Feast of St. Augustine {August 28}
on Tuesday, we celebrated the Feast of St. Augustine of Hippo. back home, if I had had my liturgical ducks in a row, we would have had some African-inspired meal for dinner, accompanied by beer (St. Augustine is the patron of brewers, as well as theologians and printers). here in Rome, we were privileged to visit the church of Sant'Agostino, and venerate his relics. St. Augustine's mother, St. Monica, is also buried in this church. her feast day is the day before, and Nick managed to walk down to the church to pay his respects the day before (the girls and I were still recovering from our Villa Borghese adventure).
so after an early dinner, we walked down the fifteen-minute route to the church, not far from the Piazza Navona. we arrived towards the end of mass, which was packed for St. Augustine's feast day. the church in its original design had twelve arches and twelve side chapels, representing the twelve tribes of Israel and thus the universal nature of the church.
Nick and Greta (who was asleep in the stroller) stayed at the back of the church, while I quietly walked up the side aisles and looked around. seeing my first real Caravaggio was incredible. his Madonna di Loreto (The Pilgrims' Madonna) is stunning, but it caused quite an uproar when first unveiled, as it shows Mary barefoot coming out of an ordinary doorway (commonly believed to be based on Caravaggio's own), speaking compassionately to two travel-weary pilgrims. more scandalous yet, the model Caravaggio used was a famous Roman prostitute named Maddalena Antognetti. at a time when Rome was overrun by pilgrims, her grace and welcome served as a reminder of the Christian charity we are all supposed to model when strangers are in our midst.
this side chapel was one of St. Philip Neri's favourite places to pray. the chapel itself was designed by Bernini. the crucifix is carved in wood, and dates from the fifteenth century.
apart from the Caravaggio, my favourite piece of art in the church is the Madonna del Parto, Our Lady of Childbirth. above the statue is the phrase Virgo, tua gloria partus ("Virgin, childbirth is your glory"). her silver foot is worn smooth by the devout kissing or touching it with a prayer for safe delivery. hundreds of pastel pink and blue bibs and booties are hung up to the side, each embroidered with a newborn's name and date of birth.
by this time, the mass had concluded. I met up with Nick at the back of the church and he asked if I wanted to venerate the relics. for a split second I wondered if we would be allowed to, as we were just visitors. but then I realized that probably a significant percentage of the people here tonight were visitors as well, and it's not like they would turn us away. so we joined the line leading up to the altar, where stood a resplendent reliquary containing a section of St. Monica's skull and another containing one of St. Augustine's finger bones. Greta was still sleeping in the stroller, so I stayed back with her while Nick went up to the altar and then we traded places. as we approached the reliquaries, I had actual goosebumps at the thought that we could be within an inch of part of these saints' bodies. placing my hand on the glass, I prayed for justice and healing in our church, and for spiritual growth for myself and my family. Cecilia immediately reached out her chubby hand and touched the base of each reliquary as well.
for those who aren't familiar with the concept of venerating relics, a well-written explanation can be found here. in some places and cultures, I think it can become something of a superstition, but in reality, it's a way for us to connect with holy men and women of the past. we know that God does not need to work through any material object to accomplish his will, but sometimes he chooses to (see Acts 19:11-12: "So extraordinary were the mighty deeds God accomplish at the hands of Paul that when face cloths or aprons that touched his skin were applied to the sick, their diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them.")
in fact, St. Augustine himself wrote extensively on the dignity and importance of the body, including his work On Care to Be Had for the Dead. he is also well known for his Confessions and City of God. as a man who spent the first part of his life rejecting God outright, when he converted (in answer to his mother St. Monica's fervent prayers), he channeled his passion and intellect into his work for God. St. Augustine, pray for us!
so after an early dinner, we walked down the fifteen-minute route to the church, not far from the Piazza Navona. we arrived towards the end of mass, which was packed for St. Augustine's feast day. the church in its original design had twelve arches and twelve side chapels, representing the twelve tribes of Israel and thus the universal nature of the church.
Nick and Greta (who was asleep in the stroller) stayed at the back of the church, while I quietly walked up the side aisles and looked around. seeing my first real Caravaggio was incredible. his Madonna di Loreto (The Pilgrims' Madonna) is stunning, but it caused quite an uproar when first unveiled, as it shows Mary barefoot coming out of an ordinary doorway (commonly believed to be based on Caravaggio's own), speaking compassionately to two travel-weary pilgrims. more scandalous yet, the model Caravaggio used was a famous Roman prostitute named Maddalena Antognetti. at a time when Rome was overrun by pilgrims, her grace and welcome served as a reminder of the Christian charity we are all supposed to model when strangers are in our midst.
this side chapel was one of St. Philip Neri's favourite places to pray. the chapel itself was designed by Bernini. the crucifix is carved in wood, and dates from the fifteenth century.
apart from the Caravaggio, my favourite piece of art in the church is the Madonna del Parto, Our Lady of Childbirth. above the statue is the phrase Virgo, tua gloria partus ("Virgin, childbirth is your glory"). her silver foot is worn smooth by the devout kissing or touching it with a prayer for safe delivery. hundreds of pastel pink and blue bibs and booties are hung up to the side, each embroidered with a newborn's name and date of birth.
by this time, the mass had concluded. I met up with Nick at the back of the church and he asked if I wanted to venerate the relics. for a split second I wondered if we would be allowed to, as we were just visitors. but then I realized that probably a significant percentage of the people here tonight were visitors as well, and it's not like they would turn us away. so we joined the line leading up to the altar, where stood a resplendent reliquary containing a section of St. Monica's skull and another containing one of St. Augustine's finger bones. Greta was still sleeping in the stroller, so I stayed back with her while Nick went up to the altar and then we traded places. as we approached the reliquaries, I had actual goosebumps at the thought that we could be within an inch of part of these saints' bodies. placing my hand on the glass, I prayed for justice and healing in our church, and for spiritual growth for myself and my family. Cecilia immediately reached out her chubby hand and touched the base of each reliquary as well.
for those who aren't familiar with the concept of venerating relics, a well-written explanation can be found here. in some places and cultures, I think it can become something of a superstition, but in reality, it's a way for us to connect with holy men and women of the past. we know that God does not need to work through any material object to accomplish his will, but sometimes he chooses to (see Acts 19:11-12: "So extraordinary were the mighty deeds God accomplish at the hands of Paul that when face cloths or aprons that touched his skin were applied to the sick, their diseases left them and the evil spirits came out of them.")
in fact, St. Augustine himself wrote extensively on the dignity and importance of the body, including his work On Care to Be Had for the Dead. he is also well known for his Confessions and City of God. as a man who spent the first part of his life rejecting God outright, when he converted (in answer to his mother St. Monica's fervent prayers), he channeled his passion and intellect into his work for God. St. Augustine, pray for us!
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