We heard the great bells of St. Peter’s Basilica ring out two different times, though that was never our plan.
The death bell tolls only on the passing of the Holy Father and again at the conclusion of his funeral. It marks a definite end. St. Peter’s bells then resound powerfully to signal to the faithful, the city, and world that a new pope has been elected. They indicate a new beginning.
The Napa Institute had been planning our Italian Jubilee pilgrimage for over a year. Even before Blessed Carlo Acutis’ canonization date was announced, we had arranged to visit Assisi—home to Saints Francis, Clare, and Carlo.
Carlo’s relics had blessed the faithful at our Summer Conference in July. He joined us again at our Eucharistic Procession in New York City last October. We owed him a return visit as Pilgrims of Hope. Then we discovered he was going to be canonized on a date that would coincide with our journey south from Assisi to Rome! It seemed as if he was sending us a personal invitation to come and celebrate his sanctity.
The time in Rome was to be packed. We would spend our days walking along the same paths trod by the giants of our faith at the heart of the Church. Steeped in history, theology, and tradition, we sought to swim in the great river of grace opened for us during a jubilee year. After, on to southern Italy where we could finish our pilgrimage at a slower pace, while exploring unbelievable holy sites (including the tombs of two Apostles).
Then Pope Francis died.
The Holy Father passed just the day before my wife and I were supposed to fly to Rome to lead Napa’s trip.
We had our plans, but God has His Providence.
Instead of a canonization, we attended the Pope’s funeral. It was one of the most moving things I have ever been a part of – to be one of the few and unworthy representatives within the entire Body of Christ, present on that day to commend the Vicar of Jesus Christ back to the Lord. The death bell tolled for Francis and we prayed.
God’s generosity is truly unmatched. A fact most evident with those who give their unreserved “yes” to His Will. Thousands of young pilgrims had already traveled to Italy to celebrate Carlo Acutis’ canonization on Sunday. And so, most of them were already in town for the unexpected funeral on Saturday.
The earnest prayers of the young move the heart of Jesus. What a gift for Pope Francis, who willingly took on himself the burden of the papacy, to have so many there on pilgrimage to pray for the repose of his soul. How many holy door plenary indulgences were surely offered for him there! And what a gift to the conclave that those same young people—as well as those of us slightly more advanced in age who gathered—could experience the bracing reality of Rome with no pope. We were impelled by the Holy Spirit to turn our attention to the cardinals’ discernment for a new Holy Father. And again, we prayed.
Throughout our time in Rome, we still experienced so much of what we had hoped for. We ate well—it is Italy, after all—but more importantly, we waded into the waters of two thousand years of pilgrimage. The Christian is meant in some real way to journey on his knees before the power of Almighty God and the triumph of the Cross of Christ. We did so both figuratively and literally.
We arrived early at St. Mary Major to pray at the new tomb of Pope Francis. Many of us received the Sacrament of Reconciliation there, in the stillness of the morning. We knelt again at Mass and before the tomb of St. Pius V on his feast day—a quiet contrast to the funeral’s crowds.
We entered basilicas through holy doors, walked ancient catacombs that whisper of the persecuted Church, and studied the saints and sinners who shaped the city (thank you, Dr. Timothy O’Donnell!). On First Friday, we ascended the Scala Sancta—the steps Jesus walked bloodied and beaten to face Pilate—literally on our knees, as tradition demands.
Grace accompanied us into southern Italy. We prayed at the tombs of St. Matthew and St. Andrew, gathering “manna” secreted from the bones of the latter and being blessed by the arm of the former. At Pompeii, we honored Blessed Bartolo Longo, whose powerful prayer to Our Lady of Pompeii and devotion to Our Lady of the Rosary stirred our hearts. Fittingly, the new pope would be elected on her feast day—and mention her in his first words—though we had no idea at the time.
But God had more in store. Danielle and I had always planned to leave the group in southern Italy a day early. Our son Leo was playing Curly in Oklahoma!, an important moment we didn’t want to miss. We trained back to Rome and stayed with friends.
Somehow, I felt certain that we would be in the square when the white smoke rose and the new pope was introduced. May 8 was our only chance. Conventional wisdom said the conclave would be long. Still, at 3 p.m., we prayed with our friends—offering the solemn petition to Our Lady of Pompeii and Divine Mercy prayers for selection of a new pontiff. Then we made our way toward St. Peter’s Square. We grabbed some medals in anticipation of a first blessing. . . just in case. 
To our amazement, as we walked, the news spread: the smoke was early and it was white!
We heard bells from St. Peter’s a 2nd time that trip. Now they rang out fully in splendor, beckoning us. There was a new pope.
We ran with crowds down the Via della Conciliazione into the square, hearts pounding in anticipation. There’s nothing quite like that shared euphoria, waiting to see the face of the new pope on the loggia. Maybe the running of the bulls compares, but I doubt it.
Then came the announcement and the name: Leo!—a signal grace about our choice to leave early to honor our son, who is named for our great love of both Leo the Great and Leo XIII. What a day.
If you can believe it, this trip was only the 2nd most amazing jubilee pilgrimage for Danielle and me. The one 25 years ago is hard to top. (See photo below from Jubilee 2000)
We have our plans, but God has His Providence, indeed. One thing the Jubilee Year reminds us is that if we surrender to His Will, we will never be disappointed by the adventure that unfolds.
