CASTEL GANDOLFO by Joe Castorino

June 2023

Just outside of Rome,

about ten minutes or so

after passing Due Santi,

where St. Peter and St. Paul met,

I got terribly twisted around

while driving on the convoluted roads

of venerable Castel Gandolfo --

in short, I was lost.

Sadly, I never found Ristorante Da Agnese,

where Sweetie Pie had previously dined

with her university class

(and where I now had luncheon reservations);

in fact, I never even got close.

Instead, I ended up on the other side of

Lago Albano, in the heart of

beautiful Castel Gandolfo --

but I was hungry,

very very hungry,

and I was struggling

to find another restaurant —

let alone find parking.

Well, I drove back and forth

along the main road,

along the top of the volcanic crater,

with its steep breathless drops-offs,

and I almost felt as if I were riding

a white-knuckler roller coaster.

Finally, I found a potential place

where I might be able to eat lunch:

Ristorante Gardenia --

but the big question was

would it be open.

So I stepped down into

what I thought would be

the lobby, but since the restaurant

was built into the hillside of the crater,

I suddenly found myself walking

down, down, down --

quite a long way.

Eventually, I found someone,

and in my best Italian,

I asked if they were open,

and if I could have lunch there.

They were very kind,

and they said they could serve me

in just a few minutes

after the kitchen was open.

So I waited out on the side balcony,

sitting comfortably on a sofa,

which faces the very top

of Castel Gandolfo,

where, just a short way up,

I saw the antiquated domes

of the Papal Palace’s Vatican Observatory

amidst the charming Italian buildings,

in lovely pastel shades,

and the lush greenery

that blanketed the hillside.

Soon, the smiling waiter

led me to my small little table,

right on the edge

of a very narrow balcony

that overlooked the lovely lake.

The balcony’s rail was of

black wrought iron,

and the large elegant lamps

that hung from the ceiling

reminded me of

the glory and grandeur

of the age of Christendom.

I placed my order,

and then looked out

over the glory of God,

stunning Lago Albano

in all of its magnificent beauty.

Truly, the views were

nothing short of spectacular,

and as the sun slowly strolled

through the afternoon sky,

the chameleonic lake

gradually seemed to change colors.

I saw emerald, aquamarine, teal, gray,

in the most wonderful shades imaginable,

and the colors varied

depending upon the light,

the angle of the light,

and the movement of the

dramatic dark storm clouds

that were gathering,

in the distance,

and, eventually,

over the lake itself.

First, the waiter brought

some refreshing Natía water,

with fresh-baked bread --

and being a bread lover,

I was a happy man.

Then, came the main course,

Gnocchi alla Sorrentina,

one of my favorite dishes,

and it was prepared to perfection --

in fact, it was a masterpiece,

from an aesthetic perspective

as well as a culinary perspective.

It was the perfect blend of

semolina dough and potato,

and the delicious pasta,

brimming in the cupped dish,

was elegantly served

in a light and mild tomato sauce

that was bursting with flavor;

it was topped off

with fresh fior di latte

and a lovely sprig of basilico --

I felt like a king.

Then, for dessert,

I tasted the finest Babà con Crema

that I have ever had,

a rum-soaked cake

in the shape of a brioche,

filled with sweet cream,

and served on an artistic plate

which was cratered with indentations

(presumably, to make it easier

for me not to miss a morsel

of this unforgettable pastry).

So as I reflected back upon my afternoon,

I asked myself the question,

Why did I allow my mind

to get all twisted around

when things didn’t go my way,

when I was not in control?

Why didn’t I trust in God,

the God of surprises,

who spent this entire trip

trying to teach me

that through trust

He would shower His

divine mercy upon me --

which He did, repeatedly --

even in the dark night

of unknowing?

JUBILEE 2000: BEFORE MASS by Joe Castorino

September 2000

As I serenely sit in front of St. Peter’s

  Basilica, I soak in the beauty of the piazza,

I look about my peaceful surroundings,

  Drinking in the delicious glory of God;

Clusters of clouds casually waft by, so low

  That they almost brush the top of the dome,

They pass by like eager pilgrims, Eucharistic

  White against the bright blue sky.

