Tieche European Vacation (Part 4)
Take Me Down to the Vatican City, Where the Statue’s Gold and the Ceiling’s Pretty
In the last 24 hours, we’ve been to three countries. This sounds more impressive than it is. First, France (on a layover), then Italy (here in Rome) and today, to the Vatican Museum in Vatican City, which is technically another sovereign country.
I was up at 7am again, and while my family slept, I walked around to get another cappuccino, and saw masses of crowds teeming toward the high walls of the Vatican. Lines of pilgrims.
I’m not Catholic, but I am a devout Christian, which means the history of my faith is inter-tangled, inexorably, from the history of the Catholic Church. If you study church history for even 11 seconds, you begin to see something about not merely religion, but mankind. The duality of mankind.
Soaring, idealistic beauty and also crass, violent awfulness.
Sometimes at the same time. Sometimes in the same person. It’s only confusing if don’t stop to take too long a look at yourself, and realize you’re a mixed bag, too. Sometimes devoted and true. Other times, like Kichijiro, weak and unfaithful.
I don’t have time to recount all my thoughts, but two moments hit me. One at the beginning of the tour, the other at the end.
We had a private tour of the Vatican Museum near closing time, away from the crowds, just 18 of us, with a Flemish guide in his 70s who has likely forgotten more than I will ever learn. I do not know how Nicole scored this.
Early on, in the city of Rome, a large population of citizens began a movement, filled with both men and women, both rich and poor, from a staggering diversity of backgrounds, who pledged their deepest allegiance not to Caesar or the Republic or the Pax Romana, but a different King who had a different sort of Kingdom. Jesus, the Christ. Our guide showed us the early tombs of the Christians who were buried in the catacombs below Rome.
NOTE: Every time I hear the word “catacombs” I think of Indiana Jones and Venice and rats. It’s unavoidable. I am sorry.
The image of a shepherd was popular in ancient art, mainly because it was associated with Hermes, the messenger of the gods, who ferried the souls of the deceased into the afterlife, where humans drifted about, spent like a piece of wood burned up in a fire, specters and haunts of what they used to be.
The early Christians found it natural to adopt this image for themselves, giving it a brand new interpretation based on the revelation of Jesus, who is described in some of the earliest writings as a “Good Shepherd” (John 10, 11).
Jesus as a Shepherd appears all over the ancient tombs. I was allowed to snap of some photos of these incredibly preserved ancient burial stones, which give us a little peak into the way that ancient Roman Christians thought about Jesus.
This ancient tomb shows Jesus carrying His lambs, and caring for them. This was important, as the ancient Roman world was often a very hostile place for followers of Jesus who did not pledge their ultimate allegiance to Nero, or Domitian, or whatever emperor Rome had.
More sheep imagery in these ancient sacrophagi.
And then, you start to see a shift.
As our tour guide said, “The movement became an institution.”
Soon, weird syncretism started seeping in. Christ became portrayed less as the Good Shepherd, and more like a Caesar. Here Jesus is, in the forum. With the law.
Notice, the Apostles are not simple fishermen, but they’re dressed in togas, like Roman Senators. There’s still a sheep down there. But it’s way below. Like at Jesus’ feet.
TALE OF TWO KINGS
First of all, touring this museum makes one feel awfully small in the scope of history. Awfully small.
But as we left, I was struck by two statues, which stood prominently in the Vatican, both symbols, in their own ways, of humanity.
The first is the famous statue of Caesar Augustus, ruler of the Roman Empire when Jesus was born. Here he is below, with bare feet to symbolize that he was indeed a god, with non-pupils, to represent he is an ideal, in military garb, with a baby (Hermes) holding onto his cloak of greatness.
And then there’s this. The Pietà by Michelangelo, one of the most famous sculptures in the world, which we got to see in St. Peter’s Basilica.
Neat fact: after the city fathers of Florence saw this work, they were amazed and immediately commissioned Michelangelo for a statue for their city. That statue? The David, which became the most famous statue in history.
But this sculpture, which has to be seen in person to be really believed (seriously, how did this man Michelangelo accomplish this out of stone with a hammer? It’s astonishing). It shows Jesus in death. You can see the deep wound in His side, pierced by the spear of a soldier from the Empire ruled by the man above. He’s naked, and humiliated, and dead. But for Michelangelo, this is the point. God came down to earth and died a very human death. What kind of King does that?
Very different pictures of what a King is.
What a King should be.
And holy cow, I didn’t even MENTION that I saw the Sistine Chapel. More soon.