Day 4: St. Joseph

From the beginning of the day, we took it as a quiet sign from God that we should spend the Feast of St. Joseph visiting churches dedicated to him. 

After morning prayer at the Irish College and a quick coffee downtown, we made our way to San Giuseppe al Trionfale. The church isn't really that old; it was built in the early 20th century and entrusted to the Oblates of St. Joseph. It was intended as a center of devotion to St. Joseph, especially for working families and ordinary faithful. There is something appropriate about that: Joseph, after all, is the quiet patron of the hidden life, of labor, of fidelity without recognition.

Once there, we were delighted to learn that the relics that normally live in a different church we had planned to visit (St Anastasia) had been transferred to this church for the feast day! The veil of Our Lady and the cloak of St. Joseph. For this solemnity, these sacramentals were here and available for veneration. I touched my scapular, consecration bracelet, and some other sacramentals to them.

We went to lunch, but I returned for the afternoon procession.

It lasted nearly two hours. A band led the way, followed by banners, horses, clergy, and a large number of faithful. We prayed the Rosary of St. Joseph, reflecting on the mysteries of his life: his obedience, his guardianship of Mary, the birth of Christ, the flight into Egypt, and the hidden years at Nazareth. Between each decade, there was music, both sung and instrumental. So amazing.

Walking behind the statue of St. Joseph was striking in a way I didn’t expect. Even through the crowds, I could catch glimpses of him ahead—turning corners, leading the way, quietly drawing us forward. His life was marked by deep receptivity: listening, responding without hesitation, placing himself entirely at the service of God’s will—and that obedience gave him a real authority. Mary entrusted herself to him. Jesus was placed under his protection. And in a real sense, the Church still follows him now, trusting his intercession and guidance.

The procession concluded with the Litany of St. Joseph, chanted. The title “Terror of demons” stood out in particular as it often has before to me. A recognition of the authority that flows from humility and obedience.

Mass followed, and I concelebrated with Cardinal Emil Paul Tscherrig, the cardinal priest of the church. Being in the sanctuary, so close to the altar, I was struck again by the simplicity and depth of the liturgy. What sounded like a children’s choir sang ("on the lips of children God has found perfect praise" is an antiphon from Vespers). It was fitting for the day. Joseph himself would have preferred nothing else.

The murals throughout the church deserve mention. They are vivid and instructive, presenting Joseph not as a secondary figure, but as one entrusted with a central role in salvation history. On the left, his betrothal to Mary. On the right, the Nativity. In the middle, his death with Mary on one side and Jesus on the other. In the dome, his ascension into heaven. Beautiful! 

In the evening, we had a last dinner in Rome. Antonio and I went out for gelato after. A simple end to a full day. It was a great grace to spend the day with St. Joseph, quietly, concretely, and within the life of the Church he himself helps to guard.

To be in Rome for this feast, at the Irish College during St. Patrick’s celebrations, in the jubilee year associated with St. Francis, and so soon after the canonization of Carlo Acutis...all of it feels nothing short of providential.

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