While in Rome, we are, as a class, visiting the traditional seven churches of the city in the pilgrimage designed by Saint Philip Neri – in addition to many other sites and various meetings with professors, Vatican officials, lay leaders and bishops around town.
We are, however, stretching it out over a number of days so as to linger in the basilicas to appreciate the art, cultural treasures and liturgies, beginning this trek at Saint Paul’s tomb and attending Mass in Santa Maria Maggiore for Corpus Domini. We’ll continue on to Saint John Lateran, Saint Sebastian and the Appian Way, the Holy Cross of Jerusalem and, of course, Saint Peter’s.
But perhaps the most underappreciated and least-visited of these shrines for non-native-Romans is San Lorenzo Fuori Le Mura, the resting place of what many consider the third-most venerated figure in the city beyond Sts. Peter and Paul, that of Saint Lawrence.
The Emperor Constantine is supposed to have erected the original monument here, about 50 years after Saint Lawrence and Pope Sixtus II were martyred under Valerianus in 258 AD and laid to rest in loculi in the catacombs of Saint Cyriaca outside the city. Today, Saint Lawrence shares a final resting spot with another famous deacon killed for his faith, Saint Stephen. The Cosmatesque church that houses their relics is associated in contemporary minds with the enormous nearby secular Campo Verano cemetery, where many Romans are still buried beyond the city walls. Five popes are interred in San Lorenzo, the most well-known being Pope Pius IX, as is Alcide De Gasperi, former Italian prime minister and founding father of the European Union.
Though he was a Spaniard by birth, devotion to Lorenzo runs deep in Italy, as he is considered a local hero for his faithfulness to Christ and charity to the local poor, who he famously is supposed to have recognized as the “true riches of the Church.” There are no less than six churches associated with his life around Rome: where he worked, distributed alms, was imprisoned, was condemned, was actually executed, is buried, etc.
The famous story of his death atop flames on a scalding grill may in fact be legend more than historical fact, as some scholars posit that the idea that he “assus est” (was roasted alive) may in fact simply be a mistranslation inherited somewhere along the line of “passus est” (was made to suffer) as was very often said of the martyrs of the time, including of Pope Sixtus, who was beheaded within days of Lawrence.
Nevertheless, his association with flames, gridirons and his quip that “he was well-done on one side, and ready to be turned over” has indelibly marked our ecclesial imaginations concerning his passage from this life for 17 centuries. The scenes of his martyrdom are some of the most memorable in all of art history.
British author Georgina Masson aptly described his pilgrim church more than half a century ago, and her depiction still holds true today: “The peace of past centuries still fills its surrounding arcades where shafts of sunlight stream down between the classical and medieval columns, which are so appropriately mingled in this place where memories of pagan, early Christian, and medieval Rome are fused together.”
Summer in Rome is notoriously scorching, and these few weeks have been no exception. By the time the feast of San Lorenzo rolls around on Aug. 10, I think most people in town will be ready to for a respite from the blaze, or at least to be sufficiently bronzed on both sides. If that is the case, at a minimum, they’ll be able to cool off in the evenings with a gelato watching the Perseid meteor showers, which appear like shooting stars, and which occur around this feast, thus creatively being called “the tears of San Lorenzo.”
Originally from Collingswood, Michael M. Canaris, Ph.D., teaches at Loyola University, Chicago.
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