Rome – 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:

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.

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

Guercino, Rome, and the Jesuit baroque

One is always discovering new artists in Rome, and earlier this year, thanks to a special exhibit at the Scuderie del Quirinale and the recommendation of a friend, I discovered Guercino (1591-1666). Born Giovanni Francesco Barbieri in Cento (Emilia-Romagna), he worked in Rome when baroque art was at its zenith.

The exhibit was of particular interest to me because Guercino’s time in Rome corresponded to the period when the Jesuits were also at their zenith. The pope who proved to be Guercino’s great patron, Gregory XV (Alessandro Ludovisi), also favored the Society of Jesus, especially in its mission of spreading Catholicism around the globe.

The Jesuits have often been associated with the baroque because it was the artistic style in vogue around the time of our founding, so our great Roman churches, the Gesù and Sant’Ignazio — and all the other Jesuit churches around the world built to imitate them — are classic examples of baroque architecture.

Guercino, St. Peter Raising Tabitha, 1618

“Icons of Hope” in Rome

Last week I mentioned the Church of Sant’ Agnese in Agone, one of Rome’s architectural gems and a monument to the city’s martyrs.

The last time I visited Sant’Agnese, I found that the Church was hosting a special display for the Jubilee (until February 16) dedicated to the theme “Icons of Hope.” The display brings together a number of icons from the Vatican Museum.

Virgin Hodegetria, Ukrainian, 17th-18th century

The most moving piece in the exhibition had to be the Ukrainian Virgin Hodegetria (17th/18th century). The engraved silver on a wood panel has been damaged over time, but the icon is all the more hauntingly beautiful. The Virgin’s face is still clearly visible, her eyes clear and sad, the expression that of someone who has known suffering but lost none of her dignity.

It is, of course, impossible to view the icon and not see in it the image of the suffering of the Ukrainian people as the Russian assault on their country every day grows more cruel and barbaric. Last week I wrote about the courage of the martyrs. Ukraine’s defense of its freedom and right to exist as a country has perhaps stung the conscience of the world because, in a self-indulgent age, the country’s display of genuine courage is bracing. And as George Weigel has pointed out, “Ukraine is fighting for all of us.”

The display also contains icons from other eastern European countries–a sampling below.

The Church of Sant’Agnese in Agone

This week’s liturgical calendar includes two prominent–and very different– Roman martyrs. The first, St. Sebastian, a third century soldier originally from Milan, was sentenced to death after converting to Christianity. Tied to a column, he was shot through with arrows but miraculously survived and was nursed back to health by a Roman matron named Irene. He went right back to preaching and, after warning the Emperor Diocletian to repent–a gutsy move if there ever was one–was beaten to death and thrown into Rome’s sewers.

No less courageous, St. Agnes sought to dedicate her life entirely to God while very young. This meant refusing the advances of several powerful suitors, who were enraged by the rejection. Agnes’s pagan father sided with the suitors. She was humiliated, even dragged naked through the streets of Rome, burnt at the stake and when that failed–as with the first attempt to kill St. Sebastian–eventually beheaded.

The courage of such martyrs–one a solider, the other a mere girl, barely a teenager–is fundamental, I think, to appreciating the full significance of Christian faith in eternal life. At least some of the ennui that one can perceive in the Church over the past several decades perhaps comes from deemphasizing the witness of the martyrs just when we need it most.

The Vatican Nativity Scene, 2024

Merry Christmas to all! I am spending Christmas at the church of the Santa Vergine degli Angeli in Maracalagonis, Sardinia, where I was fortunate to spend Holy Week earlier this year.

Before I left Rome, I was able to check out this year’s Nativity scene in St. Peter’s Square, always a source of discussion (and sometimes critique) among Romans. (For comparison, here are pictures of the Vatican Nativity scenes from the past two years: 2022 and 2023.) Last year was the 800th anniversary of this tradition, attributed to St. Francis–more about its origins in the town of Greccio here and here.

This year’s Vatican scene has a river theme, with the three kings making an aquatic landing in Bethlehem. As I noted last year, the point of such popular devotions, like Ignatian contemplation, is not to recreate history–or geography–but to help us find ourselves in the story. To that end, I found this year’s Nativity attractive and I especially liked the ducks in the foreground!