it's still may

While visiting Notre Dame in Paris this week, I was reminded that May is the Virgin Mary’s month. Along the side chapels, like many churches, paintings are displayed depending on the chapels’ themes. However, Notre Dame’s are special. A sign titled “The ‘Mays’ of Notre Dame” explained: “[f]rom 1449, the goldsmiths of Paris would offer to Mary a green tree as a gift for the 1^st of May, the month devoted to her. Then later on, works of poetry in [a] chest of gold. Even later, painting[s] by famous painters.”

In a side chapel of Notre Dame, Laurent de La Hyre's painting The Conversion of St. Paul, hangs. It is a 'May of Nortre Dame,' from in 1637.

Dang! My good friend Marisa had given me a heads up on Mary's month while I was still in Roma, but everything got so chaotic that it kept slipping my mind. I had BIG plans to use May to do BIG things spiritually and increase devotion to Mary; what happened? With only a few days left in the month, I had precious little time to make this month special for my Heavenly Mother.

I started by reading. The May Magnificant had wonderful things to say. The editorial by Peter John Cameron illuminated the concept of Mary as soil. Quoting Pope Benedict XVI, he says “[t]o be soil for the Word means that the soil must allow itself to be absorbed by the seed. Mary’s maternity means that she willingly places her own substance, body and soul, into the seed so that new life can grow.” Later, Cameron writes, “[t]he key, then, is simply to do what the seed does: to stay close to Mary the soil… The Word of God who once brought forth Something New in the womb of Mary will be able to take root in us. Through our devout union with Mary, the Word of God will fuse with our personal humanity.”

Then today, in all my Marian spirits, I was blessed enough to plan a visit to the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, the location where Mary appeared to St. Catherine Labouré to instruct her to have the Miraculous Medal struck. A wonderful thing to do for anybody at anytime, but it was particularly fitting for me this week as it is May and St. Catherine’s body is there, and she happens to be my confirmation Saint.

Mary appeared to St. Catherine here; the apparitions from which the Miraculous Medal comes. Now, the fresco on the wall depicts Mary's visit to St. Catherine. The statue of Mary behind the alter is the same image that appears on the medal. And, just below the mosaic to the right is where St. Catherine's body rests. Click here for more on the Chapel.

Saint Catherine understood Mary’s significance. When her mother died, she said, “Now you will be my mother," while looking at a statue of the Virgin Mary. At this time, Catherine was only a child.

We have just over four days to make this month a Marian one. What will you do?

Now, if you want to celebrate Marian May with a prayer....

Holy Virgin, I beg you: enable me to receive Jesus from the Spirit, according to the same process by which you bore Him. May my soul possess Christ, thanks to the Spirit through whom you conceived Christ. May the grace to know Jesus be granted to me through the Spirit who enabled you to know how to possess Jesus and bring him forth. May my littleness show forth the greatness of Christ in virtue of the Spirit in whom you recognized yourself as the handmaid of the Lord, desiring that it be done to you according to the word of the angel. May I love Christ in the Spirit in whom you adored Him as your Lord and looked after Him as your son.

- Saint Ildephonsus of Toledo

5 reasons why my 4 days in portugal were the best of my spring break

Besides the fact that I got sick in Sevilla, so obviously Spain couldn’t be first, and I was only in two different countries for spring break, Portugal was not just a default winner. It earned its position. (Note, I promise I am in love with Spain. See my post on La Sagrada Família if you don’t believe me, but sometimes you just have to pick favorites). Regardless, here is why Portugal took the cake:

1. St. Anthony is Portuguese. For the record: he may be St. Anthony of Padua to most, but he is not Italian and is equally St. Anthony of Lisboa. In Lisbon, there is a Church built atop his home, which we visited. After St. Anthony helped me find my John Paul II crucifix here in Rome, visiting his hometown was an extraordinary highlight of my time abroad and another amazing St. Anthony experience. His feast day is the day before my birthday, and at some point I would love to go to Lisbon one June to celebrate.

