5/30 Aventine Hill

Today we started our discussion today on top of the Aventine Hill overlooking the city of Rome with is myriad of domes populating the skyline. It has gained a certain amount of wealth and notoriety over the years, and is also home to one of the churches on our journey, Santa Sabina. Built in the 5^th century, its form suggests a very early transition from the basilica-as-law-court to basilica-as-church. It is an archetypical basilica form that would come to be the dominant expression of ecclesiastical structures for years to come.

The long rectangular nave is divided into three separate spaces with two rows of fluted Corinthian columns. This rhythm of columns/arches is further reinforced with a row of clerestory windows that follows the same spacing and pattern. At the end of the nave, the altar has taken the place of where the Roman magistrates would have sat in preparation for judgments to be handed out. Finally, the archway that separates the nave from the altar starts to take the form of a triumphal arch, where images of important figures of the time are placed to visually notify the people of who this church was dedicated to (words were sparingly used during the Middle Ages because the literacy rate was extremely poor). The previous three sentences I have just written can be repeated over and over describing any number of churches that we will see on this trip. The Christians, it seems, took a page from the efficiency and duplication by which Romans created their cities. The Roman conception of town creation was well-organized, repeatable, and proficient. Likewise with the form of the church which will be recurring, the Christians somewhat took on this mindset and continually used this form as a way of denoting their religious beliefs and intent to the people. It seems as though this would be an effective strategy, as the continual repetition of a form would suggest to the masses a permanence and stability within the religion.

Of course, while the form remains somewhat the same over the centuries, the execution, decoration, and structure will inevitably morph due to changes in taste, fluctuations in the political and religious leanings of the people, new construction methods (and the loss of some others), etc. One change that is immediately evident from the Pagan/Roman/Greek world to that of Christianity is of the commandments that the people received. In the Pagan world, people were seen as essentially on their own. The gods tended not to directly order the people to act in a certain way, they were left to their own devices; there was no written dogma nor any prescribed rules to follow. The Christians, on the other hand, saw the human condition as one which had fallen away from God’s graces and needed commandments in order to be holy and worthy of His praise.

One other notable feature of this church is its doors, which are original and date back to around 400AD. Ornately carved and depicting one of the first images of Jesus on a cross (depictions of people on a cross were usually reserved for enemies of the state), it is remarkable to me how these doors have survived for one and a half millennia. Many of the buildings we have visited are absent of some of their most revered objects and elements, as a fair amount of plundering went on in Rome after it was sacked in the 5^th century. Statues, paintings, carvings, mosaics, etc. were all taken from various structures around Rome and repurposed for their own new use. Even here at Santa Sabina the columns used to separate the nave from the side aisles are from a different church. The process by which this happens is called spolia (or more correctly, the columns are spolia if used as a noun). In either case we will unfortunately see instances of this all over the ancient world. The ancients, it seems, did not have as much of an appreciation for classical, important architecture as we do today. The concept of historical preservation would have seemed quite foreign to them, yet modern society has realized that these giants of ancient architecture are few and far between, and must be retained in their original place and used for their original purpose in as many cases as possible.

Across the Tiber River from the heart of Rome sits a rather small, unassuming church which according to legend was the site of the miracle of the flowing oil, streaming from the Fons Olei which foretold the birth of Christ. Santa Maria in Trastevere, dating to as far back as the 4^th century, can again be described as a basic basilica type church and has a long history of building, renovation, destruction by fire, and rebuilding throughout its history. Speaking of the interior first, the columns that separate the nave from the side aisles are a different type of example of spolia, as these Ionic columns have been taken from different buildings and therefore have dissimilar capitals, shafts, and bases. As opposed to Santa Sabina where the columns are exactly alike and tie the entire interior composition together, the columns at Santa Maria represent a mish-mash of sources from where they originated. Some of the columns have been taken from the Baths of Caracalla, and others are from an unknown origin. While the underlying form might be similar to what we saw earlier in the day, it seems as though this church is a bit disjointed on the interior. The character and personality of the inside is also different when compared to Santa Sabina. The latter’s interior was more serene, humble, and compositionally sound; whereas the former’s richly decorated interior, layered geometrically complex ceiling, ornately adorned golden apse mosaic, and swirling floor pattern (famous for its Cosmatesque decoration) give the sense that it has both accumulated these features over time and a congregation with a more dynamic personality than that of the previous example.

