Israel Day 3: Duty & Rest

Day three in Israel was my assigned duty day, so I stayed on the ship and enjoyed a bit of rest as I kept things in order onboard.  We were “nested” outboard of another U.S. warship that was also moored there, which is always fun.  J  I spent most of the day watching the Olympics on our military satellite TV, gearing up for the next day of exploring!

Israel Day 2: Jerusalem

On day two, we embarked on a fantastic tour set up by MWR (our Morale, Welfare, and Recreation folks) that brought three coach buses full of sailors (between two ships that were in port) to Jerusalem.  My same awesome liberty group all embarked one of the buses, and were blessed with the back row!  J  The drive was over an hour and a half to the Old City, as we traveled from Haifa in the north down to Jerusalem in the south.  Our tour guide, Monette, was quite the lady, full of great facts and hilarious stories as we made our way there.  We made a brief stop along the way, where I charged up with a café, as many of us were falling asleep during calmness of the bus ride.  But I didn’t want to miss anything—I was in ISRAEL, after all!

Monette told us all the stories of Israel’s wars and conflicts, particularly as of late, and all the disputes about borders, religion, and peace.  We as Americans seem to have always heard about these disputes, but it’s quite different to actually be there and see the lands in question.  We skirted along the West Bank making our way south, and soon approached that great city in the history of this world: Jerusalem.

The bus first brought us up to the Mount of Olives for a brief stop to catch a vista of the city.  Wow.  All I could think was, I can’t believe I’m actually here.  I’d seen photos and videos of the Holy Land, particularly after watching Fr. Robert Barron’s “Catholicism,” but to be here is so different.  I saw the great stone gate surrounding the Old City, the famed gold roof of the Dome of the Rock, and looked down to see the olive trees that lined the Mount of Olives.

Next, we proceeded to the Church of All Nations (because many nations donated to make this church possible), also known as the Church of the Agony, built over the garden of Gethsemane.  Entering into its gates from the side, you walk through a garden—THE garden, and then around to the front of the church.  A pilgrim group had Mass going on, but many tourists were still walking around inside.  I realized quickly that Mass was going on, and that it was during the Eucharistic prayer (I know enough Spanish to realize that!) and so I quickly headed to a pew and knelt in our Lord’s presence before I played tourist.  I caught my first glimpse of a Franciscan priest, of the order who has been entrusted by the Church to maintain these sites in the Holy Land, and are known for their Jerusalem cross.  Just before the altar is a large rock, said to be the rock on which our Lord prayed and cried and sweat drops of blood in His agony leading up to the crucifixion.  A beautiful mosaic depicts this above the altar.  Once the pilgrim group finished Mass, we were able to walk up to that rock for veneration.  I waited my turn, and then knelt down before it, placing first my hands then leaning down to press my face onto it.  There, I placed myself in the garden with our Lord, and tears quickly welled up in my eyes.  This was the very spot where, our God-made-man, Jesus Christ, who knew no sin yet became sin on our behalf, realized what He faced before Him, and begged the Father that this cup might pass—yet, thank God, He uttered those key words: Not my will, but Yours be done.  Totally overwhelming.  And it was all here.  Like REALLY here.  As we walked back to the bus, we passed by the Church of the Assumption (aka the “Dormition” or, the “falling asleep” of Mary) which was the site where Our Lady was assumed into heaven at her death, surrounded by her Son’s disciples. 

Next, it was time for lunch.  We traveled to the Ramat Rachel Hotel, just outside of Jerusalem and overlooking Bethlehem (quite a nice view!) and enjoyed a great middle eastern lunch and lots of water. (have I mentioned it was really hot??)  Unfortunately, the view of Bethlehem was the closest we got to exploring it.  It’s not a safe area for tourists.  On the way back to the city, we stopped at another great vista/park area for photos.  Then, it was time for the Old City!

