He looked at me and asked if I had the email. I checked my inbox and there was indeed an email from a European agency. I clicked on it, and showed it to him. He nodded approvingly and his scowl was momentarily replaced by a look of satisfaction.

He then asked Claremarie if she was traveling with me. I said yes, and he asked to see her email. She didn’t have it yet. His scowl returned and just as he was about to dismiss us, Claremarie got her email. She showed it to him and he approved. He then asked to see our passports and boarding passes. He wrote some numbers and letters on them with an orange marker and instructed us to go to his colleague at the table to his right.

This Delta employee was notably less brusque. He asked to see our passports and boarding passes. We produced them, he verified the orange code, and then handed us three pages of forms to fill out. I borrowed a pen from the table and we sat down in one of the chairs in the unused gate area to fill out the form.

I entered my name, birth date, place of birth, and checked a box indicating my reason for entry to Italy: I was returning home to my residence or domicile. I signed and dated it, and wrote Atlanta Hartsfield airport as the place I was at that moment.

We returned the form to the nicer Delta agent. He glanced at my forms, approved everything, and wrote another orange code on our boarding passes. He picked up a printout of a long list of names in alphabetical order, scanned down the form until he came to the Ts, and ran a highlighter over our names, Bret and Claremarie Thoman.

He gave me two small pieces of paper with numbers 70 and 71 on them. He told us to go to gate E14 and pointed down the terminal where I saw another table with another Delta agent and a line of about 5 or 6 passengers. We headed there.

By now, I was carrying our two passports, three forms, and two numbers. I had put my two ID cards back in my wallet. I clutched everything tightly not daring to lose anything.

We got in line at the next table and waited for about 6 or 7 minutes. When it was our turn, this next Delta agent asked to see our boarding passes. I showed them, he looked at them, and then asked if we were going to Rome. I said yes. He said we were in the wrong line and we were supposed to go to E14. I told him that the guy over there (I turned around and pointed to the second guy, the nicer one) had told us to come here. He said, no, we were supposed to go to E14.

As we were continuing down the terminal toward E14, Claremarie said that she was pretty sure the second guy had told us to go to E14. I wasn’t so sure and replied, “Then why did he point to this table?” She said he was probably just indicating that we were to walk in this direction, not necessarily to this specific table. "Well, then he shouldn't have pointed toward this table, he should have just said E14." Claremarie just shook her head.

We got to E14 and entered. There was a tall plexiglass wall behind which were seated two people dressed in street clothes with badges around their necks. One was checking in a passenger, the other motioned for us to come forward. As I did, I peered ahead to my right wondering what awaited us next in our Covid travel adventure. I noticed several large cubicles and medical workers dressed in green scrubs milling around. I felt like a child eagerly looking forward to the next ride at an amusement park.

We showed our boarding cards and pieces of paper with 70 and 71 on them. This woman was nice and after finding our names, she entered some information in her computer and told us to go to the next available practitioner. A gentleman in a bubble suit was watching and he motioned for us to come forward.

As we walked toward his cubicle, I noticed a large display on the wall saying: “Now Serving: 43.” I looked down at the numbers 70 and 71 I was holding and grimaced.

The gentleman in the hazmat suit was very gentle. He inserted the swab in the lower part of each nasal passage and twisted it gently for just a few seconds. I thanked him and added that the lady who had done my PCR swab the day before jammed the swab up near my brain behind my eyeballs. He smiled politely as he kindly swabbed my daughter's nostrils.

He finished and told us to go into the next room and in fifteen minutes we would have our results. I asked him if we needed to hang onto our numbers 70 and 71, and he said yes, that was how they would identify us with our results.

Claremarie and I walked into a large waiting room around a corner. There were chairs spaced six feet apart. I was amazed that this was once gate E14 but had now been transformed into a medical clinic.

As we waited, I noticed three women and one child speaking a Slavic language, or perhaps Polish, pacing frantically. Just then, a Delta agent appeared and asked loudly if anyone was going to Frankfurt. One of the women belted out, “Yes, we!” The agent got on her radio and said coldly that she had some passengers waiting for results and would they hold the flight. The woman begged, “Yes, please hold flight!”

After about twenty minutes, a woman in scrubs appeared and yelled “70!” I produced my number, she looked it and asked me to verify my name. I told her Bret Thoman. She told me dispassionately that my result was negative and then handed me a document with my results in addition to a professionally designed medical booklet explaining all about antigen Covid testing. Then she said 71 and went through the same with Claremarie. I added the four additional papers to my burgeoning stack of documents and we proceeded, as instructed, to another line at the front of the room where a lady was standing at a podium.

When it was our turn, this agent (I think Delta) asked to see our boarding passes and test results. I produced them, and she ran a highlighter pen across our names on a list.

She then asked to see the self-declaration form. I didn’t know what that was, so I gave her everything I had. She leafed through everything and pulled out three forms. She looked them over front and back and told me I had left an entire page blank. She pointed to two blank lines on the reverse side of one of the three pages and told me that I had not completed the “entire document." She then turned her attention to the next two passengers in line.

I interrupted her asking if I merely needed to sign these two lines. She did not respond as her attention was now turned to the next two passengers. I then asked her for a pen. This time she responded saying that she didn’t have any, but she once had three, but they disappeared, and perhaps I could ask one of the nurses for a pen.

Instead, I asked the two passengers (a father and son, I believe) she was now tending to if one of them had a pen. The son did. After rummaging through his briefcase – and distracting his attention from the agent at the podium who was trying to tend to them and which caused her to sigh loudly -- he produced a pen.

I thanked him politely, signed the two lines, and then promptly handed my paper back to the agent. She once again dismissed me saying that I had not followed instructions and I needed to explain the reason why I was traveling to Italy. I reread the instructions but honestly could not understand what I was supposed to write. I even told her that it had obviously been translated poorly from Italian into English and it was unclear.

