Day 2: Assisi

Up early for Assisi. Been looking very much forward to this, largely because this year marks the 800th jubilee of St. Francis. His witness has not faded with time. If anything, it has grown sharper. His life still calls out simplicity, poverty, total surrender to Christ.

We barely made the train.

First stop: the Basilica of St. Clare. There, before us, the San Damiano Crucifix, the very cross from which Francis heard the words, “Rebuild my Church.”  Not an idea. Not a feeling. A command. Amazing to look at the original thing. I've seen versions of the Cross hundreds of time, at St. Francis Hospital, at Marian Univeristy, all over. Now I've seen the real thing.

Nearby, the remains of St. Clare. As I approached, a woman nearby began shouting in distress. It was a jarring moment. Evidently an unhappy spirit was in her. What is holy casts out that which is not holy. 

Along the walls were Clare’s words: “Gaze upon Him, consider Him, contemplate Him, as you desire to imitate Him.” The whole spiritual life, attention fixed on Christ.

Then something unexpected. A cardinal present among the sisters, giving an address. Turns out it was Cardinal Ernest Simoni. 97 years old. He was called a "living martyr" by Pope Francis for surviving 28 years of imprisonment, forced labor, and death sentences under Albania's brutal communist regime. Ordained in 1956, he was arrested in 1963 after Christmas Mass for his faith, spending years in solitary confinement and working in sewers before his 1990 release. Known for his forgiveness of persecutors and continued ministry, he was elevated to Cardinal in 2016 at age 88. Pope Francis saw a saint in this man and he went right from priest to cardinal, which is very rare.

That man, that holy many. A priest who endured 28 years of imprisonment and forced labor under a communist regime for remaining faithful. Sentenced to death, later commuted. He suffered greatly, and yet radiates peace and holiness.  I knelt before him. He spoke quietly, something like, “Be strong… be strong.”  

From there, to SAINT Carlo Acutis. A young man. A teenager. His body before us, striking in its normalcy. And yet his life was anything but ordinary. His love for the Eucharist transformed everything.

“The Eucharist is my highway to heaven.”  The same Eucharist he received… I receive. The same Lord he loved… I hold in my hands at every Mass and gaze upon for an hour each day in holy hour. 

Then another realization, just as strong. St. Francis was baptized and confirmed with the same Holy Spirit with which I was baptized and confirmed. The same grace. The same life of God poured into the soul.

What, then, is the difference? Not grace, but response.  What we do with that grace. I prayed hard there for our youth. I love them deeply. I didn’t expect how central they would be to my priesthood, but there is a real call there...to form them, to guide them, to be a father to them. 

Then the Basilica of St. Francis. I concelebrated Mass directly above his tomb. The frescoes by Giotto unfold his life...his renunciation, his embrace of poverty, his total conformity to Christ. You see not just events, but a man who allowed grace to take hold of everything.

The rest of the day moved quickly.

At Santa Maria sopra Minerva, built over an ancient Roman temple, I renewed my Marian consecration. I kept noticing St. Philip Neri, my favorite saint!  At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but then I saw his name on the top of the high altar. His presence there makes sense. He spent his life in Rome, forming souls through joy and simplicity. And he loved Mary!!

At St. Rufino, where Francis was baptized, I renewed my own baptism. The font remains. The place remains. And the grace given there still flows. I prayed Vespers: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.”  Standing in that place, those words felt anchored in something real.  Carlo’s heart is kept there. I prayed for a heart like his--eucharistic, alive, undivided--and that our youth would have those kind of hearts, too. Oh, and a beautiful side area of paintings of St. John Paul II. So amazing and beautiful. 

Outside, children were playing soccer in the square. It was impossible not to think of Carlo as one of them.

Then down the hill to San Damiano. The place where Francis first responded. The plaque recounts how he returned the money to his father, cutting ties, choosing radical dependence on God.  The path is always the same: trust, then more trust. And a good deal of surrender.

Late return to Rome.

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