We disembarked the bus just outside of the Dung Gate, which is the closest gate of the Old City to the Western Wall (Wailing Wall).  Just as you pass inside the gate, on the right was the site of the temple where Jesus drove out the salesmen and money-changers.  Now, a mosque stands in its place.  We continued walking and came up to a security checkpoint, with armed Israeli soldiers/police roaming the area.  Past the checkpoint opened up to a big square and the famous Western Wall, which still stands from the temple that once stood there.  One of the holiest sites on the earth for Jews, it was full of people, even in the midday heat.  All ages; mothers, fathers, children, students, tourists.  As is customary in Judaism, there is a partition for where the men pray and the women pray along this sacred wall.  It is a common practice for a devotee to write down a prayer or intention on a piece of paper and place it in one of the cracks of the wall as they approached it and offered their prayer to the Lord.  I had prepared a short prayer on the bus, and approached the wall and offered it to God as I rested my hands and my head on the stone.  It was a powerful moment.  I will say—the women’s side of the wall was smaller, and much more packed! 

Then began our trek in the streets and alleys of the Old City.  As we walked along the stone roads, I just kept thinking about how Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world, walked these very streets.  All of his life.  As a child, as a young man, and in His public ministry…these were His “stomping grounds.”  This wasn’t just some obscure old place from the Bible—it was a real city!  Bustling with people!  We visited during Ramadan, so there were probably less locals out than usual, but you could still tell it was and is a thriving city, where ancient and modern worlds live side by side. 

Our wandering through the streets finally brought us to the holiest site in the city for Christians—the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.  Within this church are the sites of the crucifixion, burial, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.  There is a little square outside the main entry to the church.  As you walk in, directly in front of you is a beautiful mosaic of our Lord’s last moments, and before you is a large stone said to be the stone where Jesus’ body lay as it was prepared for burial.  To the right and up some steep steps is the chapel of the site of the crucifixion, Golgotha, guarded by a monk of the eastern church, lined with mosaics, icons, and candles.  I should add—the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is maintained by representatives from the major Christian denominations—very cool.  I was able to make my way through a big crowd and touch the place under the altar where the cross stood.  Underneath this site is a crypt chapel, called the Chapel of Adam; it is said that this is the site where Adam was buried, and that the blood Christ spilled on the cross that day made its way through the ground to the skull of Adam, accentuating the way that Christ’s fidelity reversed Adam’s sin.  There is also evidence inside this space of the bedrock being split, as from an earthquake, as it is written in the Scriptures at the moment our Lord died.  Then, on the other side of the church is the site where Jesus was buried and then rose from the dead.  It’s amazing how all those places are to be so close together—sometimes in films or when reading Scripture, we might picture those sites as being far from each other.  But, it makes sense that our Lord was buried very near to where He died.  And what the city of Jerusalem was then is not exactly as it is today—after all the conquests and changes of hand it has faced these millennia!  I spent most of my time walking around in silence, alone, taking in the sacredness of this place.  I venerated the anointing stone and the burial site, and just missed the start of Vespers led by the Franciscans in the Catholic chapel.  I wanted to stay, but I’d already surpassed the time allotted to us by our tour guide, and caught back up with the group! 

We exited the Old City through the Jaffa Gate and got back on the bus to head home.  As we made our way to Haifa, most everyone fell asleep.  I was wide awake.  I kept thinking about all I’d seen that day, and attempted to process it all, realizing it wasn’t just a dream.  Watching the sunset along the Israeli coast, I listened to some great praise and worship songs on my iPod and gave thanks to God for such an amazing opportunity.  We made it back to Haifa by about 7:45pm and ventured up to Mount Carmel for a great dinner, then back to ship to rest after a fantastic day.

Israel Day 1: THE Mount Carmel

As if it wasn’t amazing enough to have our first port visit in Italy, just the week after, we pulled into Haifa, Israel!  That’s right, Israel!  The Holy Land!  Haifa is a port city in the north of Israel, and is home to Mount Carmel…yes, THE Mount Carmel.  Originally “famous” for being the place the prophet Elijah chose to live, it is also the founding place of the Carmelite Order.  Hermits began dwelling in the cave of the prophet Elijah, and they eventually organized themselves into a religious order—the Carmelites—founded on Mount Carmel.  Their founding monastery is at the top of the mountain, at the north point, overlooking the water, and is called Stella Maris, Star of the Sea.