The agent turned the paper over and told me – using the tone a first-grade teacher would with a first-grade student – that I was to rewrite the same thing I had checked on the other side. She pointed to what I checked, which was “returning to residence in Italy”) and said, “Write: ‘returning to residence in Italy.’” I wrote, “returning to residence in Italy” and handed the paper once again to the unhappy Delta agent. She kept me in the penalty box until she finished working with the two compliant father/son passengers who had dutifully filled out their forms. As they exited, I thanked the son for his pen.

When she finished with the two passengers, which didn’t take long because they were so well-prepared, she turned back to me and asked for my paperwork. She didn’t even look at it this time, which disappointed me since I had invested so much time in it and was proud of my completed product. She highlighted our names on another printout, kept the completed forms, and gave me two more documents which she told me to take to the gate. I can’t remember if either of us told the other to have a nice day, though I do not believe either of us did.

As we exited the ATL Covid medical facility and reentered ATL international airport, my daughter told me that I should be nicer to these people because it’s not their fault and they’re just doing their jobs. I muttered something or another under my breath.

We returned to our gate, E17, the entrance to which was now being guarded by another Delta agent seated at a chair. She asked to see our boarding passes and documents. I handed her all the paperwork in my possession which she thumbed through until she found what she was looking for. She kept some of it, gave us back our boarding passes, and told us we could enter.

At this point, I asked her which documents I needed in order to continue the travel odyssey. She went through my files and conferred with me on each one (there was hardly anyone on the flight, thankfully). I decided to classify each document into one of three categories: must have, should have, don't need. The "don't need" paperwork were the two numbers, 70 and 71, from the medical facility and the two booklets describing everything I never wanted to know about Antigen testing. I dropped the four items into one of those trash bins in the airports that detect bombs.

I thanked her and told her to have a nice day. My daughter, Claremarie, looked at me and nodded her head approvingly.

As we entered, I noticed the young Italian woman who had indicated the first step of the Covid test saga was still sitting where she was over an hour earlier when she told me how to begin the process. I told her in Italian that she wasn’t kidding when she said it would take "a heck of a lot of time." She rolled her eyes, shrugged her shoulders back, and raised her hands upward as Italians do when fatalistically resigning themselves to the frustrations of life. In American English, we might say, “Whatcha gonna do?”

After Claremarie and I sat down by the window overlooking the ramp, I decided to go for a quick restroom and snack break. But not without, politely, asking the agent guarding the gate if I could come back in. After returning to my seat to retrieve my boarding pass in order to get back in, I exited the gate area, used the restroom, purchased a bottle of water and Doritos for my daughter, and returned. I flashed my boarding pass to get back in to Gate E17 at which the nice agent nodded approvingly.

I had no sooner opened my Facebook messages and emails when the gate agent made the first pre-boarding announcement. I checked my watch. The flight was due to depart in 45 minutes.

When it was our turn to board, we showed our passports and boarding cards to a polite Delta flight attendant. As Claremarie and I walked down the jetway, I realized that this was the first moment since my dad dropped us off over two hours earlier that felt like a normal part of the Delta travel experience.

The flight was normal with the exception of a relentless focus on Covid in the extended pre-flight video, frequent announcements about the necessity of wearing masks, and the occasional sanitizing of the lavatories and wiping down seats. My reaction was that it was pure Covid theater. I wanted to ask someone why Delta was so obsessed with the virus since everyone on the airplane had just been tested twice. But I didn’t say anything.

I did look over at my daughter and roll my eyes when the flight attendant made the announcement that we were allowed to lower our mask during meals. However, she added, we were to raise the mask in between bites and sips "for the safety of other passengers." I looked back at her again when the Italian flight attendant said in the same announcement in Italian that we had to wear our masks for the entire flight except for the meal service, no mention about covering up between bites and sips.

When the plane landed, there was still one more Covid test. After what we went through in Atlanta, I was expecting confusion at its worst. This was Rome, after all, not Switzerland, and Romans are not known for efficiency.

Surprisingly, the experience went well. Or maybe it didn't actually go well, but I just thought it did because I was expecting it to be so bad. At any rate, that it felt like it went well is a positive in and of itself.

Claremarie and I were near the front of the line, which wasn't very long since the flight was so empty. When we arrived at the Covid testing site, we had to fill out a form, get checked in, then proceed to the testing area. We were given numbers, got swabbed, and after fifteen minutes received our negative results. We then proceeded to “Uscita, Exit.”

Just before arriving at passport control, a young lady with an airport-like uniform asked us if we had “the document.” I wanted to say, “Seriously? Which one? I’ve still got at least a dozen.” Instead, I handed her my packet which she thumbed through until she found one and said, “This should work.”

We then proceeded to passport control and showed our "document," two American passports, and two Italian identity cards to the Italian police officer. As we chatted with the officer, I will admit that the Tom hanks movie, Terminal, came to mind.

Instead, the Roman officer kept “the document,” handed us back our passports and ID cards and said, “Bentornati,” (Welcome back).

We retrieved our suitcases from carousel number 5 and passed through customs uneventfully.

All the while, I kept wondering what this whole ordeal is going to be like when more flights return to service and are full.

I went straight to the coffee bar, ordered a doppio espresso, and took a deep breath.

We made it.

]]><![CDATA[Faith during the Coronavirus Pandemic]]>Tue, 14 Apr 2020 09:50:01 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/faith-during-the-coronavirus-pandemicToday there is no lack of spirituality despite the scourge of Coronavirus. On the contrary, the internet is booming with articles, blogs, and YouTube videos offering spiritual guidance or purporting to explain the pandemic.

I know because I’ve been there myself. Frequently. I’ve also reached out to spiritual directors, attentively followed the homilies and reflections during the extraordinary papal events, and fervently asked God in prayer… all to make sense of what’s happening right now. But, to be honest, I don’t have much clarity.