I love St. Anthony of Lisboa! Posing by San Antonio,

the Church built over the Saint's home in Lisbon.

2. The pastel de nata is a famous pastry of Portugal and possibly the most delicious pastry I have consumed in my lifetime. We devoured ours in Belém at Pastéis de Belém, a pastry shop that has been open since 1837. The recipe for the pastel de nata, or pastel de Belém as it is called there, comes from the Heironymite Monastery, and “follow[s] the ancient 'secret recipe' from the monastery. Passed on and known exclusively to the master confectioners who hand-crafted the pastries in the 'secrets room', this recipe remain[s] unchanged to the present day,” according to the pastry shop’s website. Besides housing this wonderful food, Belém is as historically important as it is beautiful. Even so, if you don’t make it to Belém when you’re in Portugal (though you ought to), at least eat the pastel de nata somewhere else.

Paul holds up a pastel de nata as I drink my cappuccino

in Pastéis de Belém (above). And, (below), the whole

gang enjoying every minute in Belém.

3. Fatima, the Marian apparition sight, (second in fame only to Lourdes), is in Portugal. And, it is an easy daytrip from Lisbon, where we stayed. To be in the place where Mary appeared to Lucia, Jacinta and Francisco was such a blessing. Even though, as a Catholic, I am not required to believe the Fatima story, I do trust in it fully, trying to follow the teachings of many holy people that have come before. John Paul II said “I've been on a pilgrimage to Fatima as most of you, dear pilgrims, with the rosary in my hand, Mary's name on my lips and the song of God's mercy in my heart." You may not know (as I didn’t until recently,) it was during these apparitions that Mary revealed, among other things, the “O my Jesus” prayer, which many say at the end of each decade of the Rosary. Essentially, being in Fatima inspired in me a greater devotion to the Rosary—what more could I have asked for?

The Basilica of the Rosary in Fatima contains the bodies of the children

to whom Mary appeared and is right next to the spot where Mary appeared.

4. Sintra is in Portugal. Castles. Palaces. Nature. Estates. Gardens. Cory and Paul made fun of the fact that every eight minutes I was wowed by the views and kept calling everything my “favorite,” and Paul tried to get me to go without saying “guys, this is REALLY cool,” every other sentence. That failed miserably, which gave Cory a big kick. But, in Portugal, I felt like I could be a princess, and there is nothing wrong with that.

Inside the Moorish Castel in Sintra is like a magical land.

5. Cabo da Roca, the most western part of Europe happens to be in (guess) Portugal! “Here, where the land ends and the sea begins...” claims the monument there. Standing at the edge of cliffs that drop 140 meters before where the water is then crashing around is terrifyingly powerful. The wind was strong on the coast and it was rather chilly. I was closer to the East Coast than I have been since mid-January, and that tugged at my heartstrings more than a little. Looking west, towards home, I literally felt my heart pulled in that direction. Cory and I joked about just swimming all the way to school. The vastness of the world along with the creativity of our Creator is made very apparent here.

The wind (above) is so strong at Cabo da Roca, the most western part of Europe, but the sky was beautiful as we watched sunset begin.

And (below), Cory spots America!

Paul throws my backpack off the 140 meter cliff. Awesome.

Obrigada, Portugal. I cannot wait to visit this land again.

back to barcelona - what la sagrada família and gaudí will teach you

March 1882: where were you? Not around, I’ll assume. That was 128 years ago. 128 years from now, in 2138, where will you be? Again, not around, I’ll assume. After all, 128 years is well over a lifetime. Gosh, it is long enough for five or six generations to pass.

Incredibly enough, it was just over 128 years ago that the construction of La Sagrada Família, the famous church in Barcelona, began. (However, its story dates back even further—back to 1866). Architect Antoni Gaudí, whom you have certainly heard of, at least in name, was in charge of its design. His work was and is incredibly unique, strikingly loud and delightfully refreshing.

