Chiara Lubich: 1920 - 2008

Chiara Lubich, the 88-year-old founder of the Focolare movement, died March 14 in her room at the Focolare headquarters in Rocca di Papa, about 30 km south of Rome in the hills near Castel Gondolfo.


From an CNS story by Cindy Wooden:
The Focolare movement...began in the 1940s with Lubich and a small group of female friends...As World War II raged around them, they began asking themselves, "Is there an ideal that does not die, that no bomb can destroy, an ideal we can give our whole selves to? Yes, there is. It is God," she wrote.

"We tried to put into practice the sentences of the Gospel, one at a time," Lubich said.

Gradually, the women decided to form a community and share everything they had with each other and with the poor. They sought a sense of family gathered around a hearth -- "focolare" in Italian.

Many of the early Gospel readings and discussions were held in bomb shelters. More and more, the group began to focus on Christ's commandment to love one's neighbor and his prayer that all would be one. The community grew, men became involved, other houses were formed and families started joining, too

The movement now counts more than 2 million adherents in 182 countries. it opened an ecumenical chapter in 1961 and began forging ties with Jews, Buddhists, Muslims, Hindus and others in the 1970s.

Lubich was awarded the Templeton Prize for Progress in Religion in 1977 and the UNESCO Peace Education Prize in 1996.

Today we traveled to Rocca di Papa and joined the thousands of people who were gathering to pay their last respects. Vincenzo was part of Focolare when he lived in Sicily, and some of his friends drove ten hours each way to be present and honor the life of this great woman. One of his friends said that he had to come from Sicily because Chiara Lubich was like his mother. Tomorrow, our good friend Maria, from Catania, is flying in to attend the funeral with Vincenzo on Tuesday at the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls. (Vincenzo and Maria meet each other through Focolare 20 years ago.)
Everyone was able to be in front of the open casket and say goodbye. As we were leaving the room, I noticed that we were right behind Romano Prodi, the former Prime Minister of Italy.

4th Week of Lent: Santa Croce in Gerusalemme

It was a rainy day as I approached the Basilica of Santa Croce. It is one of the seven churches (Italian: Sette Chiese) that pilgrims were traditionally expected to try and visit during their stay in Rome. (The others are the basilicas of St. Peter, Saint Paul Outside the Wall, Saint Lawrence, Saint Mary Major, St. John Lateran and Saint Sebastian.)

Santa Croce in Gerusalemme was consecrated around 325 to house the Passion Relics brought to Rome from the Holy Land by St. Helena of Constantinople, mother of Constantine I. At that time, the basilica floor was covered with soil from Jerusalem, thus giving it the title "in Gerusalemme." The church is built around a room in St. Helena's imperial palace, Palazzo Sessoriano, which she adapted to a chapel around the year 320. The church was restored in the 12th Century, giving it three naves, a belfry and a porch. In the 18th Century it was modified giving it the Baroque appearance it has today.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be satisfied.

I have always been a person to "check out churches." Rome is an unbelievable city to feed my appetite for church buildings. They are everywhere! I remember being told in elementary school that men should take off their hats when passing a church. If that was still a custom, men would never have hats on their heads here in Rome.

What am I seeking when I got to a church? What do I see? What speaks to me? How do I respond? What hunger is being satisfied?

During Lent I am visiting a different church each week that is a designated station church for that week and I bring with me one of the beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount.

As I walked into the front door of the Basilica of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, I was surprised to find myself in an oval vestibule with a dome and lantern. It was a nice space and I would have liked to sit for awhile there, but there were no seats.


I walked into the nave of the basilica and experienced a very cold interior after spending time in the light filled vestibule. I did a little exploring around the church and walked into the entrance for the Chapel of the Relics. Beyond this entrance was a set of steps leading into a room that had a photo exhibit showing parallels between Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI and a second room containing information about the soon to be beautified Nennolina, an Italian girl who died of cancer at the age of six in 1937. She used to leave letters to Jesus every night on her bed stand. There was an exhibit with some of her clothes and toys. Nennolina is buried here in Santa Croce, her parish church.

I encountered several groups of people in the basilica. Near the front door were two beggars standing together counting the coins in their plates. Outside the Chapel of the Relics a small group of English speaking pilgrims were making the Stations of the Cross, while inside the Chapel there was a woman kneeling before the shrine and two tourist peering into the glass enclosed reliquary. In a side room there was a solitary man prostrated before a crucifix and a life sized reproduction of the Shroud of Turin.

In the apse of the basilica about a dozen monks had begun chanting vespers. They seemed oblivious to everyone else in the church. I settled myself into a pew in the nave thinking about all of the people in this basilica. What individual needs do we have that we want to have satisfied? What are we seeking in this church this afternoon? Somehow, we are united together in the kingdom of God!

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be satisfied.

