Day 5 San Giovanni Rotondo to the Adriatic Sea: Profound Dialogue with Padre Pio; Real Body and Blood; The Nature of Miracles; Communist-Era Ferry Ride with Fish Heads

This is part of an ongoing story; if you are just joining the journey, you may want to start at the beginning.

Day 5 – San Giovanni Rotondo to Split, Good Friday

Our Lady of Grace the Shrine of Padre Pio. (San Giovanni Rotondo)

We wake up early and walk over to Our Lady of Grace. Immediately when I walk into the church I feel his very Awake Presence.  I ask if I can deeply feel his transmission. I feel the spaciousness, the Oneness, close in feeling to my experience of God, but I also feel a golden light radiating through him – it feels like immense grace.  I feel the purpose, the role that moved through him via this Grace. I am not any kind of expert on Padre Pio, I only open myself to feel him, to receive his transmission.  Padre Pio feels absolutely real to me.  I am grateful for the example of someone who was able to wake up in the context of the Catholic Church.  It’s about so much more than the dogma – it’s an opportunity to truly know God.

Then our tour guide calls us to go into the larger sanctuary, then down into the crypt and the museum.  In the crypt I get such an energetic transmission I immediately drop into a deep meditation, before thought or choice.  Again the tour guide calls me out of it and I follow him to the cross where Padre Pio first received the stigmata in 1918 (here's a photo).

We see some of the clothes that Padre Pio wore, some of them covered in blood (he lost a cup of blood each day), and a wall of bookcases packed with only two months of mail that he received from devoted Christians when he was alive. It’s beautiful that they have these articles available.  Then we watch a movie about Padre Pio in the English gift shop.  I’m impressed with his strength and humility.  Then our resident priest blesses us with one of Pio’s crosses and a glove that has his blood on it (from the stigmata on his hands).  

When we have free time, I return to the crypt to meditate and pray.  My prayer is effortless, and suddenly I find myself compelled to ask the spirit of Padre Pio for “confession” (Padre Pio loved giving confession).  My confession is simply this – I confess and surrender every little last way that I hold myself separate from God consciously, subconsciously, and unconsciously.  I pray to know and surrender to God in every cell of my being.  More prayer flows forth - for the loving grace and healing for my family, my husband, my clients, my community.  I feel Padre’s grace and energy, and suddenly I feel a huge release and relief.  I have a vision of Padre Pio in which he tells me to pray and surrender for a three day “penance,” which just so happens to end on Easter Sunday in Medjugorje.  He tells me more about my work in the world and my devotion (but writing several days later I can’t remember). I feel his transmission and message going straight through me, right into the deepest place in my soul. It is such a profound experience I can’t talk or write afterward. 

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Back on the bus, our tour guide puts another DVD on for us to watch, this time it’s a section of the Passion of the Christ (Mel Gibson’s movie) set to a soundtrack of Christian music.  The focus on Christ’s “suffering and dying for our sins” is just not the important part of the Christ story to me. Because this is Holy Week, between mass, the preaching and prayers on the bus, and the Passion of the Christ, I feel like I’m being beaten over the head with how Christ “died for our sins.” 

As for the resurrection, resurrection stories have been an important part of human mythologies for thousands of years (as have virgin births).  I love the energy of resurrection, of being reborn in the light.  That’s beautiful to me. 

Miracle of Eucharist in Lanciano. I found this curious. Somewhere around 800 AD, a group of priests who did not really believe in the Eucharist had their host (the wafer) turn into human heart flesh and the wine turn into human blood.  Scientists have run extensive tests on the (now dried) flesh and blood, and apparently they say it would have been impossible for someone to manufacture this miracle for several reasons. I find one of the most compelling reasons to be that both the flesh and blood were living tissue when the priests discovered it.  Even modern day scientists acknowledge that the specimens do not show signs of being taken from a dead body, a miracle in itself, especially with lack of surgical science and refrigeration in 800 AD.  Here's a photo of magnified pictures of the flesh.

What I reflect on is simply this – miracles, in whatever form, remind us of just how much the human mind doesn’t know and can’t explain.  By suspending the mind’s ability to answer the questions “why” or “how” we are invited to enjoy the mystery of life. The magic and mystery of life is so much bigger than our human minds and even our imagination!  Whatever calls us to enjoy that mystery – whether it’s wine that turned into blood or a sunrise – is a gift.

The Blue Line ferry to Croatia   I have time to reflect on this on the bus ride to the ferry in Ancona.  I confess I am disappointed as I board the ferry – it looks like communist era construction, very old, and heavy with cigarette smoke.  When I enter our tiny and very stuffy room, I notice the stained sheets.  The shower is the best part – no shower curtain, and it’s a good thing because it’s so small that even someone my size would be bumping their elbows against the wall.  Problem is, everything gets wet – including the toilet and toilet paper.  Fortunately, we think ahead and put the toilet paper on the bed before we shower. We suck it up – we are pilgrims, not tourists, after all – because we have 12 hours on this ferry.

I have very low expectations for dinner, but I am happy with the cabbage and lettuce salad.  I can deal with that!  Gus is fasting today, so I eat his salad too.  The next course of seafood risotto is – well – gross.  It tastes like old, very fishy, salty seafood.  I notice that even the people who say it’s ok still pick out some of the mystery seafood. 

The next course is better – a whole small fish with fries and green beans.  I am surprised that the fish is so tasty, but the woman sitting next to me is quite horrified by the fish (Laura lovingly tortures her by putting three fish heads on her fingers and making them talk as her little puppets).  Needless to say, I think she left the table pretty hungry. 

I confess that despite all the conservative view points, the “holier than thou” attitudes, and the efforts to “save” everyone who isn’t Catholic, I have a genuine love for my fellow travelers.  They are simply human. I care for their well being. I support their happiness and their journey to God, whatever that looks like for them.  This all works fine – as long as I keep my own experiences to myself.  I can accept that some people, maybe even most people, simply do not and will not have the capacity to understand my perspective.  It is enough that I can meet them on their ground and do my best to understand them.

Coming Thursday: Day 6 - first day in Medjugorje: Apparition Hill; Another Wall of Catholic Dogma; Feeling Like a Sardine in Church.