About two weeks after first arriving in Rome, way back in September, our college chaplain, fondly known as Padre, came to visit us Juniors. Padre is our college expert on Rome. As a teenager, he lived in Rome with his family for five years. He later returned to the Eternal City to study for the priesthood.
One beautiful, warm Italian evening, before he whisked off to have dinner with Pope Francis (yeah... no biggie...) Padre took us on a walking tour of Rome. I don't think any of us were expecting it to be quite as long and quite as grueling and quite as fast paced. This tour became known affectionately as the death march. But that is neither here nor there. Padre showed us all the hot spots for gelato, cappuccinos, and chillaxing. He also brought us to a church called the Gesu, which is the headquarters of the Jesuit order.
When we arrived on the steps to the church, the doors were all closed and locked, since it was siesta time. But Padre had it all planned out with Fr. Daniel, the rector of the church and also one of the two main exorcists of Rome. With a quick phone call to let Fr. Daniel know that we had arrived, we heard the creak as the door to the church swung open. We felt like VIP's as we walked inside, past the gypsies sitting on the steps who muttered "the church is not for visitors!" as we filed past. We entered into the cool, dim interior of the church. It took our eyes a moment to adjust from the bright sunlight of the Roman streets. Peering through the shadows, we gasped in wonder once our eyes focused. Gold, marble, fabulous paintings made manifest the Glory of God, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the street outside.
Overwhelmed, my eyes drunk deeply on the beauty which surrounded me. Then I saw the ceiling. The hosts of heaven appeared to be tumbling down towards me.
"Hold on," Padre said, "while I go get Fr. Daniel." While he strode off towards a side door, we just stood there, mouths agape, gazing around us. We heard the mumble of Italian coming from the direction where Padre had left. I turned around, expecting to see a giant of a man, strong enough to pull demons out single handedly. But the man I saw was a short, plump, quiet old Italian priest. He addressed us in quiet Italian, Padre translating saying that he didn't speak very good English but he welcomes us. Fr. Daniel went on to say, with Padre translating, that he had something very special to show us. He had been working on putting together a museum with the Gesu's treasures which he had found. We would be the first people to see it, as it was not yet open to the public. He took us up a passage way, through the inner workings of the church. Until finally we came upon a little room, filled with precious chalices, reliquaries, art, jewels, and vestments.
Someone's heart:
Relics of some of the North American martyrs:
Finally, after showing us the treasures of the Church, Fr. Daniel brought us down to the sacristy where we could ask him questions. A lot of my classmates inquired about his life as an exorcist, expecting to hear dramatic stories, full of chills and goosebumps. But Fr. Daniel just chuckled and said it was not interesting at all, in fact, he said it was boring. Some people were disappointed by his answer, I think, but I was so struck by his humility and his absolute, perfect, child-like faith in God. This, I thought to myself, is a man who trusts. This man is a saint. He calmly smiled, the figure of a peaceful, joyful man. Then Padre translated that Fr. Daniel had something else to show us, a bit of cloth burnt by the finger of a soul from Purgatory. Normally I would have been totally freaked out when I saw it, but somehow, I felt no fear. Fr. Daniel's calm ease and faith helped me to remember that I can do anything, but with the help of God. Only with God are all things possible. The devils stand no chance against a person who relies on God as his strength. I've always known that, but meeting Fr. Daniel helped me realize it in actuality and to know that such a love and a zest for life really is possible. Then Fr. Daniel said he had something even more important to show us. Our anticipation was set a'singin, expecting something grand like the head of maybe St. Francis of Assisi. He bustled off to his office, and then returned bearing a cat just as calm and sweet as he was. He explained that he had found Gatta on the street as a kitten and raised her, and she lives in his office, and once a week he buys her pigeon meat. With humble joy, Rome's greatest exorcist showed us his cat and let us pet her. He smiled, and said "the only other cat she has ever known is me."
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