Bishop's Rome diary

(Editor's Note: This daily diary was prepared by Bishop Hubbard to provide members of the Diocese who could not make the journey to Rome the opportunity to experience vicariously the flavor of this Holy Year Pilgrimage.)

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 20

What a glorious, sun-drenched autumn upon which to embark on our diocesan pilgrimage to the Eternal City! The gold, red, yellow and brown leaves of this majestic season are in full luster for a delightful cruise down the New York State Thruway for a departure from the Newark International Airport.

Father John Connolly graciously drove me to our rendezvous at St. Ambrose in Latham, where the last two busloads boarded. Five additional buses had departed earlier for JFK and Newark Airports. The excitement of my 250-plus fellow pilgrims was palpable. For many, it was their first venture beyond our nation's borders and the intricacies of international travel seemed both venturesome and frightening.

The Yankee Trails logo on the side of the bus reminded me of the only true regret associated with this pilgrimage. I'm going to miss the first Subway Series in 46 years! (However, perhaps my sacrifice is not as great as that made by my fellow pilgrim, Father Joe Romano, who had been offered tickets for games 1 and 6 by his fellow Schenectadian and current Yankee pitching coach, Billy Connors.)

The 1956 Series between the Yankees and the Dodgers which featured Don Larsen's perfect no-hitter, the only one in World Series history, marked my first year in the seminary, at Mater Christi in Albany. I remember to this day the good-natured banter between Yankee and Dodger fans through that year's classic.

Many know that I occasionally threaten Confirmation candidates if I find out they are Yankee fans, so it should come as no surprise that I'll be rooting for my beloved Mets with whom I've lived and died since 1962. I take consolation in knowing that USA Today and CNN are readily accessible in Rome. So even though I won't be able to catch the games on TV, the results and highlights will be available.

I've been to Rome on many occasions. Forty years ago this month, I began my theology studies at the Jesuit-sponsored Pontifical Gregorian University while residing at the North American College. The trip over took eight days, sailing from New York City to Naples on the ocean liner, Christoforo Columbo, and then journeying to the Eternal City by way of Sorrento, Capri and the famous Amfali Drive. The sheer pleasure of that voyage still resonates within my psyche four decades later.

Upon completing seminary studies in 1964, I returned to Rome on numerous occasions: for the Holy Year in 1975; for the episcopal ordination of Bishop Matthew Clark in 1979; for the beatification of Kateri Tekakwitha in 1980; as part of the first interfaith pilgrimage to Israel and Rome sponsored by the Jewish-Christian Dialogue Committee in 1983, and later that same year for a month-long study program for bishops; for the 125th anniversary of the North American College in 1984; for the consistory wherein Archbishop John O'Connor was elevated to the College of Cardinals in 1985; for the celebration of Tom Powers' doctorate in 1987; for the episcopal ordination of John Nolan in 1988; for meetings of the Vatican Commission for Non-Believers in 1986, '87, '88 and '89; and for ad limina visits in 1978, '83, '88, '93 and '98.

I look forward to this trip with special eagerness, however, because it is truly a spiritual journey. I am traveling not as a student, tourist, priest or bishop, but as a pilgrim along with other pilgrims, seeking to receive the graces of this Holy Year; to reflect afresh upon the core teaching of values of our Catholic Christian tradition and to recommit myself to walk the path of discipleship with renewed zeal and enthusiasm.

The whole concept of pilgrimage has a long and rich tradition in the Church. As Rev. Paul Robichaud points out in an excellent article in America magazine (Dec. 18, 1999), a pilgrimage is, at its core, a journey into the unknown.

"The beginning act of a pilgrimage is to place oneself into the hands of God," he wrote. "Through this act of faith, a pilgrim goes in search of the holy away from the strictures of everyday life." (This same point was made very powerfully by Father David Mickiewicz in an insightful homily delivered last month at an orientation session for our pilgrimage.)

For early and medieval Christians to make a single pilgrimage was considered a great religious accomplishment, as it still is today for Muslims who journey to Mecca. A pilgrimage to Rome, then, should be a chance to come to the City of the Apostles, to walk in the place of martyrs, mystics and saints, and to experience the holy.

However, as Father Robichaud notes, there is a distinction between religious tourists and pilgrims. While the two are not mutually exclusive, tourists go on a vacation and tour to see things. Pilgrims go on a journey not necessarily to see something but to receive something, such as a renewed spirit, greater devotion or a closer relationship with God.

Thus, the religious tourist may go to Rome for a religious purpose but does not necessarily know how to reach the spiritual goal of the pilgrim. Surrounded by professional travel consultants, bus schedules, group dinners and frozen itineraries, many religious tourists hurry past the spiritual riches of Rome without catching the essence of such. The tour is frequently reduced to two things: seeing the Pope and celebrating Mass in various churches. The insights of the great spiritual teachers like Ignatius of Loyola, Philip Neri, or Catherine of Siena are often bypassed; and while churches may be visited, the stories of why they are holy ofttimes remain untold.

The heart of a true pilgrimage, however, is conversion, not travel, for the journey is only a means to an end. Thus, for the pilgrim, it is not what you see in Rome that counts; it is how you encounter God in the sacred places of the Eternal City. That is why Father Robichaud urges the pilgrim to read in advance about the places to be visited and the spiritual significance of each; to take some time before leaving for Rome to reflect on why one is making this journey; to keep a journal and to end each day by doing some quiet reflection, writing and above all praying. I hope my fellow pilgrims and I will follow some, if not all, of that sage advice.

The check-in and boarding process at Newark was smooth as silk. Everyone was in good spirits, and the flight attendants were most cordial. By coincidence, I was seated next to a passenger who was not a member of our pilgrimage but a man of the cloth, Father Mike Camelli, a missionary of the Sacred Heart serving as director of the Renew 2000 program in Allentown, Pennsylvania. We discussed the benefits of this excellent faith formation program; and when I told him I was from the Diocese of Albany, Father Camelli revealed that he had taught Church history at St. Mary's Seminary in Baltimore during the '90s. He eagerly inquired about former students now serving as priests in our Diocese: Fathers Tom Holmes, Bob Donnelly, Jim Walsh, Anthony Ligato, George Fleming, Mike Cournoyer and Tony Childs.

Father Camelli was most laudatory about the quality of the candidates from our Diocese and mentioned specifically he had retained in his files Father Ligato's excellent paper on "The Spirituality of the Priesthood as found in the Writings of Pope Gregory the Great." Father Camelli was pleased but not surprised to learn that Father Ligato now serves as president of our Presbyteral Council.

The plane pulled back from the gate precisely as scheduled at 9:40 p.m., and we settled in for the approximately eight-hour flight to Rome's Fiumicino Airport. When I journeyed to Rome in 1998, I complained of jet lag in a similar diary published in The Evangelist and asked for any remedies. A number of readers weighed in touting the benefits of melatonin. So here's hoping!

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21

It worked! I slept almost four hours, which is far better than I've ever done before on a transatlantic flight. The hot towel and continental breakfast were refreshing. But most especially the on-time arrival at Rome's airport at 11:40 a.m. (5:40 a.m. EST) was much appreciated.

I never went through passport control and customs faster then this morning. That's the advantage of traveling with a tour, I guess. On the bus to our hotel, the Quirinale near the Piazza Republica (one of six hotels being used by the pilgrims from the Albany Diocese), the guide from our agency, Regina Tours, briefed us as to the do's and don'ts of travel in Rome.

Don't carry large amounts of money; pickpocketing is a national epidemic. Don't wear shorts in the basilicas and churches. Don't forget to tip the waiters; the service charge denoted on the restaurant bill is a tax, not a gratuity for the waiter (I'm not being sexist; waiting in Rome is still an all-male profession).

Upon arrival at the hotel, I met my sisters, Joan Engleman and Kathy Kawola, in the lobby. They had arrived about 90 minutes earlier and were getting set for an afternoon walk. I promised if they waited ten minutes while I unpacked and shaved, I'd take them to the churches where I was ordained and to the university I attended. This was important both for them and myself because they were unable to attend my ordination in 1963 due to their pregnancies.

We proceeded down the Quirinale hill to the Trevi Fountain, perhaps the best known and certainly the most spectacular in Rome. Built into the facade of the Palazzo Poli, the fountain was commissioned in 1762 by Pope Clement XII. It presents a fantastic architectural scene, dominated by the central niche with the statue of Neptune in a chariot drawn by seahorses. In the left niche is the statue of Abundance and to the right the statue of Salubrity. The exuberance of the water, splashing down the central rocks and over the side ones, is an unforgettable sight.

While studying at the Gregorian University, half a block away, we seminarians would invariably walk to the Trevi once or twice a day to clear our heads of the theological lectures delivered in Latin and to chat with the omnipresent tourists (far fewer in those days than today).

We next went to the Gregorian, where for four years I studied theology under the Jesuit fathers. I showed my sisters the large aulas where 300-plus students drawn from every continent in the world would listen to lectures by some of the greatest theologians of that era: Fathers Bernard Lonergan in Christology and the Trinity; Joseph Fuchs in Moral Theology; Renee Latorelle in Revelation; Francis Sullivan in Ecclesiology; Joseph Hurtling in Church History; Juan Alfalo in the Christian Virtues, William VanRoo in the Sacraments; Herman Schmidt in Liturgy; and Mollat and Bernini in Sacred Scripture, just to mention a few.

They were at the cutting edge of moral, dogmatic and pastoral theology as well as modern biblical exegesis, and many served as periti (experts) who advised the bishops at the Second Vatican Council conducted during my years of theological studies in Rome from 1962 to 1965.

These were fascinating days to be a seminarian in Rome; and while we were not privy to the deliberations of the Council Fathers, there was an inescapable sense that something new and exciting was being birthed in the Church. Further, just to mingle with students from Europe, Africa, Asia, South American and Oceania was a special treat -- and gave one a deep sense of the universality of the Church.

We proceeded next door to visit the Casa Santa Maria on the via Umilta. This converted convent, once seized and occupied by Napoleon's troops, served as home for the North American College from 1859 until World War II when it was closed due to the Fascist and Nazi occupation.

After the war, it was reopened as a residence for priests doing post-graduate studies in Rome, and Msgr. Edward Glavin, the deceased pastor of St. Mary's, Amsterdam, served as its first post-war vice rector. The convent continues to serve American priests doing graduate studies at the various pontifical universities in Rome. This very afternoon, there was to be an opening Mass for the 79 priests about to begin the new academic year.