I have visited La Sagrada Família two times in my life thus far and hope for a third trip one day: the first time with my parents when I was just a little baby, a vacation I am sure I appreciated and understood immensely, and just recently with my friends Cory, Paul and Octavia when I saw Barcelona over spring break. La Sagrada Família experience is difficult to explain. When I saw it, I became obsessed with it. It is impossible to just look at; you must study it. I was uninformed of the whole story behind the work. I didn’t understand what half of the symbolism in the architecture was, and most of the details that have taken years to plan and longer to produce went over my head. But, despite my ill education, Gaudí’s work made something move in me. And, after actually researching it, I respect not only the building, but also the man. Unquestionably, Antoni Gaudí was a person to look up to.

Almost 19 years after my first trip to Barcelona, I've returned, and

with the continual construction since 1882 of La Sagrada Família behind me, I couldn't be happier to be back to see this amazing Gaudí masterpiece. In Gaudí's own words, "La Sagrada Família is made by the people and is mirrored in them. It is a work that is in the hands of God and

the will of the people."

However, before I gush too much about Gaudí, more background. The church isn’t finished yet, but it may be finished in the “first third of the 21st century,” according to the Sagrada Família website (and, trusty Wikipedia says it should be finished in 2026, confirming this former hypothesis). Its construction is, and had been since the beginning, funded entirely through donations; with, to quote the Sagrada Família website once again, the “ultimate aim of being a catechistic explanation of the teachings of the Gospels and the Church.” The symbolism I mentioned earlier really does explode from the church: the facades with extensive summaries of Jesus’ life, the towers representing the apostles while pointing us to Heaven, the interior, the structure, the stained glass, the geometry. The list goes on and on.

The Nativity facade (above) of La Sagrada Família impresses everybody. This part of the church is genuine Gaudí work, completed before his death in 1926. Paul and I having fun (below) taking photos outside of the church with the Passion facade in the background. This facade was built after Gaudí's death, but in obedience with the architect's desired design.

Gaudí himself put over 40 years of work into the church, only to be hit by a tram in 1926 outside of La Sagrada Família and die a few days later. He never saw it remotely close to completion. Near the end of his life, he lived, worked and breathed La Sagrada Família, and no other projects were even on the radar. Reading about his devotion to both this church and the Church inspires. And, even though Gaudí would only see one of the bell towers completed, he humbly understood this sacrifice and had no problem leaving the fate of La Sagrada Família in others’ hands. “There is no reason to regret that I cannot finish the church,” he said. “I will grow old but others will come after me. What must always be conserved is the spirit of the work, but its life has to depend on the generations it is handed down to and with whom it lives and is incarnated.” He was fittingly buried in the crypt of La Sagrada Família, which is where Masses are held. With Gaudí missing, the church’s construction is a collaboration of different artists, but the concept is that Gaudí’s intentions are remembered behind everything and his ideas preserved as much as possible. A plan with which Gaudí would unmistakably have no qualms.

The ceiling of the crypt of La Sagrada Família depicts the Annunciation. The crypt is where Gaudí was buried and also where we attended to Mass.

I really cannot imagine dedicating the better half of my life to any project, much less one I knew I could not finish. He was an artist with a purpose and a pursuit; his purpose glorifying God and his pursuit Heaven. We should all be like that. We are all called to be like that, because in 128 years we won’t be here, but we’ll be somewhere else.

we are Easter people

“We are Easter people and alleluia is our song” said St. Augustine. This is certainly true, but why are we Easter people?

Simply, we are Easter people because Easter is vital to our humanity. Without Easter, there would be no promise of salvation and no reason for suffering. We’d be here on Earth with no hope at all. It is today that we remember the glorious strength of Christ.

In his Easter message, Pope Benedict XVI said, “Easter is the true salvation of humanity! If Christ—the Lamb of God—had not poured out his blood for us, we would be without hope, our destiny and the destiny of the whole world would inevitably be death.” Christ conquered death. And through this, rescues us from our own mortality. Only when he died and rose again was his purpose fulfilled. Only through death can he give life.

