The Papal Tomb
Late last week, I returned home from a two-week pilgrimage to Rome with Loyola University Chicago's Institute of Pastoral Studies (IPS). Each summer, IPS takes students to Rome for an intensive study abroad courses. This year featured "Spirituality of the Old Testament" and "Ministry in a Social Context." Neither course was required for my graduate program, and, although I'd already maxed out my electives, the professor allowed my partner and me to join the group.
Our itinerary was jam packed. Not only is there a new pope in town, but it’s a Jubilee year.
Since the year 1300, Jubilee has happened every 25 years in the Catholic Church. It’s a year when Rome and Vatican City really shine. Millions –35 million this year – flock to the cities to visit the holiest sites of Catholicism and to walk through the four Holy Doors (“Porta Santa”) in Rome. Off the main entrances of the four major basilicas, these doors are only open during Jubilee. The pope opens and blesses them at the beginning of the year, and as Catholic belief holds, anyone who walks through them has their sins forgiven.
On our pilgrimage, highlights included:
Walking through the Holy Doors at St. Peter's Basilica, St. Mary Major, St. John Lateran, and St. Paul Outside the Walls
Celebrating a private mass in a Vatican chapel with a priest from the Vatican Dicastery for Culture and Education
Touring the Rooms of St. Ignatius, celebrating mass in his apartment, and sharing Ignatian contemplation at St. Brigid of Sweden where the Sisters hid Jews during the Holocaust
Visiting the Jewish museum and the Great Synagogue
Meeting with the Vatican Dicastery for Interreligious Dialogue, the Pontifical Commission for Latin America, Centro Pro Unione for Ecumenical Unity, the Sant’Egidio Community, and Jesuit Relief Services
Touring the Vatican Observatory in Castel Gandolfo
Sharing multi-course meals together that lasted over 2 hours (my Italian father and ancestors would have been so proud)
Eating gelato almost every day (and when we missed a day, we had extra scoops the next day)
Not Finding the Sacred in the Sacred
I'm almost afraid to admit this. It was hard for me to find sacred moments in many of the sacred places of this pilgrimage.
I didn't feel anything when I walked through the Holy Doors.
Visiting Pope Francis's tomb, which I'd been excited to see, felt almost anticlimactic. The crowds taking selfies with his tomb, guards shouting '“Avanti, andiamo, per favore” (“move along, get going, please”) to the long line of people paying their respects, and the constant press of people didn't exactly create an atmosphere for quiet reflection.
Our time at Pope Francis’s tomb.
If you've been to Rome, you know the sensory overload of art and history at every turn. With 900 churches in the city, they begin to blur together after a while. Frescoes and mosaics so well-preserved they could have been created yesterday. Each church filled with side chapels, each significant for some reason, usually housing the elaborate tomb of a prominent Catholic figure. Most papal tombs are impossible to miss. They have over-the-top statues, ornate frescoes, and private chapels set aside for prayer.
The main altar at St. Mary Major.
But Pope Francis's tomb is different. I'd read that his tomb was simple and understated, but what the news hadn't covered was its placement.
Once we were through the line to visit his tomb, I paused and observed my surroundings. Our art historian tour guide’s voice narrated St. Mary Major’s history into my ear piece as I soaked in what I was seeing, hearing, and feeling.
Above us, the roof and ceiling covered in gold that was taken by Christopher Columbus from the Americas.
To our left, a stained glass piece casting shades of brilliant color onto the basilica floor.
Stained glass in St. Mary Major
To our right, the main altar and a relic of Jesus’s crib. St. Ignatius of Loyola, founder of Pope Francis’s order, the Jesuits, celebrated his first mass on Christmas 1538 at this basilica in front of this relic.
Also to our right, the Borghese Chapel where Pope Francis prayed before he traveled. He prayed in front of the Salus Populi Romani, an icon of Mary and Jesus. His connection to Mary is why he was buried here on the same wall, feet down from the very place he prayed.
The tour guide’s voice continued. I was transfixed not on what was to my left or right, but at what was right in front of me: Pope Francis’s tomb.
His tomb, flanked only by two plants and two working confessional booths.
A Tomb that Teaches
The placement of Pope Francis’s tomb struck me deeply because it was a stark contrast to the rest of the basilica and the other papal tombs we had seen.
Confessionals are spaces where Catholics practice the sacrament of reconciliation, going to a priest for forgiveness, guidance, or simply to talk. The last time I was in Rome was in 2014, and I went to confession at St. Peter’s in the Vatican not to confess specific sins but to talk. I was on my honeymoon with my husband at the time, and, though I didn't recognize it then, I was struggling with depression. My life felt constrained, forced, and fake. I didn’t know why. I needed to talk and to be heard, even though I was terrified to admit I was unhappy.
In one of the ornate side chapels of St. Peter’s in between over-the-top tombs of popes, the priest and I talked for thirty minutes. I don't remember the specifics of our conversation, but I remember feeling reconnected to something that had felt elusive. Without having the language for it at the time, I now realize it was like a spiritual direction session.
Since then, I've gone to confession every few years when I’m on retreat, and it's been a time for perspective rather than penance. These conversations can be messy, raw, real. They're spaces of genuine human encounter.
This is the ministry of the Church at its core.
Pope Francis isn't buried off to the side for silent prayer. He’s not buried in some hard-to-miss grandiose tomb. He's buried in the middle of the action, in a space where people come to be heard, to struggle, to seek guidance, and to encounter grace and care in the midst of their very human problems. Even in death, Pope Francis is where real ministry happens.
A Slow Unfolding
I'm still processing this pilgrimage experience. It was A LOT.
Rome is my favorite city in the world, and it has been since I studied there in 2005. Rome has a way of overwhelming you with its grandeur while simultaneously teaching you to look for the Divine in the ordinary.
The mundane moments of pilgrimage—the walking, the searching, the navigating, the waiting in line—weren't obstacles to the sacred. They were preparation for recognizing it in unexpected places.
P.S. Photo credit for these photos and video goes to my partner, Jaime. Many thanks to her for capturing these moments.