This beautiful facility holds fond memories, since so many of Albany's pre-World War II priests studied here and because my good friend, Father Thomas Powers, served as director at the Casa from 1980 to '87. I stayed at the Casa during my many trips to Rome in the '80s and was always hosted so graciously by Father Powers.

Msgr. Roger Roensch, the director of the Pilgrim's Office for U.S. tourists, which is located at the Casa, greeted my sisters and me warmly, and gave us a brief history of the Casa. Both my sisters were very much in awe of the majestic chapel of Our Lady of Humility, the patroness of the North American College, and the lovely courtyards that grace this aesthetically pleasing complex.

Msgr. Roensch also briefed me on the World Mission Mass to be celebrated at St. Peter's Piazza tomorrow (Sunday) and noted that I would probably not be able to concelebrate, since concelebrants were to be limited to those representing missionaries throughout the world.

We next went to the corner to the Basilica of the Twelve Holy Apostles (known as the Dodici) where I received minor orders and was ordained to the subdiaconate and the diaconate. Staffed by the Conventual Franciscans since the 15th century and commemorating the Apostles, it is principally dedicated to Philip and James. Since James is my middle name and since this is where I received the first of the three degrees of the Sacrament of Orders in which I am privileged to participate, this beautiful basilica dating from the days of Pope Pelagius I in 556 A.D. holds a special place in my heart.

I especially remember Cardinal Luigi Traglia, the Vicar of Rome, who ordained my classmates and myself to the diaconate. During those halcyon days of vocations to the ordained life, Cardinal Traglia, who celebrated the sacrament of Holy Orders with all the National Colleges in Rome, may have ordained more priests and deacons than any bishop in history.

We next proceeded to the Church of St. Ignatius, where I was ordained a priest on Dec. 18, 1963. Located a block away from both the Pantheon and Roman University, this magnificent edifice was built between 1626 and 1650 by the Jesuit Orazio Grozzi to celebrate the canonization of the founder of his beloved community, the Society of Jesus.

The church is ornately decorated with rich marbles and frescoes, the most significant of which is Andrea Pozzo's "The Triumph of St. Ignatius." The Jesuit saints, John Berchmans, Robert Bellarmine and Aloysius Gonzaga, are buried in this church.

But for me, it is the remembrance of lying prostrate on the cold marble floor of this church on a drizzly, chilly December morn nearly 37 years ago that is forever etched in my heart. Here, through the imposition of hands by our college rector, Archbishop Martin J. O'Connor, and the pouring forth of the Holy Spirit I received the inestimable gift of the priesthood, becoming a sharer in Christ's threefold ministry of teaching, leading and sanctifying, and receiving the awesome responsibility of celebrating the Eucharist, preaching the Word, forgiving sins, baptizing new members of the Christian family, anointing the aged, sick and infirm, and witnessing the vows exchanged by those entering the sacred covenant of matrimony.

It is a challenge and privilege I have loved immensely and found to be enormously fulfilling, and which vocation I wouldn't exchange for anything in the world. I only wish more today were willing to taste and see what the Lord has in store for those who are willing to hear His voice and heed His call because "the harvest is great but the labors are few."

So, at this site of my ordination to the priesthood, I offered a prayer for my classmates, for my parents, for vocations to the ordained life -- and one of thanksgiving that my sisters could experience the beauty and splendor of this special place in my life's journey.

Upon returning to the hotel and jotting down a few thoughts, this 40-hour day drew to a close with a grand pranzone for all the pilgrims staying at the Quirinale, consisting of pasta, veal, vegetables and a fruit salad.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22

The day dawned with bad news: The Yankees had pulled out a 4-3 victory in the opening game of the World Series. How depressing!

At 7:30 a.m., the bus departed for St. Peter's Piazza for a Mass commemorating World Mission Sunday. When we convened at the Piazza, the Albany contingent was very evident with our distinctive aqua baseball caps emblazoned: "Albany Diocese, Rome 2000." Passing through the metal detectors, each person was given a scarf adorned with the flags of the world's nations and proclaiming with the theme of today's celebration: "All the people shall see your salvation."

The whole atmosphere was one of a huge rock concert. The Egyptian obelisk in the center of the Piazza was surrounded with clusters of yellow, green, red, white and blue balloons. While awaiting the beginning of Mass, we were treated to a series of songs, dances and chants performed by various groups from the five continents of the world, each group garbed festively in native costume.

As the square filled with pilgrims, the scarves were waved to the swing of the music. I have been in St. Peter's Piazza many times but never have I experienced such a lively, upbeat spirit. Indeed we are part of the family of nations and music is the universal language!

It was fascinating to watch the Swiss Guards, festooned in their red, yellow and blue garb, standing stoically at attention while the cardinals, bishops and monsignors -- vested in their orange and red robes -- swayed to the beat of the various rhythms.

This is the first time I've seen the Basilica since its restoration. The exquisite facade glistened in the October sun, and the green and pinkish tints of the marble are visible for the first time in centuries. The huge statues of Peter holding the keys of the kingdom and Paul carrying the Sword of Truth hover over the triple flight of stairs leading to the Basilica like reassuring sentinels, reminding us that the apostolic tradition is preserved in this seat of Christendom.

Approximately a half-hour before the 10 a.m. starting time, the procession of priest concelebrants began filing in. I could have joined the other bishops near the papal altar; but since I wouldn't be concelebrating, I chose to stay with our Albany group in the Piazza. I am glad I did. To be among the more than 100,000 people jammed into the square and to experience their excitement as this grand spectacle unfolded afforded a perspective which could not be grasped otherwise.

The priest concelebrants were followed by a parade of nations, with a representative from each country carrying the national flag.

At precisely 10 o'clock, the mitred bishops, vested in lush green chasubles, emerged from the basilica to venerate the altar erected on the steps of the Basilica, followed by a burst of applause signaling the entrance of the main celebrant, John Paul II. As he approached the chair, the Holy Father waved to the assembly, which responded by cheering and waving their scarves.

Cardinal Joseph Tomko, prefect of the Congregation for the Evangelization of People, welcomed the Holy Father and set the context for this World Mission observance.

The Latin chants of the Sistine Choir evoked an awareness of the ancient and timeless nature of the Church's ritual, while the readings from Isaiah, the Letter to the Hebrews and the Gospel of Mark reminded us that God's revelation is ever new, ever fresh, offering spiritual wisdom for every age.

As the Holy Father delivered his homily in Italian, I was struck by the awesome nature of the Petrine office. He must attend to the needs of the flock the world over, being sensitive to so many diverse pastoral situations and yet maintaining unity amidst all this diversity.

How fortunate we are to have such a pilgrim Pope, a universal pastor, who despite the burdens of age and infirmity continues to be such a forceful spokesperson for the Gospel of Life, for the solidarity which must exist among the family of nations and for that social justice which is the condition for world peace.

The sung Credo (Creed) seemed particularly poignant today, knowing that this ancient formula professes the core truths of our faith, handed down through the centuries and translated into every language under the face of the sun. This feeling of oneness in faith with Christians the world over was reinforced by the prayer of the faithful with petitions offered in Spanish, Korean, Swahili, Italian, Polish, German and French, and by the Offertory procession with gifts borne by men and women in Japanese kimonos, Native American dress, Dutch costume and African garb.

At the end of the Mass, Pope John Paul II gave crosses to a representative group of missionaries (bishops, priests, religious and laity) as a sign of their commission to bring the Good News to the ends of the earth, and he asked all the faithful to support missionaries by our prayers and financial resources.

The final blessing prompted the release of the balloons which floated off to a bright blue sky, and a Black Gospel choir concluded the liturgy with a beautiful spiritual: "Climbing up the Mountain, Children, Going to Meet You at the Judgment Day."

The crush of exiting the Piazza was incredible and, unfortunately, one of our number, Sister Maria Cokely, was knocked down in the rush of the crowd and taken to Sancto Spirito Hospital for observation. There is a grave concern that her hip may be broken. We are all praying hard that our worst fear may not materialize.

After a quick lunch of a pizza slice and a Coke, we took a bus to the Basilica of St. Mary Major, one of the four patriarchal basilicas of Rome (the others being St. Peter's, St. John Lateran and St. Paul's Outside the Wall).

Before entering the basilica, we had a group picture of the Albany pilgrims on the steps. This will be a good keepsake if, indeed, they truly have a panoramic camera.

The basilica was once known as St. Mary of the Snow due to a legend concerning a couple who wanted to have a child and had a dream that to have their wish fulfilled they were to build a church on the place where snow would fall. This occurred on the Esquiline Hill on August 5, 532 (and believe me, snow in Rome is a miracle even during the winter months, no less than in August where the temperature is generally between 80 to 100 degrees).

However, according to historical sources, the basilica was built by Pope Sixtus in 432 to commemorate the Council of Ephesus, which ruled officially on the divine origin of the Virgin Birth of Christ. The 14th century bell tower that rises above the basilica is the tallest in Rome and stands majestically as a shining example of Romanesque architecture.

We passed through the Holy Door with its inscription "The door is Christ. We cross it wishing to pass from sin to grace." Upon entering the nave of the basilica, one is immediately struck by the gold ceiling -- the most ornate of the four major basilicas. Despite the many modifications made over the centuries, the overall effect of so many styles and schools is extremely pleasing to the eye. The basilica features fifth-century, Medieval, Renaissance and Baroque art. The focal point is the beautiful mosaic of Christ crowning the Virgin Mary, created by Jacopo Torriti. Under the mosaic is a depiction of the Dormition of Mary (that is, her falling into the sleep of death before being assumed into heaven).

Along the walls of the nave are 36 mosaic panels depicting scenes from the Old Testament. Under the main altar is a sacred vessel purported to hold the relic of the original manger. Located to the left of the main altar is the breath-taking Borghese Chapel. On a Baroque altar amidst precious stones is a painting of the Virgin Mary dating to the mid-ninth century. It was in this gem of a chapel that I was privileged to celebrate my third Mass following ordination.

