Hello everyone! Welcome back to my blog! It has been a while since I posted-- but I'm sure you can understand what has been keeping me from my computer.

Before you read on, know that this next posting is HUGE and will have to sustain you for a week, as I am traveling to Lourdes, France. So, I'd suggest reading it in parts, and not all at once (you'd never make it through). I do hope, though, that you get to read the entire thing, as it is pretty amazing (or, so I'd like to think).

Enjoy, and I will write again upon my return on Monday, April 18th.

This is Behind the Scenes, Part I

Something tells me that you all know about the death of John Paul II and the events which followed-- the media is rather good at imparting basic facts. You've seen the world reaction, the crowds of people standing in line to see the Pope, perhaps even the funeral Mass. Now that you are completely numb to any more pictures and articles about these events, I thought that the present moment would be the perfect time for me to publish....

(And I apologize to those people with a dial-up connection. Go get a tea or some cookies, and come back in half an hour when everything is downloaded)

The story begins before I even departed from Medjugorje....

I had been doing a lot in Italy over the past two months. I had seen the major tourist sites in Rome, went to Mass at the Vatican, enjoyed a few basilicas and found many hidden churches. I did a little studying, a little class-attending, and I even got to go to Assisi:

I enjoyed the hills there and was deeply moved by the lives of two great saints: St. Francis and St. Clare-- both of Assisi. I learned simplicity. I learned to trust God.

I even got to explore outside of Italy and made a journey to Austria. There, I met some amazing friends from Franciscan, climbed a couple "mountains," reflected on God's working in my life, and found Him again in His wonderful creation.

When I departed from there, I was ready for Holy Week in Rome.

Holy Week in Rome was amazing, as I got to attend all of the celebrations (except Good Friday, when I had some flu thing). Holy Thursday had an unexpected surprise when, after Mass, I learned of the tradition of visiting the tabernacles in the churches of Rome (to hold vigil with Christ as he agonized in the Garden of Gethsemane). Every church was open and, for the most part, dark-- except for the tabernacle area. Not only was the centrality of the Eucharist in the faith illuminated, but so also was the true and powerful image of Christ being "light in the darkness."

On Easter, I saw the the glory of Christ's passion AND resurrection, the glory of the universal Church, and the glory of the Catholic faith when six people from six continents were baptized and confirmed. As they received their first Eucharist, so was I in full communion with them.

It's no surprise, then, that as God led me to a Eucharistic life--a life of radical dependence on him, of trust, and of simplicity--he would lead me to Mary, his Mother, so that I would learn how to pray.

I say this because during Holy Week I heard that Lisa and Amy were going to Medjugorje (a village in Bosnia-Herzegovinia whose life revolves around the life of Christ and the messages of Mary). Steve, my roommate, had gone there before, and enjoyed it thoroughly, encouraging us all at some point to go. In one night, I planned and decided on the trip to Medjugorje, catching a train the next afternoon to Ancona, the Italian port city on the Adriatic Sea-- the city where I would catch a boat to cross.

There, I found that boat and pretended to be St. Paul for the 10-hour journey

The journey across the Adriatic was a little more "up-and-down" than I had anticipated. And, although I didn't get sick, I needed to detach my sea-legs before walking on land again.

I bought the cheapest ticket on board and slept on a bench in the bar. Not many people were on board, so it was quiet. When I awoke, I the Croatian coast was in sight and the sun rising slowly over the city of Split.

I had three hours to wait before my bus left for Medjugorje, so I decided to explore Split, Croatia. The views all around the city were amazing.

And it's interesting: I wanted to go to Mass at some point during the day, but didn't think I would be able to find a Mass in Split in time to catch my bus. But, within 10 minutes of departing my ferry, I bumped into a church which happened to be getting ready for Mass. Just a mere 15 minutes after arriving in Croatia, I was partaking in Mass with the people.... of St. Francis Assisi parish.

After Mass, I explored the city-- and I found the highest point in the town: the Tower at St. Dominic's. This too I very literally bumped into, for I had explored the church but didn't think the tower was accessible. As I was leaving, I saw a sign by a TINY door in the wall of church. "5 Kuna" it said-- I knew this was the currency of Croatia-- but what it was for, I did not know. I asked the attendant and he pointed up. Ahhh, the tower IS accessible! I eagerly paid the 5 Kuna (about 50 cents, American) and clambered up the stairs....

And this was the view...

Again, I was sitting at God's school, being educated in beauty.

So, after the breath-taking views of Split, Croatia, I boarded a bus and headed south for Medjugorje. With so much traveling already, I could barely stay awake for the 4-hour trip. But, for the parts that I did, I got amazing views.

The best part about the bus ride is not pictured here-- and that part is the coastline of Croatia. I couldn't get a picture of it, since we were hurling up and down hills at ridiculous speeds. But, think of something like the northern California coastline-- only bigger. The hills jut right out of the ocean and sky up to 1000 feet, easy. One mountain had snow on it--and it was no more than a half-mile from the coast. Then, imagine some small towns nestled in the tight valleys, with a church steeple pointing in between. The coast was surreal-- I hope when I go back (and I will), I will be in a slower bus from which I can take some good pictures.

After the coast, I crossed the boarder and into Bosnia-Herzegovinia. Now, this country is amazingly beautiful-- like Croatia. Think mountainous Mexico in spring or southern Colorado in summer. Anyway, I eventually found myself in the very small town of Medjugorje. And as I was dropped off, I was immediately lost. I didn't know exactly where I was staying-- I just knew that I was staying with "Patrick and Nancy." I was supposed to find a taxi, say their names, and be all good.

And I was. For, I found the taxi, said the names, took a short drive, rounded a corner, and was approached by this:

This is Nancy and Patrick's castle. This is where I stayed.

This is Behind the Scenes, Part II

Upon my arrival, I immediately knew God's love. I was greeted by a priest, who happened to be of the Legionaries of Christ-- the order which runs Gateway Academy in St. Louis (the school who is currently pursuing me). This was my first encounter with a Legionary. And they are awesome! (Later, I found out that he and, later, his other priestly friend, were both the recruiting directors for all of Europe).

As I was saying, immediately upon my arrival, I knew God's love. I was taken in, sat down at a table, offered lamb and salmon and beef and salad and potatoes and fruits of all sorts and cookies and chocolate and juice and milk.... and yeah: food is God's love made edible.

I ate and explored home.

Home for six days was Medjugorje. And Medjugorje is an interesting place—“interesting” in a good way. Every night, the entire town comes out for “the evening program” which consists of the Rosary at 5, Mass at 6, and Eucharistic Adoration following at 8 or 9. EVERY NIGHT—not just Sunday, not just the first Friday of every month—but EVERY NIGHT they pray and receive Christ fully in the Sacrament. When you see the townspeople doing this—and not just pilgrims—but the townspeople every night (and I was there for five nights), you get a sense that something is going on here. Something incredible. The fruits speak the truth of the works.

Just ask Fr. Jozo what he thinks about this village and the Marian messages the people receive. At one time, he didn’t believe. He was as skeptical as they come. One night as he was praying in the church, he heard a voice: “Protect the children.” He wrote it off at first-- he didn't see any children in the church. But it bugged him. So, he went outside and there were some children being chased down by the police. The children were the ones who had been receiving the marian messages; and the Communist government at the time wanted to silence them. Fr. Jozo then started to believe. As his belief grew, so did his good works. Now he has started a rehabilitation center near Medjugorje that helps children with disabilities and children who are orphaned.

Whether or not you believe the apparitions to be legit, there is one certainty with them: they teach truth. In the messages, Mary tells us to do five things: (1) pray, (2) receive the Eucharist, (3) go to Confession, (4) read the Bible, and (5) fast.

