Like a camera in a movie my eyes panned up from the sidewalk, to the magnificent
elephant obelisk by Bernini, to the enchanting golden shimmer of the mosaic frieze
atop of the Church of Santa Maria in Trastevere.
In the doorway, however, I was stopped by a beggar woman, hunched over, carrying
a can, asking passersby for just a coin so she could have dinner. I dropped a Euro in
her can as I passed her, and walked into the church.
As we entered, we learned that mass was going on at the moment. People sat in
pews strewn throughout the nave of the church listening to the priest conduct mass.
He sang like silk, his voice echoing through the pristine halls of the church, bouncing
off each ionic column, soft and velvet as the ceiling. The church prayed together, in
families or by themselves, committing themselves to the community of those like them.
Together their voices rose from the ashes to the sky, floating through the regal, magnificent
setting, sending their wishes to God.
The golden mosaic outside was nothing compared to what I would see inside the church.
Every single one of the church and basilica ceilings has impressed me without fail, but
never had I seen one so “bedazzled” as this one. The ceilings were covered in gold and
royal colors, deep blues and reds and greens with golden Catholic symbols strewn
throughout.
The marble statues blended in with the pastel wall paintings along the aisles, contrasted
by darker saint portraits hanging in gold frames along them. The gold in the frames
connected the walls to the ceiling in a gaudy sense, connecting riches to riches, customized
magnificent portraits surrounded by elaborate golden frames honoring church-goers
surrounded by the golden riches of the church. The pastel wall paintings are no less grand
than the ceiling, though they are less decked in gold. The pinks and blues in the portraits
create a heavenly light alongside the shine of the sun through the windows.
While tracing my steps against the walls, I happened upon a surprise- a gift shop. I was
surprised to see a place of worship selling such extravagant gifts such as a €100 nativity
set. As soon as I stepped foot in the gift shop, I was instinctively a cynic, immediately
brushing off the gift shop as a way to further the wealth of the Catholic church, though I
don’t actually know exactly what the money goes to.
After encountering the woman begging for scraps outside the church again on my way out,
to see such a blatant flex of wealth on the population from the Catholic church, who preaches
abandonment of worldly possessions, made me feel sick to my stomach. While walking through
the streets of Rome, I saw so many homeless people begging for money so that they could
eat that day, and it made me extremely uncomfortable to be in a place that resembled a palace
that was meant to be a place of worship and helping others. With the money that the church
needs to maintain their art and the glitz and the glamour in a week they could feed multiple
families that really need it. Within the church they could house many of the people that were
sleeping on the street. Honestly, I’ve never felt fully comfortable in a church, but this moment
was truly unsettling, more so than any other.
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