Leaving the basilica, we proceeded down the Esquiline Hill to the Church of St. Peter in Chains. This fifth-century edifice was built to preserve the chains with which St. Peter was fettered in Jerusalem and in Rome's Mamertine Prison. According to legend, having been brought together in this site, the two chains miraculously united. The chains are showcased in a glass setting beneath the main altar.

To the right of the altar is a mausoleum that Pope Julius II commissioned Michelangelo to produce, intended to be a reliquary for his remains and placed in St. Peter's Basilica. However, because Michelangelo was simultaneously sculpting the Pieta as well as painting the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel, the artist was not able to complete the commission. He did finish one panel for the mausoleum, the striking Moses, so lifelike, especially in its anatomical features, that the artist himself is purported to have exclaimed to his creation, "Why don't you speak?"

On leaving St. Peter's in Chains, I saw a familiar figure -- Archbishop John Vlazny of Portland, Oregon -- heading a pilgrimage of 159 folks. Later in the day, I would encounter Bishop Michael Saltarelli of Wilmington, Delaware, and members of his diocesan pilgrimage of some 200.

We continued down the hill to the most important monument from ancient Rome, the Colosseum, now the symbol of the city's eternity. The Colosseum as seen today is only a shadow of its former splendor. Begun under Vesparian in 72 A.D., it was inaugurated by Titus in 80 A.D. with festivities that reportedly lasted more than three months. An enormous amount of gladiators and over 5,000 wild animals were slain in those opening rites.

Originally, the exterior was completely covered with marble, having 80 entrances and seating some 50,000 people. It also had a covered dome, all inflated and deflated by hand manipulated pulleys. What an architectural and engineering masterpiece! One can only marvel at the ingenuity and creativity of those who designed and built it.

Over the centuries, the Colosseum has suffered much deterioration. It was severely damaged by an earthquake in the fifth century and turned into a fortress in the Middle Ages. Also, in the course of time, its marble and other stones were confiscated as building materials for numerous churches, monuments and other buildings. Each Good Friday, the Pope conducts a candlelight service of the Stations of the Cross here, a tangible reminder of the Christians who were martyred at this site before the Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity in the early fourth century.

Speaking of Constantine, the largest and best preserved arch in Rome is immediately adjacent to the Colosseum, built by the emperor to celebrate his victory over Maxentius at the Battle of Ponte Milvio in 312.

Although we did not have time to tour it, the Roman Forum, the home of temples dedicated to various deities and the center of civic, business and political life in the heyday of the Roman Empire, is located across the road from the Colosseum.

Sunday evening drew to a pleasant close with a late-night supper shared with my sisters and a few other pilgrims.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23

Dawn broke with truly bad news. X-rays showed that Sister Maria Cokely has a broken femur and will need surgery. She has been transferred from the Sancto Spirito Hospital to the Villa Betania for further X-rays and determination of treatment options. This really puts the unwelcome news of the Mets 6-5 loss to the Yankees into proper perspective.

Today's activities began with a short walk to the Church of Santa Susanna, the American Catholic Church in Rome, so designated by Pope Benedict XV in 1922 when he entrusted the pastoral ministry of this parish to the Paulist Fathers. Each cardinal is given a so-called titular church in Rome, and Santa Susanna has been assigned to Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston as his titular church.

I have two personal connections to this church. Our homiletic professor at the North American College was Father James Cunningham, who in those days was also the pastor of Santa Susanna's. He was a gregarious Irishman with a million anecdotes. Quite frankly, he didn't offer us much insight into contemporary homiletic exegesis and technique, but I do remember well his constant mantra, "Always tell a story; that's what the people will remember." Not bad advice.

The second connection is the privilege I had to serve as a master of ceremonies for the funeral liturgy conducted in this church for Bishop Joseph Aloysius Burke of Buffalo.

To place this liturgy in context, it should be noted that Bishop Burke died the opening week of the Vatican Council. Hundreds of journalists from throughout the world had gathered to cover this milestone event of 20th-century Catholicism. Unfortunately, the Vatican was not yet media savvy and no provisions had been made to accommodate the media. Reporters were not allowed into the Council sessions and initially there were no press conferences to offer summary updates on the deliberation of the Council Fathers.

You can imagine, then, how hungry the media folks were for news, any news! The death of Bishop Burke was the first story into which they could sink their teeth. They were allowed access to the liturgy, which was conducted at Santa Susanna's, before the transfer of the bishop's body to Buffalo for burial. Virtually every English-speaking reporter assigned to the Council covered this liturgy, celebrated in a church full of cardinals, bishops, priests, religious and laity.

As master of ceremonies at the North American College, I was asked to coordinate the liturgy. Everything went fine until the final commendation when Cardinal Francis Spellman of New York City was brought to the head of the coffin to read the prayers of committal and to offer his personal comments. With that, several media people swooped in with their microphones, hoping to catch a sound bite. They kept thrusting their microphones in the direction willy-nilly of the Cardinal.

Unfortunately, Cardinal Spellman did not realize those holding the microphones were part of the media. Rather, he was under the impression they were the microphone bearers for the church's public address system. Thus, after the liturgy, in no uncertain terms, the Cardinal lambasted me for being late in having the microphones pick up his prayer and final remarks.

As a lowly seminarian, being chastised by the most powerful churchman in the United States was an excruciating experience. For several days afterwards, I worried I might be relieved of my master of ceremonies position, if not given my walking papers back to the States.

In the realm of "it's a small world," on the bus to the airport last Friday, Theresa Smith of Delmar took the opportunity to introduce herself and her son Rob, a sixth grader in the Bethlehem school district. One of his assignments from his teachers while on the pilgrimage was to write a paper on the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and he was asking me if I could name them.

Embarrassingly, except for the Great Pyramid at Giza and the Hanging Garden of Babylon, I couldn't. (Fortunately, in the course of our pilgrimage, one of our number, Patricia Amador, supplied the other five: the Temple of Artemis, the Colossus of Rhodes, the Lighthouse of Alexandria, the statue of Zeus and the tomb of Maussollos).

During our conversation, Theresa asked me if I ever heard of her great uncle, Bishop Burke of Buffalo. When I related the aforementioned story and that we would be celebrating Mass at Santa Susanna where the funeral liturgy for her uncle was celebrated, she was deeply moved.

Santa Susanna's was built in 330 by Pope Caius, the uncle of Susanna. Her father, Gabinus, pledged her in marriage to the Roman General Maxentius Galerius, who was in line to be the emperor. Since Susanna was a Christian who had a taken a vow of virginity, she refused the marriage. By order of the Emperor Diocletian, she was seized and put to the death along with her parents and brothers. The present church is built upon the house where she lived.

We were able to visit the crypt beneath the main altar to see the remains of the original home, where she is now buried, along with her father, St. Gabinus, and St. Felicity, a sixth-century martyr who is the patron saint of parents who have lost a child. Also buried in this church are St. Elutherius, the 12th successor of Peter who suffered martyrdom under the Emperor Commodus, and St. Genesius, the patron saint of actors. Genesius was a pagan and actor who, for the pleasure of the Emperor and his court, performed satires about the Christian sacraments. Researching material for his role, he began reading about the sacraments and underwent a conversion experience. When the Emperor Diocletian learned of his Baptism, he had him executed.

This history of the church and the saints buried there was recalled for us by its present pastor, Father Paul Robichaud, the author of the wonderful article on the real meaning of pilgrimage I cited earlier. He is even a more dynamic speaker than writer and for over an hour mesmerized us with his insights about how to be a pilgrim. He offered three suggestions which I found to be particularly helpful:

1. Discover the goal for your pilgrimage. A pilgrimage is a very special journey toward the holy with the hope of personal and spiritual transformation. But Father Robichaud observed all transformation takes a specific form. So he encouraged us to probe the goal of our pilgrimage. What part of our life do we want God to touch on this journey? If it is a journey in search of healing, what in our life needs to be healed? If we are in the process of making a decision, like a retirement or job change, what further discernment is needed? If there is someone we are caring in our heart on this pilgrimage, a family member or friend who is in trouble, what are we asking for or what do we hope for that person? To name the goal that is to be the focus of one's pilgrimage is most important.

2. The pilgrim must find time to pray at each place of pilgrimage. Guides often seek to move you in and out of places on a tight schedule. It is important, however, that one take a few minutes in each place for personal prayer. It could be in the Blessed Sacrament chapel of the church being visited. It could be a decade of the Rosary recited or a passage read from the Scripture while waiting in line for the bus, the restroom or to see a particular site. Such a use of these spaces is far better then complaining about the food, the restrooms or the people who didn't show up for the bus on time.

3. Put together a pilgrim bag to be carried through the journey. In centuries past, pilgrims would walk to the holy places, wear special garb, have a pilgrim staff and even carry a letter from one's pastor certifying you are a bona fide pilgrim.

Although we travel by plane, stay in fine hotels, and are commuted to and from sites by air-conditioned bus, we ought still retain the idea of a pilgrim's bag: a bag with a notepad to write down thoughts, questions, prayers and impressions; a bag to collect items to help remember one's pilgrimage, for example, postcards, a gift, a pressed flower or leaf or a small pebble which later will help bring back memories of a favorite spot or of a specific moment on the pilgrimage. These items, in other words, enable one both to recall and to relive the pilgrimage.

I found these practical suggestions to be very useful, as did, I believe, most of our group.

Father Robichaud also outlined the requirements necessary to gain the Jubilee indulgence: receive the Sacrament of Penance; participate in the celebration of the Eucharist; go through one of the Holy Doors; enter the church to say the Our Father, Hail Mary (or some Marian prayer), the Creed (Apostle or Nicene); pray for the intentions of the Holy Father; and perform some act of charity or make a financial contribution to a Church organization.

I would note that the same Jubilee indulgence can be gained by anyone in our Diocese who fulfills these conditions in conjunction with visiting one of the churches we have designated for this Holy Year (Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Albany; St. Mary's, Hudson; St. Peter's, Delhi; St. Mary of Mt. Carmel, Gloversville; St. Patrick's, Catskill; Annunciation, Ilion; St. Mary's, Amsterdam; St. Mary's, Oneonta; St. Paul's, Troy; St. Clement's, Saratoga Springs; St. Joseph's, Schenectady; St. Vincent's, Cobleskill; St. Mary's, Glens Falls; and St. Joseph's, Greenwich).