I was blessed enough to attend the Easter Vigil Mass at St. Peter’s last night. In his homily, the Pope spoke of salvation and baptism. He said, “this cure for death, this true medicine of immortality, does exist. It has been found. It is within our reach. In baptism, this medicine is given to us. A new life begins in us, a life that matures in faith and is not extinguished by the death of the old life, but is only then fully revealed.” He continued later by saying, “it is God who clothes us in the garment of light, the garment of life. Paul calls these new ‘garments’ ‘fruits of the spirit,’ and he describes them as follows: ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.’ ”

St. Peter's is ready for the Easter Season. This photo is of the square

just after midnight on Easter morning when the Vigil Mass ended.

We all spend a lot of time searching for these fruits, love most especially. But, it is hard to perfect ourselves and truly answer the call to holiness we have each received. However, as Benedict said, this process has already begun through our baptism, we must now accept the graces, deny ourselves in light of God’s will and seek goodness: a daily struggle, of course. But, Benedict explained “this changing of garments is something that continues for the whole of life. What happens in baptism is the beginning of a process that embraces the whole of our life—it makes us fit for eternity, in such a way that, robed in the garment of light of Jesus Christ, we can appear before the face of God and live with him for ever.”

May you remember your baptism and all it means for new life in Christ this Easter season. We are all new in Christ’s victory. Sing Alleluia, for it is sincerely our song. We are Easter people. Buona Pasqua!

Happy Easter; He is Risen. Alleluia!

we have the Church Triumphant helping us: St. Anthony, thank you!!

In 9^th grade Christine, my youth minister, gave each high schooler a crucifix blessed by Pope John Paul II. This was about six months before the Pope’s death. I wore the crucifix throughout high school, a reminder of Christ’s sacrifice and the history of man’s redemption.

Summer of 2008, while working at Mar-Lu-Ridge, I lost the crucifix. I spent a lot of time looking for it, but that mountain is huge, and it could have been anywhere! Miles of trails and roads, swimming pools and cabins, it was so unlikely I would find it. And, despite praying for St. Anthony (patron Saint of lost items) to intercede for me, the JPII crucifix didn’t turn up.

I was so upset about it. This wasn’t just some earring or piece of jewelry—it was a religious article, a crucifix. And, after all, it had been blessed by John Paul II! But, my brother, Math, gave me a strong wake up call, telling me that while it was a blessed item, it was still a thing, just a thing. No matter how much it meant to me, the crucifix was not necessary to love God or do His will. If I was getting so upset over losing it, maybe Christ was trying to teach me that the real importance of the crucifix wasn’t in the thing itself. I was so wrapped up in it, the crucifix, that I over looked Him, my God. I had forgotten why I even wore the crucifix.

By the time camp rolled around again the next summer, I had long since learned my lesson. Of course I was (and still am) attached to worldly things and have struggles with materialism, but improvements were in the works. In fact, for my birthday that summer, my parents gave me a new crucifix. Wouldn’t you know, but that crucifix fell off my chain just a few weeks later. I was disappointed, especially since it had been a gift from my parents, but I was in nowhere near the same state I had been the previous summer—no angry crying, no frustration, just a general disappointment at my inability to be cautious. It is just so hard to be careful at camp when you are swimming, jumping, running and going crazy 24/7.

Matt and I pose with our group from week six on top of Shock Rock at camp last summer. With craziness like this, how could I have expected to not lose a crucifix?

A little later that summer, I was waiting for my campers to come out of the camp store when a fellow counselor, Miss Clare, excitedly told me that her camper found my recently lost crucifix! A little boy walked up to me and told me how he had found it in the dirt outside the dining hall. When he opened his hand to show me, I saw that it was indeed my crucifix, but it wasn’t the new one. It was my JPII crucifix from ONE YEAR previous!! I almost couldn’t believe it. St. Anthony had certainly interceded for me, how else would that crucifix have weathered one year on a lonely mountain? Through Christ, St. Anthony had protected that crucifix through icy snowstorms, dirty mud, hungry animals, food trucks, trampling children. I just had to be patient along the way. Once I had learned my lesson, Christ heard my prayers, as well as those of St. Anthony, and let me have my crucifix back.

