I was making my way to Rome from Turin on New Year’s Day. My friends and I had spent the previous night in adoration inside the breathtaking Salesian church in Valdocco. As the clock struck 12 a.m., ushering in the next quarter-century, the priest lifted up the monstrance containing the Blessed Sacrament, blessing us as fireworks erupted in the city outside the church’s walls.
It seemed to me as if nothing could beat the beauty and awe of that night as I rode the train to Rome on Jan. 1, yet I hadn’t fully realized how much the Eternal City had changed in preparation for the Jubilee Year of Hope.
I got out of the train and was immediately surrounded by what appeared like thousands of people at the station, most arriving from across the continent. I saw not only Italians, Spaniards and other Europeans, but also Australians, Filipinos, Americans and countless others getting off the many trains at Termini Station.
As I explored Rome, I discovered the city itself had been renovated in the past few years: new roads, new plazas, and most striking of all, newly refurbished architecture and statues. The whole city glistened with renewed shine and splendor, and it looked like the whole world was visiting just to encounter the incredible sight.
However, because I was in Rome not as a tourist but as a pilgrim (as I had to constantly remind myself), my friends and I made the journey to the city in order to experience the Jubilee, not just to see it. All the external signs of the Jubilee were beautiful, but they were merely pointing to its true heart: the hope found in the Mercy of God.
Now, this may sound old and repetitive – that’s because it is! The Year of Mercy is not a new
idea by any means.
The ancient Jews of the Old Testament celebrated a Jubilee every 50 years. “Jubilee” actually comes from the Hebrew yōḇēl: a trumpet made from the horn of a ram. They blew the trumpet at the beginning of the fiftieth year to “proclaim liberty throughout the land to all its inhabitants,” for the Lord willed that, “it shall be a jubilee for you” (Leviticus 25:8-13).
In this year, debts were forgiven, slaves were freed and mercy was abundant. Every generation of Israel waited in hopeful anticipation for the year in which God made his presence especially manifest. Indeed, the Jubilee of the Church today has its roots in the early days of God’s covenantal relationship with man thousands of years ago, from the protoevengelium in which the Lord planted the seeds of hope for our redemption, to the fulfillment of salvation of the Cross, reminding us that He has always been merciful since the beginning.
I encountered this mercy in Rome, the center of the Jubilee celebrations worldwide. With my fellow pilgrims, we venerated the relics of great saints, prayed before the Blessed Sacrament, participated in the Mass each day and turned our eyes heavenward, rejoicing in the mercy and hope of God made manifest in the sacrifice of His Son.
However, the joy of the Jubilee has not dwindled since my return to the United States. In fact, being surrounded by my dear friends in Dallas has only increased my appreciation for mercy within the context of my own life. After all, it is a Jubilee here too, not just in Rome.
This year, the Church calls us to make a pilgrimage within our hearts. Let us turn to Christ here and now, imitating his endless mercy by forgiving any and all who have offended us over the course of these past few years. Let the trumpet of our own mercy blow in unison with the Jubilee trumpet of the Church!