These five things are the stuff of God's wonderful Ocean of Mercy into which the waterfalls of Grace pour.

1) She tells us to pray more—this is not new (in fact, Paul says this in his first letter to the Thessalonians: “Pray constantly” [5:17]). Of course, the Rosary is emphasized—but the saints have always emphasized the power of the Rosary. From St. Louis de Montfort to JPII, the Rosary has often been called The Weapon against sin and the greatest prayer for faith and conversion.

And why should we pray? Because, we want to love perfectly—and we can’t do that on our own. We need—yet, we cannot satisfy our needs (nor, the needs of others) on our own. We die—and we cannot bring ourselves new life. Only God can bring us to eternal life. We need God’s help.

He says:
“Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and to him who knocks it will be opened. What father among you, if his son asks for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!" (Luke 9:11-13)

2) So too, Mary tells us to go and receive the Eucharist more—again, this is not new. “The Eucharist is the source and the summit of the Christian life” (John Paul II quotes Vatican II's Lumen Gentium in his letter to us: Ecclesia de Eucharistia. I HIGHLY recommend reading it-- it's fast and easy).

“I am the vine, you are the branches; and all who live in me will bear great fruit.”

"I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that a man may eat of it and not die." (John 6:48-50)

3) She tells us to go to confession once a month—which is in-line with what we know: “the regular confession of our sins to a priest helps us form our conscience, fight against evil tendencies, let ourselves be healed by Christ and progress in the life of the Spirit. By receiving more frequently through this sacrament the gift of the Father’s mercy, we are spurred to be merciful as he is merciful. Whoever confesses his sins… is already working with God. The beginning of good woks is the confession of evil works.” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1458)

"For this is the will of my Father, that every one who sees the Son and believes in him should have eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day." (John 6:40)

5) And Mary tells us to fast. Fasting is not just for lent. And it’s not just a “pious” practice. In some sense, we do it all the time (in some form): we aren’t eating sweets or chocolate at every meal, nor are we having sex every moment of the day. If we eat sweets all the time, we tire of them. If we have sex all day long, we tire of that too. Likewise, if we eat sweets all the time, we’re neglecting our health. And if we’re having sex all the time, we’re probably neglecting some obligation we have outside the bedroom.

In these two things, we know that we must practice some temperance. That is, we choose to do some thing at some time and we choose to refrain from some thing at other times. Being able to choose—to say “yes” AND to say “no” to some thing—is freedom. If we’re saying “yes” all the time to our urge for chocolate or to our urge for sex, we have become slaves to that urge. We cannot chose. We aren’t free.

Not only is fasting an exercise of freedom, but it leads to greater enjoyment of the thing we have fasted from. When I do a long day of work, and haven’t had food all day, and I come home to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, that peanut butter and jelly sandwich tastes sooooo good. Somehow, it tastes better at that moment than any peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’ve had before. The same can be said about sex: if there is a period of fasting, then the next time will be even more enjoyable. You won’t take your spouse for granted, you’ll give yourself more completely, and you’ll find that you have chosen, together, to give completely and freely (instead of being a slave to your urge). Only by saying “no” could you have truly given a full “yes.”

And even more so, fasting allows us to participate in and receive God’s amazing love and the gifts that come from it. God knows how much of a sacrifice it is to not have food for a day. God knows how much of a sacrifice it is to go without sex for a week. God understands the pain and the suffering involved, because God sacrificed, suffered, and experienced the greatest human pain by being on the cross. And just as God poured out his love and grace from that cross—love and grace which brings us to eternal life after we die—God pours out his love and his infinitely many gifts upon you who sacrifice and suffer. As you fast, He gives. As you receive no food into your body, He feeds your soul.