Now, I am in Rome (see photo to the left of me in the Roman Forum with the JPII crucifix!), one of the greatest places of religious history. Wearing it alongside my Mother Teresa medal, the crucifix went here with me of course. But, this past Thursday, I was late for Mass. When I got off the bus, I had to run about ten minutes to get to church. My jacket was flying open and I remember thinking about how my medals were flying around. However, for some reason I didn’t think to hold them safely as I sprinted. I made it to church a few minutes late, but later that night, when I got to the apartment, I realized I was missing my JPII crucifix. Irritated at my own recklessness and pretty sure that I must have lost it on the way to church, I decided to wait until the morning to look for it. Catherine and I prayed for Mary and St. Anthony’s intercession, and in my anxiety to find the crucifix, I promised St. Anthony a blogpost of the story if I found the crucifix… Still, I kept in mind Math’s advice; it was only a thing.

Friday, my alarm woke me up at 6 a.m. I eagerly shot out of bed and got ready for my search. I’m not sure what my reasoning was, but I planned to walk to the church from my apartment first, then look inside the church, then try to retrace the steps from the church to the bus stop, even though I knew it would be near impossible to do so. I was so hopeful as I started out; St. Anthony wouldn’t let me down. As I walked the route (each passing Roman thought I was insane because I was literally staring at the ground and walking slower than slow), I realized how massive my prayer was. The sidewalk and street were practically the same color as the crucifix, and what I was looking for was little. How was this going to work? Getting a little unsure of St. Anthony and myself, I continued praying and begging, St. Anthony, please, please, please help me look.

I was almost to the church, and still nothing. Momentarily forgetting which way to go, I began to cross the street. I realized my mistake and turned back. But, for some reason I didn’t move in the direction of the church. I have no idea why, but I stepped back and decided to take a second look for the crucifix on the corner I’d just been by. This was the corner I had to turn sharply to get to the church on the way there the night before. After several minutes of search, I figured it wasn’t there. I carried on towards Santa Lucia to see if the crucifix had maybe fallen off inside.

However, as I took a few steps away from the corner, I heard something under my shoe. Before looking, I knew immediately that it must be the crucifix. I tried to keep my expectation at bay, though, just in case. I moved my foot. Lying in the middle of the sidewalk was a tiny, one-inch John Paul II crucifix. My crucifix, no doubt. I clutched it tightly in my fist and holding it to my chest, tears started streaming down my face. This was real.

My crucifix blessed by John Paul II is now safely back onto the chain which it belongs. It is pretty tarnished and beat up, but that is just what happens when you have gone though so much. I owe finding it (both times) to the beautiful intercessions of St. Anthony, the patron Saint of lost items.

You can call it chance or luck, but I know differently. Rome is a huge city with millions (literally) of people, and I covered a huge distance traveling from the bus stop to the Church and then back to the apartment. It could have been anywhere—down a gutter, in the stomach of one of the thousands of dogs here, scooped up by the street cleaners—literally anywhere. It could have been picked up in the wheel of a Vespa and dragged miles across Rome. If I hadn’t doubled back after crossing in the wrong place, I would have never stepped where the crucifix was waiting for me.

St. Anthony, thank you! For all of you whom I asked to pray for the intercession of St. Anthony to find the crucifix, thank you. Christ, for hearing these prayers and granting me this blessing, thank you.

We will just have to see if I lose this crucifix again, (I hope not!) and if St. Anthony will help me out yet another time. However, regardless of what happens to my crucifix from here on out, what I have learned from it will stay with me.

Faith is real. Prayers are real. Saints are real.

I keep this card depicting St. Anthony in my journal. A Priest inside St. Peter's gave it to me just a week or two before I lost the crucifix while dashing through the streets of Rome.

hell is real

I have been in Rome for over six weeks. That is a seriously good chunk of time. Noah was stuck on that crowded arc for less time than this! In other words, a lot happens in six weeks. However, despite all this time, I had yet to see the Sistine Chapel. I live 15 minutes away from it but hadn’t bothered to pay the small fee to go to the Vatican Museums to see it.

