"At the Chair of Peter," he responded. "How could this be?" I asked. "We had reserved that very altar for this date seven months ago."

The Archbishop and I talked to the head sacristan to sort out the problem, only to learn he had double-booked us. Quite frankly, anyone who is familiar with Roman ways would not be all that surprised by such confusion. They seem to thrive on it. The sacristan's solution: concelebration.

Fine, we said. I suggested that the Archbishop preside at the Eucharist and I preach the homily. "No," the Archbishop insisted, "you have a larger group. You preside and preach, and I and the other priests from both our dioceses will concelebrate."

While we had resolved the conflict in the sacristy, we wondered what chaos may have been taking place in the pews before the altar of the Chair, where two groups of pilgrims headed by their possessive tour leaders were vying for the same space. Fortunately, the spirit of hospitality which should be the hallmark of a pilgrimage was very much in evidence as our respective groups waited patiently for a resolution. How good it is when brothers and sisters dwell together in unity!

Celebrating at the altar of the Chair of Peter recalled special memories for me. I served as master of ceremonies when Archbishop Vlazny; Father James Mackey, present pastor of St. Michael the Archangel in Troy; and their classmates from the North American College were ordained at this very altar in 1961. Two years later, upon my own ordination at the Church of St. Ignatius, I celebrated my second Mass at this altar (the first being at the catacombs of St. Priscilla and the third, as previously noted, at the Basilica of St. Mary Major.)

However, while the altar of the Chair holds happy memories for me, being in this magnificent basilica of St. Peter's calls to mind perhaps the most embarrassing and humiliating experience of my life. In 1980, with many others from the Diocese, I journeyed to Rome for the beatification of Kateri Tekakwitha. Although we knew the date and place for the beatification, we had few details about the ceremony itself.

The night before the beatification, I received an invitation to concelebrate the liturgy and to report to the altar of the Pieta, located in the right rear of the Basilica for vesting. That this magnificent sculpture of the great Michelangelo, one of the world's most renowned masterpieces, was being used as a vesting site boggled the mind.

Upon arriving at the vesting area for the celebration, I was approached by one of the papal masters of ceremonies who asked if I was Bishop Hubbard. He proceeded to inform me that as Bishop of the Diocese sponsoring Kateri's cause, I would be called upon at the outset of the liturgy to present to the Holy Father the highlights of Kateri's life and to make the formal request for her beatification.

The monsignor then presented me with the English text which was to be read. I asked if I might take it for a few moments to familiarize myself with the reading, especially since it listed a number of places which were referred to by their Native American names, like Ossernenon. The papal chamberlain was adamant in not permitting the text to leave his hands, afraid, I suppose, it might be misplaced. But at least he allowed me to scan the document while he clung to it steadfastly.

There were several persons to be beatified that day. After the entrance procession, Pope John Paul II took his seat at the papal altar. The other bishops and I who were to present our candidates were positioned around the confessional of St. Peter, directly in front of the papal altar and above the tomb of the Apostle Peter.

Quite frankly, I was very nervous. There I was, standing before the Holy Father in a Basilica filled with more than 10,000 people and not really familiar with the text I was about to read. To make matters worse, I was the last bishop to present my candidate. The others read their presentations in the language of their homeland: German, French, Spanish and Italian.

As I approached the microphone and the master of ceremonies thrust the text into my hands, I could feel my stomach churning and my knees trembling. Somehow or other, the words did come out; and by the conclusion, I was quite relieved, both because it was over and because I thought I had pronounced the Native American words properly and read the text coherently.

As I happily sought to return the script to the master of ceremonies and started to resume my position before the confessional, he muttered, "No, no, no!" and proceeded to show me another text which summarized entirely -- in Latin -- everything I and the other bishops had just presented in the vernacular. I was never a great Latin scholar to begin with and hadn't read a Latin text in the 15 years since Mass was changed from Latin to English. And here I was standing before the Holy Father, the curial cardinals as well as bishops, priests and laity from all around the world, trying to read a Latin manuscript I had never set eyes on previously.

I was never so panicked and perplexed in my life. God only knows what my presentation sounded like. I am sure it was a badly botched articulation of the text, and to this day I shudder at what a fool I made of myself. The only consolation is that the experience enabled me to participate in the humility which was so characteristic of Kateri's life.

Celebrating the Eucharist at the Chair of Peter, which symbolizes so majestically his role as the first among the Apostles and the rock upon Jesus would build the Church, against which the gates of hell will never prevail, was a special joy.

There are many images of Peter which come to mind from reading the Scriptures: his call to be a disciple at the Sea of Galilee; his asking Jesus to cure his mother-in-law; his presence at the Mount of Transfiguration when Jesus gave him, James and John a foretaste of His glory and wherein Peter with typical impulsiveness wanted to make it a permanent arrangement by proposing to set up three tents; his famous response to the question of Jesus, "Who do you say that I am?" "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God;" his bold assertion at the Last Supper that he would never betray Jesus and, then, within hours denouncing Him three times in the courtyard of the high priest Pilate; his rushing to the tomb on Easter Sunday morning to find it empty; and his efforts to keep unity among the Apostles in the midst of the various conflicts which arose in the early Church.

