Santa Maria Maggiore - in the spotlight once again for the burial of Pope Francis

We mark the passing of Pope Francis with a re-post of RST's look inside - and outside - of the basilica where he was buried today, April 26, 2025 - Santa Maria Maggiore. The time we visited here - more than 5 years ago now, our eyes were mostly turned to the mosaics in the loggia of the basilica. We did note the great Renaissance sculptor Bernini is buried here. And we saw the (mostly) private Papal rooms, bearing many references to Pope Paul V (1605-21), another Pope - with Francis there are now 8 - buried in the church.

From May 27, 2021:

If Church Lady were in Rome...she would direct you to the loggia of Santa Maria Maggiore, one of only four papal basilicas in Rome. The 13th-century mosaics here are magnificent. They were originally on the facade of the church, but were made more difficult to see from the street when, in the 18th century, a new portico was created, along with the loggia where the mosaics now seem almost hidden.

The top half of the mosaics are traditional depictions. For example, the Christ figure in Byzantine style in the upper half of the mosaic wall. That wall also curves slightly, apparently so that the mosaics were not foreshortened for someone viewing them from the outside (when they were originally the outside facade).

Other mosaics elaborate on the founding of the church - these stories are always fun. The photo at right show mosaics depicting a Pope and a patrician, John, dreaming.

The basic legend of the church is that it was founded on the spot of an August snowfall, a miracle if there ever was one. Mary predicted this snowfall in John's dream, and the patch of snow was found the next morning. So, of course, childless John and his wife then needed to fund the building of the church. This is a 4th century event that was first recorded in the 1200s.

Another mosaic (below) shows the snowfall. The snowfall continues to be celebrated each August 5 with the dropping of white rose petals from the basilica's dome, which we - who avoid the heat of Rome in August (although we might make an exception this year if Italy would get Covid under control and let us in) - have never seen.

One might wonder about the rather odd angel at the side of the photo at left. There are four angels in the loggia by Pietro Bracci. They date from the 18th century and were moved from their positions inside the church where apparently they blocked the view of the apse (another photo of them below). It's almost as though the church decided to use the loggia as a storage place for surplus artworks.

Another oddity from the original positioning of the back wall of the loggia as the outside wall of the church is the "oculus" or round window - that would have been a window on the facade of the church. Bill took the photo below that shows the column topped by the Virgin in the piazza in front of the church - a reflection in the oculus.

The column itself is, like most of Rome's columns, an ancient one from the Forum, moved here in 1614 and then crowned with the statue of Mary and Child. It's also known as the Column of Peace, and it's an archetype for Marian columns around the world. In the photo, there's a mosaic of a column as well, meaning the Colonna family must have been involved in the church's funding at some point.

One can only see these mosaics and the other features of the loggia with a paid tour, which costs very little. Euro 5 a few years ago. Our tour guide was excellent. As a bonus, he took us into the Papal "back rooms" where almost everything has Pope Paul V's (1605-21) name on it. (Photos at end of post.)

A final bonus from the guide was the great sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini's burial site in the church, a modest floor plaque here:

There is much, much more to see in the basilica. This post focuses almost solely on the loggia, itself a taste of what's inside, and a reminder of the richness of art and culture in the hundreds of churches in Rome, or... part of what we miss in Rome.

Dianne (aka, Church Lady)

Hiding horses, cows, Badoglio's sedan--and Jews: Basilica SS. Quattro Coronati and the Strange Career of Pius XII

SS. Quattro Coronati sits perched on a narrow road.

In Rome's "overlooked churches" category, we offer the lovely Basilica Santi Quattro Coronati, perched on a narrow street between San Giovanni in Laterano and the Coliseum. Overlooked perhaps because it's too near both of those as well as the much more popular (with tourists) Basilica San Clemente, and because the public can see only a fraction of the Augustinian convent complex that encompasses the church. I've always felt a tie to it because it was on one of my routes to the hospital where my broken shoulder was repaired in 2009.

The small courtyard beyond the public entrance doesn't
give one a feel for the beauty of the complex.

A few years ago I found a rather dated article (2008) describing how the nuns of the convent hid Jews from the Fascists and Nazis in World War II, under - according to the article - orders from Pope Pius XII. Knowing a bit about the controversy surrounding Pius XII's road to sainthood, I checked the article more and noticed (for the first time) that its venue was "30 giorni" ("30 Days") and, per my trusted source, Wikipedia, that 30 giorni was an Italian  monthly magazine of ecclesiastical geopolitics that [was] widely read in the Roman Curia. It existed between 1988 and 2012..." and "fully reflected the politics of Vatican diplomacy." 