Italy, where I live with my family, was hit early and hard. When we went into lockdown forty-six days ago (at time of publication), we were the first country in the western world to do so. All businesses, factories, and shops were shut down with the exception of a narrow range of “sectors” considered vital related to food or medicine production or distribution. Most Italians are forbidden to leave their homes with only a few exceptions (grocery shopping or the pharmacy). Violating the decree can result in a steep €5000 ($5500) fine, confiscation of vehicle, and up to 90 days in prison.

Perhaps the most dramatic part of the decree – for those of us accustomed to an active faith life -- is the restrictions on the Church. Church doors can remain open, but the ban on “assembly of persons” necessitates the suspension of all Masses and the reception of sacraments in any form. There is no exception even for baptisms, weddings, or funerals.

The lockdown that was initially supposed to last just two weeks – the time of the incubation period to reveal who had the virus – is going on two months… And there is no end in sight.

In what may be perhaps the cruelest aspect of the scourge, the dying are prohibited from being visited by anyone – from family members to a chaplain. The body is sealed in an air-tight bag and sent directly to the funeral home where the undertaker places the body in a coffin still wearing the hospital gown.

At present, details of Phase Two are being hammered out. No one, however, knows where this is going. Yet, one thing appears certain: life will not be the same for a long time for a lot of people.

It seems that life will not return to normal until a vaccine is developed, which could be well into 2021. In the meantime, we will have to learn to cohabitate with the virus. And during that time, non-essential businesses (such as hotels, transportation) will likely remain shut.

And this is what is forcing me to reach out and seek what God wants in this: there is the real likelihood that travel (and as a consequence, our livelihood) will be shut for a year or two to come.

Further, the fact that my situation is not that dire only adds to my sense of unease. Neither I nor anyone I know is sick let alone at risk of death. I’ve been prudent with my finances and, as a result, have savings my family can fall back on for a while. We’re privileged with a decent sized apartment and have plenty of devices to keep us “connected.”

I would love to report that I am joyfully embracing the opportunities during this trial: to practice more authentic Franciscan “simplicity”; to offer this up as co-redemptive suffering; to channel my inner Mary and relinquish my innate tendency toward Martha busyness; to practice more charity toward Katia and the kids as well as elderly neighbors who cannot go out; to look to the example of Sts. Francis and Clare in contemplation; to pray more.

Yet, the truth is that I do not have peace. Or I should say it comes and goes.

Despite the difficulties and uncertainties, I can say with absolute conviction, however, that I trust with all my heart in the abiding presence of the Lord.

A prayer I’ve turned to in periods of distress or grave uncertainty in my life is that of the Cistercian mystic and contemplative, Thomas Merton:

------------------------------------------------------------------
My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think that I am following
your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Psalms resonate, too. Though, I have in the past sometimes judged the Psalmist’s emotional oscillations as melodramatic, today they strike a different chord.

During this Easter season, Psalm 22 in particular has been a source of consolation. What begins with an anguished lament, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me” (v. 2) opens to praises (vv. 23-24; 26-27) midway and concludes with recollections of past deliverance and hope for the future generation.

Pope Benedict, in his writings and talks, related this Psalm to Christ’s crucifixion and glory. As is well-known, Christ’s final words on the cross repeated this same phrase from Psalm 22. In the Jewish custom, by citing the first words of a Psalm, Pope Benedict taught, was a reference to the entirety of it.

Though in the most acute moment of his Passion, Christ’s expression of forsakenness was a sign of the praise to come, or, more specifically, his glorification. The abandonment of Good Friday would be soon followed by the Easter Resurrection.

During this time of uncertainty, may the journey of Christ from his Passion at Golgotha to the Easter glorification be our hope. Though the Lord may appear absent, may we continue to praise him all the more and always be mindful of the joy and glory that awaits us when we put our faith and hope in him.

]]><![CDATA[Testimonies from Recent Pilgrims]]>Thu, 27 Feb 2020 10:11:15 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/testimonies-from-recent-pilgrimsFollowing are testimonies written by participants of our pilgrimages from Fall, 2019

“The pilgrimage experience you organized was totally wonderful. […] and I will highly recommend it to anyone considering a pilgrimage to Assisi. I think we were blessed with being able to share the experience with our Filipino and Japanese brother and sisters and it was a living example of the universality of our faith and our commonality. Father Frank was a special blessing also as a liturgist, homilist, experienced pilgrim and a fun fellow traveler. I was so impressed with Magdelena's historical knowledge and also her spirituality which was inspiring. Your presence and hospitality and concern for our comfort and needs were greatly appreciated. Our accommodations were comfortable and convenient. The restaurant meals were well chosen. […] The return travel effects have now worn off and I am now able to process and re-live some of the important parts of the pilgrimage within myself. I am so very grateful for having made the trip and for being connected with Saint Francis and Saint Clare in a deeper way, for making great friendships with my fellow pilgrims and for a meaningful preparation for my Profession in Dec. With Gratitude and Love, Gayle, North Carolina.”

“Thank you for all the time, planning and loving energy you and Katia put into making our Pilgrimage special and an experience of my lifetime. Francis's spirit continues to live through me.
I wish you and your beautiful family many unexpected blessings. With gratitude and love,” Mary Marinucci, North Carolina

"I recently returned for the pilgrimage led by Fr. Peter O'Brien to Italy. It was a great experience! Father was a good spiritual guide and a very kind and friendly person. Our guide Loredana was terrific. She seems to really love her job. Our driver Fabriggio (sp?) did a fine job, and I never felt unsafe when we were on the road. The itinerary was thorough. Hotels were very good, […]. Meals provided were tasty and bountiful. […]. I hope all is well with you and your family now, Brett. Take care and God bless you." Matt Crowley, Grants Pass, Oregon

