I 
was of the opinion that, in today’s milieu, there isn’t much of a difference between going on a tour (as in “tourist”) and going on pilgrimage (as in “pilgrim”). Today proved me wrong. The schedule called for us to be grouped by language and then to visit one or two churches on our way to the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls. Our group took the Metro to Santa Maria del Popolo – so called because the money for its construction was raised by the people of Rome. It became a favorite burial place for wealthy Romans, which is reinforced by the neighborhood (Piazza del Popolo) in which it is located. Located in the church are two magnificent Caravaggios – one of the Crucifixion of Saint Peter and the other of the Conversion of Saint Paul. I found the latter to be particularly striking. Paul is on the ground, the horse looming over him. The light is concentrated on Paul’s face which is in agony. I also thought the Augustinians (who operate the church) were quite clever in their approach to raising the necessary funds to maintain these magnificent paintings…the light in the side chapel where they are contained is operated by inserting a certain amount of coins in a box next to the switch.
From there we made our way to the Basilica Church of San Silvestro in Capite which contains what is said to be the skull of Saint John the Baptist (a pious if somewhat gruesome display). We gathered near the sanctuary for the first of two prayer services (the next one will be at Saint Paul’s). What struck me about this point in the pilgrimage was the shared sense that what we were doing was “right and just” to quote the Psalmist. I can’t imagine a similar sense of comfort were we to repeat this moment in, say, Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in New York. I became aware of a certain sense that, in Rome, these churches may have been built for many – and not always noble – reasons, but now they are for pilgrims like us who want to be reminded of the reasons we are Catholic and seek a deeper experience of faith. This insight became even stronger when we arrived at Saint Paul’s.
was of the opinion that, in today’s milieu, there isn’t much of a difference between going on a tour (as in “tourist”) and going on pilgrimage (as in “pilgrim”). Today proved me wrong. The schedule called for us to be grouped by language and then to visit one or two churches on our way to the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls. Our group took the Metro to Santa Maria del Popolo – so called because the money for its construction was raised by the people of Rome. It became a favorite burial place for wealthy Romans, which is reinforced by the neighborhood (Piazza del Popolo) in which it is located. Located in the church are two magnificent Caravaggios – one of the Crucifixion of Saint Peter and the other of the Conversion of Saint Paul. I found the latter to be particularly striking. Paul is on the ground, the horse looming over him. The light is concentrated on Paul’s face which is in agony. I also thought the Augustinians (who operate the church) were quite clever in their approach to raising the necessary funds to maintain these magnificent paintings…the light in the side chapel where they are contained is operated by inserting a certain amount of coins in a box next to the switch.
From there we made our way to the Basilica Church of San Silvestro in Capite which contains what is said to be the skull of Saint John the Baptist (a pious if somewhat gruesome display). We gathered near the sanctuary for the first of two prayer services (the next one will be at Saint Paul’s). What struck me about this point in the pilgrimage was the shared sense that what we were doing was “right and just” to quote the Psalmist. I can’t imagine a similar sense of comfort were we to repeat this moment in, say, Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in New York. I became aware of a certain sense that, in Rome, these churches may have been built for many – and not always noble – reasons, but now they are for pilgrims like us who want to be reminded of the reasons we are Catholic and seek a deeper experience of faith. This insight became even stronger when we arrived at Saint Paul’s. 
Built over the tomb of Saint Paul the Apostle, the Basilica is one of the most astonishing churches I have ever seen. Smaller than Saint Peter’s its floor plan is clearly designed to impress and awe. It was destroyed by fire in the early 1800s and its reconstruction clearly reflected the architectural values of the nineteenth century. It is more monument than church, but (unlike Saint Peter’s) it is an amazingly prayerful place. Groups are allowed entry a few at a time – which supports the prayerful atmosphere. The grave of Saint Paul is located directly beneath the transept of the church. Its excavation resulted in a below grade shrine which requires the pilgrim to descend a series of semi-circular steps. It (barely) accommodated the seventy of us and what took place then was one of the most amazingly prayerful experiences I have ever encountered. We listened to a reading from the Epistles of Saint Paul as well as to the recitation of psalm verses in all three “official” languages, and then a reading from De La Salle’s first Meditation for the Time of Retreat. As this was happening, the next group of pilgrims had arrived and stood above us observing our prayer. I had the same sense I had at San Silvestro – this was a perfectly appropriate thing to be doing at this moment in time. As we prayed and sang together, I looked up to the magnificent ornate ceiling and found myself noting that – unlike any other church we had visited so far – the elegance of this church made sense in light of its homage to the Apostle to the Gentiles. 
As we left the Basilica I found myself unusually quiet – the entire experience was so unexpected (remember my “thing” about tourism) that I was overwhelmed by the various thoughts and feelings bouncing around in my heard.
That moment was short-lived as we boarded the #918 bus for what would prove to be the bus-ride from hell (there’s a theme emerging here).
I’ve tried to keep these posts brief but today’s experience was simply too complex to do so. 
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