Vatican City: the smallest country in the world, population 800, 0.2 square miles in size, home of the Pope and religious capital of Catholics. The walk up to Vatican City from Rome is almost fairytale perfect. White statues line the one entrance to Saint Peters Square on either side portraying the Stations of the Cross then hundreds of columns make up the barrier dividing Rome from Vatican City. The moment you pass through the barrier you see a huge statue in the center with fountains on either side and hundreds of hand carved statues on top of the barriers conveying the faces of all important saints, apostles, and other religious figures. Chairs filled Saint Peters Square in preparation for Palm Sunday mass and two huge screens to show the popes mass to those not close enough to view him face to face.
But almost just as magnificent as the outer façade was what lay underneath Saint Peter’s Basilica: the scavi. Beneath the basilica were ancient mausoleums that had been uncovered; it was described as a separate town for the dead. As you walked down the flight of stairs underground the temperature got very cool and humid, to correctly preserve the ruins. I felt a little bit like a spy because of the controlled temperatures, dark atmosphere, and automatic glass doors that slid open the moment you were about to walk through them, not to mention the red lasers beams that were in some of the rooms to ensure nothing was touched.
There was such a sense of serenity and peacefulness whether it be the perfectly controlled temperature or the silence, probably a combination of the two. The tour guide spoke in a soft rhythmic tone; just enough to keep you listening but still stay completely peaceful. She didn’t say much, the story almost told itself in the paintings, tiles, bricks, and urns that had so perfectly been home to the dead years ago. It seemed a bit morbid initially to have such a haven for dead bodies, even to the point where they had holes in the caskets to be able to pour liquids to let them drink. But, it was their beliefs and part of their customs and to be able to witness the area where these events took place hundreds of years after the fact gave me goose bumps.
From the scavi I climbed up another flight of stairs and found myself in the middle of Saint Peters Basilica, the most massive Catholic Church in the world. It almost seemed too big to be a church, there were numerous altars, my eyes didn’t even know where to look. It went from peaceful serenity underground to complete and utter amazement beyond words to the ornate design of this massive structure that so many travel halfway around the world to step foot in. I didn’t even know where to begin the silence was filled now with cameras snapping, flashes, people crying, people praying out loud, people chatting about the ceiling paintings, it was chaotic I needed to step back and remove myself from the noise to focus on the amazement. So, I lit a candle and said a prayer for my Dad. At the time all I could think about was how amazed he would be at this place. As we walked back outside I couldn’t help but think about the differing feelings from the scavi to the basilica resonating within me- peacefulness to chaotic amazement. I almost wished I could enter the basilica at 2am alone when no one else was crowding the room trying to capture the moment on film or read in their guidebooks which painting was by who. I wished I could go back and sit in silence with no one around and appreciate the grandeur of the building everyone in my faith has talked about for years. I feel so grateful to have been able to visit, but I think I more appreciated the scavi for it’s peaceful and quiet depiction of religious history.
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