Pilgrims of Hope: Walking the Way of St. Francis in the Year of Jubilee

Just over two years ago, my friend Father Patrick Carrion and I arrived together at five newly-merged parishes in Northeast Baltimore City. These included St. Francis of Assisi Church and School, Shrine of the Little Flower, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Dominic and Most Precious Blood. A year later we added St. Matthew and Blessed Sacrament. When people asked what my parish was, I sometimes replied, “the Litany of the Saints.” 

Throughout the Seek the City to Come pastoral planning initiative of the Archdiocese of Baltimore, we walked with parishioners through the difficult period of merging churches and in some cases celebrating their final public Masses.

Some days in prayer, I thought about how I became a priest because, like St. Francis of Assisi, my confirmation saint, I wanted to rebuild the church, not close its doors. But I realized that new growth occurs only through the patient and sometimes painful process of pruning and planting seeds for the future.

This is the Jubilee Year. The theme, “Pilgrims of Hope,” seemed perfectly timed. We live by hope, and “hope does not disappoint” (Rom 5:5). Pope Francis noted that the Christian life is a “journey calling for moments of greater intensity to encourage and sustain hope as the constant companion that guides our steps towards the goal of our encounter with the Lord Jesus.”

I was carrying events and emotions from the preceding years I still needed to process prayerfully.

In 2017, a turning point in my life, I walked the Camino de Santiago, the “Way of St. James,” across the north of Spain. For 2025, I decided on walking the Via di Francesco, the “Way of St. Francis” (Also called the Via Roma, “Way of Rome”), a 170-mile hike from Assisi to Rome that passes through sacred sites in the life of St. Francis of Assisi. Andiamo!

Just before my pilgrimage, Pope Francis completed his earthly journey. For 12 years, Francis walked with me, a spiritual companion through the ups and downs of my young adulthood and early years of priesthood. But who could guess I would get to see the first American pope? Vivat Papa Leo XIV!

Two weeks before my journey, I learned of yet another major transition. I was appointed administrator/pastor of the newly-merged parish of St. Leo the Great in Little Italy and nearby St. Vincent de Paul. Good timing to pick up some Italian!

With my backpack and credential (the “pilgrim passport”), I set out from Assisi on May 14, my birthday (Buon compleanno!).

The first stage begins with a hike up Mount Subasio. The climb begins and keeps going and going and going … and going. The first stage in any journey is usually the hardest.

In 1210, Francis journeyed from Assisi to Rome seeking the pope’s approval for his religious order. That night, Pope Innocent III dreamed of a man holding up the Basilica of St. John Lateran, the pope’s cathedral, from falling over. With faith, hope and love, we can do difficult things and become saints.

Pilgrims wear an object on their backpack to symbolize the spiritual journey. On the Way of St. James in Spain, pilgrims wear a scallop shell. I still have mine and use it for baptisms.

On the Way of St. Francis pilgrims wear the Tau cross symbolizing fraternity, penance and sacrifice. Some carry a set of keys, the symbol of Rome, St. Peter, and the faith of the Church.

One day as I passed through the medieval city of Spoleto I discovered a side chapel containing one of the only surviving letters from the hand of St. Francis. It reads,

“Brother Leo, your brother Francis, greetings and peace. I tell you, dear son, as would a mother, that all we have discussed on the way, I will summarize briefly in one word of advice so that it will not be necessary for you to come see me. Here is the advice I give you: Whatever way seems to you most pleasing to the Lord God in order to follow him and his poverty, do it. Be sure that by doing so you will receive the Lord God’s blessing and that you will be in obedience to me. However, if it is necessary for the consolation of your soul that you come back to see me, do come” (c. 1222).

It was fun to imagine this same conversation between “Brother Francis and Leo” replaying 800 years later!

One day I met a solo pilgrim like myself, a French Catholic business student. We talked about the state of the church in our countries and our reasons for walking. He said, “You have a lot on your mind. Make time for silence.” Bonne idée! My goal is not to come home with a hundred homily ideas or the perfect parish vision statement. I needed time with God in solitude to listen and abandon my plans to his will.

Pilgrimages remind us that life has purpose, direction and a destination. A pilgrim who carries Christ in the heart knows that he or she is always and already home no matter how dark and difficult things get. Some stages in life are sunny and beautiful. Other stages, like my hike from Greccio to Rieti, are an uphill climb in the rain. Then one day you rise and notice you’re almost there.

When I finally reached St. Peter’s Square and fell to my knees, I felt not only the accomplishment of a beautiful and exhausting 11-day hike, but the oblation of an eight-year journey of grace and grief and growth. I entered St. Peter’s Basilica, presented my credential for my final stamp, and received my testimonium. My pilgrimage was almost complete.

St. Philip Neri, the “second Apostle of Rome,” began the tradition of the Seven Pilgrim Churches of Rome comprised of the four “major basilicas” (the Jubilee Holy Doors) and three “minor” basilicas honored in Christian memory.

Along the “Way of Rome” I carried the front door keys of our seven churches in Baltimore. I left the key to St. Matthew in St. Peter’s Basilica (see Mt 16:18-19). Each pilgrim church I visited I placed a key, the key to St. Francis of Assisi at the Basilica of St. John Lateran. Finally, I placed the key to the Shrine of the Little Flower, a special place during my ministry, inside the Basilica of St. Mary Major near the tomb of Pope Francis. For Catholics, even the grave is a sign of hope.

The word “parish” (Greek “paroikia,” 1 Pet 1:17) literally means pilgrim or stranger. Have we not, at times, grown a little attached to the earthly home and need reminding that as pilgrims of hope “here we have no lasting city, but we seek the one that is to come” (Heb 13:14)?

While attending the Wednesday general audience, witnessing the new pope, I reflected: Here I am, journeying from Assisi to Rome, from St. Francis of Assisi Church to St. Leo Church in Baltimore, from Pope Francis to Pope Leo! God makes a way. I remembered my friends and mentors such as Father Patrick and think: God provides companions for the way. I look forward and think: God will do it again.

Together “we seek the city to come” – not Baltimore, not Assisi, not even the “eternal city” of Rome – but the City of God, the new Jerusalem. Take courage. We are pilgrims of hope. Buonna Cammino!

Also see

The Pride of Chicago 

Witness to truth

Become like children

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