Kelly Skowera

As a classics major studying in Rome for the semester, I have focused extensively on the importance of art and imagery in the classical world. In a city where you are likely to turn the street corner to discover an ancient temple or to find an ancient column embedded within a church wall, there certainly is no lack of visual imagery to encounter on a daily basis.

Explorations throughout Rome have allowed me to examine how emperors and even how ordinary people like freedmen chose to portray themselves to others. Through putting statues that evoked famous mythological heroes or past emperors to depicting emperors with a certain type of portraiture on coins, the layout of art and architecture in ancient Rome was not one of mere coincidence but rather it had extreme import. The emperor Augustus was a master at this incorporation of imagery, as he inundated the city with physical reminders of his power so that this set of imagery became accepted as a part of the language of the ancient Romans.

In the ancient world, not only Roman emperors made use of this language of imagery, though, but the early Christian community did so as well. The early Christian community likewise faced the dilemma of deciding how to portray religious messages, biblical stories, and the prophets. Many of these earliest depictions found on sarcophagi and catacomb walls had been adapted from pagan art partly in the need for secrecy and partly as a method for the existing workshops to help put a recognizable pictorial representation to stories thus far only represented in the Bible. Very standard forms of images like the Multiplication of the Loaves and Daniel and the lion’s den appear as conventionalized religious iconography began to develop.

All of this emphasis on political and religious imagery of the ancient world has allowed me to further contemplate my own reliance on imagery in my daily life. While various pictures and symbols abound in every culture, I have found that I notice and analyze such things more in Rome. Certainly I encounter many images back home in Chicago and in Washington, D.C., but I find myself much more perceptive of other forms of communication as a result of my inability to speak Italian fluently. Even though I may not be fluent in the language of the country, I have realized that some images are universally recognizable.

This power of symbols to transcend cultural borders has been most apparent for me in the Catholic church. While every church expresses its culture in unique ways, the consistency of religious symbols and imagery that I associate with the Catholic faith help to break down the language barriers. Mosaics may dominate the apses of churches in Ravenna, frescoes may pop up on Roman altarpieces, and white-washed walls appear in Sicilian churches. Each church has the ability to demonstrate its unique cultural tendencies, though, as the power of our religious symbolism is so great that it transcends all such differences.

Attending a mass in a language which I cannot fully understand can be difficult at times, so I have garnered a newfound appreciation for the power of this universal imagery. Outside of my own personal reaction to these images, though, I have enjoyed witnessing the effects of such visual imagery on other people. In a recent trip to the very elaborately decorated Saint John Lateran in Rome, I noticed small groups of people periodically congregating in the corner of the church. Venturing my way throughout the church, I eventually journeyed to that very same corner to realize that sunlight gleaming through the window onto the floor most enthralled the visitors amidst a room adorned with gold and glass.

Perhaps we do the best that we can to represent some type of connection to the divine, but still the things that we cannot control—the light gleaming through the window or the flickering flame of a candle—catches our eyes the most. No matter the language or culture, this quiet and unassuming reminder of the awe-inspiring presence of God perhaps is the most unifying and revealing image of all.

During and since my time spent abroad, people have often questioned me about the religious presence in Rome. However, I often have difficulties in formulating a response because I seem to have encountered conflicting experiences of my own. Certainly “Rome” still remains synonymous for many people to the seat of Christianity, but at the same time, people often point towards the diminishing role of religion throughout Europe. At times, as I went into many empty churches throughout the city, I was swayed by the argument of Catholicism’s declining presence in Rome. Just as I was becoming convinced of this, though, I would encounter situations such as a small, crowded neighborhood church brimming with people or the flood of people into the city on Holy Week, which would make me question my own thoughts concerning religion in Rome. Perhaps my experiences though, in all of their contradiction and confusion, do indeed reflect the current state of church in Rome and it is just more complicated than the clear-cut, succinct answer for which we so often search.

The city’s history clearly reflects the importance and influence that religious leaders had in developing the city. During the quattrocento period, popes were seeking to restore papal power to Rome and even the layout of the city itself reflects some of the religious intentions in aggrandizing Rome during the Renaissance. Not only did religious leaders seek to add public buildings and resources to the city, but they also were adding churches across the city to restore the glory of Rome and transform the city into the a new Jerusalem. Directly across the city from the Vatican lays Saint John Lateran, and various churches such as the Il Gesu and the Chiesa Nuovo were built on the road connecting these two religious sites so that churches were and are visually dominant in the layout of Rome. Even outside these religious sites lining the main road, various other churches emerge at the edges of the city, intended to welcome in pilgrims into the new city.

While these physical reminders of Rome’s Catholic heritage remain, my initial experience found these churches solely as recollections of a past tradition. These churches scattered throughout Rome new seem full of different types of pilgrims—tourists armed with their digital cameras, shuffling through the churches to check the Caravaggio’s and Bernini’s off of their “to-do” lists. At first glance, the religious presence in Rome did not seem to extend much beyond these tourist-attracting churches and stores selling religious paraphernalia hoping to capitalize on these sightseers.

However, these empty churches were not the only part of the story. Although, religion as an institution might not have the same significance in modern Rome as compared to the city in the Renaissance, the city still exudes religious fervor. At the small church next to my school, a bell loudly sounded each Sunday, ringing to welcome in the members of the neighborhood to the church. Merely considering the neighborhood church brimming to capacity each week, I would argue the strong presence of Catholicism. Furthermore, I recognized how closely Rome’s religious history intertwines with its culture most poignantly during Holy Week. Even more tourists than usual flooded the streets and shops of Rome. My classmates and I decided to brave the crowds to participate in Easter Sunday mass at the Vatican. Only a few people in our group were actually Catholic, but due to the growing excitement in Rome and significance of Easter at the Vatican, many of my classmates were curious to experience the mass firsthand. In this moment, with St. Peter’s Square brimming with boisterous people, singing and celebrating together from all over the world, Rome seemed to reflect its affiliation with a religious community.

Prior to my experience abroad, I thought my time in Rome might clear up conflicting opinions regarding the role of religion in Europe. Far from clearing up such conflicting opinions, however, I encountered some conflicting experiences of my own. However, I found acknowledging these differences useful as it was more productive to engage in a dialogue rather than focus on funneling evidence into pre-determined argument. Perhaps consulting all aspects of the situation, especially those that present differing conclusions, can allow for more moderate and fruitful discussion.