The final point Father Robichaud made in his sterling presentation was to recall the three overall goals of great Jubilee 2000:

1. Evangelization. We must recommit our lives to live as faithful disciples of Jesus, and then seek to share that message by word and example with others. We, in other words, must open the doors of our heart to Christ and through our actions, especially of charity and social justice, proclaim the Good News to family members, friends, neighbors and co-workers.

2. Reconciliation. We must open our hearts to the great gift of reconciliation God offers; and, having accepted it humbly, we must offer it to others so that God's healing love may spread and transform our world. During the Holy Year, Pope John Paul II has given us a wonderful example in this regard with his apologies to the Jewish community, to other Christians and to indigenous people exploited by Christians in the name of spreading the Gospel, all of whom have in various ways been hurt by the wrongdoings of Catholic Christians. I am sure we are all aware of individuals whom we have harmed and to whom we must extend a gesture of reconciliation.

3. Ecumenism. The divisions that continue to exist among the followers of Jesus is a scandal of monumental proportions. Such separation among those who glory in the name of Christian belies the fervent prayer of Jesus on the night before He suffered and died: "May they all be one Father as you are in me and I am in you. May they be one in us that the world may truly believe it is you who have sent me" (John 17:21).

In a world that has drifted so far from God's plan of life, it is imperative that we who profess one Lord, one faith and one Baptism rectify our differences so that we can offer a credible and attractive witness to people hungry and thirsty for purpose and meaning in life.

At the end of Father Robichaud's excellent presentation, while preparing for the Sacrament of Reconciliation to be offered by the priests from our group and the Mass to follow, a beautiful moment occurred. One of the members of our pilgrimage approached me and sought reconciliation for the anger she had been harboring toward me for closing her parish church several years ago. She said the time had come to let go of that animosity and proceeded to kiss me.

Nothing could have touched me more deeply. Her simple act of forgiveness and reconciliation, expressed so humbly and lovingly, has made this pilgrimage a profound spiritual experience and a great success, no matter what else happens in the days ahead. I only pray that others I have hurt or offended during my priestly and episcopal ministry may experience the healing and peace this woman expressed so graciously.

In light of this moving experience, the Eucharist concelebrated with our host, Father Robichaud, and with the priests from the Diocese of Albany -- Fathers Leo O'Brien, Joe Romano, Frank Ciani and Jim Clark, along with Father's Phil Hearn and Bill Manfred of the dioceses of Syracuse and Ogdensburg respectively -- took on added meaning and significance. The moving liturgy concluded with a special Jubilee Prayer recited over the pilgrims.

After Mass, which concluded about noon, our pilgrims were on their own for lunch, to reassemble at Santa Susanna's at 1:30 for a walking tour to the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon and the Spanish Steps.

Instead of joining the group, however, Jon Harrington, one of our pilgrimage leaders, Sister Mary Ann Putnam, Sister Winifred Anne Allard and I seized this opportunity to visit Sister Maria Cokely at the Villa Bettania. I have known Sister Maria for many years. Along with Sister Rita Shawn, she was instrumental in developing Joseph House in Troy; and currently they both exercise a wonderful ministry of transportation of behalf of those with HIV and AIDS disease as well as those suffering from cancer and other debilitating illnesses.

For many years, Sister Maria exercised her healing ministry as a missionary in Peru. Now she herself in is need of healing. Isn't it ironic that she suffered her injury while exiting the World Mission Day liturgy at St. Peter's?

As always, Sister Maria's spirits were upbeat, despite being confined to a hospital in a foreign land and still waiting upon further tests to determine whether surgery on her hip will take place in Rome or in the United States. Sister Rita Shawn has been her constant helpmate through this ordeal and is committed to stay with her for as long as necessary. The administrative team and healthcare coordinator for the Sisters of Saint Joseph have been notified and her physician brother-in-law, Dr. Coughlin of Troy, has been consulted.

Good news came in the course of our hospital visit with the arrival of four American School Sisters of St. Francis. Their community operates the Villa where Sister Maria is hospitalized, and they gave assurance of the high quality of medical care accorded at this clinic. Further, they reside next door in their community's Generalate and offered Sister Rita hospitality for as long as she needs to stay. Just to know that there are concerned people familiar with the healthcare system in Italy who have taken a personal interest in Sister Maria's situation and who will be available for continued guidance and support is a tremendous blessing.

Sisters Winifred Anne and Mary Ellen, who are also members of Sister Maria's religious community, the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, Jon and I felt much better upon our departure than our arrival, but we are still greatly concerned for Sister Maria's well-being. We are most anxious to learn a final diagnosis and treatment plan.

Since I was already too late to join the group tour, after returning to the hotel by cab, I set out on my own private tour. I had visited the Trevi Fountain on the day of our arrival and have been to the Piazza di Spagna on many occasions, so I decided to catch the Pantheon and Santa Maria Sopra Minerva.

Having missed lunch, I treated myself by stopping at my favorite piazza in Rome, the Piazza Navona, and ordering a dish of gelato misto (three or four flavors of delicious Italian ice cream) in one of the numerous cafes which dot the piazza. While ice cream is off my diet due to a penchant for kidney stones, an occasional indulgence can't be all that detrimental. (How's that for rationalization?) Besides, I needed to purchase something if I was to enjoy the opportunity to sit and view Bernini's incredible Fontana dei Fuimi (River Fountains) in the center of the square, representing the Nile, Rio de la Plata, Ganges and Danube rivers.

To gaze upon this masterpiece and to watch the hordes of tourists drink in the splendor of this magnificent piazza was indeed a special delight -- to say nothing of the gelato.

Before leaving, I visited the Church of St. Agnes on the west side of the piazza. According to tradition, this church is built upon the spot where St. Agnes, who had been stripped and put into stocks in preparation for her martyrdom, was protected from public gaze by her flowing hair, let loose by divine intervention. The present church is a fine example of baroque architecture and endures great popularity among Romans as a place for weddings.

A stone's throw away is the Pantheon, the most famous monument from ancient Rome, still in almost perfect condition. Erected by Agrippa in 27 B.C. and restored by Domitian after a fire in 80 A.D., it was rebuilt again and given its present form by the Emperor Hadrian. Originally built to honor all the Roman deities, the Pantheon features classic Egyptian and Corinthian columns, and its calotte dome is this splendid architectural jewel's crowning touch. In 609, Pope Boniface IV converted this pagan temple to a Christian church and dedicated it to Our Lady of the martyrs. Also, the renowned artist Raphael is buried here, at his request, wanting to be laid to eternal rest in this aesthetic treasure.

Around the corner from the Pantheon is the church of Santa Maria Sopre Minerva, so named since it was erected over an ancient temple dedicated to the goddess Minerva. Begun by the Dominican Friars in 1280, it was designed with a Gothic form; a Renaissance facade was added in the 15th century. The church houses Michelangelo's famous statue, Christ Bearing the Cross, and beneath the high altar reside the relics of St. Catherine of Siena, who died in Rome in 1380. She was known for her patient perseverance and her boldness in confronting the papal abuses of her age. She is a Doctor of the Church and a growing role model for Christian feminism.

In a panoply of historic and artistic riches, the piazza fronting the church contains a sixth-century B.C. Egyptian obelisk and the Marble Elephant sculpted by Bernini.

Sated with the riches of these Roman sites, I returned to our hotel and enjoyed a leisurely supper with my sisters.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 24

This day began with a surprise. We journeyed to St. Peter's Basilica for an 8 a.m. Mass, scheduled to be celebrated at the altar of the Chair of Peter. Arriving at the sacristy, I again met Archbishop Vlazny of Portland. We exchanged greetings, and I asked him where in St. Peter's he and his group would be celebrating the liturgy.

"At the Chair of Peter," he responded. "How could this be?" I asked. "We had reserved that very altar for this date seven months ago."

The Archbishop and I talked to the head sacristan to sort out the problem, only to learn he had double-booked us. Quite frankly, anyone who is familiar with Roman ways would not be all that surprised by such confusion. They seem to thrive on it. The sacristan's solution: concelebration.

Fine, we said. I suggested that the Archbishop preside at the Eucharist and I preach the homily. "No," the Archbishop insisted, "you have a larger group. You preside and preach, and I and the other priests from both our dioceses will concelebrate."

While we had resolved the conflict in the sacristy, we wondered what chaos may have been taking place in the pews before the altar of the Chair, where two groups of pilgrims headed by their possessive tour leaders were vying for the same space. Fortunately, the spirit of hospitality which should be the hallmark of a pilgrimage was very much in evidence as our respective groups waited patiently for a resolution. How good it is when brothers and sisters dwell together in unity!

Celebrating at the altar of the Chair of Peter recalled special memories for me. I served as master of ceremonies when Archbishop Vlazny; Father James Mackey, present pastor of St. Michael the Archangel in Troy; and their classmates from the North American College were ordained at this very altar in 1961. Two years later, upon my own ordination at the Church of St. Ignatius, I celebrated my second Mass at this altar (the first being at the catacombs of St. Priscilla and the third, as previously noted, at the Basilica of St. Mary Major.)

However, while the altar of the Chair holds happy memories for me, being in this magnificent basilica of St. Peter's calls to mind perhaps the most embarrassing and humiliating experience of my life. In 1980, with many others from the Diocese, I journeyed to Rome for the beatification of Kateri Tekakwitha. Although we knew the date and place for the beatification, we had few details about the ceremony itself.

The night before the beatification, I received an invitation to concelebrate the liturgy and to report to the altar of the Pieta, located in the right rear of the Basilica for vesting. That this magnificent sculpture of the great Michelangelo, one of the world's most renowned masterpieces, was being used as a vesting site boggled the mind.

Upon arriving at the vesting area for the celebration, I was approached by one of the papal masters of ceremonies who asked if I was Bishop Hubbard. He proceeded to inform me that as Bishop of the Diocese sponsoring Kateri's cause, I would be called upon at the outset of the liturgy to present to the Holy Father the highlights of Kateri's life and to make the formal request for her beatification.

The monsignor then presented me with the English text which was to be read. I asked if I might take it for a few moments to familiarize myself with the reading, especially since it listed a number of places which were referred to by their Native American names, like Ossernenon. The papal chamberlain was adamant in not permitting the text to leave his hands, afraid, I suppose, it might be misplaced. But at least he allowed me to scan the document while he clung to it steadfastly.