That being said, can you guess where I went first?  After mooring the ship and getting things squared away, we were given liberty around midday.  My same group from Rome and I headed out to see the city, stopped for some great pictures overlooking the Mediterranean from atop Mount Carmel, and headed first to Stella Maris Monastery, home of the Basilica of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel.  It’s a beautiful site, including mosaics, paintings, and marble inlays, depicting the great moments and saints of the Carmelite Order.  It was quite funny to see things written in English, Hebrew, Arabic, and Latin, all around the basilica!  The altar is built over the site of the cave of the prophet Elijah, with a big statue of Our Lady holding the scapular behind the altar.  It was perfect for them to choose Our Lady, Star of the Sea as their patroness—the view of the sea is stunning from the front of the basilica!  Prayed for all you little Carmelites out there, (especially you, Maria!) and got myself a new scapular—from the source!  J

Next, we took a cable car down the mountain, for more great views of Haifa and the Mediterranean.  We headed to the next site, thought to be another one of Elijah’s caves, which seemed to be the Jewish center of devotion for this city.  It was a busy place with many Jewish pilgrims!  Feeling a little out of place, we came and went a bit quickly.  Hot and hungry, we headed to an area known as the German Colony, which was settled by German immigrants in the 19^th/20^th centuries.  Found a great place to eat and had as much Middle Eastern food and WiFi as we could want!  It was a great day…with the best yet to come!

Italy Day 4: To the Monastery!

I arose on day 4 just a few hours after getting back to the ship (at 2:13am, remember?!) and though still tired, my spirits were high.  Today was the day for our community relations project (aka COMREL); ships often set up a COMREL project during a port visit to foster goodwill with the local community and allow sailors an opportunity to give back (and an alternative to going out and drinking).  Our command Chaplain set up a great opportunity to visit the Abbey of San Vincenzo, a Benedictine Monastery in central Italy.

We left at 8am with about 20 sailors and had a nice drive through the country and into the hills of the Mainarde Mountains.  As we left, Chaps explained some history of the monastery and I explained a little bit about the Benedictines and the monastic life.  J  As we arrived at the monastery, we were met by two American families stationed in Naples who often visit to help the nuns there, and were then welcomed in by Mother Miriam and Mother Agnes and the two other nuns of the monastery.  Much to our surprise, Mother Miriam spoke excellent English, because she is American!  We quickly learned the story.

The Abbey was founded in 703 A.D. by three Beneventan monks, who built the monastery on the ruins of a 5^th century Roman oratory dedicated to the Spanish martyr St. Vincent.  Within a century, it became one of the largest in Europe.  In 881, the Saracens attacked the monastery, burning it to the ground and leaving 900 monks dead—the survivors fled to Capua.  In 914, the community returned to the site and restored the monastery, and in the 12^th century, it was moved brick by brick across the nearby river.  Napoleonic suppression in the 17^th-18^th centuries ceased any further restorations, and in 1942 it was ceded to the Abbey of Montecassino.  In 1990, Mother Miriam and Mother Agnes were invited from the United States to found a community at this site to restore monastic life to this incredibly historic place.

After the warm introduction and history lesson, we got to work!  A few sailors manned the weed-eaters and cleared out a brush area.  Another group assisted with hay bailing; another with the herb garden; a few to help sand down and re-stain the siding to a part of the house.  The weather was incredible; much cooler up in the mountains compared to the coast!  A few of the monastery’s dogs wandered around and served as immediate friends to our sailors.  I ended up sitting down with Mother Miriam and having a wonderful talk with her.  I shared a bit of my story and she shared hers.  She entered the Benedictines at the age of 18 (in the 1950s!), after breaking off an engagement with a fine young man.  Religious life had been in her mind and heart, and she finally had to just make a choice.  She did, and said she has never looked back, and feels freer than she could have ever dreamed.  God is so good to me, to put these events and people in my life!  He certainly knows what He is doing.  And, it is great to have a new friend in Italy!