“Ed and I enjoyed our pilgrimage. We have travelled extensively, occasionally with tour groups, but had not been on a pilgrimage trip before. I found the pilgrimage to be spiritually beneficial and I do think that the experience will continue to bear fruit going forward. I found the daily mass to be very nourishing. Being able to attend daily mass in such beautiful, profound places was probably the biggest highlight of the trip for me. Thank you for your efforts in arranging those. Confession during the trip gave me the opportunity for spiritual growth as well. The fellowship with the other members of the group was a positive factor as well. Fr. Peter did a great job on the trip as spiritual director. Loredana did an outstanding job as tour guide. She was knowledgeable, very personable, and always, always went the extra mile to try to arrange whatever anyone asked for.” Jamie & Ed Diehl, Portland Oregon

“I am really grateful that I was able to go on this beautiful pilgrimage to Southern France. I find there are many parallels of the pilgrimage to my (or anyone) spiritual life. The hardships, the joys, the work, the disappointments, the pains, and the blissful moments were experience on this journey as they are usually occur in our normal life back at home. An example of that parallel: when we arrived in Toulouse, some of our luggage had not followed us to our destination. I, with some of the others, was without some of essentials for a couple of days. That was one of the hardships of being deprived which was no different in my non-traveling life. For a delightful, blissful moment: one of my favorite highlights is the hike up to St. Mary Magdalene Grotto. The effort of the journey to get there was epic from the bus driving up there to the actual hike. Once to the top with the view and the cool church, I felt that I earned it after the hot and arduous hike. One can make the comparison to our pilgrimage to a foretaste of Heaven with all the hard work before our rest in the end if, in God's grace, we make it there. Thank you for organizing this wonderful pilgrimage.” Thomas Rousseau, Portland Oregon

"Fr. Frank, you were a light and an inspiration to our pilgrimage. Thank you to all my fellow pilgrims and to Bret. Ours was a unique experience composed of the lives, spirituality, faith, and love of each of us individually. There will never be another exactly like it. We came as individuals, each bringing along our own personal journey. We shared, we laughed, we cried, we celebrated, ourselves and each other. We were changed. We created something new and unique. As I transition back into my daily life, I bring a piece of each of you with me. I pray for you and ask Our Lord to bless you as you continue your personal journey which now contains a piece of each of us. Peace and love, with God’s blessings always, until our paths meet again.” Brenda Harris, North Carolina

“Just wanted to extend my thanks for a wonderful pilgrimage. Stefano and Maurizio were wonderful in their respective roles as guide and driver. The accommodations were comfortable and I really enjoyed the dinner at Terme on the last evening of the trip. I appreciated being able to visit such places as the Capuchin monastery and St. Michael’s cave. Loreto was beautiful as was Assisi. […]. It was such a privilege to be able to visit such holy sites and to spend time listening to Adolfo share his journey with Padre Pio. You have done a wonderful job building your company Franciscan Pilgrimages and I am thankful I was able to experience a pilgrimage under your leadership.” Rebecca Capezzuto, Georgia

"THANK YOU for the awesome pilgrimage!!! It was truly Beautiful!!! Been on others, but yours was so layed back and peaceful. Jan and I both agreed it was one of our best trips. We have been on 4 other ones together. I have been on several others ones myself. I will keep your family and other pilgrims in my prayers. God Bless You!" Cheryl Klatt, Nebraska

"Everyone in our group was purely a joy I was not a vocal part of the group but being my first visit to Assisi it was just almost too much to take in I was in awe to be in the footsteps of St Francis and others was an overwhelming experience. I can understand why people make numerous trips I hope to come back again. Thank you to everyone of you for such a wonderful memory." Carol Palmer, Michigan

"I am happy to be home and yes woke up this early this morning. Miss everyone and thank you again for a lovely and memorable pilgrimage. Pray to see you again on a future pilgrimage. Peace and goodness." Isabel Pina, OFS, Texas

"Pace e Bene to all; Bret and Katia a great pleasure that our paths came to be. Yes, this pilgrimage was a very memorable journey that will be remembered in the years to come as a maturity of faith with God’s mercy. My Prayers for this journey here on earth. May our paths cross again - we leave it in God’s hand. Paula prayers for your mom and for your family. God bless us all." Teresa Adames, Dallas, Texas

“The pilgrimage exceeded my expectations. Bret set the tone before going with guides and reflection for each of us to contemplate. It was really a blessed and prayerful experience I would recommend to anyone reaching deeper for an authentic Franciscan experience.” Fr. Frank Critch, OFM

"We are all still just so amazed at how blessed of a pilgrimage this was for each of us individually and as a family. Being able to experience not only Assisi and Rome, but also all of the side ventures to Greccio, Gubbio, Renacavata, Loreto, and La Verna, we received so much more than we could have ever anticipated. It will surely take us time to fully comprehend and appreciate all that we saw and experienced, however I know for certain that we are all already planning our returns to Italy. Bret, thank you again for organizing such a wonderful, blessed trip for our family. From beginning to end, it was more than any of us could have ever hoped for. We know that you had so much else going on with your own family and it's most recent addition, so we greatly appreciate the time you took to assist us and make sure that things were going smoothly for us. Our experience with you and your company is one we will never forget and one that will hopefully be just the first of many more pilgrimages. There is so much to see and witness, I am sure that God will call all of us back home to Italy." Matt Hair, North Carolina

“A summary of our pilgrimage”
By Alessandro Gullo

“A week has gone by since you all left Italy and returned home; I heard it is very cold over there so maybe this small narration of your pilgrimage will warm you up a bit and will help you in case other families or groups are interested in traveling with Bret again.

December 26th.
We met at Rome airport and headed out to Orvieto to have our first taste of medieval Italy, having a simple but flavorful lunch including gnocchi and octopus salad and exploring the little streets ending up in front of the Gothic Cathedral with its beautiful facade. Then we drove to Assisi and the hotel La Rocca, just in time to go to mass in Assisi San Rufino before dinner and well-deserved rest after a very long day.

