, I
was able to pray at the tomb of St. Pio of Pietrelcina ,
more popularly known as Padre Pio. The crowd was
almost overwhelming. Annually, four million people
visit the little town of San Giovani Rotondo to pay
homage to Padre Pio. I felt as if they were all there that
morning, pushing and shoving to get closer to the
mortal remains of this remarkable saint. Later our tour
guide explained to me some of the reasons for such a
great crowd: it was the day after his feast, a weekend
in September when the weather was just right, not too
warm, but not too cold. As I was filing past the saint’s
tomb with the crowd, I noticed a priest from our group in
prayer at the kneeler in front of the tomb. He was just
finishing and rose. Nobody in the crowd seemed to
notice the empty kneeler. I slowly broke from the crown
and knelt before St. Pio’s tomb. I no longer heard the
noise or was even aware of the crown milling behind
me; it was just Padre Pio and I. I asked his
intercession for our Parish, mentioning by name staff,
volunteer, altar boys and others. I also prayed to be
strengthened in my priesthood, that I may better serve
God and His people. I thought I had been there a long
time when I finally rose, but looking at my watch it had
just been a few moments. The crowd surged forward
from the tomb to view the Saint’s cell, but I felt no need
and exited. I had gotten what I came for.
The second incident was also a moment of prayer
before a great saint. On Tuesday in Rome, after we
had celebrated Mass with Bishop Loverde before the
altar of Blessed John XXIII, I broke from the group and
made my way across town to the Church of Santa
Maria Sopra Minerva, where under the high altar lies
the body of St. Catherine of Siena. Again I prayed for
our Parish, for her Parish. And I thanked her for
bringing me here and promised to do my best. As I left
the dark cold church coming into the bright, warm
sunlight of a Roman September, I felt ready to come
home.