If you’ve ever been to Rome, you know that, in addition to world-famous monuments and priceless art, there is also plenty of beautiful, quiet places. One such place for is the Via Merulana, the tree-lined boulevard that connects the Papal Basilicas of St. Mary Major and St. John Lateran. The Via Merulana takes you past the icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, down past the church of Ss Peter and Marcelinus, to the Piazza San Giovanni to the Holy Stairs, the Lateran, and the church of Santa Croce. But just before you get there, you have to pass a tiny street - a viale - with a tiny Metro station, called “Viale Manzoni.”
Alessandro Manzoni, who lived from 1785 to 1873, is one of Italy’s most famous writers. His book, I Promessi Sposi - The Betrothed is credited with doing for the Italian language what only one other work of literature ever did: Dante’s Divine Comedy, written some 500 years before. Manzoni is known as the Father of the Modern Italian language, and The Betrothed is the most hated book by Italian high school students who must study it over and over in a way similar to our own obsession with Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, or F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby.
The Betrothed belongs to a category of 19th century novel which one critic described as a “loose baggy monster.” The English translation is a whopping 720 pages. This is a novel that is at once thrilling and life-changing, painfully boring and really too wordy, and is, at the end of the day, in the top 3 books I have ever read.
It is a truly Catholic story: a young priest who has no time for mercy or the details of his peoples’ lives causes great harm to young Renzo and Lucia, and one small decision of Don Abbondio unleashes a storyline that leads the young couple to depth of hell, to the height of glory, and to the fulness of the human experience.
It’s a book whose details remind us of the timelessness of human folly, and the eternal ramifications of both generosity and selfishness, and gives credence to what we learn from Quoheleth in the Book of Ecclesiastes: there is truly nothing new under the sun.
In The Betrothed we meet busy-body church ladies, and young men who have no vision for the future; set in the 1628 in the midst of Spanish rule of Milan, Italy, the book takes place in a time of great civil strife with great discord in local and national politics, and even includes a highly politicized pandemic - a plague, in fact - the civil discourse around which probably caused far more damage to life in Milan than the disease itself……..
We encounter the saintly Archbishop of Milan who teaches Don Abbondio (and every priest who reads the book) a lesson about the priestly heart, and we see such a heart exemplified in the Capuchin hero, Fr. Cristoforo, who changes the course of so many things simply by his fidelity to his vocation and the witness he gives.
Sent all over the place by his order, Fr. Cristoforo lands eventually at the Lazaretto, the community of exiles suffering from the plague just outside of Milan, where he rises through the ranks and becomes the rector of the place, overseeing every aspect of care. In one of the most moving sections of the novel, right near the end, the jaded and bitter Renzo - having lost all hope of ever being able to marry his beloved Lucia - meets Fr Cristoforo and listens to the speech he gives to those men and women who, by God’s grace, had been healed of the plague and were ready to be sent out into Milan; immune from the plague’s effects, they were called to serve even the poorest and most needy, even if only by the witness of their lives.
Let us give heed to the many thousands who must remain here today, and who do not know by which road they will leave this place when their time comes. Let us take heed for ourselves, so small a band, who leave it in safety. Blessed by the Lord! Blessed in his justice, blessed in his mercy! Blessed in death, and blessed in health! Blessed in the choice that he has made in saving us. And why did he make that choice? … Was it not to make us feel more keenly that this life is a gift of his hands, to be cherished as a thing given by him, to be used in works we can offer up to him? Was it not so that the memory of our own sufferings might make us compassionate and helpful to our neighbors?
As I think about my time at Visitation, and especially as I watch this time come to its end, I’m really filled with a sense of gratitude and peace. I’ve shared with you before that the fact we priests get moved around so much is my second least favorite thing about priesthood. (If you pay enough money, I’ll tell you my least favorite thing). Over the years I’ve figured out ways to make moving less of a chore, and to help the transition to a new parish and ministry easier.
Everybody knows that priests make a promise of obedience to their bishops, but hardly anybody realizes that the promise of obedience is what makes priesthood awesome and free. It’s a reminder of something that everyone absolutely must recognize as true if they ever want to be happy: almost nothing ultimately important is in our control or will go as planned. Life on earth either becomes endless drudgery ending in death or happy interruptions leading to fulness of life.
G.K. Chesterton wrote that an inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered. And, as St. John Paul II said, life with Christ is truly an excellent adventure.