 

Fresh flowers flow down on the white steps in front

  Of the altar, like a colorful cascading waterfall,

I inhale the perfume of their sweet scent,

  And I breathe in the Lord’s love;

The elegant church bells powerfully and

  Rhythmically ring out God’s grandeur,

While the balmy breeze swirls around me

  And compassionately caresses me.

PRAYING IN THE SPIRIT by Joe Castorino

Inspired by Romans 8:26 & Psalm 91:5 & Luke 1:47 & Luke 2:14

I try to pray

while in bed

at night,

but my tired mind

is weary, but then

Our Lady reminds me

to pray in the Spirit,

slowly, calmly,

and let my heart sing --

as St. Paul so wisely said:

the Spirit comes to the aid

of our weakness,

for we do not know

how to pray,

but the Spirit

intercedes for us,

with inexpressible groanings;

and so, I pray in the Spirit,

so that I may not fear

the terror of the night,

nor the arrow that flies by day,

and as the Holy Spirit

fills my soul to the brim

with the sweet new wine

of His amazing love,

my body rests,

as my spirit rejoices

in God my Savior --

glory to God

in the highest,

and on earth peace

to those on whom

his favor rests!

JUBILEE 2000: VIA CRUCIS by Joe Castorino

September 2000

Pummeled by Parkinson’s,

he battles through the basilica,

leaning forward, heavily,

hunched over, crushed

under an invisible

wooden cross, laden

with the world’s woes;

from the ocean of onlookers,

a mother mildly lifts up

her little newborn,

and the Polish pope

most tenderly

blesses the babe

with a gentle kiss;

the spectators exhale

a halo as they breathlessly

and solemnly sigh, “O!”

ST. JOHN PAUL II'S SOLEMN ACT OF ENTRUSTMENT OF THE WORLD TO DIVINE MERCY by Joe Castorino

God, merciful Father,

in Your Son, Jesus Christ,

You have revealed Your love

and poured it out upon us

in the Holy Spirit,

the Comforter.

We entrust to You today 

the destiny of the whole world

and of every man and woman.

Bend down to us sinners, 

heal our weakness,

conquer all evil,

and grant that all peoples of the earth

may experience Your mercy.

In You, the Triune God, 

may they ever find the source of hope.

Eternal Father,

for the sake of the sorrowful Passion

and Resurrection of Your Son,

have mercy on us,

and upon the whole world!

Amen.

JUBILEE 2000: THE PIETÀ by Joe Castorino

Inspired by Michelangelo’s masterpiece: September 2000

As I look up at the statue, I see Santa Maria,

  as white as virgin milk, holding her Jesus;

She is the elegant embodiment of humble

  Obedience and selfless compassion.

 

The Savior lay in the stately surrender of

  Sacrificial love, in His mother’s majestic arms;

He is crushed, the weight of the world’s

  Sin heavy upon His wounded body.

 

On the surrounding walls, the magnificent

  Marble is a multicolored whirlwind;

The Holy Spirit beautifully swirls and

  Soars through it in grace-ful agape.

THE JOURNEY FROM PATIENCE TO DIVINE MERCY by Joe Castorino

I have a tendency to

overreact to things,

to immediately assume

the worst, out of fear;

but Our Lady is teaching me

that I need to be patient --

since patience, as St. Augustine said,

is the companion of wisdom,

and so, when an accident happens,

I take fear, and I promptly surrender it

to Our Lady, so that she can place

it at the foot of the cross,

until with a calmer mind

I can bring it before the King

in my private audience with Him,

and allow Him to guide me;

in the meantime,

I am resolved to

have the divine sense of humor,

knowing in my heart

that the Divine Mercy

will never let me down:

patience leads to good humor,

and good humor leads to

divine mercy in the dark night.

JUBILEE 2000: ST. PETER'S BASILICA by Joe Castorino

September 2000

Reflecting on God’s grandeur, I marvel

  At the beauty that surrounds me,

The statue of the Pietà vibrantly reflects

  The sweet sublimity of God’s mercy;

The nave floats in the swirling, variegated,

  Multi-colored waves of a marble ocean,

And massive pillars of magnificent marble

  Stand at attention like the Swiss Guards.

 

As the doors silently open, the Holy Father’s

  Vehicle slowly rolls down the aisle,

And in rushes a breeze of heavenly hope

  That placidly fills the sails of our souls;

I stand on my chair and see the saint whose

  Faith defeated the dreary dark night,

As he kisses a babe, love ripples through

  The crowd and rhymes in our hearts.