There were several persons to be beatified that day. After the entrance procession, Pope John Paul II took his seat at the papal altar. The other bishops and I who were to present our candidates were positioned around the confessional of St. Peter, directly in front of the papal altar and above the tomb of the Apostle Peter.

Quite frankly, I was very nervous. There I was, standing before the Holy Father in a Basilica filled with more than 10,000 people and not really familiar with the text I was about to read. To make matters worse, I was the last bishop to present my candidate. The others read their presentations in the language of their homeland: German, French, Spanish and Italian.

As I approached the microphone and the master of ceremonies thrust the text into my hands, I could feel my stomach churning and my knees trembling. Somehow or other, the words did come out; and by the conclusion, I was quite relieved, both because it was over and because I thought I had pronounced the Native American words properly and read the text coherently.

As I happily sought to return the script to the master of ceremonies and started to resume my position before the confessional, he muttered, "No, no, no!" and proceeded to show me another text which summarized entirely -- in Latin -- everything I and the other bishops had just presented in the vernacular. I was never a great Latin scholar to begin with and hadn't read a Latin text in the 15 years since Mass was changed from Latin to English. And here I was standing before the Holy Father, the curial cardinals as well as bishops, priests and laity from all around the world, trying to read a Latin manuscript I had never set eyes on previously.

I was never so panicked and perplexed in my life. God only knows what my presentation sounded like. I am sure it was a badly botched articulation of the text, and to this day I shudder at what a fool I made of myself. The only consolation is that the experience enabled me to participate in the humility which was so characteristic of Kateri's life.

Celebrating the Eucharist at the Chair of Peter, which symbolizes so majestically his role as the first among the Apostles and the rock upon Jesus would build the Church, against which the gates of hell will never prevail, was a special joy.

There are many images of Peter which come to mind from reading the Scriptures: his call to be a disciple at the Sea of Galilee; his asking Jesus to cure his mother-in-law; his presence at the Mount of Transfiguration when Jesus gave him, James and John a foretaste of His glory and wherein Peter with typical impulsiveness wanted to make it a permanent arrangement by proposing to set up three tents; his famous response to the question of Jesus, "Who do you say that I am?" "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God;" his bold assertion at the Last Supper that he would never betray Jesus and, then, within hours denouncing Him three times in the courtyard of the high priest Pilate; his rushing to the tomb on Easter Sunday morning to find it empty; and his efforts to keep unity among the Apostles in the midst of the various conflicts which arose in the early Church.

However, amid all of these scenes described in the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, we should never forget that Peter himself was to suffer a martyr's death in Rome. Indeed, there is a chapel outside the walls of the city, titled "Quo Vadis" ("Where are you going?"), which honors the tradition that Peter, while fleeing Rome to escape persecution, encountered Jesus at this spot.

"Lord," Peter asked, where are you going?"

"I am going back to be crucified a second time," Jesus replied.

This vision prompted Peter to return to the city, there to suffer a martyr's death by way of crucifixion. Ever his own man, however, Peter insisted that he be crucified upside down, protesting he was not worthy to be put to death in the same manner as his Lord and Savior.

The martyrdom of Peter, the first of the Apostles, reminds us that we must be prepared to embrace the cross in our own life. For just as God the Father did not spare the Only Begotten Son nor Peter to whom He entrusted the keys of the kingdom, so, too, we cannot expect to be spared. But as Peter's life demonstrates, the crosses we are asked to carry, when accepted willingly and borne patiently, can help us grow as persons, redound to the benefit of others and contribute to God's loving plan of salvation for humankind.

After Mass, our pilgrims walked around the walls of Vatican City State to the Vatican Museum. Although a long line had already formed, it moved quickly and a great spirit of camaraderie prevailed. While I had visited the museum on many occasions, this is the first time I had ever done so with a guide. It is amazing how the treasures of this museum took on new meaning through the guide's insights and anecdotes.

Previously, for example, I had pretty much paraded through the various galleries of the museum with little or no desire to contemplate the artifacts therein contained, except that these galleries served as a necessary passageway to the object of my interest, the Sistine Chapel. Our guide, however, generated a real enthusiasm for the major themes of each gallery. The Candelabra Gallery, so named after the pairs of candelabra of the Roman Imperial period placed near each of the arches that divide the gallery into six sections, contains fascinating ancient statues of divinities, idols and warriors from the Hellenistic period.

The Tapestry Gallery has an amazing arched ceiling, which in point of fact is an optical illusion, as the ceiling is perfectly flat. All of the beautiful tapestry work contained in the room with their marvelous depictions of various biblical scenes have been crafted freehand and produced in three-dimensional effect. It is amazing that such a technique had been developed and utilized over 500 years ago. Today, such would only be produced by computer.

The Geographic and Maps Gallery has a genuine arched ceiling and is 360 feet long. It overlooks the fabulous Vatican Gardens and features detailed maps developed at the end of the 15th century, drawn perfectly to scale all without modern technology.

The Sistine Chapel, however, remains the crowning jewel of this world-class museum. It is actually the Pope's private chapel and the setting for major ceremonies of the Vatican Curia, including, most notably, the conclaves for the election of the popes. It was built in the late 15th century at the commission of Pope Sixtus VI, hence its name -- the Sistine Chapel.

The two most notable works in the chapel are on the ceiling and the wall behind the altar, created 24 years apart by the same genius, Michelangelo. The frescoed ceiling was painted by this artist at the behest of Pope Julius II. Incredibly, Michelangelo had never painted anything before that date, and he tried his best to avoid the Pope's commission. However, Julius' flattery and entreaties won him over, and in 1508 Michelangelo began a labor of love that would take four years to complete. The result, of course, was an artistic triumph.

The fresco is composed of biblical scenes from the Old Testament, the most striking being the portrayal of the creation of man, in which the Creator approaches Adam's inert form and by a single touch of the finger transmits a spark of life. The guide noted that Michelangelo was a deeply spiritual person and truly believed that God's divinity is shared with us.

She also noted that the cleaning (not restoration) of the Sistine Chapel had taken 19 years to produce. In one corner of the ceiling, there is a little black patch which was not cleaned, so we can see the contrast of the "before and after" of the cleansing. The difference is incredible! The guide also pointed out that the expense for the cleansing was borne by a Japanese firm, which now has the copyright (over the next 19 years) for all reprints and videos of the Sistine ceiling.

Michelangelo, who lived to 89, created the fresco for the Last Judgment almost a quarter of a century after the ceiling fresco in the Sistine Chapel. Populated with 391 figures, it took the artist six years to create this breath-taking masterpiece. The entire fresco moves around the focal point of the Judge, portrayed as a young man of extraordinary handsomeness with the Madonna at His side and surrounded by the saints, bearing the instruments of their martyrdom. One such figure is St. Bartholomew, who is portrayed with the face of Michelangelo himself. Also included in the fresco are those who have been cast into the depths of hell, one of which is a caricature of the papal master of ceremonies for whom Michelangelo had a particular antipathy.

In his 89 years, Michelangelo lived under 13 popes and had little respect for any of them. Unfortunately, they were often venal, greedy and lustful, and Michelangelo reveled in tweaking their image. Since he specialized in anatomy and rejoiced in the innate goodness of the human body, Michelangelo was furious that his figures, which he portrayed nude, had their sexual organs painted over by order of the popes. Ah, the foibles of the human condition!

We left the Vatican Museum through a passageway which led into St. Peter's Basilica, the largest in Christendom. The early Christians built a small oratory at this site to mark the burial place of the Apostle Peter. After his conversion to Christianity, the Emperor Constantine erected a double-aisled basilica here. In the late 15th and early 16th centuries, the popes began to expand the Basilica. Michelangelo is responsible for its majestic dome. Underneath the dome is the papal altar, covered by the famous Bernini canopy; in front of the altar is the magnificent confession chapel over St. Peter's tomb.

It is truly difficult to describe or to perceive accurately the magnitude of this Basilica. On the floor of the nave of St. Peter's, the dimensions of the largest churches in the world are recorded. St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York, for example, is about one-third the size of St. Peter's, just to give a hint of the Basilica's immensity and grandeur.

My three favorite spots in the Basilica are the Pieta, the bronze statue of Peter and the Altar of the Chair, where we celebrated Mass earlier this morning.

The Pieta was sculpted by Michelangelo as a young artist about 25 years of age. The exquisite beauty of the Madonna holding the crucified Jesus is Michelangelo's testimony to his fervent belief in the afterlife. The hint of a smile on Mary's face, in what should be a moment of great grief, is an indication of her serene conviction that through Jesus' death we have the opportunity for everlasting life. Unfortunately, because of the act of a madman who smashed the nose and cheek of the Madonna in 1972, the altar holding the Pieta is now glass encased and, thus, is not as accessible as it was during my student days in Rome.

The bronze statue of St. Peter to the right of the papal altar is one which pilgrims venerate with either a touch of their hand or a kiss of his foot. Over the centuries, this frequent veneration has rendered the ornate bronze of the statue's foot perfectly flat.

The Altar of the Chair, cast in bronze by Bernini, encloses the wooden chair upon which the Apostle Peter is supposed to have sat. Above the chair and dominating the whole Basilica is an alabaster window depicting the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove, proclaiming that the light of the Spirit will illumine one's every step on the path of life.

When the rest of our group departed for lunch, along with a few others I went to the tombs of the popes underneath the nave of the church. Resting there are Pius XI, Pius XII, John XXIII, Paul VI and John Paul I.

I particularly wanted to visit the tomb of Pope John XXIII, who was beatified last month. He was the pope when I began my studies in Rome, and his vision, humility, simplicity and prayerfulness continue to inspire me. I pray that the spirit of aggiornamento (the opening up of the Church) which he inaugurated with the convocation of the Second Vatican Council may never be stifled. John XXIII is my hero and role model. Hopefully, I will live to celebrate his canonization.

After lunch, I took my sisters and a few others to see the North American College, the residence and formation house where I lived for four years. The college, situated on the Gianiculum Hill, remains basically unchanged with its stately courtyard, pine-lined paths and panoramic view of the city. What is new is the tunnel and bus turnabout immediately in front of the college, erected by the Italian government to accommodate and facilitate the flow of pilgrims during the Jubilee Year.