I asked the bishop if I could stay longer at the Cathedral, he said no. I went to Ss. Peter and Paul and I loved it there. I asked the bishop if I could stay longer at Ss. Peter and Paul, he said no. I came to Visitation and I’ve loved it here. So this time I’m trying something new: just saying yes. Yes to the move, yes to Canon Law, yes to moving across the country because I believe ultimately that these yeses are a YES to Christ, who is the protagonist of my life. I know I have major aura, but it’s Jesus who has all the main character energy.
So I find a lot of inspiration in those words of Fr. Cristoforo:
Blessed be the Lord! Blessed in his justice, blessed in his mercy! Blessed in death, and blessed in health! Blessed in the choice that he has made in saving us. And why did he make that choice? … Was it not to make us feel more keenly that this life is a gift of his hands, to be cherished as a thing given by him, to be used in works we can offer up to him?
I came to Visitation in July 2024 both uncertain about what this parish would be like and also very excited to start something new. I was at a pretty big transition point in my own life and priesthood and I was ready for a change but hesitant about what it might entail. In the priesthood we having a saying that “Sunday comes every three days.” This our way of saying that time flies: the days are long but the weeks are short, and before you know it you’ve lived 104 weeks of Sundays.
Over these 104 weeks, I’ve learned a lot! The lessons from Visitation will unpack themselves over the months and weeks ahead, but there have been many. Visitation is a challenging and interesting assignment. Here I have found so many people who are hungry for the Truth and want to live their Catholic faith in a way that is both sincere and practical and, dare I say, relevant. Our weird times have caused so many to ask with great urgency: Where is God!? There is a sense deep down that there must be more to life than the trials of our current moment. And the Church’s message, in every age, has been: yes, there is always more. There is always beauty, truth, and goodness; there is always the possibility for hope and real love. But, as in every age, the people who believe in those things will have to work to find them so they can show them to others.
I am always moved by the way Fr. Cristoforo finishes his speech to those preparing to leave and live a new life:
I speak both for myself and for all my companions, who, without any merit of our own, have been chosen for the high honor of serving Christ by serving you, and I beg your forgiveness most humbly if we have failed in so great a mission. If idleness or rebellion of the flesh have made us inattentive to your needs, or slow to come to your call;…if our human frailty has led us into any action that has been of scandal to you - forgive us! And so may God forgive you all your debts, and bless you.”
I love that line: “the high honor of serving Christ by serving you.” As a priest you call me “Father.” And indeed it has been the privilege of a lifetime to be a spiritual father to you, and I hope that my ministry here has borne some fruit in you. But you’re also my friends, and my neighbors, and my fellow human beings. At times, you have seen that human part of me which can be angry, sassy, or cynical. So if my “idleness or rebellion…have made me inattentive to your needs or slow to come to your call…if my human frailty has led me to any action that has been of scandal to you” then I humbly ask your forgiveness.
And please pray for me! Know that every time you see the Eucharist lifted up from this altar that somewhere - maybe near or maybe far - there’s a priest named Ryan lifting up the Eucharist and praying for you.
If 25 years from now, you’re out walking the dog or watering the plants or in the delivery room or presenting to the board or changing your oil or walking to Brewpoint; or maybe you’re locked up in jail or just leaving divorce court or reeling from the news of the diagnosis; or maybe you just dropped her off at college or starting a new job or learning to paint with watercolors in art therapy…if in the midst of your life, wherever it takes you, if you happen to remember a certain 34 year old priest you once knew, who reminds you of George Costanza and Gru from Despicable Me, I hope you remember his quirks and faults less than you remember what he told you: that with God all things are possible; that in Jesus, all things are bearable; and that in Christ, everything can be different, because everything is new. But you have to let yourself and your worldview be changed, which often comes through suffering, and learn to say YES to Jesus, who is the protagonist of your life, whether you want him to be or not.
Can I leave you with the words Manzoni uses to end The Betrothed? This is my favorite ending of any novel I’ve ever read: (remember this after 720 pages)
After a long debate and much heart-searching, they came to the conclusion that troubles very often come because we have asked for them; but that when they come, through our fault or otherwise, trust in God goes far to take away their sting, and makes them useful preparation for a better life.
If the story has given you any pleasure, think kindly of the man who wrote it….But if, on the other hand, I have only succeeded in boring you, please believe that I did not do so on purpose.
