Rome 2: Vatican City

It was raining the day the Harrisons and I headed to the Vatican. We chose to see Saint Peter’s Basilica first and so waited in the long line of bright umbrellas which wound around the square.


Mass was taking place inside as we roamed through the vast corridors, marveling at the ornate décor and grand marble recreations of saints and past popes. Even on this wet day in winter, the building was extremely crowded and we tried to keep an eye on one another’s heads as we pushed through to catch a glimpse of the altar. I found the place very dark (of course there was no sunlight to shine in) and cold (as chilly weather is not kept outdoors by bare marble), but interesting, just the same. The basilica was reconstructed from 1506 to 1615 and the age is enough to awe a person standing within, never mind the chill-inducing echoes of intense history and mystery, or the guilty sort of beauty in every direction.

In 324 AD, Constantine ordered construction on this grand tribute to Saint Peter’s martyrdom. He chose this site because of its history: before having served as Nero’s Circus, the location had served as both a pagan and Christian burial ground. It was said that here, in this plot of land, Saint Peter had been buried. Modern excavations beneath Saint Peter’s began in 1939 and it took ten years for archeologists to sort through the mausoleums and shallow graves containing animal and human bones. It was in 1950 that Pope Pius XII declared that the saint’s remains had been discovered and that he (and the church) had no doubt that they were truly Saint Peter’s.

We worked our way underground into the clean and slick papal crypt, gawking at the intricate tombs of Popes long past. As usual I was tempted to reach out and caress the marble; I am always infatuated with how realistic the sculptors were able to make the ripples in fabric appear. Still, I know that these works are ruined by the curious fingers of on-lookers, so I kept my hands buried in my pockets.

The tomb of recently passed Pope John Paul II was surrounded by quite a crowd of quiet, thoughtful onlookers, some who silently knelt in prayer. I was quite pleased to see the humble simplicity of his tomb after viewing the gratuitous ornamentation of other papal tombs.

And, then, Saint Peter’s tomb. I stood pondering its meaning to me, the value of human bones, the science that lies beneath the art, wondering about the differences between rumor and legend and the power of the spoken word and written history. Craig leaned over to me and whispered, Think about it: the body in that tomb could belong to a man who walked alongside Jesus Christ. Yes, powerful.

We emerged again into the weather and were surprised to find the piazza brimming with people, the bright umbrellas from edge to edge. We heard Italian reverberating from loudspeakers over the square; this was the voice of Pope Benedict XVI, expressing his disapproval of the violence currently occurring in the Gaza Strip.


Thanks to an unexpected and all too stimulating journey we found ourselves on (which we all will forever look back on with fondness, rest assured) the Vatican museums had to wait until the next morning. There we were, in the mile-long line in the cold morning. I don’t know how long we waited but to put it simply, I hope to never be in Rome in the BUSY season.

Our guidebooks suggested allowing two hours to tour these extensive museums, but we could have easily spent the entire day inside. In fact, I could have spent over two hours in the Sistine Chapel alone. INCREDIBLE! I was filled with remorse at the signs prohibiting me to lie on the floor and gaze upward (of course I would have been trampled by the crowds of gawkers). I was glad that we had researched the symbolism of the ceiling before viewing it; we were able to understand some of the assorted depictions of the Old Testament and identify the people portrayed.

I continue to feel utter awe when it comes to the work of Michelangelo. The man was not simply an artist; he was a pioneer of style and method. When you look up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, the reaching and pointing figures pull away from the plaster and push toward you. The three-dimensional aspect is dizziness-inducing. But your eye will not stay on the ceiling for long. Inevitably, you are drawn to the centerpiece of the great room—a powerful and frightening Jesus casting human souls into Hell, in The Last Judgement. Unfortunately, neither my words nor photographs can display the enchantment, awe, fear, and admiration these massive pieces instill (convenient, since I have none to offer! Photography is prohibited in the Sistine Chapel).

I had anticipated the cracked and pale paint shown in old photos of the Sistine Chapel, but the characters were vivid. Craig and I read that a recent clean-up of the ceiling revealed the products used in the long-past to remove dust and mold ranged from wine to bread and several other household items. Once these impurities were removed from the paint, Michelangelo’s chosen bright colors shone strongly again.

Unfortunately for Raphael and Boticelli, the remainder of the Sistine Chapel art seems a bit pale and even meaningless next to Michelangelo’s…in my humble opinion, that is.

The Vatican museums are truly treasure troves. From the famed double-spiral staircase to the Egyptian booty dating back to at least 1930 BC, there are amazing images at every turn. They’ve only had over 500 years to build their collections, you know.