Sending my guests to the hotel by cab, I descended the Gianiculum for a scheduled interview at Vatican Radio. This proved to be the second surprise of the day, but this time a pleasant one. The radio show was in three languages, Italian, French and English, conducted by three young adults between 20 and 25 who had been recruited to cover the Jubilee Year from the perspective of youth and with an international flavor.

These young people were interested in discussing three areas of ministry in which I am involved at the level of our Bishops' Conference: relations with the Jewish community, the National Catholic AIDS Network and our Bishop's Committee on the role of women in the Church and society.

I shared with them not only the dialogue that exists at the national level with the Jewish community through our Bishops' Committee for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs, but also the work that was being done in our own Diocese through our Jewish-Catholic Dialogue. They were impressed by the fact that we had conducted four interfaith pilgrimages to Israel and Rome. They were not aware of similar ventures and were pleased to hear that we actually entered into discussions with the Jewish community about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the position of the Vatican on the status of Jerusalem.

The idea that we could have candid conversations about these matters and still remain friends despite disagreement, seemed foreign to my interviewers, but also hopeful and worthy of imitation.

My youthful interrogators were also very interested in the work of the National Catholic AIDS Network. In particular, they were surprised, given the tension which has developed between the Church and the gay and lesbian community, that the Catholic Church in the United States has exercised such leadership in AIDS education, prevention and treatment. They were also heartened to learn of our efforts to address the pandemic beyond our national borders, especially in Africa.

Finally, the French-speaking interviewer, who actually is a citizen of Belgium, was eager to probe the efforts of our Women's Commission to forge leadership roles for females in the Church. Apparently, in Europe, the role of women in the Church is not discussed so publicly and candidly, and they were pleased to learn of the convocation which our Committee will be having next spring to explore the experience, both positive and negative, of women currently exercising leadership responsibility in our dioceses.

Another full day drew to a close at my favorite Roman restaurant, Galeassi's, in the tranquil piazza of Santa Maria in Trastevere. This meal was a chance to dine alone with the other priests on the pilgrimage, and we were joined by Father Gary Mercure, the new pastor of Sacred Heart Church in Troy, who is enjoying a three-month sabbatical at the North American College.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25

When I heard the CNN news that the Mets had finally won, I knew it was going to be a great day. I decided to take a cab to St. Peter's for the papal audience. Since bishops automatically are seated at the papal throne, I didn't have to leave as early as the rest of the group.

Today is the first overcast day we have had on this pilgrimage. The weather has been perfect, with blue skies and temperatures in the 70s by day and low 60s or high 50s by night. This morning, however, there is a gentle but chilly breeze which requires a sweater or light jacket. The cloud cover is probably better for the pilgrims in the Piazza, rather than the hot sun beating upon them. Upon arriving in St. Peter's Square, I was immediately greeted by Charlie and Marie Vienni, from Columbia County. He is a former member of our Diocesan Pastoral Council and was traveling with his wife to visit relatives in Italy. We were delighted to see one another and to have such an unexpected encounter at the Vatican.

I was dressed in my episcopal cassock for the papal audience, so I immediately became a magnet for pilgrims who wanted a photo op with a bishop. After about 10 minutes of posing, I had to refuse further requests, lest I be late for the audience itself.

As I mounted the steps of the Basilica to the terrace where the papal throne had been erected, I was in awe of the crowd which had assembled. While not as large as for Sunday's Mass, there must have been 80,000 to 90,000 people in the square, the biggest I have ever seen for an audience.

The atmosphere was one of a great pageant. On one side of the throne were 20-30 bishops, including Archbishop Vlazny; Bishop Robert Lynch of St. Petersburg, Florida; Bishop Raymond Burke of LaCrosse, Wisconsin; Bishop William Houck of Jackson, Mississippi; and Bishop Michael Saltarelli of Wilmington, Delaware, all leading diocesan pilgrimages.

On the other side of the throne, 50 or 60 bridal couples were decked out in wedding dresses and tuxedos. This is a new tradition for such audiences, having developed over the past few years. Newlyweds are given VIP seating at the audience and accorded a personal blessing by the Holy Father.

A symphony orchestra played in the background and occasionally various pilgrim groups would burst into song. At the rear of the papal throne, there was a beautiful hanging of Our Lady of Czestochowa, the patroness of Poland who is so dear to the heart of Pope John Paul.

At a few minutes to 10, the popemobile entered the square to the shouts and chants of the crowd. He was accompanied by Bishop Stanislaw Dziwisz, who served as secretary when Karol Wojtyla was Archbishop of Krakow and has remained with him throughout his pontificate. Two years ago, he was elevated to the episcopal office.

Also with the Pope was Bishop James Harvey of Milwaukee, the first American to serve as head of the papal household. He is responsible for scheduling appointments for the Holy Father, and conducting both private and public audiences. When I greeted Bishop Harvey, he immediately inquired about the health of his good friend Bishop Clark of Rochester and asked that I extend his greetings and best wishes upon arriving home.

As the Pope reached the throne, garbed in his white cassock and zucchetto, his aides placed an embroidered red cloak around his shoulders. He looked so frail with his slow gait and cane, and has the frozen facial expression known as the Parkinson's mask, a side effect of the medication taken for Parkinson's disease or other nerve disorders. Yet, beneath that fragile exterior lies a man with the heart of a lion. His selfless availability is beyond extraordinary. The grueling schedule he keeps would wear down a man half his age. Yet Pope John Paul II remains responsive to all the demanding public appearances, such as today's weekly audience, to say nothing of the countless hours he spends meeting with bishops, heads of state and members of the Curia, along with his own personal prayer, reading and reflection.

I was also quite cognizant today of Pope John Paul's courage. Riding through the square in the popemobile has to remind him of that day in another outdoor audience, almost two decades ago, when the would-be assassin Ali Agca fired a round of bullets into his body. The effect of those near-mortal wounds continues to this day.

Yet, except for the metal detectors which pilgrims must now pass when entering the Piazza, he has no more protection today than previously. This ever-present risk to his life is a price John Paul pays willingly in an effort to fulfill his insatiable desire to be a pastor for the universal Church. From its original Greek roots, the word "martyr" means "witness." In so many ways, Pope John Paul is a contemporary martyr, witnessing daily through the heroic sacrifices he makes to the moving power of the Good News.

The papal audience takes the format of a service of the Word. The Gospel is read in five languages and then the Pope presents a homily in each of the languages. Today, he reflects briefly on the Scripture reading from John when Jesus says, "I am the Bread of Life." Our Holy Father notes that the Eucharist, the Bread of Life, is the foretaste of the future God has prepared for us in the risen Christ.

After the Pope's homiletic reflection, the various groups of pilgrims are announced to the Pope according to language groupings: French, German, Spanish, Polish, Italian and English. The Holy Father extends his apostolic blessing to the pilgrims from each language group as well as to their family members, especially the children and the sick.

When he has greeted all the various groups present, he invites the bishops to join with him at the papal throne to extend together a blessing to the crowd. I then had the privilege, along with the other bishops, to greet the Holy Father personally and to kiss the ring of the fisherman.

As I left the throne, Bishop Harvey asked me to present the two guests that I had present in the "prima fila" (that select group of pilgrims from the larger audience who have the opportunity to meet the Pope personally). Unfortunately, no one had informed me of this possibility. Bishop Harvey apologized for the confusion and felt very badly that there had been some miscommunication. My supposition is that when I visited the Pilgrim Office at the Casa last Saturday and introduced my sisters to Msgr. Roensch, he may have requested this privilege for them. However, I was never informed that the request had been made, and no one notified me it had been granted.

In any case, my sisters and all the pilgrims from the Albany Diocese were just thrilled to be at the audience, and most had seats near the aisles when the popemobile passed, so they were able to see the Holy Father up close and to wave to him from just a few feet away.

After a quick lunch of microwaved eggplant garnered at a refreshment stand, I joined the group for an afternoon tour of the catacombs, St. Paul's outside the Walls and St. John Lateran.

When Christianity first spread to Rome, it was customary within the Empire to have the dead either cremated or placed in tombs. For Christians, however, in imitation of Jewish burial custom and the burial of Jesus Himself, the bodies of the dead were placed in the earth. Since Christians were such a small minority and burial was not permitted within the city walls, a system of tunnels was designed outside the city to accommodate the deceased. Most of these catacombs were developed along the Appian Way, the major road leading from Rome to southern Italy. It should be noted that there are Jewish as well as Christian catacombs.

Contrary to popular misconception, Christians never lived in the catacombs to avoid imprisonment and death during the days of persecution before the conversion of Constantine. To hide there was not feasible for two reasons: the unsanitary conditions created by the decaying bodies within the catacombs and the Roman authorities' awareness of the location of the catacombs; they could easily track down anyone hiding there. Christians would, however, gather in the catacombs to celebrate the Eucharist and to pray for the dead.

We visited the catacombs of St. Domatilla, named after the convert niece of the Emperor Flavian. Built at the end of the first century A.D., it is the most extensive catacomb in Rome, consisting of four levels and 11 miles of tunnels. The burial places were fashioned out of the volcanic soil of this area. A niche in the wall of the tunnel would be fashioned to the size of the corpse and then the body, wrapped in a shroud, would be placed in the niche and sealed with a stone.

After Constantine's conversion in the early fourth century when Christianity became tolerated in the Empire, many of the wealthier families had burial chambers carved out of the volcanic soil and the entire family would be buried together in these chambers. Between the third and seventh century, it is estimated that 150,000 bodies were buried in the catacombs. Their popularity and proliferation, especially after Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, is attributable to the desire of Christians to be buried near the remains of the martyrs.

The catacombs provide some of the best evidence of the belief and practice of early Christians through the frescoes on the catacomb walls and ceilings, and the inscriptions carved on the stone markers. For example, in the catacombs of St. Domatilla, we saw drawings of the Good Shepherd; a dove representing the Holy Spirit; bread and grapes, symbolizing the Eucharist; and the fish representing Christ (since the Greek word for fish, ICHTHUS, formed the acronym "Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior").

Over the catacombs of St. Domatilla itself is a fourth-century basilica erected to honor the martyr saints Nerses and Achilleus. Most all of the catacombs have shrine churches or chapels associated with them. These catacombs remind us of the dictum, "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church," and of the dynamic faith of our early Christian forebears.