DIVINE MERCY AT PEYTO LAKE by Joe Castorino

August 1988

As I struggle up the steep path,

My legs now feel much heavier,

And I wonder if the view will really

Be worth the arduous journey;

I see a sage old man approach,

Bearded like one of the prophets,

When I ask if I should continue,

He winks at me and nods yes;

Finally, when I reach the summit,

I behold the Valley of Heaven -- 

I breathe the Holy Spirit into my

Soul, and then exhale a smile;

The snow-capped mountains

Glisten in the warm soothing Light,

As the lovely lake glimmers from 

The Divine Mercy rays of the Son.

DIVINE MERCY AT MORAINE LAKE by Joe Castorino

August 1988

It is a bright beautiful morning in the

  crisp clean air of the Canadian Rockies,

We ascend as I drive up a wonderfully

  windy road past babbling brooks,

The two of us are together, in the car that

we affectionately refer to as the “Tin Can”;

After reaching the sunny summit,

  we gently roll into the Valley of the Ten Peaks;

We finally arrive at the large lake and 

  look up at the regal ring of mountains,

Yet I feel slightly saddened because

  somehow it’s less than I expected;

A lodge that looks like a big log cabin

  stands silently like a sentinel near the water,

We decide to dine there and enjoy a 

  delightful bit of roast beef for lunch;

The savory flavor of my sandwich lingers

  in my mouth, as I think about my morning,

I try to cunningly convince myself that 

  I’m not disappointed, but I know that I am. 

 

Departing for our next destination,

  I wistfully walk towards our little car,

But as I look to the right, I see a

  tar-black hill with a winding trail upon it;

The people look like pilgrims as they

  make their way up the mysterious mound,

Curiosity gradually grows within me as I 

  ponder, puzzled, where the path leads;

So I investigate and struggle up the steep

  trail, tripping occasionally on rock and rubble,

But when I get to the top, I am frozen

  with fascination as I behold the view;

Above me is a diadem of snow-tipped peaks,

  gleaming with the glory of God,

Below me is the pristine lake, and it is

  shimmering and sparkling like a gemstone;

It appears as if millions of sapphires

  and emeralds have melted into liquid,

And the blue-green color of the 

  lovely lake is luminous in the sunshine.

 

My senses are suddenly soaked in Your

  Holy Spirit’s lasting love, and I feel Your beauty,

At this moment, nothing else matters,

  and I only long to be close to You;

At this moment, I am oblivious to my past,

  and I am oblivious to my future,

I am living in the eternal and

  mystical present of the great I AM;

You are Holy Humility, You are

  Magnificent Mercy, You are Limitless Love,

And with Your divine sense of humor,

  You really are the God of surprises.

CASTEL GANDOLFO by Joe Castorino

June 2023

Just outside of Rome,

about ten minutes or so

after passing Due Santi,

where St. Peter and St. Paul met,

I got terribly twisted around

while driving on the convoluted roads

of venerable Castel Gandolfo --

in short, I was lost.

Sadly, I never found Ristorante Da Agnese,

where Sweetie Pie had previously dined

with her university class

(and where I now had luncheon reservations);

in fact, I never even got close.

Instead, I ended up on the other side of

Lago Albano, in the heart of

beautiful Castel Gandolfo --

but I was hungry,

very very hungry,

and I was struggling

to find another restaurant —

let alone find parking.

Well, I drove back and forth

along the main road,

along the top of the volcanic crater,

with its steep breathless drops-offs,

and I almost felt as if I were riding

a white-knuckler roller coaster.

Finally, I found a potential place

where I might be able to eat lunch:

Ristorante Gardenia --

but the big question was

would it be open.

So I stepped down into

what I thought would be

the lobby, but since the restaurant

was built into the hillside of the crater,

I suddenly found myself walking

down, down, down --

quite a long way.

Eventually, I found someone,

and in my best Italian,

I asked if they were open,

and if I could have lunch there.

They were very kind,

and they said they could serve me

in just a few minutes

after the kitchen was open.

So I waited out on the side balcony,

sitting comfortably on a sofa,

which faces the very top

of Castel Gandolfo,

where, just a short way up,

I saw the antiquated domes

of the Papal Palace’s Vatican Observatory

amidst the charming Italian buildings,

in lovely pastel shades,

and the lush greenery

that blanketed the hillside.