December 27th.
Although it was raining we were ready to go! We got on the van and drove to the parking lot below Saint Francis basilica. We first visited the Benedictine church of San Pietro and then spent almost two hours in the basilica of Saint Francis stopping to pray for a while in the crypt where Saint Francis is buried along with four of his closest companions along with "brother" Jacopa di Settesoli and discovering the inspiring Christian messages revealed through the frescoes painted more than 700 years ago.
Afterward, we drove to the best restaurant in town, La Pallotta, for a lunch consisting of mixed antipastos and two kinds of regional pasta: a local squared spaghetti known as strangozzi with an olive and mushroom sauce, and small ravioli called cappellacci with honey, parmesan, and poppy seeds.
Then, later in the afternoon we went to the stables of Rivotorto where St. Francis stayed for a while after San Damiano, we passed by the leper church of Santa Maria Maddalena on our way to visit Saint Mary of the Angels where we prayed the rosary in the Porziuncola -- the church Francis loved the most and explored the friary including the chapel built on top of where he had his simple hut and there is now a collection of nativity scenes from all over the world.

December 28th.
We visited the upper part of town including San Rufino, Santa Maria delle Rose (with the big Tau cross and the "pocket Marys"), the Church of Saint Mary over Minerva (the 1st century BC Roman temple), the New Church built in 1631 on top of Francis’ father’s home, and Saint Clare’s basilica where we prayed in the chapel in front of the Crucifix of San Damiano that spoke to Francis. Next, we headed to San Damiano where we prayed and visited the place of the conversion of Saint Francis before driving back in town for the best pizza at Pizzeria I Monaci.

In the afternoon we went to Perugia for a nice stroll in this famous medieval town visiting the buried city, the main street with the 13-14th century town hall, the medieval fountain and the cathedral of Saint Lawrence before returning in time to pray the vespers with the poor Clares in the chapel of the crucifix of San Damiano. And when we returned at Domus Laetitiae we were greeted with the good news that your misconnected luggage had finally arrived!

December 29th.
With warm clothes we went up to La Verna where Saint Francis received the Stigmata -- what a beautiful day it was with blue skies and white snow all around us! We visited the friary and prayed in the chapel built exactly where Francis was praying that day when he received the stigmata. Then we ate a very nice lunch at the foresteria with menu including duck!
On our way back to Assisi, we stopped at Gubbio where Francis encountered the wild wolf and where he received his first tunic from the Spadalonga family. We visited the church of Saint Francis, the main square and the beautiful nativity scenes through many alleys and streets of Gubbio. On our way out, the mountain above Gubbio lit up and the biggest Christmas tree in the world was revealed before our eyes as we drove back to Assisi.

December 30th.
In the morning Randy and Matt and I went for morning prayers at San Damiano and then on to Humilis jewelry shop for a ring or two. We then walked from Santa Chiara to Porta Nuova to check out the Assisi weekly Saturday market. Then, later in the morning, we began our drive to Renacavata to visit the first Capuchin friary where the reformed Franciscan order was born and its museum and where we had lunch with a few fun friars, especially Anastasio!
We then continued on to Loreto where we finally met Bret, who took us inside the Holy House of Mary -- what a place!! -- standing in there next to the poor Palestinian stones which came from Nazareth is almost overwhelming...and the soul rejoices.

December 31st
We drove to Porta San Giacomo, giving a ride to a holy nun to attend Mass, and then we had some more free time in Assisi. After a small casual lunch we shopped for wine and parmesan cheese at a local supermarket and then headed to Greccio where Saint Francis reenacted the night of Christmas. Then we continued down to Rome where we checked in at the hotel and went out again to see St. Peter’s Square at night and then on to eat a delicious dinner at a local restaurant before going to sleep despite fireworks and firecrackers bringing in the New Year!

January 1st
In the morning we attended mass with the giant screens of St. Peter’s Square and saw the Pope greeting us from the Angelus window. Then we visited St. Peter’s basilica. After lunch we went to Saint Paul outside the Walls and Saint Mary Major and from the van saw the Roman Forum and the Coliseum.

January 2nd.
After standing in line to enter the Vatican museums, we saw the medieval painting collection with the Transfiguration by Raphael and beautiful paintings celebrating Christ, Mary and the saints from the 12th to the 20th centuries! Then we saw the hallways with the maps, the tapestries, the roman statues, and finally the famed Sistine chapel with Michelangelo’s Last Judgement and ceiling frescoes. After a gelato lunch and some shopping for olive oil, we went to the Scala Santa and Saint John in Lateran, before visiting Holy Cross in Jerusalem and praying in front of the relics brought by Saint Helen.
On our way back to the hotel we stopped in another church, Santa Sabina, and from the gardens near it admired once again the illuminated dome of Saint Peter’s. Finally, at the hotel we had a big hug and a reciprocal feeling of friendship in Christ and a hopeful arrivederci (until we see one another again)!

]]><![CDATA[St. Francis and the Holy Land]]>Tue, 21 Jan 2020 17:56:18 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/st-francis-and-the-holy-landI recently went to Israel on two pilgrimages. My experiences in the Holy Land have led me to consider Francis and reflect on his experience there, how he related to people of different faith.

Last year, 2019, marked the eighth centenary of the legendary encounter between St. Francis and the leader of the Muslim army, Sultan Malek al-Kamil. It took place sometime between spring and summer, the year 1219.

He arrived in Acre, the port city on the Mediterranean Coast. This was the same city where St. Paul landed after departing from Tyre (Acts 21:7). In the thirteenth century it served as the capital of the Latin Crusader Kingdom. To this day, tourists in the Old City can still visit the quarters of the Franks, Venetians, Pisans, and Genoans recalling their past military and trading presence.

Today the city is referred to as Akko by both Jews and Muslims. It is mostly Jewish, as it lies just to the north of Israel’s third largest city, Haifa. But it is only twelve miles to the southern border of Lebanon, and is roughly one third Arabic.
There is only one Catholic church in Akko today. Dedicated to St. John and under the Custody of the Franciscans of the Holy Land, it serves the small Latin Christian community that still survives.