However, amid all of these scenes described in the Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, we should never forget that Peter himself was to suffer a martyr's death in Rome. Indeed, there is a chapel outside the walls of the city, titled "Quo Vadis" ("Where are you going?"), which honors the tradition that Peter, while fleeing Rome to escape persecution, encountered Jesus at this spot.

"Lord," Peter asked, where are you going?"

"I am going back to be crucified a second time," Jesus replied.

This vision prompted Peter to return to the city, there to suffer a martyr's death by way of crucifixion. Ever his own man, however, Peter insisted that he be crucified upside down, protesting he was not worthy to be put to death in the same manner as his Lord and Savior.

The martyrdom of Peter, the first of the Apostles, reminds us that we must be prepared to embrace the cross in our own life. For just as God the Father did not spare the Only Begotten Son nor Peter to whom He entrusted the keys of the kingdom, so, too, we cannot expect to be spared. But as Peter's life demonstrates, the crosses we are asked to carry, when accepted willingly and borne patiently, can help us grow as persons, redound to the benefit of others and contribute to God's loving plan of salvation for humankind.

After Mass, our pilgrims walked around the walls of Vatican City State to the Vatican Museum. Although a long line had already formed, it moved quickly and a great spirit of camaraderie prevailed. While I had visited the museum on many occasions, this is the first time I had ever done so with a guide. It is amazing how the treasures of this museum took on new meaning through the guide's insights and anecdotes.

Previously, for example, I had pretty much paraded through the various galleries of the museum with little or no desire to contemplate the artifacts therein contained, except that these galleries served as a necessary passageway to the object of my interest, the Sistine Chapel. Our guide, however, generated a real enthusiasm for the major themes of each gallery. The Candelabra Gallery, so named after the pairs of candelabra of the Roman Imperial period placed near each of the arches that divide the gallery into six sections, contains fascinating ancient statues of divinities, idols and warriors from the Hellenistic period.

The Tapestry Gallery has an amazing arched ceiling, which in point of fact is an optical illusion, as the ceiling is perfectly flat. All of the beautiful tapestry work contained in the room with their marvelous depictions of various biblical scenes have been crafted freehand and produced in three-dimensional effect. It is amazing that such a technique had been developed and utilized over 500 years ago. Today, such would only be produced by computer.

The Geographic and Maps Gallery has a genuine arched ceiling and is 360 feet long. It overlooks the fabulous Vatican Gardens and features detailed maps developed at the end of the 15th century, drawn perfectly to scale all without modern technology.

The Sistine Chapel, however, remains the crowning jewel of this world-class museum. It is actually the Pope's private chapel and the setting for major ceremonies of the Vatican Curia, including, most notably, the conclaves for the election of the popes. It was built in the late 15th century at the commission of Pope Sixtus VI, hence its name -- the Sistine Chapel.

The two most notable works in the chapel are on the ceiling and the wall behind the altar, created 24 years apart by the same genius, Michelangelo. The frescoed ceiling was painted by this artist at the behest of Pope Julius II. Incredibly, Michelangelo had never painted anything before that date, and he tried his best to avoid the Pope's commission. However, Julius' flattery and entreaties won him over, and in 1508 Michelangelo began a labor of love that would take four years to complete. The result, of course, was an artistic triumph.

The fresco is composed of biblical scenes from the Old Testament, the most striking being the portrayal of the creation of man, in which the Creator approaches Adam's inert form and by a single touch of the finger transmits a spark of life. The guide noted that Michelangelo was a deeply spiritual person and truly believed that God's divinity is shared with us.

She also noted that the cleaning (not restoration) of the Sistine Chapel had taken 19 years to produce. In one corner of the ceiling, there is a little black patch which was not cleaned, so we can see the contrast of the "before and after" of the cleansing. The difference is incredible! The guide also pointed out that the expense for the cleansing was borne by a Japanese firm, which now has the copyright (over the next 19 years) for all reprints and videos of the Sistine ceiling.

Michelangelo, who lived to 89, created the fresco for the Last Judgment almost a quarter of a century after the ceiling fresco in the Sistine Chapel. Populated with 391 figures, it took the artist six years to create this breath-taking masterpiece. The entire fresco moves around the focal point of the Judge, portrayed as a young man of extraordinary handsomeness with the Madonna at His side and surrounded by the saints, bearing the instruments of their martyrdom. One such figure is St. Bartholomew, who is portrayed with the face of Michelangelo himself. Also included in the fresco are those who have been cast into the depths of hell, one of which is a caricature of the papal master of ceremonies for whom Michelangelo had a particular antipathy.

In his 89 years, Michelangelo lived under 13 popes and had little respect for any of them. Unfortunately, they were often venal, greedy and lustful, and Michelangelo reveled in tweaking their image. Since he specialized in anatomy and rejoiced in the innate goodness of the human body, Michelangelo was furious that his figures, which he portrayed nude, had their sexual organs painted over by order of the popes. Ah, the foibles of the human condition!