Lucky for me (and my education and bank account), there is no entrance charge to the Museums on the last Sunday of every month. Since I was off traveling elsewhere in Italy on the last Sunday of January, I figured I’d take advantage of it this time around.

Well, turns out the Vatican Museums are massive. No, really, they are colossal. I spent about an hour in the Sistine Chapel alone. There is no way I could do justice writing about the complete experience. But, I will do my best to write about The Last Judgment, Michelangelo’s fresco on the Chapel wall behind the alter.

The Last Judgement by Michelangelo is painted on the wall of the Sistine Chapel. Even if the story this fresco tells is extreme, it is so important to keep this perspective in mind. Josemaria Escriva wrote, "[t]here is a hell. A trite enough statement, you think. I will repeat it, then: there is a hell! Echo it, at the right moment, in the ears of one friend, and another, and another."

I’m sure you are all learned people and know about this grand piece of artwork. But, in case you have forgotten, Michelangelo painted it between 1536 and 1541. If your math skills are deteriorating with your ability to recall art history: that would be six years that it took him to paint the wall. Click here for some more background information and to see what the Vatican Museum’s website has to say about the piece.

When first looking at the fresco, one of the most notable characteristics is the vibrant colors throughout the whole painting. Also, I just could not look away due to its sheer size! According to trusty Wikipedia, the work is 13.7 by 12 meters. However, attention to detail is not lost in the grandiose piece. Michelangelo had obviously painted every person with painstaking attention to each element of the body, all the way down to the last muscle. And, it isn’t just a sea of people heading to Heaven or Hell; there are elements that reveal stories of the figures. Possibly the most famous is St Bartholomew holding human skin, as he is known to have been flayed, then crucified. Also, as I learned from my audio guide at the museum, many critics say the skin is Michelangelo’s self-portrait.

Still, the part of the painting that kept drawing my eyes was the man pulling up two souls with Rosary beads. The Last Judgment is probably the most terrifying piece of art I’ve seen. It’s the end of the world, literally. God is righteously judging mankind. In life, judging a person is always held off. After all, ‘only God can judge.’ Well, Christ has come again, and there is indeed judgment to go around. As NSFTM says, “hell is real.” Yet, amidst this seriously frightening reality, there is so much beauty in The Last Judgment, because salvation for many is imminently approaching. It is a challenge to the viewer to change how one is living now, since he or she, unlike those represented in the fresco, still has time. Pope Benedict XVI said “the dramatic scene portrayed in this fresco also places before our eyes the risk of man’s definitive fall, a risk that threatens to engulf him whenever he allows himself to be led astray by the forces of evil. So the fresco issues a strong prophetic cry against evil, against every form of injustice.”

The importance of prayer is manifested clearly through the wall of the Chapel while gazing at the Rosary portion of the image. “Certain souls’ salvation depends on my free decision to say yes to God’s plan,” says the National Catholic Register’s “Guide to the Rosary” as one point for meditation. It is not good enough to hold our hope for Heaven inside of us—we must answer our call to apostolate and bring others to Christ just like the man with the Rosary does in The Last Judgment.

A man pulls two people up into salvation using Rosary beads. This, my favorite part of The Last Judgement, reminds mankind of the effectiveness of prayer.

It is madness that it took me so long to make my way to the Vatican Museums. You can bet that I will be making another trip there. Though, I may just be waiting until the last Sunday of the month to do so. Good art is good art; free is still free.

i met our Mother in rome

For those of you who find North American Catholicism underemphasizing the role of the Virgin Mary in the Church, or who are put off by the extreme emphasis of Central and South American Catholicism (Myles, this is you), you need to visit ROMA, the perfect balance of all that is Mary.

Rome is constantly reminding passersby of Mary’s love and faith with the Marian art that is all throughout the city—regardless of being near the Vatican. But, not without still remembering Christ’s sacrifice and His own role as Eternal High Priest. Before I came to Rome, I knew Mary was wonderful and thought I had enough respect for her. I knew who she was; I liked the Rosary; I thought that was enough. But, until I reflect and pray sincerely and consistently on the subject, I will never begin to comprehend the beauty of the Virgin Mary.

