All roads lead to Rome, so says the axiom, and my road led me there this summer. Rome is overwhelming to say the least. A mass of history mixed with legend and layered into a lasagna of buildings, memories, and grace. The city is beautiful, ancient, and mine to explore for only twenty-four hours. I have been blessed to visit Rome before, so this trip was a reunion not an introduction to the Eternal City. I had friends to see, and most importantly – my American pope to visit. My 24 hours in Rome was still not enough.

Morning at St. Peter’s

I cannot visit Rome without visiting the heart of the Church – St. Peter’s Square and the massive basilica. I went there early in the morning when it was quieter and a bit cooler – the summer in Rome is sweltering. I entered through the colonnade designed by Bernini and made my way up to the front of the cathedral. The morning light was bright and clear, and I took a moment to glance back out through the front of the pillared arms of the building. Bernini designed the two curving arches to look like arms, welcoming the whole world in. 

Entering the basilica itself took my breath away. The starry ceiling far above reflects the starred marble beneath. This is where earth and heaven meet; this is the inheritance of the Catholic Church. Off to the right is Michaelangelo’s famous statue, “the Pieta.” Our Lady, unbelievably young, holds her son with effortless strength, and gazes down on him with a peaceful acceptance. I am convinced that Mother Church holds her children like that as well. 

While you could spend days in St. Peter’s simply marveling, I was on a time crunch. It was Sunday, and I wanted to get some food and do a bit of shopping before Mass. A friend of mine met up with me and we stopped for a cappuccino and a cornetti, a classic Italian breakfast. Then we went shopping in some of the nearby religious shops: rosaries, pins, and two clerical shirts for a priest friend of ours. The streets around St. Peter’s were beginning to become more lively, and soon we slipped away to attend Mass at the Church of the Holy Spirit.

Santo Spiritu 

The Church of Santo Spirito is only a few blocks from St. Peter’s and, like most buildings in Rome, has a vast history. The present-day church is not the original, which dated back to the eighth century and was called “Santa Maria in Sassia” or “St. Mary of the Saxons.” Pilgrims from Northern Europe, the Saxon region, would receive help and shelter there when on pilgrimage in Rome. In the 1100’s the Hospital of the Holy Spirit was built next door, and the church was renamed. It has seen many repairs and face lifts over the years, but in 1994 Pope St. John Paul II named it the Divine Mercy Spirituality Centre of Rome. There is a copy of the Divine Mercy Image in one of the side chapels and a relic of St. Faustina herself. 

The current church is, like many churches in Rome, stunning. The Baroque ceiling and side chapels create the impression that you have entered an encrusted jewelry box. Yet the Church does not feel like a museum, but worn and prayed in. At Santo Spiritu, my friend and I went to Mass and confession, before wandering back into the sunlight and towards St. Peter’s Square – it was time for the Angelus, and our glimpse of the Holy Father. 

Pope Leo XIV and lunch

Not wanting to fight the crowds to re-enter St. Peter’s Square, I found a spot at a railing and shaded my eyes to look towards the center, where a tiny figure in white could be seen. He spoke to us in Italian, and then we all prayed the Angelus in Latin. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes – this is my spiritual father, Christ’s representative on earth. This is the servant of the servants of God, and an American as well. It’s odd, but Rome, already the spiritual home of my religion on earth, felt even more like home with one of our own taking his humble seat on the Chair of Peter. 

After that, it was more walking, out of the square and to the right into a neighborhood known as “Trastevere.” These twisting streets are a maze of old buildings and crawling vines. Laid out alongside the Tiber, this neighborhood used to be the home of the Jewish diaspora, and therefore is likely where St. Paul and St. Peter stayed when they first came to Rome. It is home to the Church of St. Cecelia, where her body lies buried in its Roman coffin, a delicate statue of her above.

We were not here for Cecelia, however, but lunch with yet another friend. The restaurant was tiny and the food was simple, yet delicious – Cacio e pepe pasta (a simple Roman dish with cheese and pepper) and a shared bottle of chilled white wine – essential for beating the heat. We talked, rested, and watched the world go by. 

Santa Maria Sopra Minerva

Refreshed somewhat, we set off on our final stop in the already busy day. We crossed the Tiber and began making our way along the streets towards the city center. 

Large buses, mopeds, and tourists clogged the sunny streets. We passed countless churches of all shapes and sizes. It’s said that you could go to a different Church every day for three years in Rome and still never see them all. My friend and I were aiming for one church in particular – Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. 

Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, or the Basilica of St. Mary of Minerva, is a block from the Parthenon on one side and a few blocks from Largo di Torro del Argentina on the other – the square where Julius Caesar was killed. It is one of the only churches in Rome that has a Gothic rather than baroque interior. 

Beneath the high altar, the body of St. Catherine of Sienna lies. Dominican, mystic, and stubborn as all get out, Catherine is a favorite of mine, a heavenly friend. To the right of the main altar lies the tomb of Blessed Fra Angelico – another Dominican and the patron saint of artists. My friend, who was currently finishing her Master’s in Sacred Art, wanted to visit him and ask for his help. 

After some time in the Church, it was time to take a bus to the train station, by way of a gelato stand, of course. As I watch the sights of Rome pass by, the Colosseum, Hadrian’s column, the Angelicum… I longed to stay, to continue to explore this city that is so dear to me and so dear to so many Catholics. But I had to leave, trusting that soon my road would lead me once again to Rome (and hopefully for more than my 24 hours).