St. John Church above Acre's southern sea wall, Acre, Israel

This is quite common throughout the entirety of the Holy Land. The very land where Christ was conceived, born, lived, taught, worked miracles, died, and was resurrected has a very tiny Christian presence.

As such, it is a strange place for pilgrims to visit. On the one hand, it is the most powerful pilgrimage a Christian can undertake: there is no similar experience than walking in the very footsteps of our Lord. On the other hand, it is unusual in that there are very few Christians who live near these places.

St. Francis experienced something similar.

Many people (and all Franciscans) are aware of Francis’s encounter with the sultan. While the Crusades were raging, he set out calmly with Brother Illuminato into Saracen territory under the blazing desert sun. Armed with nothing but his tunic, cross, and the Word of God, Francis, perhaps miraculously, was received by the sultan.

Though modern interpretations sometimes refer to this encounter as an early example of dialogue, the thirteenth-century sources indicate that Francis hoped to convert the sultan to Christianity. If the sultan would accept baptism, Francis hoped, it would bring about peace between Christians and Muslims. He knew the alternative would be his martyrdom. But he desired that, too.

This event is captured in Giotto’s thirteenth century fresco cycle in the upper basilica of St. Francis. Francis challenged the Islamic scholars and priests of the sultan’s court to a trial by fire. They, together with Francis and Illuminato, would walk across the hot coals and, according to Francis, the adherents of the true religion would be unharmed. Instead, according to the ancient account, before they put themselves to the test, the Muslims recoiled and fled.

St Francis before the Sultan (Trial by Fire) Giotto fresco cycle in upper basilica of St. Francis in Assisi

Though this account may appear to present Francis harshly, how could he, in fact, react in any other way? His life was so fully formed by his faith in the Incarnation and Cross of Christ that Francis knew of no other way to relate to the sultan, or anyone else for that matter. He could only relate as a Christian.

Yet, neither of his longings were fulfilled: the sultan did not convert, and Francis was not martyred. Instead, something completely unexpected, miraculous even, transpired. The leader of the Muslim religion responded by turning over administration of the Christian sites in his territory to him. This was extraordinary in that safe passage for Christians on pilgrimage in the Holy Land was one of the primary reasons the Crusades had been begun in the first place.

(To this day, most Christian churches in the Holy Land are still administered by the Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land. The roles of the friars are threefold: to maintain the sanctuaries, offer hospitality to pilgrims, and serve the local Christian community.)

The following year, 1220, a centenary we commemorate this year, Francis’ followers were met with martyrdom. Known as the Protomartyrs, and led by Br. Berard of Carbio, these young friars denounced Islam and preached staunchly in Muslim lands in Spain and Morocco. After being imprisoned and exiled three times, they returned once again. This time, however, they were beheaded by the exasperated king himself.

Surely both events were on Francis’ mind when he wrote the Earlier Rule, the next year, in 1221. Perhaps his encounter with the sultan, plus the ordeal of the protomartyrs led to him soften his outlook:

"As for the brothers who go [to the Province of the Holy Land], they can live spiritually among [the Saracens and nonbelievers] in two ways. One way is not to engage in arguments or disputes, but to be subject to every human creature for God's sake and to acknowledge that they are Christians. Another way is to proclaim the word of God when they see that it pleases the Lord, so that they believe in the all-powerful God—Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit—the Creator of all, in the Son Who is the Redeemer and Savior, and that they be baptized and become Christians; because whoever has not been born again of water and the Holy Spirit cannot enter into the kingdom of God" (Earlier Rule, 26).

In this brief text, we see a sort of compromise. The friars are to allow themselves to be “subject” to the Saracens, or, in other words, humble and meek. Nonetheless, they are to proclaim the Word of God when appropriate. This appears to be prudent middle ground, and a wise approach for establishing and maintaining long term relations. In this, we see Scripture: “Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence” (1 Pet 3:15-f).

In my brief sojourns in Israel, I did have some interactions with Muslims and Jews -- on the airplane, taxicab, hotel reception desk, or dinner table. And I can say that – in the spirit of Francis and Scripture – I did not engage in “arguments” or “disputes” with anyone.

Yet, I did have some opportunities to talk about being a Franciscan. I showed my TAU cross and talked about being a Secular Franciscan. And, in turn, I listened to the way they live their faith. Somehow this seems the most appropriate way to interact with non-Christians today. And Francis’ reflections, though at a distance of eight centuries, still prove relevant.

Bret, with his family, a Franciscan friar, and three nuns, shares a meal in Bethlehem with the Muslim proprietors

]]><![CDATA[Padre Pio: A Spiritual Son Comes to America]]>Thu, 09 May 2019 08:24:51 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/padre-pio-a-spiritual-son-comes-to-americaSaint Pio of Pietrelcina and a Spiritual Son

“After my death I will make more noise. My real mission will begin after my death.”
Saint Pio of Pietrelcina

From April 25 through May 5, I had the joy and honor of accompanying to the United State and interpreting for one of the last living spiritual sons of Padre Pio of Pietrellcina. Adolfo Affatato, now 82 years old, met Padre Pio when he was just sixteen years old and spent the last fifteen years of the saint’s life by his side.

Padre Pio was born in 1887 to a poor family on the small town of Pietrelcina (in the region of Campania near Benevento). His baptismal name was Francesco, after St. Francis of Assisi. As a child he wanted to become a priest and friar, however, his parents lacked the money to teach him to read and write. Therefore, his father emigrated to the United States in order to earn money to send his son to seminary.

There Padre Pio began to experience extraordinary graces and supernatural phenomena. However, he was frequently sick which forced him to return home. Back in Pietrelcina, he received the invisible stigmata when he was 21 years old.
When his state improved, he returned to the community near Benevento. Yet, his health – in particular his lungs – remained ill. When a fellow friar suggested he go to the hill-town of San Giovanni Rotondo, where the air might do good for his health, Padre Pio knew he would remain there for the rest of his life. The year was 1916 and Padre Pio was 29 years old.

