On the Uniqueness of Saints: A Pilgrimage Story

My last post was about the uniqueness of each individual person, and how that uniqueness shines forth when we become holy-- when we become saints. Today, I want to offer a concrete example of this from the history of our great Church.

About a week ago, I returned from a 10-day trip to Italy. It was a pilgrimage to many of the holy sites of Rome, Assisi, and Siena. I could go on for days describing all that we heard and saw and experienced there, but instead, I'll describe the first leg of the trip (Assisi and Siena) and the spiritual journey that followed.

For the past few months before my trip, I had been unsettled. I felt spiritually lethargic. I lacked the fire and zeal I have experienced before in my journey of faith. My soul was heavy, fearful and unwilling to embrace any suffering the Lord may call me to embrace. Fear was really the problem, though, not the suffering itself. Fear screamed that God would ask me to suffer in a way that I wasn't ready for, while Faith softly whispered that God would not give me anything I couldn't handle with His help. Despite all this, I was very excited to go to Italy; it was the trip I'd dreamed of taking. I hoped it would cause spark in my soul again and set my emotions ablaze with the awareness of God's presence. What happened, however, was not what I was expecting. It was better.

Assisi from the castle on the hill above it.

After landing in Rome on a Wednesday morning and briefly visiting the Major Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls, we traveled to Assisi, the home of the great saints and founders, Francis and Clare. To say that Assisi is beautiful would be a gross understatement. The little medieval town built of pink sandstone glistens brightly in the sunlight on the side of a mountain. You can spot it from miles away. Everyone I know who has been there can describe it in only one word: "peaceful." Assisi is a holy place, and you can feel it. It is quiet, although there are always pilgrims and locals wandering its narrow, medieval streets.

Me in front of the Basilica of San Francesco

The holy sites we visited in Assisi include the Basilica and monastery of San Francesco (St. Francis), which houses the tomb and relics of the great mystic and stigmatist. Santa Chiara (the Church of St. Clare) houses her incorrupt remains in a glass tomb, as well as the original San Damiano Cross-- the crucifix from which Christ spoke to Francis and told him, "Rebuild My Church." A church built on the house of the wealthy Bernadone family (Francis' family) houses Francis' bedroom and the tiny cell in which Francis' father would lock him because he assumed his son was mad.

Holiness often looks like madness to those closest to us, doesn't it? Especially after a dramatic, life-altering conversion like the one wealthy, party-boy Francis had experienced.

Clare's monastery at San Damiano

The church of San Damiano is the one that Francis rebuilt, thinking, at first, that the Lord's command was materialistic. It became the church and monastery where Clare and her companions would found the Poor Clares, the Second Order of Franciscans. Clare's place of death is marked there in the dormitory, which is a humble but holy place.


I've always had a particular love for St. Clare because of her devotion to the Eucharistic Lord and her unshakable trust in His power. It was at the monastery at San Damiano that Clare, weak and quite ill, warded off would-be invaders simply by bringing Jesus in the monstrance to the front gate. They fled in terror at the sight of Him.

St. Clare with the monstrance

Down in the valley, we visited the church of St. Mary of the Angels, which is a large basilica built over several holy sites of St. Francis. The basilica houses the Portiuncula, a tiny chapel loaned to Francis by the Benedictines who owned it (and still own it today) where Francis discovered his vocation. It also houses a cave where Francis would pray, the place of Francis' death, and the rose bushes into which Francis once threw himself to better unite himself with the sufferings of Christ. As soon as he did, the roses lost their thorns and still grow there today without them, although the same species of rose grows elsewhere with thorns. The church also houses a statue of Francis on/by which at least two live doves are always perched.






The next day, we boarded the bus for a day trip in Siena, home of St. Catherine, the great Dominican mystic and one of only three women doctors of the Church. Siena is also a medieval town, but it is much bigger than Assisi, built with red brick rather than sandstone, and bustling with activity.

Town Hall, built in the middle ages,
Piazza del Campo, Siena

Siena is very unique town. While there are many holy sites associated with Catherine and others, the feel of the town as a whole is less religious and more based on the pride of its 17 neighborhoods. The Piazza del Campo, the center of town, is where these 17 neighborhoods gather once a year to compete in a wild horse race called the Palio. They fill the outer ring of the piazza with sand and watch as one rider from 10 of the 17 neighborhoods competes in a race-- a race with no rules and a race with the most treacherous turn in horse racing. ESPN's "Wider World of Sports" did a great little segment on the Palio about a year ago. You can watch it here.