The day was sadly over too quickly.  Our sailors had a great time and loved the opportunity to serve and experience the nuns and the monastery.  Mother kept thanking us, assuring us that we were now a part of their history.  Beautiful!

If any of you are interested in the Benedictine way of life, this is a place you want to check out!  They also have opportunities for guests to spend a week of retreat, accommodating up to a small family in their guest house.  They will also host longer stays for young women who are discerning their next step in life, by entering into the Benedictine life of prayer and work as a means to aid in discernment.

After getting back to the ship, I was assigned to the shore patrol for the evening.  Having my first chance to explore Naples, I had my last bit of real pizza and enjoyed walking along the waterfront.  After all of the crew was accounted for, we headed back to the ship and got some sleep before getting underway and heading back out to sea the next day!  Ciao, Italia!  Hope to see you again soon.

Italy Day 3: Running through Rome

Day two in Rome began as my alarm went off at about 7am…after only going to sleep at 3am!  My body felt like it got hit by a bus, my feet were still sore as can be, and my blisters were quite red, but I began to stir my friends with phone calls to each of their rooms.  We’d intended on getting up early (even knowing it would be tough to do so!) so that we could try to beat the lines to the Vatican Museum.  After a valiant attempt to get my buddies up, I opened the window to let in some of the light of the day.  I heard a mighty “Bongiorno!” of my friend screaming out the window of his room…only in Rome?  J

We enjoyed a simple Italian breakfast at the hotel and headed out to The Vatican.  Good morning, St. Peter’s Square!  By the time we crossed the square, the line was already formed for the Vatican Museum, but it moved pretty well.  We did our best to be charitable to the nagging tour salesman, who are certainly resilient!  I kept looking at the clock, nervous about how long we’d actually have in the museum, because I had two tickets to the Scavi tour (excavations underneath St. Peter’s Basilica).  By the time we made it into the museum, I only had about an hour.  Sadly, I spent most of that time running (sometimes literally!) to be able to at least catch a glimpse of the Sistine Chapel.  Wow, what a sight.  I imagined it would be brighter inside, but maybe it just depends on the time of day.  As I stood there, looking up and all around, all I could think about was the history of that place, the Cardinals who’d been in this room during so many conclaves, the dwelling of the Holy Spirit here as the Vicar of Christ was chosen.  Praise God.

One of my friends and I scurried along, though, making our way out of the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Museum to get to our Scavi tour, which started at 11:30am.  We got to access what seemed like an “exclusive” section of Vatican City (since we had to pass through some of the Swiss Guards!) to wait for the tour to start.  Our tour guide was a young American woman from Alaska, and she led us on an incredible tour of the excavations underneath St. Peter’s, which included the ancient necropolis that once stood there, including the burial site of St. Peter.  Really stunning, century after century built on top of it, and it is still there.  Highly recommend you go on this tour if you go to Rome, but you have to get tickets at least a few days in advance!

We met back up with the rest of the group and hopped on the Metro to the Coliseum.  A few headed inside to take the tour—I was content with taking photos from the outside, as I was determined to make it to Mass at some point during my Rome visit!  So a friend and I wandered towards St. John Lateran.  Along the way, we unexpectedly stumbled across the Basilica of San Clemente, run by Irish Dominican Friars.  I quickly realized that I’d seen the beautiful mosaic above the altar there before—it had been featured in Fr. Robert Barron’s “Catholicism,” in the episode about the Mystical Body of Christ.  The mosaic shows an elaborate series of vines and roots expanding out from the base of a crucifix, with different saints pictured at the various ends of the vines.  A very cool and random discovery!  Anyway, we made it to St. John Lateran, home of the seat of the Bishop of Rome, and made it to the evening daily Mass—in Italiano!  Have I mentioned lately that I love being Catholic?  I can go anywhere in the world and hear the same Mass readings and experience the same Mass; language is no barrier for the unity of the Mystical Body of Christ! 

