Deacon Michael and Cecelia Weaver in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. (Courtesy Deacon Michael Weaver)
By Deacon Michael Weaver
Special to the Herald
It has been said that a pilgrimage is more about the journey than the destination, that what one experiences along the way proves to be just as, if not more, significant than the endpoint.
Earlier this spring, my wife Cecelia and I joined with a group of deacons and wives from across the country on such a pilgrimage.
Starting in northern Italy in the small town of Padua and concluding in the Eternal City of Rome and the Jubilee Year celebration of the diaconate, our experiences ranged from the sublime (praying at the tomb of St. Lawrence, martyr and patron saint of deacons) to the ridiculous (encountering a friend and former co-worker from 40 years ago, now a deacon like myself, in a vesting hall of thousands of other deacons!).
In between, we witnessed the majesty of Venice and celebrated Mass in St. Mark’s Basilica, within feet of the evangelist’s resting place; Bologna, the historic center of medieval learning; the quiet wonder that is Assisi, where the peaceful presence of the great Francesco fills the air and Blessed Carlo Acutis lays in saintly repose; Cascia, the mountain monastery town of St. Rita, whose glass-encased body is displayed for the faithful; and finally, Rome, the destination of our pilgrimage.
Over five days, we traveled to the four major basilicas of the city, prayerfully passing through the Holy Door of each, blessed with the indulgence of the Jubilee Year of Hope: the powerfully awesome Basilica of St. Peter; St. John Lateran, the seat of the chair of the bishop of Rome; St. Paul Outside the Walls, where the great apostle rests; and St. Mary Major, where Pope Francis comes to pray before and after he travels and where he has indicated he wishes to be buried. Looking back at it all, the mind blurs with the many sites of piety and beauty that we were privileged to witness.
Added to all that was scheduled for us to see and be a part of on our travels was the tense atmosphere created by the illness of Pope Francis, leaving us with the heavy cloud of sadness that we might be witness to a papal funeral.
Traveling from city to town, you could read the sorrow and concern on the faces and in the words of people in the marketplaces, restaurants and chapels.
In St. Peter’s Square in Rome, we heard the rosary being prayed in a multitude of languages for our Holy Father. Each morning as our group gathered, the first questions were continually the same: “Any news?” “How is he today?”
The disappointment of not having the pope celebrate Mass with the deacons and wives began to pale as news of Francis’ worsening health spread. Nevertheless, we were comforted by the knowledge that our prayers at that liturgy were collectively directed toward Gemelli hospital in Rome.
Can a person, having returned from this blessed pilgrimage, possibly pick out one experience that rises above everything else? I tried, and came up with two.
First was the liturgy in St. Peter’s Basilica on our last day in Rome. Processing in with 3,000 deacons from around the world, I found myself constantly looking around, surrounded by beautiful music and wondrous architecture, asking myself if this could possibly be real. I look at the pictures now and ask — “Was I really there?”
When all else fades from memory, however, one day stands above everything else. It happened in Padua: Assisting at the altar of the Church of the Eremitani, in the shadow of the tomb of St. Anthony of Padua, I proclaimed the Gospel and preached a message of overwhelming joy.
St. Anthony of Padua Church in Kailua has been my spiritual home since I was 5 years old. And then, wonder of wonders, for the last 10 years, I have had the privilege to serve its people as their deacon. As I stood there at the ambo in Padua, I could scarcely speak.
Through tears, I tried to express my amazement at how it could possibly be that God had brought me to that place and time. I am still there in my heart.