Jesus said to her, "Every one who drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst; the water that I shall give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:13-14)

4) Mary tells us to read the Scriptures more. Duh! (It’s ridiculous that Protestants should know the Bible better than Catholics—to quote a friend: “Protestants need to be sacramentalized while Catholics need to be evangelized.”)

"Simon Peter answered him, 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.'" (John 6:68-69)

"That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life -- the life was made manifest, and we saw it, and testify to it, and proclaim to you the eternal life which was with the Father and was made manifest to us -- that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you may have fellowship with us; and our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. And we are writing this that our joy may be complete." (1 John 1:1-4)

With these five things constantly in mind during the five nights in Medjugorje, I could feel myself changing. As I prayed the Peace Rosary (seven Our Fathers, seven Hail Mary's, seven Glory Be's-- in sets of three), I saw the interconnectedness of prayer. The faith and the prayer life were coming alive. I felt a calling on to improve my prayer life... and something more-- I felt a calling to be unselfish. To serve.

But not just because of these five things and these three prayers. The witness of the people in Medjugorje is amazing. It is an interesting place because it is one of the few places where the faith is very truly and real-ly alive. The priest I had mentioned before-- his selfishness and service-- inspired the same type of charity within me. The couple whose house I stayed at-- Nancy and Patrick-- whose story is an entire blog itself, showed me the beauty of marriage and complete dependance on God. Everything they had to eat was given to them-- and they fed us like kings.

A quick story about how God provides...
As Patrick was driving me to the bus on my last day, he mentioned how things are always hectic around the castle with people coming in and out all the time. Sometimes, like today, he said, he forgets to pick up toothpaste before it runs out. It ran out this morning. As he dropped me off on the bus, a man came up to him with a box. I watched as Patrick opened it up and nearly fainted with surprise-- and laughter. Inside the box: 40 tubes of toothpaste.

The people of Medjugorje, with their dedication and devotion to "the apostolic teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and the prayers" (Acts 2:42), enkindled in me a joy and a real hope that this faith that we proclaim can and should be lived-- it truly does lead us to happiness and, ultimately, eternal life and love with God.

It is with this background of radical dependance on God, of renewed appreciation of His created beauty, and of heightened awareness to prayer, sacraments, and fasting that I returned to Rome.



(And Fr. Rookie says hello to y'all).

This is Behind the Scenes, Part III

It wasn't until I was in front of the Eucharist that I cried for John Paul II. I was in Medjugorje and at Eucharistic Adoration when I heard of his death. And I found it interesting that, as I was now without a Pope, the School of the Eucharist and the School of Mary had merged and I was sitting at both of them. John Paul had brought me, through his writings and love, to both. I cried now because my mentor and friend, a man who I truly looked up to, had to move on to something better. I was, in a way, a sheep without a shepherd.

I boarded a plane from Split, Croatia and arrived in Rome on Sunday night. After classes on Monday, I headed for Vatican City on Tuesday to thank the man who had given me so much. Millions of others joined me.

Millions.

I was just one. But, as I was just one, so was John Paul. And all of this was for him.

Millions of people lined the streets of Vatican City, coming from six continents, waving flags from more countries than I can name. I was one in a sea of millions.

And I began to think: What was it about this man? What was it that brings millions of people to brave long trans-continental flights, twelve-hour lines, fatigue and stiffness—what is it that brings people to do all of this for just a glimpse of the man?

This was a man who had faced the greatest evils of which we are capable and the entire spectrum of human suffering: from his parents dying at an early age, to living through the horrors of the Nazi slaughter in his native Poland, through the alienation of the successing Communist regime. He battled a gunshot wound-- received not during wartime, but at his own home in the Vatican. He fought the war between good and evil while his body fought the war of Parkinson's. Yet, he never despaired. This was a man who loved to ski, who loved the mountains, who loved beauty with a passion which I have never seen an equal. This was a man who saw God in all the created world. He saw God in man.

