MY ROAD LEADS BACK TO ROME

This summer, a priest mentor gave me a copy of a prayer attributed to Sir Francis Drake and it begins like this:Disturb us, Lord, when

We are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams have come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.

Flying across the Atlantic to its opposite shore for my fourth year of theological studies in Rome, makes the last line of that stanza come alive. The feelings involved in leaving the comfort of home to follow God’s call to become a priest haven’t changed since the first flight over here in 2017: Sadness to depart from a place and people I love, apprehension in not knowing what the following year will hold, and deepening of trust in God to depend on his guidance.

My colleague, Deacon Stephen Yusko, and I returned home on March 11 as concern for the pandemic grew in Italy. The Gregorian University had ceased in-person classes and the country was quickly closing down. After a two-week quarantine, I was welcomed at St. Mary’s Church in Glens Falls to begin my summer placement earlier than expected and entered into a situation no one could have anticipated.

I spent the summer assisting with the livestream process for Masses starting on Palm Sunday, ministering at the altar before an iPhone camera, completing the last semester of my Bachelor of Sacred Theology degree online, all while preparing for the Ordination to the Diaconate on Sept. 5.

The question people asked me throughout the summer was: “So, are you going back to Italy?” And everyone, myself included, was often surprised when I answered “Yes, that’s the plan!” I explained that Stephen and I would head back to Rome to continue priesthood formation and start a second academic degree, and usually they would respond, “Really?!” I, too, found it hard to fully wrap my head around the idea of returning while the pandemic was still in progress. Yet, Italy’s COVID numbers seemed stable, procedures were in place to keep travelers safe, and the Roman universities were set to reopen with in-person classes and COVID-related safeguards.

I tested negative at the beginning September before departing and tested negative again upon arriving at the seminary after the flight. Italy is not letting just anyone from the U.S. enter the country, rather you need a legitimate reason such as being a student. My two-week quarantine at the seminary ended on Sept. 25 and my classes for the licentiate degree in Dogmatic and Fundamental Theology began on Oct. 5 at the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas (The Angelicum) as scheduled.

Life here is simultaneously normal and different. It’s normal because I’m familiar with the other seminarians, our daily schedule remains basically unchanged from years past, the food is just as fantastic as I remember, and the weekly routine gives me a sense of comfort. However, the differences are notable: new liturgical responsibilities as an ordained deacon, wearing masks while receiving food in the buffet line, physical spacing at tables, wearing masks during the half-hour walk to the university and throughout all the classes, and travel restrictions in the country and continent.

“Disturb us, Lord.” That’s the line I repeat in prayer each evening. This past summer and this current academic year could certainly be labeled as “a disturbance” in the usual routine. Still, a later stanza in the prayer helps me to resolve these disturbances:

Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where losing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.

“Where storms will show your mastery.” The Gospels describe the disciples getting into a boat with Jesus to cross the lake and a violent storm appears, a squall with high winds and waves. The disciples woke Jesus exclaiming, “We are perishing!” only to have him respond “Why are you terrified, O you of little faith?” as he calmed the storm.

Sometimes it takes a storm, a disturbance, for Jesus’ mastery to be revealed. Undoubtedly, many people have been through violent storms during this pandemic. And it seems like the storm has yet to subside. Our cry to God as his disciples is often remarkably similar to what was shouted on the boat, and God’s response is indeed the same: why are you so afraid, why are you terrified?

These disturbances in life, although distressing in many ways, can help us turn toward God. My career as a music teacher was disturbed. My comfort was disturbed with a seminary placement in Rome. My original plans for ordination were disturbed. Yet, those disturbances have led to countless blessings, revealed God’s love, deepened my trust in Him, and better prepared me for inevitable future disturbances.

It’s good that Jesus is with us in the boat throughout the storms. Let’s keep each other in prayer as we trust in God’s mastery while enduring the disturbances of life.

Deacon Matthew Duclos is in fourth-year theology, studying for his licentiate degree in Dogmatic and Fundamental Theology at the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas in Rome.