When we emerged from the catacombs, we saw that the cloudiness of the early day had yielded to a sunny afternoon. Next, we journeyed a short distance to another of the four patriarchal basilicas: St. Paul's Outside the Walls, erected over the burial place of the Apostle Paul. The phrase "outside the walls" is significant because it means that the church was located some distance from the walls of the city; hence, because it could not be protected easily, numerous times throughout the centuries this church and its artifacts were subject to occupation and vandalism by invading forces.

Our guide pointed out something of which I was unaware. When St. Paul was martyred, since he was a Roman citizen, he was granted execution by decapitation rather than crucifixion because the former was quicker and less painful than the latter.

St. Paul's is the second largest church in Rome after St. Peter's. The original edifice was erected by Constantine in 314, enlarged by Valentinian in 386 and completed by Theodosius the Great and his son Honorius. Unfortunately, most of the original structure was destroyed by fire on July 15, 1833. It was rebuilt immediately as the result of a generous response on the part of Catholics and non-Catholics to an urgent appeal to reconstruct this significant church in Christian history. It was reconsecrated in 1854 by the recently beatified Pius IX.

As the bus arrived at the basilica grounds, we were greeted by a German band serenading pilgrims in a park. There is a spacious and exquisitely manicured courtyard in front of the basilica whose facade features a striking mosaic of Christ flanked by Peter and Paul. The inscription reads "Fides Unica," a gentle rebuff to the Protestant reformers who had made Paul and the Scriptures their primary icons. Beneath the feet of Christ are four rivers, symbolizing the four Gospels; scenes of Bethlehem and Jerusalem, where Christ was born and died; and majestic portrayals of four Old Testament prophets.

The church itself is modeled after the ancient Roman basilica of Trajan, the ruins of which are located at the Piazza Venetia. The basilica features a richly coffered ceiling; along the walls are mosaics of the popes from Peter to John Paul II. Above the high altar, erected over the tomb of Paul, is a 13th-century Gothic tabernacle, which miraculously survived the fire of 1883.

The rear wall features a mosaic populated with powerful symbols: an empty cross, representing our awaiting the return of Christ, placed on a throne with depictions of the instrument of His passion and death: the crown of thorns, the spear and the nails.

Also located near the main altar is a very ornate stone Paschal candle holder, the largest in the world. To the left of the basilica is a well-preserved cloister where the members of the Benedictine community who staff the basilica reside.

By now, my senses were pretty much oversaturated, but there was still one more stop on our pilgrimage for the day, the Basilica of St. John Lateran, the cathedral church of Rome. It was named after a noble Roman family whose estate was located on the present site but was confiscated and became the personal patrimony of the Emperor when the family fell afoul of Nero. Following his conversion, Constantine donated the property to the Church on the condition that a large basilica be erected there.

Originally, the basilica was dedicated to Christ, the Savior of the World. Later, it was dedicated to Ss. John the Baptist and John the Evangelist. During the Middle Ages, its adjacent palace became the residence for the popes.

Prior to the restoration of St. Peter's and St. Paul's, St. John's was the largest church in Rome and known as the head and mother of all the churches in the city and the world. Today, the Lateran palace hosts the offices of the Vicar of Rome, the bishop who attends to the day-to-day pastoral affairs of the Diocese of Rome.

Destroyed and rebuilt many times after barbarian invasions, the present-day edifice, stemming from the 17th century is an excellent example of Baroque architecture, but it bears little resemblance to the original basilica and its successors. The bronze door at the entranceway was the original door for the Roman Senate. In the courtyard is a statue of Constantine, the champion of Christians, and to the side of the Basilica is a baptistry commissioned by the same emperor. The confessional in front of the high altar has a reliquary containing the relics of Peter and Paul.

The original reliquary was confiscated by Napoleon as tribute when his forces occupied Rome. The mosaic at the rear of the church, commissioned by a Pope Nicholas IV, the first Franciscan pontiff, features Christ the Savior, and smaller depictions of St. Francis and of the two friars who created the mosaic, a foretaste of tomorrow's trip to Assisi.

Also located in St. John's Lateran is the tomb of Pope Leo XIII, author, in 1891, of that landmark social encyclical "Rerum Novarum," which to this day is the foundation for the Church's rich and comprehensive social teaching.

Put through our paces by a drill sergeant-like guide, our exhausted band of pilgrims arrived back at the hotel about 5:30 p.m. However, there was to be no rest for the weary since the bus departed at 6:20 for the only common meal we pilgrims would share together. This dinner was held at a trattoria about a half-hour drive away.

While we may have arrived for dinner somewhat fatigued, a live band and the camaraderie of being together revived our drooping spirits, and everyone enjoyed an evening spiced with laughter and shared memories of our pilgrimage to date. Even I contributed to the frivolity, by subjecting myself to an impromptu lesson from Mary Ann DiChristopher on how to dance the tarantella, much to the amusement of those assembled.

This banquet also accorded an opportunity to thank our guides and tour leaders, especially Mary Breig of The Evangelist staff, the behind-the-scene guru for our pilgrimage and who tonight was celebrating her birthday. We gave her a replica of the Pieta as a birthday gift and as a small token of our appreciation for her meticulous planning.

We arrived back at the hotel around 11:30 p.m., with a wake up call for 5:45 a.m. It will be a short night.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 26

Today began with two boos -þ one for me and one for the Mets. For me, because I thought the departure for the trip to Assisi was at 7:30 a.m. when in reality it was at 7. So I kept everyone waiting for nearly 20 minutes. How embarrassing! For the Mets, because they were defeated again and now are one game from extermination. However, where there is life, there is hope!

Most of the pilgrims slept on the two-and-a-half-hour trip to Assisi. While understandable, given the late-night dinner and early wakeup call, this was unfortunate because the scenery is truly spectacular. We traveled for about an hour on the autostrata toward Florence and then veered off into the Apennine Mountain range dotted with Medieval city-state towns, tucked into the mountainside, fortified with their walls and watchtowers for defense, both from the barbarians and later from rival troops from neighboring Umbrian towns.

We passed Spoleto, noted for its present-day art, cultural and film festival, and Perugia, famous for its world-renowned medical university. Pine trees and olive branches dot the countryside and both Romanesque and Byzantine architecture are visible in the public buildings and churches.

Assisi is an enchanting town situated in the green heart of the Umbrian district. Seated on Mount Subasio, it dominates the plain below that extends from Spoleto to Perugia. Enveloped in the light of the Umbrian skies, the town -- with its stone houses arranged in tiers -- rises over the valley like the proverbial "City on a Hill."

The city dates back to pre-Roman times. It was an important center inhabited first by the Umbri and then by the Romans, who conferred significant privileges to the city. A large temple dedicated to the Goddess Minerva can still be found in the town's main piazza. In the third century A.D., the Christian faith was brought there by Bishop Rufinus. Between 1000 and the 14th century, Assisi acquired its present aspect, and at the time of Francis' birth in 1182, was enjoying a vibrant period of life as a free commune.

The bus stopped at the base of the mountain about two-and-a-half miles from the city of Assisi for a visit to the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli. In his early 20s, after a rather carefree life of revelry, Francis, who was baptized John but nicknamed by his merchant father, Francesco (coming from the Italian word for French, because of his son's love for French folk songs), began to listen to the Gospels more seriously, searching for meaning in his life.

One day, while praying at the Chapel of San Damiano, Francis heard a voice emanating from the crucifix, telling him to repair the Church. Taking this mandate literally and not realizing that Jesus was asking him to repair the Church itself -- that is, the members of the people of God who needed to reform their lives and return to the foundation of Gospel values -- Francis began selling off his own and his family's wealth to restore this practically abandoned structure.

When his father objected and sought to have the local bishop warn Francis to cease and desist, Francis renounced his inheritance and threw off his clothes, proclaiming, "I have only one Father, my Father in heaven."

Francis then began living in the groves at the foot of the mountain owned by the Benedictines. He lived in a small cave or hermitage caring for the poor and sick and especially the ostracized lepers. Others, inspired by his example, began to associate themselves with him, and he took over another abandoned chapel, known as the Porziuncola, and restored it as a place for his band of followers to pray in common.

The Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli was built in the late 17th century to enclose and protect the Porziuncola, and to shelter the great crowds of pilgrims who came continuously. The Porziuncola was the place Francis most loved and at which God conceded him special graces. In 1216, in a vision at this sacred place, Francis obtained from Jesus the indulgence of the "Pardon of Assisi," establishing his way of life, which was later approved by Pope Honorius III.

In 1221, the famous Chapter of Mats took place at this site, and at the age of 44 Francis died here on October 3, 1226, singing the praises of Sister Death. For all these reasons and more, Francis admonished his friars never to abandon this blessed spot. Today we were able to visit the original chapel (the Porziuncola) and, a few feet away, the Chapel of the Transitus, where Francis died and was first placed in the bare earth. His tunic is displayed here in a reliquary.

We also saw the hermitage where the first friars lived, the statue of Francis and the Doves, and Francis with a lamb. Although Francis died and was buried initially at this site, the pressure to bring his body to the city on the mountain became too great. Francis was declared a saint in 1228, just two years after his death; and that very year a plot of land was made available for the erection of a basilica to enshrine his body.

So we journeyed up the mountain to visit this massive edifice, the Basilica of San Francesco, where Francis is now buried. We stopped to pray at his tomb; in particular, I prayed for peace in the Mideast. During his life, Francis had a special affection for the Holy Land, so I begged God through the intercession of Francis, the man of Pax et Bonum, to bring a peaceful and just resolution to the IsraeliþPalestinian conflict, which currently is so volatile.

Above the crypt is the lower church, dominated by the high altar erected over the tomb of St. Francis. Particularly striking amidst the artwork which adorns the crypt are the frescoes of the Madonna and Child seated on a regal throne. To the right of the throne is the famous Poverello, a portrait of Francis that corresponds to the description of the saint left by his first biographer, Tommaso da Celano: "rather small of stature, his head regular and round, with an oval forward-looking face, his forehead low and smooth, his dark eyes of modest size and candid." Scholars believe this is the best and most accurate portrait of Francis.

The upper church is the one damaged by the earthquake a few years ago, when four persons were killed and several vaults of the ceiling destroyed. Although much of the ceiling has been restored and the road leading to the upper church rebuilt, there are still several areas which remain uncompleted.