Hungry to enjoy our last meal in Rome, we headed to Piazza Navona (where we originally wanted to go the night before), passing the Pantheon along the way, though it was already closed.  The Piazza was packed, and is home to a beautiful fountain, as well as the Church of St. Agnes!  Sadly, the church was already closed for the day, so I wasn’t able to go inside.  Instead, I said a brief prayer outside its gates and explained her story to my friends.  Our meal was delicious, of course! 

As we sat there at the restaurant, I kept looking at my watch, and started to get a little nervous about how fast time was going by.  We still needed to go back to our hotel near St. Peter’s to get our bags, get to Roma Termini, get on a train back to Naples, and make in on the ship, all by 2am.  It was already 8pm and we hadn’t nearly finished our meal.  My friends all comforted me, as we sort of recalled seeing the train schedule and believed there to be a train from Rome to Naples that left in the 11pm hour.  I was frantically searching for the timetables online to confirm that so I could eat the rest of my meal in peace, but couldn’t get anything to load properly, and as time went on, the others began to get nervous too.  We finished up the meal and “double timed” it back to the hotel for our bags.  After a couple of blocks, we actually started running.  Yes, literally running through the streets of Rome.  I’d say we ran at least a mile or more.  After grabbing our bags, we flagged down two taxis and asked them to rush us to the train station.  I felt like I was in a movie of a police chase the way we drove through Rome!

Arriving at Roma Termini around 10:50pm, we ran to the ticket machine only to find out that the next train to Naples wouldn’t be till 5am.  Wow.  We kept searching, thinking it was just a mistake—it wasn’t.  We’d missed the last train.  And now we were destined to get into big trouble for not making it back to the ship.  Desperate for a new plan, we tried to think of all our options.  Bus?  Taxi?  Could we even make it back in time that way?  One of my friends ended up talking to a guy who spoke English and asked about where we were going.  We told him we needed to get six people back to Naples by 2am.  Well, he gave us his price and we took it.  No, these were not taxis or a bus—just two random dudes with cars!  Yeah—in hindsight, a little sketchy.  We got on the road, split up three in each car.  Our drivers didn’t speak English too well.  I sat up in the front of my car, praying the rosary the whole time and trying to stay awake, to ensure we really were headed to Naples and not to some random place where who knows what could happen to us!  I kept watching time tick by.  It looked like we just could maybe make it back by 2am.  We’d already called the ship to tell them we had some issues getting back but were doing everything we could to get home on time.  We made several stops along the way, as the drivers kept arguing with each other about the best way to get to Naples, which ended up eating a lot of time.  Though we arrived safely, we stepped onboard the ship at 2:13am.  Late.  By thirteen minutes.  And yes, we did get in trouble, but not too bad.  What was a tense few hours is now a fantastic story!!

Rome adventure complete, but Italian adventure still not over!  Stay tuned for Day 4.

Italy Day 2: Rome Sweet Home

After turning over the duty responsibilities early in the morning, a few of my closest friends on the ship and I headed off to Napoli Centrale train station to start our Roman pilgrimage.  We were a bit confused on how to get out tickets and maneuver ourselves at the station, but we finally figured it out and hopped aboard the Frecciarossa Italian fast train, traveling at 300 km/h and getting us to Rome in only 70 min.  The beauty of the Italian countryside as we passed by continued to fuel my excitement for finally being in this part of the country.  Though I’d been to Italy before, I had been in Taranto, far to the south, and never close enough to make this sought-after pilgrimage to the Eternal City.

