Procession

When my turn came, the master of ceremonies directed the four bearers to turn off the path and enter a small church for a brief moment. Inside lay a remarkable bed of flower petals in an exquisite arrangement, and the four of us hesitated to continue, not wanting to walk over it. But when we heard the call “Avanti!”—meaning “Go forward!”—step-by-step we walked over the flowers, laid there to honour the Lord’s presence. Then began a choir of nuns singing the most angelic chants, while the Archbishop of Orvieto knelt down and incensed Our Lord saying, “Blessed be God!” several times over. The sweet perfume of the incense mixed with that of the flowers, while I felt the heavy weight of the solid-metal monstrance on my shoulder.

I could hardly stop the tear drops coming from my eyes, moved by the love and devotion of those present, including my own. Faith in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist kept this tradition alive for centuries. Never in my life had beauty captivated me

Eucharist, was on pilgrimage to Rome. As he celebrated the linen corporal, the altar cloth, and even the altar stone