Two years later, on September 20, 1918, before a crucifix above the ancient church in San Giovanni Rotondo, Padre Pio received the five wounds of Christ. Shortly before that, he had experienced “Transverberation” or the piercing of his heart.

Soon, word of these miracles and his reputation as a mystic and healer spread. Countless souls who confessed to him described how Padre Pio could “read their souls” and how he knew their sins before confessing them. There are stories of bi-location where Padre Pio would appear simultaneously in two places at the same time.

Friars who lived with him recount hearing strange noises at night from within his cell in which the holy friar was struck by demons who left bruises and scrapes on his body. When asked about these phenomena, Padre Pio answered that he did not understand them and that they were a mystery even to him.

Given Padre Pio’s extraordinary popularity, Church authorities exercised prudence, and for a period of time he was forbidden from hearing confessions, celebrating Mass in public, and from corresponding with his spiritual sons and daughters. This caused him immense suffering. Later, the order was lifted by the pope himself.

Despite the many miracles attributed to his intercession, perhaps Padre Pio’s greatest work was the construction of the hospital called, “Sollievo della Sofferenza” (Relief of Suffering) which Padre Pio had built entirely through donations. Having borne the stigmata, which caused him great physical suffering, Padre Pio always had great empathy and compassion for the sick.

Padre Pio retained the stigmata for fifty years until his death on September 23, 1968, when the wounds mysteriously healed. Countless people continue to testify to this day being visited by Padre Pio in dreams or through the fragrance of roses and violets.

Saint Padre Pio was canonized on June 16, 2002.

Adolfo brought a first class relic with him, a glove worn by Padre Pio.

Adolfo met Padre Pio for the first time in 1952 when he was sixteen years old. He naively hoped this “soul reader” would tell him if he had passed his high school final exams. Yet, unbeknownst to this young man, this short encounter would radically transform his life.

The evening prayer service had just finished, and Padre Pio was making his way through the crowded sacristy to his cell to retire for the night. Adolfo was there, too, despite the sweltering July heat, watching curiously at a distance.

Then, as the pained, stooped, stigmatized saint passed among the packed crowds -- as when Jesus called his disciples according to a divine logic not understood by man -- Padre Pio chose this young boy. To his amazement (and that of everyone else) Padre Pio stopped, turned toward him and said, “Adolfo, vieni qui” (“Adolfo, come here.”)

Adolfo went to Padre Pio who placed his hand on his forehead and said, “I have been waiting for you for many years.” As Padre Pio left for his cell, Adolfo stood there amazed as all the people stared at him wondering who he was.

That was the first of Adolfo’s countless experiences, and visits to San Giovanni Rotondo. Soon after, Padre Pio accepted Adolfo as his “spiritual son”: a special relationship limited to a few carefully selected people. From then on, Adolfo began keeping a diary in which he journaled about his experiences with the saint and what he witnessed.

Many years later, Adolfo realized the good he could do with his stories. Thus, he self-published the first edition of his book (paying for all expenses out of his own pocket) with the Italian title, “Io e Il Padre” (“Padre Pio and I”). In it, he sought to make the saint known “more and better.”

The book is a fascinating firsthand account of the supernatural side of Padre Pio as witnessed by a close companion. Yet, it is also touching and moving as the author reveals the tender and endearing side of Padre Pio. In the end, what emerges, however, is the heartfelt story of a man who loved Padre Pio intimately as his own father, and in turn, discovered Christ within.

His book is the fruit of what Padre Pio once told Adolfo, “Give the love that I have put into your heart to those to whom you draw near, because in this is the meaning of life.” This book, indeed Adolfo’s entire life, is a response to that personal mandate he received directly from Padre Pio.

Adolfo’s book, “Padre Pio and I: Memoirs of a Spiritual Son” is available on Amazon in Kindle format:

Adolfo meets with a group of Secular Franciscans

]]><![CDATA[MMXVIII: Two thousand eighteen]]>Sun, 30 Dec 2018 10:09:34 GMThttp://stfrancispilgrimages.com/blog/mmxviii-two-thousand-eighteenHere are some highlights and major events of the Thoman family’s 2018.

January: In the final hours of the last day of 2017, December 31, Katia and I checked out of the pediatric hospital of Ancona, Salesi, (about eight hours after they had said they were going to let us go) with our new bundle of joy and third child, Michael. Though our older two are now pre-teens, the 3-hour cycle of changing a diaper followed by milking, burping, and laying down came back fairly quickly. Though I wouldn’t necessarily recommend having a child in your mid-forties, I will say that he has brought much joy into our family and none of us (especially the older ones) could imagine life without little Michael.

February: Not wanting Iacopo to feel neglected, I took him to the celebrated Ferrari museum in Maranello (not far from Modena) where we marveled at famed race cars and legendary drivers alike. Later, in March, I took him to Milan to see his favorite soccer (football as you say here) team (squad as you say here), Inter, play against my favorite team (squad), Napoli. The game (match as you say here) ended in a 1-1 tie (draw as you say here). So since neither of us could taunt the other with victory and we were both experiencing that blasé “I’m not really happy but at least I’m not disappointed” feeling after your team (squad) ties (draws), we went into the center of Milan where I made a deal with Iacopo: if would attend Mass with at the Duomo, I would take him to the Inter Store Milano. He agreed and we both went away with some satisfaction -- me at having attended an Ambrosian-rite Mass and Iacopo with an official blue and black striped jersey.

March: In late February/early March, a huge once-every-thirty-or-so-years snowstorm struck Loreto. Over the course of five days, the Adriatic coast was pounded by a powerful snowstorm ominously named Burian; apparently, a cold front originating in Siberia in the east collided with moist air from the south blanketing the Adriatic coast with 40 cm (16 inches) of snow! It was fun sledding with the kids, but after a week, everyone was ready to get on with our lives.