Arriving at Roma Termini, we stopped for a café (a much-needed jolt of caffeine!) and got on the Metro to St. Peter’s Square to get to our hotel.  We began walking south, seeing souvenir stores full of religious articles, getting approached by tour salesman left and right, and as we passed through the colonnades, I took in my first real experience of St. Peter’s Square.  My heart skipped a beat—I couldn’t believe I was here.  I’d spent my life seeing pictures and video of this place, so it felt familiar—but in no way did that prepare me for the reality of actually being there, standing in the Square on a very hot Roman day, taking in a deep breath of awe as I was finally “home.”  I looked around and couldn’t even say a word.  And this was only the beginning!

Continuing south, we checked into our hotel, a religious guest house run by the Trinitarian Fathers called Casa per Ferie at Santa Maria alle Fornaci.  Simple and affordable accommodations for our little group—everything you need and nothing you don’t!  We stopped for lunch at a nearby pizza bar and took advantage of the wifi hotspot to announce the beginning of our pilgrimage to dear ones back home.  After recharging there (particularly in the air conditioning!) we made our way back to St. Peter’s.  Though the line seemed long to get into the Basilica, it moved quickly, and before I knew it, we were stepping into that beautiful place and I was once again in awe.  I knew what to expect there, but actually being there is totally different.  We moved along the right side—the Pieta.  Then was the altar of Blessed John Paul II, where I had my first moment to stop and kneel and pray.  Blessed John Paul, pray for us, and may the generation you have raised do our part to propose Jesus Christ to the world.  We continued moving forward and I made a visit to the Adoration Chapel.  I entered that sacred space, present there before our Lord here in the heart of The Vatican, and was immediately moved to tears.  As they poured from my eyes, they mixed with the sweat covering my face as I held my head in my hands and gave our Lord thanks and praise for the gift of bringing me here.  Overwhelming.

My particularly memorable visits were before the statue of St. Philip Neri (for you, Fr. Baker!), Blessed John XXIII, St. Peter (yes I rubbed his foot!), St. Andrew the Apostle, St. Helena, a mosaic of St. Thomas Aquinas, the altar of St. Pius X, among so many others.  Everybody there is looking up.  Vertical worship—the way it is supposed to be!  As I made my way through all the niches and nooks of the Basilica, I was moved with the sense of unity and belonging in this One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church.  I was reminded immediately of St. Joan of Arc’s words, when questioned about her faith at her trial: “About Jesus Christ and the Church, I simply know this: they are one thing, and we shouldn’t complicate the matter.”  THIS is what it’s all about—tu es Petrus—and upon this rock, I will build My Church.  Maneuvering to the little gift shop, you pass by the list of the popes dating back to Peter himself—how can you not be moved, even convinced by that?  There’s a great story about Francis Cardinal George, who was pictured with a rather pensive look standing on the loggia of St. Peter’s following the election of Pope Benedict XVI in 2005.  When asked about this, he responded: “I was gazing over toward the Circus Maximus, toward the Palatine Hill where the Roman emperors once resided and reigned and looked down upon the persecutions of Christians, and I thought, ‘Where are their successors?  Where is the successor of Caesar Augustus?  Where is the successor of Marcus Aurelius?  And finally, who cares?  But if you want to see the successor of Peter, he is right next to me, smiling and waving at the crowds.’”  That was the reality of being there in Rome, particularly at St. Peter’s Basilica.  We went down to the Grotto and then made the pilgrim climb up to the cupola of the Basilica for the breathtaking view of Rome.  I’ll say, I think going down was scarier than coming up!  It was well worth the steps and the sweat. 