We left the Vatican Museum through a passageway which led into St. Peter's Basilica, the largest in Christendom. The early Christians built a small oratory at this site to mark the burial place of the Apostle Peter. After his conversion to Christianity, the Emperor Constantine erected a double-aisled basilica here. In the late 15th and early 16th centuries, the popes began to expand the Basilica. Michelangelo is responsible for its majestic dome. Underneath the dome is the papal altar, covered by the famous Bernini canopy; in front of the altar is the magnificent confession chapel over St. Peter's tomb.

It is truly difficult to describe or to perceive accurately the magnitude of this Basilica. On the floor of the nave of St. Peter's, the dimensions of the largest churches in the world are recorded. St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York, for example, is about one-third the size of St. Peter's, just to give a hint of the Basilica's immensity and grandeur.

My three favorite spots in the Basilica are the Pieta, the bronze statue of Peter and the Altar of the Chair, where we celebrated Mass earlier this morning.

The Pieta was sculpted by Michelangelo as a young artist about 25 years of age. The exquisite beauty of the Madonna holding the crucified Jesus is Michelangelo's testimony to his fervent belief in the afterlife. The hint of a smile on Mary's face, in what should be a moment of great grief, is an indication of her serene conviction that through Jesus' death we have the opportunity for everlasting life. Unfortunately, because of the act of a madman who smashed the nose and cheek of the Madonna in 1972, the altar holding the Pieta is now glass encased and, thus, is not as accessible as it was during my student days in Rome.

The bronze statue of St. Peter to the right of the papal altar is one which pilgrims venerate with either a touch of their hand or a kiss of his foot. Over the centuries, this frequent veneration has rendered the ornate bronze of the statue's foot perfectly flat.

The Altar of the Chair, cast in bronze by Bernini, encloses the wooden chair upon which the Apostle Peter is supposed to have sat. Above the chair and dominating the whole Basilica is an alabaster window depicting the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove, proclaiming that the light of the Spirit will illumine one's every step on the path of life.

When the rest of our group departed for lunch, along with a few others I went to the tombs of the popes underneath the nave of the church. Resting there are Pius XI, Pius XII, John XXIII, Paul VI and John Paul I.

I particularly wanted to visit the tomb of Pope John XXIII, who was beatified last month. He was the pope when I began my studies in Rome, and his vision, humility, simplicity and prayerfulness continue to inspire me. I pray that the spirit of aggiornamento (the opening up of the Church) which he inaugurated with the convocation of the Second Vatican Council may never be stifled. John XXIII is my hero and role model. Hopefully, I will live to celebrate his canonization.

After lunch, I took my sisters and a few others to see the North American College, the residence and formation house where I lived for four years. The college, situated on the Gianiculum Hill, remains basically unchanged with its stately courtyard, pine-lined paths and panoramic view of the city. What is new is the tunnel and bus turnabout immediately in front of the college, erected by the Italian government to accommodate and facilitate the flow of pilgrims during the Jubilee Year.

Sending my guests to the hotel by cab, I descended the Gianiculum for a scheduled interview at Vatican Radio. This proved to be the second surprise of the day, but this time a pleasant one. The radio show was in three languages, Italian, French and English, conducted by three young adults between 20 and 25 who had been recruited to cover the Jubilee Year from the perspective of youth and with an international flavor.

These young people were interested in discussing three areas of ministry in which I am involved at the level of our Bishops' Conference: relations with the Jewish community, the National Catholic AIDS Network and our Bishop's Committee on the role of women in the Church and society.

I shared with them not only the dialogue that exists at the national level with the Jewish community through our Bishops' Committee for Ecumenical and Interreligious Affairs, but also the work that was being done in our own Diocese through our Jewish-Catholic Dialogue. They were impressed by the fact that we had conducted four interfaith pilgrimages to Israel and Rome. They were not aware of similar ventures and were pleased to hear that we actually entered into discussions with the Jewish community about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the position of the Vatican on the status of Jerusalem.

The idea that we could have candid conversations about these matters and still remain friends despite disagreement, seemed foreign to my interviewers, but also hopeful and worthy of imitation.

My youthful interrogators were also very interested in the work of the National Catholic AIDS Network. In particular, they were surprised, given the tension which has developed between the Church and the gay and lesbian community, that the Catholic Church in the United States has exercised such leadership in AIDS education, prevention and treatment. They were also heartened to learn of our efforts to address the pandemic beyond our national borders, especially in Africa.

Finally, the French-speaking interviewer, who actually is a citizen of Belgium, was eager to probe the efforts of our Women's Commission to forge leadership roles for females in the Church. Apparently, in Europe, the role of women in the Church is not discussed so publicly and candidly, and they were pleased to learn of the convocation which our Committee will be having next spring to explore the experience, both positive and negative, of women currently exercising leadership responsibility in our dioceses.

Another full day drew to a close at my favorite Roman restaurant, Galeassi's, in the tranquil piazza of Santa Maria in Trastevere. This meal was a chance to dine alone with the other priests on the pilgrimage, and we were joined by Father Gary Mercure, the new pastor of Sacred Heart Church in Troy, who is enjoying a three-month sabbatical at the North American College.