The exterior, similarly, has undergone many renovations over its history. It was in fact one of the first churches to be dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and its famous 12^th century mosaic above the portico depicts Mary nursing baby Jesus along with 10 virgins. It is interesting to see here a mosaic decorating the outside of a church (as well as the interior). I am anticipating seeing the mosaics on the exterior of San Marco in Venice and to what extent they have deteriorated. I’m sure these famous churches undergo some restoration over the years but it is still amazing to see this quality of a mosaic remaining intact after centuries of existence.

Next stop today was the church of San Clemente, one of the more intriguing churches we have visited so far. Why is it so intriguing? It has 3 levels of history which you can climb down and physically see for yourself - the record of this church is preserved for your eyes and not just for reading in a book. The first and lowest level is a 1^st century Roman building, an insula which was converted into a Mithraic temple. The middle level is a church, built in the 4^th century, which had been in use until it was sacked in the 1100’s. The upper level is a church built in the 12^th century over the foundations of the lower church. Walking through the lowest level of the church, one definitely gets the feeling of being in a cave, due to the lack of windows, almost no decoration, and the dark-colored stone. It also features one of the earliest underground religions of the Roman empire: the cult of Mithras. The Mithraic religion was actually practicing simultaneously with Christianity and does feature some of the same myths and stories as its ancient counterpart. What I think is important to note about the layering of the church is that it is actually a physical manifestation of the changes in our religion over time. Looking back on how Christianity became the dominant religion of our era, it was done so on the remains of older religions and cults which had died out before it, none more so than the cult of Mithras. The second level, which was excavated starting in the 1860’s by Joseph Mullooly, is today made up of a conglomerate of modern stabilizing elements and Medieval support structures. This space, too, has somewhat of a cave-like feel to it, although less so than the level below it simply because it still has some frescoes remaining on its walls and there are some more architectural elements to its construction, namely the freestanding columns which are set off from wall sections defining the central nave. Modern brickwork helps to stabilize the second floor of this complex building, which makes it hard to separate the modern aspects from the ancient ones. Standing in the nave of the upper church, I find myself 60’ above the 1^st century level! Quite remarkably, San Clemente has quite a resemblance to Santa Maria in Trastevere. It employs columns which have been reused from earlier structures (spolia), a richly and ornately decorated paneled ceiling (from the 18^th century), and another uniquely beautiful apse mosaic. What is interesting about the mosaic on the apse is its depiction of early Christian motifs that would come to dominate much of Medieval art during this period. The use of vines around the cross at the apse suggests Christianity’s dominance and expansion into every corner of the world.

Other symbols include:

· the fish (Christ),

· the dove (peace),

· the sheep (the congregation and the sacrifice),

· the Chi-Rho (1^st two letters of Christ’s name in Latin),

· the radiating lunette (heaven)

· the lamps within the vines (wisdom)

· the 4 rivers flowing below the cross (4 rivers mentioned in the Bible, Genesis 2)

· animals drinking from the fountain (giving them life)

All these symbols are replete with Biblical significance and can be found in most if not all churches belonging to a similar time period. This again indicates Christianity’s willingness to repeat the same symbols over and over in order to attain a certain amount of cohesion throughout its congregation.

Of note as well is the courtyard in front of the main entrance. It is one of the few remaining forecourts in a church, the legacy of which can be traced to the ancient Roman forum where the temple to Jupiter Capitolinus would front an open space. Again this picks up on the theme of Christianity borrowing many of the components of its religion from the practices of the ancient Romans. It is a simple execution of a building with an open space in front for gathering, but an important one nonetheless. This open space has been referred to as Paradise, a term without Greek or Latin but Persian roots. It has also come to signify in our minds the concept of heaven.