Father Joseph V. Corpora, CSC, ’76, ’83M.Div. | October 31, 2019
The fourth leg of my fall semester sabbatical took me to Italy for 11 days. Every time I go to Italy, within one hour at the most, I am convinced of two things: I will always be Catholic and I will always be fat.
I love the Church. I love the Church more and more every day. One trip to the Vatican renews my love for the Church. And mostly because its diversity and universality are on full display at the Vatican. I see devout pilgrims and inquisitive tourists. I see more priests in 10 minutes than I would see in the state of Montana in a month. I see nuns with the most interesting habits and colors and veils. I see people seeking God, wanting to be drawn closer to God. I can smell the goodness and love of Pope Francis.
I love the Church and, please God, I always will. The Church has revealed the merciful love of God to me. The Church, even with its blemishes and stains, is for me the way to God. I cannot imagine living for 10 seconds without the Eucharist and the sacraments. I love the Mass. I love the sacrament of confession, both as a sinner and as a confessor.
And then there’s the bread and the pasta and the cannolis. What else needs to be said? It’s practically impossible to be a Catholic if you don’t love bread. Every day I am in Italy I try to eat pasta twice a day, and on a good day three times! I love every kind of pasta, but especially gnocchi. I have never met a carbohydrate that I didn't like. And cannolis . . . with that ricotta cheese. To die for. If you have never had a good cannoli, stop reading this article and go get one. Today. Now.
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