In Their Steps: Holy Week 2016

Near the beginning of the semester, one of my friends pointed out a step in a doorway in Amsterdam to me. She observed that it was an unassuming sort of step, but a significant one nonetheless because of the way it marked the passage of time. One side of it was particularly worn, so much so that a prominent groove had been carved into it by the thousands, perhaps millions, of people who had stepped through that doorway. People had come and gone, some passing once and some dozens of times, and the step had remained and been permanently changed as it greeted each passerby.

Since that first notable encounter with a grooved step worn smooth by time, I have been thinking a lot about steps. In the midst of a semester during which I am learning so many things about “official” history, encountering churches and palaces and museums and monuments, not to mention my Global History class and the fact that I am immersed in a city brimming with interesting history, I am grateful to my friend for drawing my attention to this particularity of “everyday” history. Worn steps do not discriminate in history; they have been formed by people from all over the world, from different time periods and different religions and different socioeconomic backgrounds. They bear the marks of the people who have gone before us into or out of a building, through a passageway, up or down a staircase. Worn steps mark the incarnate nature of humanity as we move through the world.

The Amsterdam step

As a pilgrim in Rome during Holy Week, I thought about steps a lot this past weekend. Not only did I notice worn-down steps around practically every corner in the Eternal City, but I also became acutely aware of how many people had gone before my fellow pilgrims and me on the journey on which we had the privilege of embarking. We visited the four principal cathedrals in Rome, walking through Holy Doors at all four and keeping our family and friends present in our prayer as we went. We participated in the tradition of traveling to various altars of repose on the evening of Holy Thursday, kneeling down before Jesus reserved in the tabernacle in twelve different stunning churches among pilgrims from all over the world. We visited relics from Christ’s Passion on Good Friday, saw the first known depiction of Mary holding Jesus deep in catacombs under Rome, and prayed the Stations of the Cross on the famous Spanish Steps.

Everywhere we went, I was reminded of the universality of our faith and was repeatedly stunned by the unique way Rome can trace the history of Christian faith, Catholicism in particular, through places and objects. Our wonderful student pilgrimage leader kept reminding us of the incarnate reality of our faith as we encountered one breathtaking cathedral after another and discovered evidence of Jesus’ real presence through holy places, objects, and art.

A view of St. Peter's from atop the North American College in Rome

My two favorite pilgrimage moments in Rome happened on two of the most significant days of the liturgical year: Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Both involved steps, physical and figurative.

On Good Friday, we had the opportunity to join pilgrims from all over the world in ascending the Scala Sancta, or the Holy Steps. Packed in shoulder to shoulder and knee to foot, we knelt and crawled our way up twenty-eight stairs that are said to be the ones Christ climbed to meet Pontius Pilate on the day of his sentencing. On each step, we reflected on a different moment in the Passion narrative, asking Christ to have mercy on us as we entered into His suffering through prayer and asking Mary to intercede for us: “Holy Mother, bring it about that the wounds of the Lord be impressed in my heart.” With each step, also, we encountered searing physical pain from the wood beneath us that was exaggerated by the groves carved into the steps by millions of pilgrims digging into our knees. I wept both because of physical pain and because of the realization that this was perhaps the smallest sliver of an example of the suffering that Christ endured for us. This emotion-filled experience was also prayer incarnate. We prayed in the footsteps of not only innumerable fellow pilgrims, but also in the footsteps of Christ Himself.

After we walked in Jesus’ steps through the communion and repose of Holy Thursday and entered into the suffering of Good Friday and the subdued nature of Holy Saturday, the victorious celebration of Easter Sunday arrived! We waited in line outside the Vatican beginning at 6:00 a.m. in order to celebrate Mass at 10:15 a.m. with Pope Francis in St. Peter’s Square, and we had the immense fortune of sitting in the section closest to the altar at the front of the square. Around 8:00 a.m., we entered into a space that physically marks the beauty of the Catholic Church. The shape of the square is enclosed by curved sets of columns that were designed to look like a welcoming hug surrounding the people gathered in the square, and these columns are topped with 144 statues of saints, assembled together above the faithful. These saints represent the entire Communion of Saints present in prayer with those who are in the square. Above the main façade of St. Peter’s Basilica stand Jesus, eleven of His disciples, and John the Baptist, who points up to heaven. Peter, the disciple missing from the group, is present in the man perched on the balcony below: the pope who has apostolically succeeded him. 

Mom and me awaiting Pope Francis' arrival from our seats in St. Peter's Square

Millions of faithful have made pilgrimages to the site of St. Peter’s since Peter was martyred there in 64 AD, and entering into this tradition of our universal, apostolic church was an unbelievable privilege. It was astounding to consider how many life stories and journeys, struggles and joys were present in the square for Mass that day. Walking in the steps of pilgrims gone before us, we were blessed with the opportunity to make Mass with Papa Francesco himself part of our incarnate spiritual journeys. Never have I been so awestruck at the universal, enduring, joy-filled nature of the Catholic faith. He is Risen – Buona Pasqua!

We were this close to Papa Francesco! Image by Ben Swanson.