Franciscan Feast of the Little Portion

 Readings for this Feast

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to ransom those under the law, so that we might receive adoption.  Galatians 4:4-5

In 1947, although Mom was young and healthy, and her pregnancy had been normal in every way, my parents' first child was stillborn. A year later, when she was pregnant with me, she had a very difficult time and the doctor insisted she should stay in bed as much as possible. Each day my Dad prepared a lunch for her and left it by her bedside before going off to work. 

But when they learned that a pilgrim statue of Our Lady of Fatima would visit Saint Meinrad Archabbey in southern Indiana, a two hour drive from Louisville, they decided to risk the trip. With toolbox in the trunk and ready for any breakdown, they set out on the winding, busy US 62, long before I-64 was even thought of. They were so impressed by the devotion of thousands who went with them that they returned the following Thursday with my grandmother, because the monks had announced a special day of prayers for the sick. 

I was born healthy and eager, on October 7, the feast of the Holy Rosary. Can that be a coincidence? 

Pilgrimages have always been a part of my life. I was ordained a deacon in the national basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, DC; and a priest, in the basilica of Our Lady of Consolation in Carey, Ohio. Both are pilgrim centers. And, of course, I've been to Rome, Assisi, and Canterbury. 

Pope Leo XIV recently (7/5/25) said pilgrimages play an essential role in the life of faith as they help a Christian to be better united to Jesus Christ and discern God’s purpose for us in life.

“A pilgrimage has a vital part to play in our life of faith for it removes us from our homes and our daily routines and gives us time and space to encounter God more deeply.”  

As a deacon, and then a priest, in Carey, I encountered thousands of people and several dozen priests, who spoke many languages, sang Catholic songs I'd never heard, and honored Mary in ways I'd not imagined. Because there were no motels in Carey, many pilgrims slept in the basilica in the pews or on the floor. And they were prepared for that. On the evening of August 14, an enormous crowd participated in the candlelight procession and Mass on the outdoor altar. 

It was a good place to begin one's ministry as a deacon and priest. I had to understand the meaning of Catholic -- as in, universal. Jesus, the Son of Mary, wanted to be a man; he could not save us otherwise. And to be human he must claim every man, woman, and child of every race, nation, language, and way of life as his beloved people. He knew no strangers and made no enemies. Anyone who would claim him as their Savior must do the same. I learned that on pilgrimage. 

It's a good thing to honor this feast with a visit to one's parish church and observe the rites which give one a plenary indulgence. But it's a better thing to go on pilgrimage to an unfamiliar church, hear people singing Catholic hymns in a strange language, confess one's sin to a priest with an accent, and share in our Eucharist. 

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licóur

Of which vertú engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open ye,

So priketh hem Natúre in hir corages,

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially, from every shires ende

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke,

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

                        The opening verses of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales