After spending a day contemplating and praying at Mary’s house in Ephesus, visiting St. John’s tomb, and witnessing an incredible sunset in Assos, we now wake up in Canakkale, a city in northwest Türkiye surrounded by mountains with a beautiful view of the Mediterranean Sea.

Sometimes on pilgrimage, it is easy to overlook what is most important: Holy Mass. This is not intentional- it just happens. Mass is usually early in the morning, followed by a full day of traveling and site seeing. More than once, I’ve heard someone say, “That was this morning!?” when Mass is mentioned on the bus. Suffice to say, our days are jam packed with amazing experiences.

The city of Ephesus was a historical giant.  At its height during the time of ancient Rome, it was the largest city in the empire’s Asian territories.  It boasted an immense three-story library that is still standing today, an enormous temple that rivaled any built in Rome or Athens, and one of the largest ports on the Mediterranean.

Sometimes on pilgrimage, it is easy to overlook what is most important: Holy Mass. This is not intentional- it just happens. Mass is usually early in the morning, followed by a full day of traveling and site seeing. More than once, I’ve heard someone say, “That was this morning!?” when Mass is mentioned on the bus. Suffice to say, our days are jam packed with amazing experiences.

It has been more than a week since we began following the footsteps of Saint Paul. So far, we have visited his birthplace, the places he traveled to during his missionary journeys, and sites where the first Christians had to hide to avoid persecution. Being in such powerful
locations – walking through and witnessing the history engraved in the rocks of Cappadocia,
Galatia, and Pamphylia – deepens one’s faith.

As we walked the half-buried streets of Pisidian Antioch, the sun beat down from overhead on the bleached stones. Perched on a hill, Antioch looks down on modern Yalvaç with the ancient temple of Caesar Augustus, son of a god and pontifex maximus, casting its once-imposing gaze over cities both ancient and modern.

We are in an overwhelmingly Muslim country, intermixed with tourists, where there are more cats than Christians. Today we were privileged to visit a few of the many ancient cave churches, where, in days of old, the numberless faithful Christians of Cappadocia worshiped. Hollowed out of rock, these sacred spaces are as immovable as the hills themselves, some still beautified by colorful mosaics on walls and ceilings.

Today, we are in Cappadocia! Cappadocia is a beautiful region in the south of Turkey; not a metropolitan city by any means but rather a combination of small towns in a beautiful desert region. The scenery is gorgeous with the rolling hills and simple architecture which hasn’t changed much in two thousand years.

I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that I am walking around the streets of Tarsus, the birthplace of the great Apostle Paul. It was here he grew up a faithful Jew before going to Jerusalem to study the scriptures. We flew from Istanbul to Tarsus early in the morning, and on the bus ride to Tarsus, Fr Kasule read to us Paul’s conversion story told in the ninth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. While we are visiting St. Paul’s well and admiring the ruins of the ancient city, I am imagining the way in which God was looking on Paul during his early years, preparing his heart for conversion and to be His apostle in a way St. Paul could never have imagined.

We had the distinct privilege of taking a walking tour of the ancient city of Istanbul, Turkey, on our first full day of pilgrimage. We learned about the rich historical significance of many landmarks throughout Istanbul. We also had the opportunity to celebrate Mass at St. Anthony’s Church run by Conventual Franciscans (the same Franciscans as those who live and minister at the National Shrine of Maximillian Kolbe), a tiny pocket of the local Church of Istanbul among a predominantly Muslim population.

After a long journey with meditation on the Footsteps of Saint Paul, going from Turkey, through Greece and ending up in Rome, I felt very low, tired, and empty. Deep in my heart I asked myself, “Perhaps God is asking me to go on a silent retreat!” And this is exactly happened when we arrived in Assisi. The retreat allowed me, together with my fellow seminarians, to set apart time for God by disconnecting from the very connected world. Going away to be alone with God was a beautiful experience.