Gelato and Martyrs

I have not eaten a single vegetable (other than tomato sauce) since I arrived in Rome two days ago. During lunch, I once again filled my all too eager stomach with another round of delicious pasta. In my defense, I have had a variety of pastas ranging from spaghetti to tortellini, but that is neither here nor there. After my satisfying lunch, a group of my peers and myself decided to venture out in search of the Church Saint Stefano in Rotondo, and of course look for gelato along the way. The group consisted of myself, Mary, Sarah Donovan, Sarah Breitenfeld, Chris, Mariana, Ally and Kristen, all of which, save one, feasted on refreshing and affordable gelato half way to the church. While the sun had been beating down upon us for the greater part of the day, the clouds suddenly came out and gave us the reviving chill we desired.

            This change in the weather also set the mood for our destination, Saint Stefano in Rotondo. As we came closer to the entrance we understood the title of the church ‘rotondo,’ as the entire church was a round structure. We learned from Sarah B, and the always-reliable Blue Guide, that this building was originally a Classical mausoleum with a mithreum underneath. When we entered the church the mood shifted dramatically, while all churches are quiet this one was particularly unique in its silence. All of the walls were covered in paintings of dying martyrs; we were surrounded by some of the most brutal images I have ever seen. The saints consisted of both men and women, but each of their deaths was distinctive; there was definitely an air of creativity as a result of their unique deaths. Some were killed by decapitation, burning, severed limbs, and there was even one woman whose breasts were ripped off her body. However, their facial expressions depended on their gender. While the men looked grateful that they were about to enter heaven, there was an element of agony to their expressions, understandably so. The women, on the other hand, appeared calm and almost happy during their demise. I understand these women were supposed to be the embodiment of piety, but if someone was stabbing and ripping me open with a rake (another depicted death) there is no way I would be so serene.

            This church was clearly a symbol of Christianity, but I felt it also incorporated many pagan architectural elements. To begin with, the basic dome skeleton of the church is identified with the classical period. Also, a great deal of the interior was constructed of marble, and the architects used the tops of older Ionic and Corinthian columns to hold up the building. There was a diffusion of time periods in this space, borrowing from both antiquity Rome and Christian Rome. While the overall appearance was quite amazing, the emotion emitted from the church had more of a threatening tone. Though these paintings were probably meant to inspire piety and sacrifice in the name of religion, being surrounded by so many deaths was incredibly intimidating and creepy to say the least. The previous churches I had visited in Rome had stirred my faith, and it almost hurt to take in all their beauty at once. Although, Saint Stefano in Rotondo was beautiful, it inspired a sense of fear instead of piety in my case.

            I thought it was interesting that while this church was honoring these holy individuals, the artists were also showing the saints’ murderers. In each of these paintings I saw the men who committed the crime, and most of the time they themselves, or their weapon, was coated in the saint’s blood. I believe this depicts the spectrum of mankind from the sinners to the saints, proving both the piety and corruption in humans. These themes of death and brutality are connected to the church’s origins as a mausoleum, a tomb; this linked the past to the present in my mind.  As we were leaving the church, I once more felt the eerie silence that encompassed the space. The clouds were still dark as we reentered the world of the living.