Travel – Tony Lusvardi, S.J.

Sant’ Andrea al Quirinale — Bernini’s favorite church

A few weeks ago I shared some reflections on taking my final vows as a Jesuit, a tremendously blessed moment for me. Today I thought I might add a few words and pictures about the place where I took those vows: the Church of Sant’Andrea al Quirinale.

Since Rome is packed with stunningly beautiful churches, sometimes those that would be at the top of the visitor’s itinerary anywhere else in the world end up being overlooked. Sant’Andrea al Quirinale is one of those. It should be numbered among the most important Jesuit churches in the world, but in Rome it has to compete with the Gesù–site of the body of St. Ignatius and the arm of St. Francis Xavier–and Sant’Ignazio–the onetime chapel of the Roman College, as the Gregorian University was first known. Both churches are enormous, paradigmatic examples of the baroque at its most overwhelming.

Sant’Andrea is tiny by comparison, but don’t let size mislead you. It was the chapel of the first Jesuit novitiate; in an adjoining room, one can visit the relics of St. Stanislaus Kostka, patron of Jesuit novices and of students, who died there in 1568 at the age of 17.

While it stood on the site of an early church dedicated to Andrew the Apostle, the present Sant’Andrea (built in 1658) was designed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Bernini, who was busy at the time decorating the interior of St. Peter’s Basilica and building the colonnade for St. Peter’s Square, refused to take a commission for Sant’Andrea. It was said to be his favorite work, and, as he aged, the great artist was sometimes seen sitting alone inside the church, enjoying its peaceful atmosphere.

Reflections on Antoni Gaudí and the meaning of the Sagrada Familia

A few weeks ago I alluded to a somewhat unexpected trip I made to Barcelona before Easter and put up a few pictures of the Sagrada Familia (here and here) and Casa Batlló, two of the most iconic works of the architect Antoni Gaudí. This year happens to be the 100th anniversary of Gaudí’s death, which will coincide with the visit of Pope Leo XIV to Spain. The aim of the trip was to write a reflection on the meaning of Gaudí’s great work for America magazine. The article is now out here, and I have to say it is one of my favorite pieces — no doubt because the subject is so beautiful and fascinating.

For good measure, I thought I’d share a few more photos for your reflection and enjoyment:

St. George in legend and in architecture

April 23 is the feast day of St. George, a saint whose popularity — as well as just about everything we know about him — is legendary. The saint hailed from the Christian east — possibly from Cappadocia in present-day Turkey — but seems to have been martyred in the late third century in what is today Israel. George was a soldier who converted to Christianity. He was put to death after refusing to sacrifice to Rome’s pagan gods and undergoing excruciating tortures.

This defiant courage when standing up to a more powerful foe is perhaps what has made the figure of St. George resonate with so many throughout history. Perhaps it also contributed to the legendary stories of St. George slaying a dragon who was oppressing a Christian population. The saint is particularly popular among Arab Christians, who have long lived under the yoke of Muslim rule, and across the eastern Mediterranean — in Greece and Malta, for example, communities menaced for centuries by invasion from various Islamic empires pushing westward.

St. George, in fact, has found popularity wherever an underdog has felt the need for a champion. He is the patron, along with St. Sebastian, of one of Rome’s station churches. This year when I traveled to Barcelona (which I mentioned here and here), I learned that George is the patron of that city as well. The legend of St. George fits, in an unexpected way, into one of the city’s best known architectural monuments, Antoni Gaudí’s Casa Batlló.

Egyptians and the afterlife

Romans have been fascinated with Ancient Egypt since before the time of the Caesars. Egypt was for them what Ancient Rome is for us–a powerful, slightly exotic civilization whose influence and fascination extends to the present day. Roman Emperors went to great lengths to bring Egyptian artifacts back to decorate the imperial capital, and today there are more Egyptian obelisks standing in the city of Rome than in Egypt itself.

Part of the fascination of Egypt for the Romans no doubt had to do with the religious intensity of the Egyptians. And that religious intensity, in turn, was concentrated on the life to come. The resources the Ancient Egyptians put into ensuring survival and flourishing in the next life continue to amaze. This aspect of Egyptian civilization is prominently featured in a special exhibit at Rome’s Scuderia del Quirinale (which hosted a fine exhibit on Guercino and the Roman baroque that I wrote about last year). The exhibit sensitively explains important aspects of the Egyptians’ belief system; the gold that covers ancient sarcophagi and death masks, for example, was not ancient bling meant to show off status, but a symbol of incorruptibility, a sign of hope in a new life that would not tarnish.

Easter images from the Sagrada Familia

Christ is risen! Happy Easter!

Last week I shared some photos from the stark Passion Facade of Antoni Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. Not all is doom and gloom at the Basilica, of course, and, in fact, visiting the church is a amazingly uplifting experience.

The Glory Facade remains to be built, so we still can only imagine what is planned to be the most beautiful part of the whole project. But enough parts of the Basilica already suggest the victory of the Resurrection. High above the scenes of the Passion, in fact, one can see the women visiting the now empty tomb and, above that, a bronze figure of Christ ascending.