Soon, the smiling waiter

led me to my small little table,

right on the edge

of a very narrow balcony

that overlooked the lovely lake.

The balcony’s rail was of

black wrought iron,

and the large elegant lamps

that hung from the ceiling

reminded me of

the glory and grandeur

of the age of Christendom.

I placed my order,

and then looked out

over the glory of God,

stunning Lago Albano

in all of its magnificent beauty.

Truly, the views were

nothing short of spectacular,

and as the sun slowly strolled

through the afternoon sky,

the chameleonic lake

gradually seemed to change colors.

I saw emerald, aquamarine, teal, gray,

in the most wonderful shades imaginable,

and the colors varied

depending upon the light,

the angle of the light,

and the movement of the

dramatic dark storm clouds

that were gathering,

in the distance,

and, eventually,

over the lake itself.

First, the waiter brought

some refreshing Natía water,

with fresh-baked bread --

and being a bread lover,

I was a happy man.

Then, came the main course,

Gnocchi alla Sorrentina,

one of my favorite dishes,

and it was prepared to perfection --

in fact, it was a masterpiece,

from an aesthetic perspective

as well as a culinary perspective.

It was the perfect blend of

semolina dough and potato,

and the delicious pasta,

brimming in the cupped dish,

was elegantly served

in a light and mild tomato sauce

that was bursting with flavor;

it was topped off

with fresh fior di latte

and a lovely sprig of basilico --

I felt like a king.

Then, for dessert,

I tasted the finest Babà con Crema

that I have ever had,

a rum-soaked cake

in the shape of a brioche,

filled with sweet cream,

and served on an artistic plate

which was cratered with indentations

(presumably, to make it easier

for me not to miss a morsel

of this unforgettable pastry).

So as I reflected back upon my afternoon,

I asked myself the question,

Why did I allow my mind

to get all twisted around

when things didn’t go my way,

when I was not in control?

Why didn’t I trust in God,

the God of surprises,

who spent this entire trip

trying to teach me

that through trust

He would shower His

divine mercy upon me --

which He did, repeatedly --

even in the dark night

of unknowing?

FIRST TRIP by Joe Castorino

Dedicated to my Father: Circa 1970

Me and Dad were at

Knott’s Berry Farm and

he couldn’t wait to share

his favorite attractions with me;

the torch of his enthusiasm

burned even hotter

than the fiery ashes

of his cigarettes;

but I was like a wet match,

soaking wet,

and Dad had no chance,

no chance at all --

my whole world was

Disneyland;

hot words of anger

gathered in his mouth

like fierce storm winds,

but then he hesitated,

thought pensively for a moment,

and, finally, swallowed them;

with a smile of selfless surrender,

he took my hand in his own

and, together, we walked

towards the parking lot.

BINGO NIGHT by Joe Castorino

Circa 1970 

It was Thanksgiving evening, and the lamps

  Glowed cheerfully in the cozy house;

Though the clean little home was modest,

  It was filled with the sweet scent of love.

 

We were all stuffed with good food, and

  Ready for some post-meal entertainment;

So the time had come for everyone in the

  Family to engage in some competitive fun.

 

Our very alert ears quickly snatched the

  Numbers out of the air, one by one;

Then our fingers excitedly placed the

  Small black discs on the bingo cards.

 

Aunt Therese felt sorry for me, a young boy,

  Because I was terribly saddened by losing;

So winking with a smiling old eye, she

  Pushed her stack of pennies into mine.

LITTLE PRAYER AFTER HOLY COMMUNION by Joe Castorino

Inspired by St. Louis de Montfort & St. John Paul II

Tuus totus ego sum,

Et omnia mea tua sunt.

I am all yours, O my Jesus,

And all that I have is yours,

Through Santa Maria,

Your most holy mother.

Come, Holy Spirit!

I pray for myself…

I pray for my family…

I pray for my faith community…

I pray for the world…

I pray for the poor souls of purgatory…

Vive Jésus!

Amen.

THE SPIRITUAL BATTLE by Joe Castorino

Guardian Angel, please pray for me,

Because the devil tempts us to obsess,

We must evade the evil of worldly idols,

And not dream of what to possess;

Thirsting for things can thicken anxiety,

Which can seem to never cease,

We struggle and tuggle with all our might,

And banished is all our peace.