Mary humbly lived within a world post the fall in the garden, yet practiced obedience to God in such a way that she was still worthy of that garden. She is the New Eve, whose decision is upon which our salvation rests. It’s about time a lot of Christians turn towards our Mother, who constantly turned towards God. Ad Christum per Mariam—to Christ through Mary. It’s about time I meet Mary, for real, and what better a place than Rome?

Above, Marian Statue in Santa Maria Del Carmelo, a Church about two blocks from St. Peter's Basilica, splendidly reveals to us her importance in the Church as the Queen of Heaven. And below, a Marian statue sits to side of the alter in the Chiesa del Sacro Cuore del Suffragio (Church of the Sacred Heart of Suffering). Mary is almost looking at the tabernacle, keeping our focus on the Eucharist and reminding us of Christ.

But, Mary isn't just in the churches!! Above, two pieces of artwork of Mary and Child are displayed around Rome. The left piece (a mosaic, I believe) is located above an archway which my bus passes through in transit to and from school, and the right (a painting, I believe) is located near the Piazza del Populo. They are both subtle reminders that much of Rome's beauty is religiously founded. Below, an icon of Mary sits with the first lines of the Hail Mary inscribed above it: Hail Mary, full of grace.

Above, a statue of Mary, left, towers above everything in the Piazza Mignanelli, right next to the Piazza di Spagna. This statue is atop of the column of the Immaculate Conception, which was placed here a few years after the Immaculate Conception became dogma. According to Pope Benedict XVI, in describing this statue, "Mary stands high, on guard over Rome" (read a bit more about the column, BXVI & last year's Feast of the Immaculate Conception here). The inscription at the base of the column can be seen in the photo to the right. Below, a statue of Mary stands safely in the corner of a courtyard at my school, John Cabot University, (a secular American university in Rome).

The Memorare

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, or sought thine intercession was left unaided. Inspired by this confidence, I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me.

Amen.

real counter-culture

Joey Rampino is a baller. No, seriously, he is. Joey is a first year college seminarian St. Charles Borromeo in Pennsylvania. He wakes up at, like, 5 a.m. He is only 18 years old. And, most awesomely, Joey is one of my best friends.

I’ve known Joey since seventh grade. We rode the bus together before we were old enough (or cool enough) to drive. We played basketball at youth group open gyms and went to daily Mass together throughout high school. We graduated Woodson together last June. And, last week, he drove (cause he’s cool enough now) to Williamsburg for a visit.

Joey & I hanging out by Lake Matoaka on W&M campus last week. Seminarians and Priests are such blessings we all too often take for granted.

Joey is such a wonderful witness to the Faith through his understanding, humility and spirituality. I am so glad he is pursuing his vocation to priesthood by discerning at St. Charles; St. Charles is blessed to have a seminarian like Joey. Recently watching Fishers of Men, (see the embedded YouTube videos if you haven’t watched it before, it is legit), gave me a deeper respect for Joey’s call to priesthood (God-willing). Not only did the video move me so greatly as to make me tear up, but it instilled a deep appreciation and love for the sacrifices priests make everyday to serve God and us. As one priest in Fishers of Men said, “when there’s love, sacrifice is easy.” So, while Joey will not have children of his own, he will be the spiritual father of many. He won’t make a lot of money, but will help numerous make it to Heaven. A priest once told me that he didn’t look at everything he was giving up but at everything he would gain by becoming a priest. And, Saint Josemaría Escrivá (I just started reading The Way) said, “No ideal becomes a reality without sacrifice. Deny yourself.“ We must aim to be like Christ. He is the ideal. He gave us the ultimate sacrifice. Since priests are to be in persona Christi, it is only fitting that their vocation is lived out through loving but very real sacrifices.

We are all “called to something more than just mediocrity.” Joey is answering this call. And that, my friends, is why Joey Rampino is a baller.