As I think about my life in Rome, I realize that my main work here is teaching fifth grade. Over half of my students have parents working for world relief organizations: FAO-the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization, WFP - the World Food Program, and IFAD - International Fund for Agricultural Development. These are parents who are dedicating their lives to helping alleviate world hunger and malnutrition. By teaching their children, I am participating in this work in a small way. Together we are striving for a better world, and it is satisfying to know this.

Outside the Basilica of Santa Croce there is an interesting gate leading to the monastery garden. It is made of a tangled grill with hanging hunks of colored resin.

Retreat in Orvieto

On Friday evening I took a train to Orvieto with members of Caravita, my parish community in Rome, for a day of reflection.

We stayed overnight in the convent of San Ludovico.
This was the view from my window.










Our time together included reflection time walking around the city. A man stopped me to point out an ancient tower. He told me it was one of twelve that formed the defenses for the city that was originally an Etruscan town dating back to the 9th Century BC. Orvieto became a territory of Rome in the 3rd Century BC. With the decline of the Roman Empire, Orvieto became a free city and prospered during the Middle Ages.


















The Cathedral, with its splendid Gothic facade dates to 1263.

3rd Week of Lent: San Marco

For the third week of Lent I visited the Basilica of San Marco, dating from the 4th Century and restored or rebuilt in 792, 833, 1460, and 1750. It is the national church of the Venitians living in Rome and is dedicated to their patron, St. Mark. According to tradition, Mark wrote his gospel in Rome. I approached the church by walking across the Piazza San Marco, which is really a small public garden next to Piazza Venezia.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land.
I was surprised to find, after going through the front door, that I had to walk down several steps to enter the church. Blessed are the meek... I was immediately confronted with a lectern holding a book, opened to the gospel for the Third Sunday in Lent. I stood there and read the Italian text, line by line. I probably comprehended less than 50% of the Italian sentences, but I was able to fill in the unintelligable parts with my knowledge of the gospel narrative. It was the story of the Samaritan woman at the well.

After reading, I sat in the church to take in all that the church contained. The nave was flanked by rows of beautiful marble columns and above was a magnificent Renaissance ceiling. The apse was covered with a mosaic depicting Christ standing in the center. Amidst all of this grandeur I was drawn to the twelve humble sheep at the bottom of the mosaic, representing the apostles, with the Lamb of God in the center. Blessed are the meek...



Some exploring in the church took me behind the main altar and down some stairs where I discovered a simple stone chapel with the remains of Pope St. Mark (336 AD) and Saints Abdon and Sennen. I had never heard of these saints, yet here wertheir remains, in the lower level of a magnificent basilica and next to the remains of a 4th Century Pope. Blessed are the meek... When I got home, I found references to legends saying they were Persians martyred by the Roman Emperor Decius in the middle of the 3rd Century.

The words of the gospel that I read when I first entered the basilica came back to me when I left the church and noticed a modest water fountain in a corner of the Piazza San Marco. It is composed of a pine cone with water flowing from faucets below it, offering refreshment to all who stop. Blessed are the meek... While I watched, a homeless woman came to drink, some tourists filled water bottles, a young Asian couple took pictures of each other as they drank, and a mother with a stroller stopped to fill her child's plastic cup.




What water do I need to quench my thirst and desires? How will I let God satisfy my thirst?
Jesus answered and said to her,
“Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again;
but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst;
the water I shall give will become in him
a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
John 4: 13-14

A Weekend in Terni

This last weekend we went and stayed at an old farmhouse outside of the city of Terni in Umbria. We left right after school and enjoyed the drive to get there through the rolling countryside north of Rome.

This is the view of the farm out our window.


The town itself was heavily damaged during the war, so much of it is rebuilt. We enjoyed some good food and had fun exploring old churches.
We also went 7km outside of the city to take in the natural beauty of the Cascata della Mamore. These waterfalls are the result of the ancient Romans redirecting water to drain a swamp area. Today the water is used for hydroelectric power, so the waterfalls are turned on and off twice a day when the water is not being used for the generators.

The town seems to be most famous for their bishop, Valentine. Yes, he is the saint celebrated on February 14th. (We arrived after all of the big festivities.) Valentine was a Christian medical practitioner, who often cared for the poor and those in prison. He was also a bishop in the early church. There is a legend that while Valentine was in prison awaiting execution for his Christian faith, he converted the jailer by restoring sight to the jailer's daughter.


I found this story of Valentine at www.intellmktg.com
In the Roman empire wars broke out. The emperor Claudius summoned the citizens forth to battle and year after year the fighting continued. Many of the Romans were unwilling to go. The married men did not want to leave their families. The younger men did not wish to leave their sweethearts. The emperor was angry when soldiers were too few. He ordered that no marriages should be celebrated and that all engagements must be broken off immediately. Many a young Roman went off to the wars in sorrow, leaving his love. Many a Roman maiden died of grief as a result of this decree.

