The catacombs of Rome are mounds of bones, flickering torchlight,
the whispers of persecuted Christians long past. Such thoughts are often evoked
when the modern visitor to the Eternal City hears of the place and decides to
visit. What they find, instead, is perhaps less spooky, but certainly more
profound. The tombs of our forefathers, but often empty; the sacred art,
expressing the faith of those there lain; or perhaps most striking, the saving
truths and stories that bring the place to life.
It has been a privilege and a highlight of my years at the
Pontifical North American College (NAC) in Rome to accompany visitors on their
walk through the catacombs of St. Callixtus. As one of the apostolates arranged
by NAC, it offers seminarians the opportunity to present the site, and share
their own faith and experience of the church of Rome. From the devoted Catholic
on a sincere pilgrimage to the holy sites, to the secular tourist discovering
Christianity for the first time, these visitors come from every background
imaginable and with a variety of motives.
What we try to share during the visit is what motivated the
saints, such as St. Josemaría Escrivá, who sought to celebrate Mass in the
Crypt of the Popes soon after his arrival in Rome; or St. Philip Neri, who
famously braved his way into the catacombs long before the modern conveniences
of electric lighting, handrails and emergency exits. In their footsteps, we
glimpse the past and the future: our Christian forbears, the saints who laid
the foundations of our Roman church; and in the frescoes, inscriptions and
mosaics, the hope we now share in the future glory of Heaven.
For the committed Christian, the pilgrimage is the occasion for
an encouraging encounter with the heroes of our faith, in whom the universality
of the church is clearly depicted: from Pope St. Sixtus II, martyred in the
Crypt of the Popes while celebrating Mass at the tombs of his predecessors, to
St. Cecilia, virgin, martyr and noblewoman of Rome. Or perhaps more relatable
for the visitor of today, the countless men and women, clerical and lay, slave
and free, who accomplished no mighty feat and held no great title or office,
yet are remembered for the outstanding measure of faith, hope and charity they
lived unto death.
Throughout the tunnels at every turn, inscriptions and murals
present the saving message that inspired these saints. Carved in the marble are
the more simple designs, yet profoundly rich in meaning. The simple fish is
well loved by all, its name in Greek an acronym for the Gospel’s very core:
Jesus Christ, God’s son, the savior. On the tombstones of so many is found the Chi Rho, a symbol for one claimed by Christ. These
simple expressions tell us the “what” of the Christian faith, while more
elaborate frescoes show us the way. Most central, of course, is the Good
Shepherd, the person of Jesus Christ to whom we adhere. Beautiful paintings of baptism
and Eucharist depict the means he left us to follow him into eternal life. And
throughout we find many scenes of the Scriptures, from Jonah to the miracles of
Christ.
The frescoes we visit are quite beautiful, but the setting is
what makes them unique. For those who have never heard of Christ, or for those
still searching, for the disillusioned, the sacred figures on tombs and walls
become the occasion to present the kerygma
anew. What they depict, the faith they express, is confirmed by the bones that
lie near. Martyrs— the greatest
witness of truth, that thousands have died for its sake.
Deacon Guilloux, from St. William of York in Stafford, is
in his fourth year of theological studies at the Pontifical North American
College in Rome.