This is Worth Your Time

Trust me, it is. (reading time: 3 minutes)


Answer me this: what if I told you that you can be guaranteed of seeing your loved ones in heaven?

What if I told you that such a question is, in fact, a reality?

Want to know more? Read on.



The nature of the Catholic Church is missionary; that is, it's purpose is to bring everyone (and I mean everyone) into the presence and love of God. The Church is not here to bring condemnation or to tell you how bad you are (we can do that on our own). Rather, the Church is here to bring us fullest joy and eternal life. Not a bad mission statement, I'd say.

Well, in keeping with this mission, the Church has it within Her power to "bind and loose" (Mt 16:19)-- that is, through God's grace, She can forgive sins. Even more though, She has the power to "remove temporal punishment due to sin." Namely, as possessor of the keys of heaven, She has the power to grant a soul a direct ticket into heaven.

One way She does this is through the Apostolic Pardon. Another way is through indulgences. It is this second way that I tell you about now. (But, if you don't know about the Apostolic Pardon, find out about it immediately--or email me and I'll tell you all about it!).


Ok, so... indulgences.

Admittedly, indulgences have gotten a bad rap. They were at one time bought or sold; the cornerstone of corruption in a few bad priests and bishops scheme. Always, though, they have been a guaranteed power of the Church to grant to souls-- a power removing punishment for forgived sins. Indulgences are awesome. They have never been bad-- rather, it was the ways that they were implemented that were so often abused.

With the abuse gone today, indulgences offer their same effective purpose: to bring everyone into heaven. Ok, so, what exactly do they do? Well, when we sin, we commit an injustice. And we must pay for that injustice. Through God's mercy and Christ's sacrfice on the cross, we don't have to pay for our injustices with our eternal soul. Our injustices can be forgiven. Therefore, we only have to pay back something temporal for our sins. We equate this with Purgatory.

In Purgatory, we undergo a "refinement"-- a paying back of sorts-- for our sins, for the harm we have caused. It is a punishment for our bad works; but it is a just punishment that has hope attached: we know that we are bound for heaven. Purgatory is temporal... it doesn't last forever. But nevertheless, the punishment still sucks.

The Church has the power to remove such punishment.

The Church perscribes ways that the faithful here on earth can participate in Her power and, in so doing, forego any punishment. By granting indulgences to the faithful, the faithful on earth can be given partial or complete (plenary) remission of temporal punishment (ie, Purgatory). Reading your bible prayerfully for 30 or more minutes will give you a partial indulgence-- boom! some punishment relieved! (don't you feel better?)


Now, being that this is the Year of the Eucharist, Pope John Paul II has provided an opportunity for a plenary indulgence-- that is, an opportunity for complete remission of temporal punishment (Purgatory). Get one of these and you're bound for heaven (granted, that is if you don't sin again before you die.... the plenary indulgence won't cover future sins, sorry).


But, here's the even better thing: these indulgences can be given to those who have died and may still be suffering in Purgatory. So, let's say that your great uncle died last year... suppose he committed a lot of sins, but he was forgiven them... so, he's in Purgatory because he still has to pay for those sins. Now, if you get a plenary indulgence and, in receiving it, give it to your great uncle, he will no longer be in Purgatory. He's in heaven.

Now, remember: Christ granted this power to His Church: "All that you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven. All that you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." Christ has given His Church the power to open the gates of heaven.

(Note though: an indulgence only works for those sins which have been forgiven. All other sins (and punishment) must be accounted for in another manner. If you aren't forgiven of your sins in this life, the earthly church cannot help you in attaining that forgiveness in the next-- that's up to God then).


So, why do I tell you this? Well, good friends and family, I am in a situation to get plenary indulgences every day. One way to receive a plenary indulgence in this Year of the Eucharist is to receive the Eucharist at one of Rome's four major basilicas (and have gone to confession 20 days recently, and say an Our Father for the intentions of the Pope). I do this every day.

Now that I'm personally glowing from plenary indulgences, I would like to get everyone I know into heaven. Here's where you come in.