Exhausted and seeking a treat, we deemed it time for a water and gelato break, which was well-enjoyed by all.  Flavor?  Tiramisu, of course.  The gang was not sure what to do next, now that we’d met our first priority of St. Peter’s, so I mentioned my next priority of going to St. Cecilia at Trastevere.  We went by way of the Tiber, first walking down the Via della Conciliazione to Castel San Angelo (great memorial to St. Catherine of Siena near there, by the way!) and then turned right to walk along the river.  It was quite a good walk down to the Trastevere neighborhood, but with a pilgrim’s heart, you can do anything.  And luckily, my confreres were still fat and happy from our gelato stop.  We finally made it to St. Cecilia’s, a beautiful church built on top of the home of that great early virgin martyr Cecilia.  Once again, it was another place I’d seen many pictures of, but it was such a different feeling to actually be there.  We thankfully made it in right before they were going to close; got to see the main church as well as excavations and the crypt chapel below.  I spent some time in prayer before the main altar, which encases that beautiful statue of Cecilia’s martyrdom.  I will share with you some of the fruits of my prayer.  I’d been bringing some very specific intentions to all the places of this pilgrimage, but particularly here to St. Cecilia.  After offering my thanks to the Lord for bringing me here, I asked Cecilia for her prayers, and asked some specific questions to her about my future and what she thought about it all.  Her response, resonating deep within my heart, was this: I chose martyrdom.  What about you?  I wasn’t planning on sharing that in this medium, but I figure I’m not the only one who needs to hear that great advice.  May our hearts be immaculate, and we shall not be confounded.  Sancta Caecilia, ora pro nobis!

The trek back to our hotel was a bit daunting, because I got us lost—okay, maybe just “turned around.”  What I thought would be a “more direct route” back towards The Vatican proved to be a bit confusing, as we made our way through neighborhoods and up and back down a huge hill. (I don’t even know what it was called!)  Though my temperament was causing me to stress about getting us turned around, my friends were totally at peace and enjoying the journey.  It’s not a pilgrimage without things like this!  And, as I discovered upon getting back to the hotel, it’s not a pilgrimage without a massive amount of blisters--I think it’s time to retire my old Chacos! 

Starving and ready for a nice meal and good wine, one of my friends intended on leading us to Piazza Navona for a dinner spot.  We didn’t make it there before our hunger took control, and we stopped at a restaurant called Sangallo in an off-the-beaten-path area, certainly somewhere near Piazza Navona.  We went with the 8-course meal, chef’s choice, with wine pairings.  Three hours and lots of laughs later, we had full bellies and made our way home.  Walking back, we stopped by St. Peter’s Square for the nighttime view—once again, stunning.  Blame it on the experiences of the day or blame it on the wine (probably both!), but a protestant among our group began asking some of those questions that you can only start to ask yourself after seeing a place like The Vatican for the first time, as we sat there in the early hours of the new day at St. Peter’s Square.  Praise God!  We made it back to our hotel and after an amazing shower, fell asleep easily after a day well-lived.

Italy Day 1: On Duty

I pulled the ship into Naples as the Conning Officer, the officer who gives the commands for steering and shiphanding.  Normally a position for a very junior new officer, the “deck was stacked” for this particular evolution due to the challenging way we’d be mooring in the Port of Napoli: a Mediterranean Moor.  Normally, we moor the ship alongside a pier, longways, with either the port or starboard side of the ship along the quay wall or pier.  In a Mediterranean Moor (you guessed it—common in the Mediterranean), the ship’s stern moors to the quay wall or pier and two anchors at the bow keep the bow from swinging.  I’d never done it before, but after a good briefing on our plan of action and a little help from two tugs, we moored safely in Italy.

That first day in port I was on duty, preventing me from exploring the little Italian town, so I had to look longingly at the hillside of Naples, with Mount Vesuvius in the hazy background, and stayed on the ship making my final preparations for my pilgrimage up to Rome.  As if my excitement wasn’t consolation enough, some of our fellow officers headed out into town and picked up a few authentic Napoli pizzas for our enjoyment.  My favorite was the “white pizza” covered in arugula and prosciutto.  Delicious--and a taste of what was to come!

My time in Italy...coming soon!

Though I’m almost still in disbelief that it wasn’t all a dream, I have quite a bit to post about our recent port visit to Italy, which included an incredible 48-hour pilgrimage to Rome.  Once I can collect my photos and gather my thoughts, I’ll share a taste of some of the graces of my time in the Eternal City!

And a quote for the day:  “I tell you that you have less to suffer in following the Cross than in serving the world and its pleasures.”  ~St. John Vianney

Mass in Spain...sort of!