The Passion Facade of the Sagrada Família

Recently, I was fortunate to be able to take a brief trip to Barcelona for a research project (more on that to come). I spent as much time as I could at Antoni Gaudí’s marvel, La Sagrada Família (more on that, as well).

The entire basilica is a marvel, a deeply spiritual and prophetic building. This Holy Week, I thought it would be appropriate to share some photos of the Façana de la Passió, the Passion Facade. The sculptures broadly follow Gaudí’s instructions, though they are the work of Josep Maria Subirachs. If anything, the sculptures are even more harsh and austere than Gaudí’s original sketches. The hardness of the work is actually in keeping with Gaudí’s instructions.

Doubting Caravaggio’s Doubting Thomas

The Incredulity of St. Thomas, Caravaggio (1602-7)

Readers of this blog will know that one of the delights of living in the center of Rome is that a Caravaggio is never more than a stroll away. I’ve written about the great spiritual insight in Caravaggio’s Matthew cycle in the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi. Last year, I reflected in The Catholic Thing on why Caravaggio so resonates with contemporary viewers after visiting an extraordinary exhibit of his work in Palazzo Barberini.

At the tail end of the Jubilee I caught another extraordinary exhibit, albeit of just one Caravaggio, at Sant’Agnese in Agone. The work, The Incredulity of St. Thomas (1602-7), was on loan from a private collection in Florence. It’s a work full of drama and humanity and shows Thomas wide-eyed while inserting his index finger into the Risen Lord’s side. Jesus himself is utterly serene as he guides the doubting apostle’s hand toward his torso. (A nice detail is that the Lord’s face seems a bit sunburned, while his body is not.) Two other apostles look on over Thomas’s shoulder with both concentration and astonishment.

The Vatican Nativity Scene, 2025

Vatican Nativity Scene 2025, St. Peter’s Square

While the tradition of a Nativity display dates back to St. Francis of Assisi, today such scenes are most associated with the city of Naples. There such displays came to include not just the figures of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus in a manager, but whole surrounding countrysides and cityscapes crowded with figures and replete with detail. These Neapolitan scenes reached their heyday in the 17th and 18th century and today provide a view into what life was like at that time. They feature all strata of society from nobles and servants to shopkeepers and children.

Buildings that speak to us: Homily for the dedication of the Lateran Basilica

Homily for the Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica (2023).

From the cloister of St. John Lateran, Rome

The feast we celebrate today is particularly special for us in Rome. We celebrate the dedication of our cathedral. It is a magnificent building, and probably all of us have been there to appreciate the beauty of this splendid and ancient church.

The anniversaries of church dedications are important in the Church calendar because churches are the places where we gather to celebrate the Christian liturgy, the holy mysteries of salvation. Here in Rome, however, we live in an unusual situation because there are many beautiful and ancient churches–but when we enter them, often we find few of the faithful.

We should not be discouraged; instead we should remember the faithful who still speak to us through these monuments of their faith. The churches they built and left us are not mere buildings; they are their testimony. There is a message in these buildings that the saints of past times wanted to convey to us.

But more than a message, there is still a presence. When we celebrate the liturgy, we are not alone; we enter into the presence of the saints. They are with us. On November 1, we entered the season in which we remember the saints. Churches–from St. John Lateran to this little chapel–are more than museums where we learn from the past; they are places where we encounter the saints, where eternity becomes the present.

(Original: Italian)

Readings: Ez 47:1-2, 8-9, 12; 1 Cor 3:9c-11, 16-17; John 2:13-22

Gregorian University Chapel

November 9, 2023

Lessons from Slovakia

With classes starting up again this week at the Greg, I’ve been looking back with gratitude on a full summer. Among the highlights was a unexpected trip to Slovakia to accompany the Free Society Seminar organized by the Faith & Reason Institute and the Kolégium Antona Neuwirtha. It was a delight to meet a diverse group of curious and insightful young people from Slovakia, Poland, and the States, all of them committed in one way or another to serving their societies and the common good. The faculty was equally a joy to be with.

In addition to chaplain duties, I was able to lead a seminar on the theme of “civil religion,” taking an article I wrote for The Catholic Thing last year “Rites (and Wrongs) of Democracy” and Robert Bellah’s 1967 article “Civil Religion in America” as jumping off points. Another article I wrote about public apologies and how we deal with historical wrongs, “Confessing Other People’s Sins,” produced an even livelier discussion, enriched by the diverse eastern European perspectives.

Slovakia is a country of castles, idyllic landscapes, and beautiful churches, but one of the trips’s most haunting memories has to do with the legacy of communism. We visited the Victims of Communism Museum in Košice, which seeks to keep the history of that dark time alive. The geography of Slovakia also provided a vivid reminder of the desperation that system produced. The ancient and strategically placed Devín Castle overlooks the Danube, with Austria–and during the Cold War, freedom–just on the other side. Displays detail the brutal lengths to which the border guards went to prevent Czechoslovak citizens from escaping. Some tried to swim the Danube at the narrow point by Devín. Thousands were imprisoned for illegally trying to cross the Czechoslovak-Austria frontier, and 42 people lost their lives.