For Easter break, we were blessed with the arrival of my dad and nephew. While Grandpa had to refresh his baby-holding skills (no, Michael is not a briefcase), Zach found a rubber band on the ground and pulled his hair back in what, I suppose, was fashionable to Italians. We only had less than a week as he had to get back to school, so we “did” the local area as well as Assisi, Bologna, Venice, and Rome at breakneck speed. At the end of the six-day jaunt, Zach observed: “Italians [I think he meant us] spend a lot of time eating, visiting churches, and watching soccer.” Yes, that is correct.

April: just after my birthday and before April 15, I took a few days and headed back stateside. I didn’t get my taxes finished and had to file an extension anyway.

I had a few Spring pilgrimages and I met Scott and Sam, two deacons from Washington, and walked part of the St. Francis Cammino with them; we only missed one turn, and it was my fault as I like to gab about what’s going on in cities and countries where my participants come from. They had a great attitude: “We’re not trying to impress anyone; we’re here for the experience not the destination,” and they were totally fine taking taxis around the big hills and mountains. Later that month, Fr. Al and parishioners from Immaculate Heart of Mary parish from Atlanta came on pilgrimage to Rome and Assisi.

May: We were blessed with the presence of two brothers in blood and religion, Frs. Jim and Tony Blount, SOLT who came from Georgia and Michigan to be with us to baptize little Michael. I don’t think the fifty or so Italians who came to the baptism were expecting quite what they got (if you know Fr. Jim, you know what I’m talking about; if not, let’s just say that Fr. Jim is gifted with many charisms). After the baptism, Fr. Jim really wanted to go down to the Gargano mountains in Puglia -- the “holiest place on earth” in his words -- to spend time in prayer at the grotto of St. Michael the Archangel as well as the tomb of St. Padre Pio. As often happens with Fr. Jim, special moments of singular grace and intercession punctuated our journey.

June: I continued to sell and promote my books on St. Clare, released in 2017, and St. Francis, which came out in paperback this year (and is considerably more inexpensive than the hardbound). Though Edizione Porziuncola purchased the rights to publish in Italian (and Katia and I translated it two years ago), I would like to be able to say that the Italian edition has already been released, but it hasn’t. It was supposed to be released this summer, but got delayed to October, then to November, and now I don’t know when… Sigh…!

Oh, I read something about an international soccer tournament over the summer, but as neither Italy nor the US even qualified, that’s all I’m going to say about that.

July: For the month of July, all five of us went back home to Peachtree City to visit and introduce our family and friends to Little Guy. It was great spending July 4 with the Colsons, getting current flying with Mike Muller and Dale Carley, having tacos with the Bergholts, skiing and tubing at the lake house with the Nugents, attending an Atlanta United game with the Kelseys. Thanks to Kevin and Nina for taking our older ones to Destin while Katia and I did nothing at mom’s big house. Finally, since my kids can’t seem to get enough Chick-fil-A sandwiches, we visited the corporate museum near Atlanta; I’ve always been impressed with Truett Cathy’s business style and success.

August: At the end of July, we returned to Italy and tacked on an Italian vacation to the US one (August is so hot in Italy it’s hard to work!); we went down to Mottola and spent some time with Katia’s family.

September-October: Over the Fall months, I earned my living with my peak season pilgrimage groups. We had some walking groups from Assisi to Rome and from Camaldoli to Assisi; we had a great group of enthusiastic pilgrims who came to Assisi and commemorated 15 years of business; we had a few families visiting Venice, Florence, Assisi, and Rome. Though tiring, there were many blessings. Thanks to all who came, and all who helped out!

Thanks to my friend David, who put together this nice video of some snapshots of our experiences!

November: In early November, our family was blessed with the presence of my Franciscan literary hero, Fr. Murray Bodo, OFM, for lunch with us in Loreto. His book, “The Journey and the Dream” was the first biography I ever read on St. Francis. He is just as gracious and kindly in person as he is in his books.

Then I dropped off the radar for six weeks and went full-immersion translating a scholarly book about 13th-century Franciscan history and Giotto. Fifty-thousand words didn’t seem like a big deal when I signed the contract with Paulist Press, but I soon found out it was. I occasionally came up for air to change a diaper or accompany the kids to school or soccer or volleyball, but that’s about it. Katia was relieved when it was over.

December: Finally, for the holiday of the Immaculate Conception, I took the family to Florence. The Tuscan capital city will always remain in my heart, as it is the first Italian city I ever visited and lived in, it is where I learned Italian as an undergrad and graduate student, and set me on the path I’m still on. For some reason I assumed my kids would be just as excited about Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio, the history of the Medici family and the bankers, the Renaissance, the art churches and museums… but they’re not. Instead, they were enthralled with a pastry shop called Venchi where liquid chocolate flows like a waterfall along the rear wall and you can get all flavors of gelato and other goodies. Sigh. I will say they did listen to a guide I hired who took them on a treasure hunt through the city; funny how they listened to her, but not me. Hmmm….

So that’s our 2018. Of course here I focused on the highlights of our year -- the positive ones -- and left out the real day-to-day challenges and toils of life: the idiosyncrasies of life in Italy; the physical toil and demands of caring for a little baby together with the mental/emotional difficulties and responsibilities of older pre-teens; the stresses of accompanying large groups of people in a foreign country and all that entails (this year an 80-year-old woman on one of my groups underwent an emergency appendectomy). I do the same thing on my social media -- I only post photos in which everyone’s smiling. (One day I may upload a photo of our family in the heat of an argument.)

Yet through it all -- the joys and sorrows -- we are confident that Our Father is with us, consoling us, loving us, blessing us, as we make our way -- in the words of Sts. Francis and Clare -- “as pilgrims and strangers in this world” to our Heavenly Homeland.

May God bless you this Christmas season and 2019.

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