As I entered into St. Peter's Basilica in the cold of midnight on my 24th birthday, the warmth of his new life emanated through the parted curtain door. "Don't cry for me, but celebrate as you would your birthday," he spoke as I passed his regal body, "I celebrate with you today new life!" The crimson-robed martyr, the man who gave his entire life for his Love, rested before me. His cross he held lightly in his hand. The choir began to chant the Salve Regina. "Behold, the man," I thought. But, somehow-- and especially today-- he seemed like so much more than that.

Here is a man of the Eucharist, a man of Mary, a man of prayer, a man of the scriptures, a holy man. Here is a man who truly lived the faith. And truly living the faith is a difficult living. We all know it is so difficult. But, he did it. He showed humanity that it is possible and that our faith is living. He gave us hope and so much more.

Wednesday and Thurday were difficult for me. Knowing that just down the road, the man who had once led the Church was no longer there, that his windows were closed and his lights, which had waved goodnight to me after each 6pm Mass at St. Peters, were now extinguished-- I couldn't help but feel a part of me missing. Hearing his name in the Eucharistic Prayer during Mass at St. Maria Maggiore and the solemn Gregorian Chant of the communion song which followed brought tears to my eyes and, with them, an inability to sing. I had to start saying goodbye.

I was asked on Thursday afternoon if I wanted to go camp-out at the Vatican for Friday's Funeral Mass. With 5 minutes to decide and pack, I agreed.

At 2pm Thursday, the crowds were still amazing, but I found a place along a wall next to St. Peter's Square to crash for the day and to sleep during the night. And it was there that I realized the true reason for funerals:

Yes, funerals are for saying goodbye and for greiving, but, ultimately, they are a celebration.

Nearly two million Poles arrived in St. Peter's that night while we tried to sleep on that wall. It was a cold night of 39, but the Polish singing and the children laughing-- these kept us warm. The cold sadness of losing a love began to dissolve into a warm internal storytime of "remember when...?" Remember when he went skiing? Remember when he came to St. Louis? Remember when he wore Bono's sunglasses? Remember when he blessed us at Easter?

Admittedly, without heaven to follow, this man’s life would be merely a nice addition to history; his life inspiring in us no more than good sentiment. His motives would be questioned, his spending his precious time serving others ridiculed. But, as he sits at table with Mary and Joseph, Christ the Son and the Father of all, we rejoice. Heaven does follow! And so, just as his beautiful life points us to the glory of heaven, so too does his death; for, in his death is the resurrection to new and glorious life. Truly, then, funerals are a time of celebration.

All around, believers raised banners and chanted: “Subito santo!” (“Saint immediately”). Here, I couldn’t help but laugh: the man who had canonized more saints in his pontificate than were canonized in the past 500 years was, as he was lifted to the saints in heaven, raised by the people on earth to that same level of greatness. And I wouldn’t doubt it if it was Padre Pio, St. Faustina, and Maximilian Kolbe who started the chants in the first place.

As the hundreds of Polish flags waved red and white in the crowd, their colors wrapped me in one last idyllic thought: if Mary had offered him the crown of purity and the crown of martyrdom, I’m certain John Paul II would have chosen both. And in his life, I think he did.

Thanks, John Paul II. We love you.

And now that you have reached the end of this magnus opus, I have something for you. Email me your snail-mail address so I know to whom and to where I should send my gifts.

(See you all next Monday-- the beginning of the Conclave-- when I return from Lourdes, France!)

This is Pier. We Share the Same Birth Day.

Ok, so another week has passed. An eventful week. I have a lot to write about and a lot of pictures to show you. Unfortunately, I cannot do this right now with so much going on and so much to process and reflect upon. So, please stay tuned. A huge blog will come on Saturday.

In the meantime, check out Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati. He's awesome. Read all about him at http://www.bettnet.com/frassati/ and see what John Paul II said when he made Pier a "Blessed": http://www.bettnet.com/frassati/fr-homily.html

See, he even looks like me.