Now the good priest Valentine heard of the emperor's command and was very sad. When a young couple came to him, he secretly united them in marriage. Another pair sought his aid and in secret he wedded them. Others came and quietly were married. Valentine was the friend of lovers in every district of Rome. But, such secrets could not be kept for long. At last word of Valentine's acts reached Claudius. He summoned his soldiers. "Go! Take that priest in the temple! Cast him into a dungeon! No man in Rome, priest or not, shall disobey my commands!"

2nd Week of Lent: Basilica di San Clemente

I grew up in the California beach town of San Clemente. We had a house overlooking the Pacific Ocean and the sound of the waves lulled me to sleep at night. My mother loved to work in the garden that surrounded our home and there were colorful flowers blooming all year. She liked to stand at the kitchen sink and look out the window to the ever-changing colors of the ocean and the sky. When we were kids we took our natural surroundings for granted. My mother always marveled at the beauty of God’s creation. I remember the words that she quoted from somewhere... "We are little boats on the big sea."

The last time that I saw my mother was on Ash Wednesday, 1991. She was in a coma and I was at her bedside when the parish priest came to the hospital room and made a cross of ashes on her forehead with the words: “Remember Dorothy that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” He then repeated the words to me, placing a cross on my forehead. My mom died less than a month later. After her funeral, my brother and I took her ashes and scattered them into the Pacific Ocean from the end of the pier just up the beach from our home.
My mother was very much in my thoughts as I recalled the words of the beatitude and entered the Basilica di San Clemente, a station church for the 2nd week of Lent.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

My eyes were taken into the large golden mosaic of the apse as I sat on a bench in the nave of the basilica. The image of Christ on the cross is at the center, rooted in an acanthus plant, with four streams of water flowing from it, providing drink for two deer. Growing out of the acanthus are vines and branches extending over the whole surface of the apse in circular motions. Between the shots and inside the coils of the vines, the artist has depicted the rich diversity of creation. There are shepherds and peasants at work. There are monks at prayer. There are people of all kinds, rich and poor. Animals and plants make a fantasy of color against the gold background of the mosaic.

In my mother’s garden I was fascinated by the "prehistoric feeling" of the leaves and flowering spikes of her acanthus plants. They were a sharp contrast to other plants that seemed more refined. Their “wildness” added to the diversity that we enjoyed in her garden.

My mother’s life had a diversity that she shared with her children. She was very active in the local parish, and nurtured in me the sense of faith and community that are an important part of my life today. She was active in ecumenical activities in the 1950’s, one of the community's leaders for interfaith initiatives. She was a scout leader and our home was always a gathering point for the kids in the neighborhood. She gave us a respect for the beliefs and practices of our Muslim bread man. Often on Sunday evening, she put us in the station wagon and drove us to a Mass that was for migrant workers in a hut in the middle of the fields that were outside of town. She felt it was important for the Mexican men to be with families when they were separated from their own wives and children.

Sitting in the Basilica di San Clemente I am most grateful for the life of my mother. My prayer is that I will always keep my eyes open to the beauty of God’s creation and appreciate the richness of diversity that God calls me to participate in. May I never take things for granted. May I always be filled with wonder and awe and accept the challenges of life that God brings to me.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted.


I encourage you to read Michael Tinker’s blog for some interesting details about the Basilica di San Clemente. Michael is a professor at Hobart and William Smith Colleges in Geneva, New York, and is teaching a course in Rome this semester. http://www.crankyprofessor.com/archives/001468.html

I Found Sant' Alò!

Last weekend while visiting the city of Terni (a little over an hour north of Rome) we found a church dedicated to Sant' Alò. My middle name is Alo. It was my maternal grandfather’s first name, but no one in my family ever knew the meaning or the origin of the name.

Sant' Alò is the Italian diminuative of Saint Aloysius (Eligio), a goldsmith saint who lived in the 6th Century. Other forms of the name are Elgius and Eloi. His feast day is December 1st and is the patron of metalworkers. St Eligius was chosen to be bishop of Noyon and Tournai and died when he was 71 years old. He was known for his skill as a craftsman, his concern for the poor and his efforts at converting the people of Flanders to Christianity.



The church of Sant' Alò is one of the oldest places of worship in the city of Terni. It was built in the 12th century, on top of an ancient Roman structure dedicated to the goddess Cybele. The construction of a town-house in front of the old facade in the 13th century, resulted in the entrance of the church being moved to the right side of the structure. This small church has been used by various communities: the Augustines (13th century), the Sisters of St. Clare of Assisi (15th and 19th centuries) and the Knights of the Order of Malta (18th century). Today it is used by a Romanian Orthodox community and is also the chapel for the diocesan seminary that is next door.


The interior walls and columns are decorated with frescoes from the 12th to the 16th century.