Tell me the names of everyone to whom you want me to give the plenary indulgence I receive. These names must be of people who have died. I cannot apply a plenary indulgence to you or your sister or your dog. Email me at big70mcgwire@hotmail.com and I'll apply my plenary indulgence to your deceased loved one. Let me do this for you!

I have about 80 days left in Rome. That's 80 souls....

This is Near Despair

It's been another week since my last post (are we seeing a pattern here?) and this is because I was out of town for a bit. "Where?" you ask. Well, read on, friends! Read on! (reading time: 5 minutes)


The Franciscan-Austrian students were in Rome this past week, making a pilgrimage. Steve, my roommate, met up with them (as did I), and we went to various places around town. On Thursday last, they left Rome for Assisi-- the birthplace and resting spot of St. Francis and St. Clare. As they departed, Steve and I decided to head for this quintessential Italian hilltown as well.

So, I got my train ticket and headed off to the train station that Thursday. Steve was running late in his packing, so he took the subway to the train station. As a result, I never saw him on the train that we were supposedly taking together. Bad Omen #1: I'm alone on this train.

So the train is chugging along and it comes into Assisi in the early evening. The weather is cool, but it is drizzling as well. As I climb off the train, the chill awakens me to the fact that Steve is nowhere to be found. When the train pulls away and I find myself again alone on the platform, I think back to Bad Omen #1 and immediately turn to Bad Omen #2: I'm alone in a foreign place.

So I sit at the outside train platform, watching the drizzle pick up to rain and rain to a feverish downpour. The wind begins to howl and the temperature drops dramatically. I huddle in my coat and hat and wonder: "Where am I staying tonight?" Lightning stikes. Thunder follows.

Normally, "where am I staying tonight" is a question usually answered BEFORE someone leaves on a two-hour train ride-- and, for all intents and purposes, for me it was: I was spending the night with Steve and the Franciscan-Austrian students he had met up with while in Rome. He asked if we could sleep on their hotelroom floor. They said sure.

The problem is: without Steve, I knew not their resting place.

An hour passes and with it, all feeling in my toes. A train passes, then another. I think one had cows on it. All I know is that a little while later, Steve hops off a train. We both have a good laugh-- he because he had gotten off a stop too early (he was on the same train as I was, just a different car). And I was laughing because I had feared I would be homeless for the night.

After our communal chuckle, I turn to him and ask: "So, when will the Franciscan students be here, Steve?"
"I don't know, they are coming in on buses."

Now, I had thought that we were meeting everyone on the train platform. Wrong Assumption #1.

"So, do we know where those buses are arriving at, and where they are staying?"
"Nope. We'll look for them. It'll be alright."

"Allright??!?" my mind spewed within, "Allright??!?! I'M FREAKING COLD!" Bad Omen #3: I'm in a foreign place with no guaranteed housing for the night. And it the rain has now changed to snow. (Thus taking Bad Omen number 4 through 10).

Thinking I had guaranteed housing: Wrong Assumption #2.

Now, the train station in Assisi is 3km from the main city center. Steve and I figure that this is where the Franciscan students are. So, instead of becoming like snowmen in the burgeoning blizzard, we invest in pubic transportation and wait a half-hour for the bus.

Ok, so the bus is supposed to drop us off on the north side of town, by this huge church. Wrong Assumption #3: Italian buses don't always go where they're supposed to.

In fact, to our surprise, the bus stops in a dark section of town and tells everyone (in Italian) to get out. "This can't be our stop, Steve."
"I think he is turning off the bus...."

And the bus driver did. He had turned off the engine and began playing shirades with us two stupido Americanos remaining, saying in broken English: "Outta you... off!"

Now, it's dark, it's snowy, it's windy, it's cold, and Steve and I have just been dropped off in the middle of nowhere. We have no clue where we are at, except for on top of a hill near the city. So, we walk to it. But we find no one. So we away from it. Darkness. So we turn back towards it again. An infinite regress of circling.