Piazza del Campo, Siena

Aside from visiting the Piazza, however, we visited several holy sites associated with St. Catherine and witnessed an on-going Eucharistic miracle at the church of St. Francis.

Miraculous hosts from 1730

After having Mass in a side chapel in St. Francis, we had Adoration with the miraculous hosts, which have not disintegrated for almost 300 years. In 1730, there was a feast day celebration happening in the Cathedral. Thieves took advantage of the priests and townspeople all being at the celebration and broke into the church of St. Francis to steal the golden ciborium, which held the consecrated hosts. Wrapping the hosts in a cloth, they dumped them in the poor box and ran away. Upon the priests' return, they were horrified to find the tabernacle empty and searched the church, looking for Jesus. They found the consecrated hosts in the poor box a few days later and placed them in the back of the tabernacle to wait for them to decompose (in Catholic theology, the Eucharist ceases to be Christ as soon as the appearances of bread and wine are no longer present). After a month, the priest noticed that the hosts had not changed. He placed them beside some unconsecrated hosts and waited another month. The unconsecrated ones had decayed, but the consecrated ones had not. It is currently 2013, and the consecrated hosts have not yet decayed.
As astonished and blessed as we were to adore Jesus in these miraculous hosts, Pat, our trip leader, reminded us that the most miraculous thing is not that God can keep hosts from decaying, but that God can make bread into His flesh. THAT is the greater miracle. And THAT happens every single day, just down the road from your house.


After Mass and Adoration, we had had lunch (and amazing gelato) near the piazza. Then, we hiked up Siena's steep, winding streets to St. Catherine's family home.

winding streets of Siena

Gelato!!!

Catherine came from a large, wealthy family. She was the 23rd of 25 children (!!!). Catherine was a mystic and practiced extreme mortification similar to Francis and Clare. She was a Dominican tertiary, meaning she did not live in a monastery but lived at home. She cared for the poor and the sick, and through correspondence, she was responsible for ending the Avignon Papacy (she convinced the pope to return to Rome to look after his flock after decades of absence). Aside from all this, however, much of her life was spent locked in her room, deep in prayer and extreme fasting. She once went a year without any sustenance aside from the Eucharist. Catherine had had mystical visions and experiences from the time she was 6 years old, and many are now depicted on the walls of her room in Siena.

Left: Catherine cuts her hair as St. Dominic looks on (artistic liberties)
Right: Catherine's father enters her room and witnesses a dove
(the Holy Spirit) hovering over her as she prays

Catherine's vision: Jesus offers her a crown of gold and a
crown of thorns. She chooses the crown of thorns.

The Mystical Marriage of Catherine:
Jesus offers her a wedding ring and places it on her finger.
She can see it on her finger for the rest of her life
although no one else can. Today, only her head
and her ring finger are incorrupt.

After visiting Catherine's house, we visited the Basilica of St. Catherine at the church of St. Dominic, Catherine's home parish. There, in a beautiful side chapel, is her incorrupt head/face. Kneeling there, looking into her face (HER FACE!!!), was incredible (and slightly creepy lol). She died in the fourteenth century; she should be nothing but dust. But no: flesh! Dead flesh, sure, but flesh nonetheless! The preservation of her flesh can only be a miraculous testament to Catherine's pure, holy soul.

me with the church of St. Dominic, home of Catherine's head and ring finger

After we left Siena and traveled back to Assisi for the night, I couldn't help but think over my experiences so far. I sort of felt like I had spiritual indigestion-- I just couldn't process the holiness that I had encountered in these three great saints. I always knew that Francis, Clare, and Catherine were rather extreme (in a good way) in their ways of following the Lord, but the reality of it only sank in after walking the streets that they walked and praying in the places where they prayed.

I couldn't handle it. It was too much to comprehend. Suddenly, I felt weak. So very weak. I was tempted. This picture of their holiness was so vivid, that for a moment, I feared I could never be holy. After all, I could never do what they did. Almost immediately, I banished these thoughts, knowing in my mind that they were not true-- that not everyone was called to a life of such extreme mortification and mysticism-- but my heart was slower to understand. Only a visit to Rome could give it the understanding it needed.