Our first port stop has come and gone!  We made a BSF (brief stop for fuel) in Rota, Spain yesterday.  Thanks to the efforts of our awesome command chaplain, he was able to arrange for the local base Catholic chaplain to pay us a visit during the day while we refueled.  It was such a joy, and actually unexpected—we’d been having some issues with email and his visit wasn’t confirmed until he showed up on the ship!  When the word was passed of his arrival and of when Mass would be, I dropped everything I was doing (quite willingly, mind you) and even got out of a painful weekly meeting that was about to occur.  Priorities, people!!! 

Fr. Jerome Dillon, CDR, USN, was our visiting priest—he is a diocesan priest from Omaha, Nebraska, and had been serving as a Navy chaplain for 27 years, getting ready to retire from the Navy.  We had a great chat, and I was able to go to confession and then we had Mass.  I wish I had brought my camera so you could see what Mass is like on a warship!  Father had his “battle chaplain” kit, filled with only the necessary sacristy items to properly say Mass.  Simplicity.  Needless to say, it was beautiful.  To know that our Lord made Himself present, sacramentally, here on this ship, has brought a refreshed attitude to how I can best conquer my moments of feeling down when the environment around here gets the best of me.  This place is sanctified, it is holy, just because He came here.  Cue David Crowder Band’s The Glory of it All <http://www.lyricsmania.com/the_glory_of_it_all_lyrics_david_crowder_band.html> !

Other great point of Rota—though we didn’t have time for liberty there, we were visited by a Baskin Robbins truck and pizza delivery on the pier.  Oh, the little comforts of home! 

Finally, in light of being in Spain, I want to share with you a quote that is at the heart of my meditation right now.  Tough words, as usual, from my heavenly spiritual director and native Spaniard, Saint Josemaria Escriva:  “Here, we don’t bargain with the Lord.  The Law of God, the invitation of the Lord, is something you either take or leave, just as it is.  You need to make up your mind: go forward, fully decided and without holding back; otherwise, go away.”

 

 

 

Mass in Spain...sort of!

Our first port stop has come and gone!  We made a BSF (brief stop for fuel) in Rota, Spain yesterday.  Thanks to the efforts of our awesome command chaplain, he was able to arrange for the local base Catholic chaplain to pay us a visit during the day while we refueled.  It was such a joy, and actually unexpected—we’d been having some issues with email and his visit wasn’t confirmed until he showed up on the ship!  When the word was passed of his arrival and of when Mass would be, I dropped everything I was doing (quite willingly, mind you) and even got out of a painful weekly meeting that was about to occur.  Priorities, people!!! 

Fr. Jerome Dillon, CDR, USN, was our visiting priest—he is a diocesan priest from Omaha, Nebraska, and had been serving as a Navy chaplain for 27 years, getting ready to retire from the Navy.  We had a great chat, and I was able to go to confession and then we had Mass.  I wish I had brought my camera so you could see what Mass is like on a warship!  Father had his “battle chaplain” kit, filled with only the necessary sacristy items to properly say Mass.  Simplicity.  Needless to say, it was beautiful.  To know that our Lord made Himself present, sacramentally, here on this ship, has brought a refreshed attitude to how I can best conquer my moments of feeling down when the environment around here gets the best of me.  This place is sanctified, it is holy, just because He came here.  Cue David Crowder Band’s The Glory of it All!

Other great point of Rota—though we didn’t have time for liberty there, we were visited by a Baskin Robbins truck and pizza delivery on the pier.  Oh, the little comforts of home! 

Finally, in light of being in Spain, I want to share with you a quote that is at the heart of my meditation right now.  Tough words, as usual, from my heavenly spiritual director and native Spaniard, Saint Josemaria Escriva:  “Here, we don’t bargain with the Lord.  The Law of God, the invitation of the Lord, is something you either take or leave, just as it is.  You need to make up your mind: go forward, fully decided and without holding back; otherwise, go away.”