After slogging through the snowy streets, feet and hands now frozen, we realize that everything is closed up. It's 7pm at this point-- the time when everything closes down and Italy eats. So we wonder around. And I start thinking: "God, are you really going to make me homeless tonight? I mean, I know that this is St. Francis' hometown, and I know that he was poor and homeless, and I know that this is a pilgrimage and all, and I know that I'm trying to truly embody the spirit of Francis and of Christ-- BUT, ARE YOU TRULY GOING TO MAKE ME HOMELESS????"

This is Me Never Doubting Again

(reading time: 5 minutes)


The questions, the bad omens, the wrong assumptions-- even the cold, snowy weather-- penetrated my thick coat. I had thoughts dark as the night. It wasn't the homelessness that I was afraid of. It was the freezing to death part that bothered me. I hadn't completely given up my search for a warm place-- but neither would I shy away from the possible challenge Christ could provide me in being homeless. "Fine, I'll be homeless. But, I won't like it. And I'm going to search until I'm too tired to search."

Around a corner Steve and I went. There, with lights on and people inside, a Gelatteria-- a bar/ice cream shop (the best of both worlds). Craving warmth, we climb into the small store. Immediately, the smell of warm chocolate wafts into our noses. I can almost taste the green mint. And coffee too! And pastries!

(If we're going to be homeless, it's not going to be for another two hours-- and I'm packing some food!)

Steve and I wipe our mouths and the wet snow from our cold coats. We're melting all over the place. The owner of the place, a younger Italian woman whom Steve found easy on the eyes, was a smart one. Sensing that we were lost (and stupid Americans), she began to offer some help in Italian. But, we're English.

Let the half-hour game of Shirades begin!

We tell her our story, how we need a place to stay, how we have a place but just don't know where it is at, and all of that.... ending in what should have been complete confusion. But, beautiful Italian girl know: "I call hotel for you."

She calls a random hotel-- some hotel that she thinks might have an open room.... They tell her that they will check and will call her back in 5 minutes.

5 minutes in Italian time equals 20 minutes American time. (no wonder the ruins of Rome are still intact).

They call back and have one room left. After feeling like Mary and Joseph looking for an inn to stay, Steve and I head for the hotel.

Now, that should be the end of the story. Steve and I should have bought the room, warmed up, and called it a night. But Steve's gonna think about it: "I really think I can find those Franciscan students. You can buy the room if you want. I'm going to go back outside and search for them."

As Steve leaves the lobby of the hotel, everything grows silent. I'm there in the lobby, pondering what to do when, suddenly: voices! I hear voices! I hear English-speaking voices! I hear a large group of English-speaking voices having a good time!

"STEVE!!! WE NEED TO EXPLORE THIS HOTEL!!!!"

We go downstairs and (YOU KNEW THE ENTIRE TIME!!!) there are the Franciscan students. Actually, though, there's only half of them there. The other half are elsewhere-- including the people we were supposed to stay with. But, A-HA! The co-ordinators of this trip are here, and they have the hotel name of where our guys are! "Quick, go up there, as they'll probably be finishing dinner shortly."

We book it to the hotel up the street, bust into the restaurant, and find out guys, wiping their mouths with their napkins, having just finished dinner. Five minutes later, and we woud have missed them.

We follow them out the restaurant door, go up a street or two, unlock our hotel room, and crash-- in glorious warmth-- on our beds.


So, let's recap that for a moment:
I went on a train alone to a place I didn't know.
To a city where I didn't have a place to stay.
And took a bus which dropped us off in an unknown spot.
Which led us to forty years in the desert.
But we found a random store.
In fact, the only store open.
Who had a generous owner
Who called a random inn
Which had one remaining room
Which happened to be exactly where the Franciscans were
Which also happened to be where the coordinators were
Who happened to have a list where everyone was staying
Who we found just in time to make it up to the restaurant
where our group was getting ready to leave at that precise moment.

Coincidences? I think not.


I shall never doubt again.