St. Peter's Square and the rest of Rome from the top of St. Peter's Basilica

Jesus and the Apostles atop St. Peter's

As much as I loved visiting Assisi and Siena, my heart breathed a sigh of relief when we neared Rome. My thoughts became flooded with the saints of Rome-- the early martyrs, the popes, the bishops, the common saints. By the time we had reached the Catacombs of St. Callistus, I had realized my mistake. Although I had heard it (and taught it!) a million times before, it was only in the Eternal City of Rome that my heart understood the diversity of the saints.

"Domine, quo vadis?"

I felt the Lord telling me that I could be a saint-- that I could serve Him well and be pleasing to Him in my own way. Near the catacombs, we passed the church built on the spot where Peter encountered the Lord on his way out of Rome. Peter was fleeing. Peter was weak. Peter did not trust that God would provide the strength for him to bear his cross. Suddenly, he saw Jesus, walking toward him, toward Rome. Peter famously said, "Domine, Quo Vadis?" Lord, where are you going? And Jesus replied, "I am going to Rome to be crucified again in your place." Being cut to the heart and realizing his mistake, Peter turned around and headed back to Rome, where he was crucified-- martyred for the Faith.

Peter, I could relate to. Peter was a regular guy. Sure he was the first pope and the closest apostle to Jesus, but he was no mystic. He fled from suffering more than once. But he always returned. It took an inspiration of the Holy Spirit, but he always came back. And Christ didn't give him anything he couldn't handle with His help.

As we traveled throughout Rome, seeing church after church filled with tombs of popes, martyrs, founders, and other saints, this point was etched in my heart. There were so many different types of people! Poor people, rich people, kings, fishermen, tax collectors, virgins, popes, bishops, priests, lay people, religious founders, contemplatives, evangelists, missionaries, painters, mothers, fathers, children-- all of them saints! I came back from Italy, inspired by the great beauty of the Church-- the physical beauty of its churches and the spiritual beauty of its saints. Every one is different, but every one reflects the beauty of the God who is Beauty in a different way.

I am no mystic, and most likely will never be. I've never had visions of Christ, although I have had one or two deeply spiritual experiences. I'm pretty certain I am not called to the contemplative life of a cloistered nun, nor am I called to serious mortification. But, I am a baptized Christian. I do have a purpose in the Church that cannot be fulfilled by any other person in existence or by any other person who comes after me. I am unique. I was made to reveal an aspect of God to the world that no one has ever seen before. I was made so that my life can be a grace to all, especially to those whose vocations are similar to mine.

To conclude, I'd like to offer a simple reflection on the popes. From St. Peter on down the line to Pope Francis today, I've always liked the popes. I feel a sort of attachment to them, like they are my fathers (really, they are my fathers). I like them because they are clearly regular people. I'm sure there have been mystic popes, and I know that there have been many, many popes who were extremely holy. But for the most part, they were regular guys. They were chosen (and most of them did not wish to be chosen) for the task of leading the Church. When the Lord called, though, they answered. They served, they prayed, they sinned, they confessed, they began anew. They were charged with a task that was much too significant for them to handle on their own. And the good popes-- the great majority of popes-- did not try to do it on their own. The Lord always provided the Holy Spirit powerfully when they asked, just like He promised He would. The popes who surrendered to the Holy Spirit became who they were made to be. Their beauty was revealed in the living out of their vocations, however daunting they seemed at first. They trusted that God would provide, and He did.

The rosary I got in Rome. It has the last 5 popes before Francis-- blessed by Francis :)

Although for different tasks, the Lord promises the same Holy Spirit to us. He comes to us powerfully and dwells within us, giving us the strength to go where the Lord calls us, to do what the Lord calls us to do. Every person in the world will be called differently, according to his own purpose-- the purpose God gave him. The manifestation of the Holy Spirit in each person's life will vary greatly. Their lives will look different from each other-- sometimes extremely different, like how St. Catherine's life looks next to St. Peter's-- but if they are saints, you will be able to see the fruits of the Holy Spirit in their lives, and the Church will be blessed and renewed because of them.

The Lord will surely call us to difficult things, but He will always call us according to our purpose-- the purpose He gave us-- and never according to what others have done. We look to the saints so that we may emulate their virtues-- so that we will be inspired by their lives to seek the Lord with confidence and zeal, as they did. The saints are examples for us, but they are not carbon copies of each other, and we are not to be carbon copies of them. This was the lesson the Lord taught my heart in Italy.

In order to become a saint-- to become who I was created to be-- all I need to do is ask, "Domine, quo vadis?" And wherever the Lord tells me He is going, I simply need to follow.