The diabolical dragon swoops down,

Determined all good to destroy,

With the flaming fire of enslaving greed,

He seeks to kill all devotion and joy;

But as our trustworthy guide from Heaven,

With love you sing a sweet prayer,

And your petitions rise like a happy dove

Higher and higher up into the air.

When the evil one tries to pour words of

Corrosive poison into our innocent ears,

Teach us to think of the Lord Jesus crucified,

So that banished are all our fears;

When we dance with delight with temptation,

Help us the crucifix recall,

For the cross crushes the devil’s teeth,

And into hellish Styx he will fall.

Meditating on the gore of Golgotha,

Our hearts like tearful candles melt,

Knife-like nails puncture his palms,

And blood trickles to where Our Lady knelt;

Then our foolish obsessions are obliterated,

By the power of His holy love,

And we are magnificently made new,

By His grace flowing from above.

Trying to lure us into obsession,

The devil deceptively dangles his bait,

But seeing you push us out of harm’s way

Only fuels his mad fury and hate;

We escape the avalanche of avarice,

That can crush the soul like snow,

You lead us on a path filled with Light,

So that our life in the Spirit will grow.

LITTLE PRAYER TO ST. MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL by Joe Castorino

Dear St. Michael,

You are the great warrior angel,

Ready for the spiritual battle,

Always sober, vigilant, and alert,

You wait and watch for the enemy;

Then in the midst of black terror,

You slay the red dragon of fear,

And brandish the sword of the Spirit,

The glorious golden sword of Love;

Teach us to become brave soldiers,

Soldiers of Jesus Christ the Lord,

Nourished by the holy Bread of Life,

Refreshed by His sweet new wine.

Amen.

TO POPE BENEDICT XVI by Joe Castorino

As you bashfully smile,

you extend both arms

and wiggle your fingers:

your welcoming wave

is a gentle greeting to

the pilgrims at St. Peter’s.

A prudent theologian,

you write the most

eloquent of encyclicals;

being a classical pianist,

you speak wisely about

true beauty and true art.

In your own quiet way

you shepherd the flock,

for you’re a very holy man;

you’re an obedient son,

a simple man of Love,

a humble genius.

JUBILEE 2000: VIA CRUCIS by Joe Castorino

September 2000

Pummeled by Parkinson’s,

he battles through the basilica,

leaning forward, heavily,

hunched over, crushed

under an invisible

wooden cross, laden

with the world’s woes;

from the ocean of onlookers,

a mother mildly lifts up

her little newborn,

and the Polish pope

most tenderly

blesses the babe

with a gentle kiss;

the spectators exhale

a halo as they breathlessly

and solemnly sigh, “O!”

TO ST. JOHN PAUL II by Joe Castorino

You have a playful, loving smile

  that was delightfully disarming,

You have pleasant, penetrating eyes

  that looked deep into our souls,

As a humble seminarian you silently

  evaded the nefarious Nazis,

Years later, your heroic words crushed

  the cold-hearted Communists;

Your valiant, victorious voice was

  carried on the wondrous wings

Of the cheerful cherubim, who raced

  round the globe and rained down

On the world God’s heavenly hope

  and wonderful words of wisdom.

 

You are a saint for our century:

  poignant poet, daring dramatist,

Protector of the powerless,

  merciful mystic, pro-life pope,

And stalwart spearhead who ignited

  the fire of the New Evangelization;

Your hideous opponent the devil,

  like a sly, sneaky soccer player,

Tantalizingly tried to kick abortion

  through Holy Church’s doors, but

As the goalie of the Chair of St. Peter,

  you flicked away temptation,

With your rock-solid shepherd’s staff

  gripped in your warrior-like hands.

 

With courage, you relentlessly pursued

  Christ’s love even though

You had to trudge terribly through

  the dreadful, dreary dark night

Of Nazi dictatorship, and you had

  to bear the wicked weight of the

Cruel, crafty Communists in your

  beloved, historic home of Poland;

Through your remarkable writings

  you lifted us ever so high in the air

In a Heaven-bound spiral, far far above

  the murky mist of moral relativism

And into the sublime, sunny splendor

  Of Christ’s truth and freedom.