This magnificent structure is the first Gothic-style church in Italy and the first to have stained glass windows. The walls of the upper crypt depict the life of Francis through the eyes of the artistic genius Giotto di Bondone. His frescoes and those of his disciples offer the vision of Francis as a person consumed by a love for God, for his fellow humanity and for the whole of creation. His depiction of Francis is much bolder and assertive than that of the Poverello in the lower church.

While it is impossible to capture the startling beauty of these frescoes, I found four to be especially moving: Francis renouncing all worldly goods, praying before the crucifix of San Damiano, receiving the stigmata and feeding the birds.

Lack of time did not permit us to visit the Basilica of St. Clare, but hers is a parallel and equally fascinating story. She was attracted to Francis' simplicity of life and together they forged a vision that was to revolutionize the Church. Francis arranged for Clare and her followers to have a place at San Damiano. Eventually, several of Clare's sisters and her mother, upon her widowhood, joined her in a radical embrace of the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

After visiting the Basilica of San Francesco and lunch at the Giotto Hotel, I was privileged to concelebrate Mass with our priest pilgrims in the lower basilica at the altar of St. Catherine.

Throughout the pilgrimage, I was edified especially by Father Frank Ciani, ordained for our Diocese in 1939 and serving most of his priesthood as a military chaplain and chaplain for several VA hospitals. Well into his 80s, he kept pace every step of the way and at times put a number of us to shame. His quick wit, spry spirit, keen mind and unswerving determination have been an inspiration for all. Also, Father Mickiewicz's assistance in preparing our liturgies and leading us in song has been a great blessing.

In the homily, I noted that Francis not only profoundly influenced the Church of the 13th century but also remains an icon for so many today, Catholic and non-Catholic alike. His beautiful peace prayer continues to stir the minds and hearts of people, and serves as the foundation for their philosophy of life. His joyful embrace of the majesty of God's creation, with his love for Brother Sun and Sister Moon, has made him the patron saint of the environmental movement. And his passionate predilection for the poor is held up by John Paul II as a model for that solidarity which can and should exist among the members of the human family, the poor and non-poor, the haves and the have-nots.

I suggested that we might imitate Francis today by adopting a lifestyle which enables us to live with what is sufficient; a lifestyle that is less dependent upon money, power, status, prestige, affluence and influence, and that is more open and available in service to others; a lifestyle characterized by simplicity in clothing, diet, transportation and entertainment, and by prayers for advocacy on behalf of and service to the poor.

Upon leaving the Basilica to board the bus back to Rome, I was delighted to be greeted by Sister Barbara Deloia, a native of Mechanicville and a member of the Sisters of the Atonement. With members of her religious community, she runs a retreat center for pilgrims in this center of Franciscanism. Hearing that members of the Diocese of Albany were here on a pilgrimage, she joined us for the Eucharist and met with a few pilgrims she knew personally. It is satisfying to know that we have such a personal connection to this place of calm and serenity, a place that amidst the contingent vicissitudes of modern life reminds us of the spiritual realities which must always be the focus and wellspring of our lives.

At Mass, I remembered especially the Franciscan communities of religious men and women who serve our Diocese. I gave thanks for their continued witness to the values and ideals of their spiritual father and role model, Francis of Assisi.

Upon arrival at our hotel in Rome, I was the recipient of two phone calls. The first from Sister Maria Cokely, who indicated the doctor had decided to perform surgery on her hip in the next day or so. It will probably be two weeks before she is stable enough to return to the States. I continue to be impressed by her contagious cheerfulness and trust in God's providence. I am especially grateful that Sister Rita will be staying with her the whole time and that she herself is being treated so graciously by the school sisters of St. Francis. Do we need any more proof that the Franciscan charism is alive and well?

The second phone call was from the Vatican. A miracle! My two sisters; my secretary, Carol Dugan; and I have been invited to celebrate Mass with the Holy Father tomorrow morning in his private chapel. I am afraid none of us will sleep soundly tonight.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 27

My sisters, Joan and Kathy, called my room at 6:50 a.m., ten minutes before our scheduled departure for the Vatican. Just wanted to make sure I was up and ready. Since it was still dark, the trip by cab to the Vatican was most pleasant as the lights illumined brilliantly the various fountains and monuments.

We arrived at the bronze door near the Porta Santa Anna 20 minutes prior to our 7:30 appointment. We were met by an official who ushered us into a waiting room, after having checked our names against his guest list. A few others who had gathered to attend the Mass were already present, and a few more arrived shortly, making a group of about 30, including eight priests and 22 laity, speaking English, French and Italian.

At exactly 7:30, we were beckoned to follow our host up the two long flights of stairs to the Piazza San Damaso, which we traversed to enter the Vatican Palace. An elevator ride of three floors brought us to the papal apartments.

As we exited the elevator, we were greeted warmly by Bishop Dziwisz. The lay guests were asked to wait outside the Pope's library into which the priests were ushered to vest. Since I was the only bishop in the party, there was an amice, alb and chasuble laid out for me; the others vested in alb and stole.

Bishop Dziwisz handed me a missalette and asked if I was comfortable with utilizing a Latin text. Although I haven't said Mass in Latin in over two decades, I nodded my assent. It was not the Latin, however, that was to be the problem. It was the small print in the missalette, or more accurately, my failing eyesight.

Arriving at the Vatican dressed in the bishop's house cassock, I now realized I had left my glasses in my suitcoat pocket. Quite frankly, as I scanned the missalette, I couldn't read a thing. What would happen? Would I have another embarrassing moment like at the beatification of Kateri Tekakwitha?

Then, the Holy Spirit inspired me. My sisters wear glasses; maybe I could borrow a pair of theirs. Sure enough, Kathy had hers. They were a little stronger than mine, but, hey, any port in a storm! Who said younger sisters never give their older brothers anything but grief?

At 7:40, we were directed to the papal chapel where the Holy Father was already at his priedieux, deep in meditation before the Blessed Sacrament. We sat in awed silence waiting for the end of his morning prayer and the commencement of Mass.

Glancing up, I caught site of the mosaic to the left of the altar: Peter being crucified upside down. What a stark and ever-present reminder to the Holy Father and to all who enter this sacred place of the price the successor of Peter must be prepared to pay in exercising his role as the Vicar of Christ.

At the outset of the 21st century, physical crucifixion is not a likely scenario for the man who walks in the shoes of the Fisherman. But crucifixion can take many forms.

I begin to think about the superhuman burdens that lay so heavily upon this successor of Peter: the persecution of Catholic Christians in India, the Sudan and various other Muslim nations...the tension with the Orthodox churches created by reclaiming the Eastern Catholic Church buildings and property which had been confiscated by the leaders of the former Soviet Socialist Republics...the plight of the dwindling number of Christians in the Mideast...the ofttimes conflicting expectations of progressives, moderates and conservatives in the Church...the decline of vocations to the priesthood and religious life, especially in the West...the devastation of the AIDS pandemic in Africa...the ethnic conflict in the Balkans...the delicate situation with the underground and patriotic Church in China...the need for greater resources to assist the struggling churches in Southeast Asia, Africa and Latin America, just to mention a few of the pastoral, theological and diplomatic crosses the occupant of the Petrine office must bear constantly.

Kneeling beside the Holy Father, who was absorbed in prayer, reawakened within me the significance of that part in the Eucharistic prayer where we pray for John Paul, our Pope. Indeed, John Paul needs and deserves our prayers because he has been called to serve God's people and all of humanity in a time of tremendous opportunity but also in a time of ominous peril.

We, then, who are members of the Body of Christ, must pray fervently and regularly for his Vicar here on earth, that this son of Poland may have the wisdom, vision, discernment and courage to be a vigilant pastor, good shepherd and wise helmsman for the bark of Peter. John Paul has been such for the past 20 years; may God continue to enlighten him for whatever excruciating challenges lay ahead.

The movement of the Holy Father to the altar, where his vestments had been laid out meticulously, broke my reverie and brought me back to the wonderful opportunity at hand: a pilgrim in Rome given the sublime privilege to concelebrate the Eucharist with our pilgrim Pope.

Bishop Dziwisz led the small assembly in the opening hymn "Christus Vincit, Christus Regnat." As I gazed across the aisle at my sisters, I recalled "playing Mass" as kids, me acting as the celebrant, with two aprons fashioned into a chasuble; they as servers, answering the prayers, changing the book and receiving a Necco wafer and cranberry juice as our would-be communion. Who could have imagined that five decades later, we would be bound together in a real Eucharist, offered in the private chapel of the Servant of the Servants of God?

As the only bishop in the group, I was privileged to receive the Sign of Peace directly from his Holiness and later to join with him in imparting the final blessing.

After the Eucharist, we departed for the library, while the Pope remained in his chapel for a few minutes of private, personal prayer. Eight to ten minutes later, he joined us in his library to greet each guest personally and to offer each a blessing and the gift of a Rosary, enveloped in a pouch containing the Papal Coat of Arms.

What a glorious end to a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage! I only wish all of the members of our diocesan pilgrimage and, indeed, all the members of our wonderful diocesan family could have shared this thrilling experience. I remembered all of our priests, deacons, religious and laity at the Mass as well as our brothers and sisters from the Protestant, Orthodox, Jewish and Muslim communities who dwell within our diocesan boundaries and with whom we share spiritual bounds.

Most of the Albany pilgrims boarded planes for the U.S.A. this afternoon, although a little more than 100 are moving on for an extended journey to northern Italy, due to return home on the Feast of All Saints.

As I conclude this pilgrimage journal, I want to acknowledge the wonderful spirit of our diocesan pilgrims. Travel is never easy, and we had our share of mishaps. In addition to Sister Maria's broken femur, some had falls, some sustained sprained ankles, some encountered an upset stomach or sleepless nights, and some experienced the trauma of having their wallet or purse stolen.

Yet, the group maintained an unfailing concern for one another, a prayerful spirit and a marvelous sense of humor. I hope the spirit of hospitality, spirituality and conviviality which was so evident on this pilgrimage may remain with each pilgrim and permeate our Diocese in the days ahead.

P.S. On the way to airport, I heard the Yanks clinched the Series. I guess being away this week has spared me a lot of agony -- and a great deal of good-natured kidding.

Also, kudos to Mary Breig, Jon Harrington, Barbara Oliver, Kate Blain and Dave Oxford for the wonderful job they did in planning the pilgrimage and covering it.

(11-02-00)