Recently, we reviewed the documentary, "Syndrome K," about Jews hidden in the Ospedale Fatebenefratelli on Isola Tiburina in Rome during the Fascist/Nazi era. We questioned, in that review, the statements of a representative of the US Holocaust Museum defending the pope's (in)actions during the rounding up of the Roman Jews as attributable to realpolitik. That is, the Vatican viewed itself as  incapable of helping the Jews in any significant way by its fear that the Germans would bomb, raid, or even occupy Vatican City. [We also published in RST, earlier in 2020, an excerpt from one of the brave hospital doctor's books, here.]

I was skeptical of the 30 giorni article's claim of the Pope's order, for several reasons, including the clearly biased source. I was also influenced by an excellent talk we heard in Los Angeles, by the Italian historian Guri Schwartz, then visiting at UCLA, titled, "The ‘Myth of the Good Italian’: Origins and Evolution," which we wrote about on RST in 2014, here.

In addition, I had read in the past several books by David I. Kertzer,  a renowned historian of 20th-century Italy. We wrote a post, in 2016 here, on his Pulitzer Prize winning book, "The Pope and Mussolini," [about the predecessor Pius XI]. Another of his works is "The Popes Against the Jews: The Vatican’s Role in the Rise of Modern Anti-Semitism" (2001). [More below about Kertzer's work in the newly - 2020 - opened Vatican archives.]

Pius XII - photo from The Times of Israel with
the caption: "Documentary confronts cost of
Pope Pius XII's 'Holy Silence'
during Holocaust."

In response to my query about the claim in the 30 giorni article, Kertzer recommended Susan Zuccotti's 2002 book: "Beneath His Very Windows: The Vatican and the Holocaust in Italy." Zuccotti's critical analysis of documents from the Vatican archives, which were expurgated before being opened somewhat in those years (in what looks like an attempt to defend Pius XII), is unrelenting in drawing the conclusion that Pius XII and the Vatican were sorely lacking in words, actions, and moral authority. According to Zuccotti, had the Pope exercised moral leadership, thousands of lives could have been saved. 

Photo from 30 giorni article,
captioned "Two nuns in the cloister
of  the Santi Quattro Coronati in a photo
 from the early ’forties."
[They are small figures in
the back right, visible
with their white bib collars.]

At the same time, Zuccotti concludes in the last sentence of her book, "In Italy, at least, large numbers of priests, nuns, monks, and Catholic laypersons risked their lives to save Jews with little guidance from the pope." Those "large numbers" include, clearly, the Augustinian nuns of Santi Quattro Coronati. The 30 giorni article cites the number of 17 Jews being harbored in Santi Quattro Coronati, based on a 1961compilation by noted Italian historian Renzo De Felice. Zuccotti, while offering respect to De Felice, deconstructs his statistics, pointing out convents he missed, and the fact that some of the grand totals may be duplicates: Jews who moved from one hiding place to another (as did the Jews in Ospedale Fatebenefratelli). 

De Felice, she points out, "published an impressive list of 100 female convents" (and other male-operated monasteries, schools, etc.). These, she notes, were out of 1,120 religious institutions for women in Rome. "Given that surprisingly large number, the statistics of 100 female convents….that sheltered Jews become less impressive….What is certain is that we will never really know [the number]."

Despite its suspect history, the 30 giorni piece provides other insights into SS. Quattro Coronati. "In a large area next to the garden the nuns hid no less than eleven cars, including that of Marshal Pietro Badoglio, the head of the Italian military government, who had fled from Rome the day after 8 September [1943, when the post-Mussolini Italian government signed an armistice with the Allies and the Germans moved in to occupy Rome]. And then seven mares, four cows as well…" An aerial view of the complex shows how it had room for all these vehicles, animals, and people.

The Mother Superior at the time, whose words are paraphrased by another nun to comprise the "facts" of the article, "was in constant contact with Antonello Trombadori, a Communist party leader and head of the Armed Partisan Groups in Rome, and with many other opponents of Nazi Fascism." This detail is interesting because the popes were virulently anti-Communist. They preferred Nazism and Fascism (with which they felt they could negotiate) to anti-religious Communism. It's hard to believe Pope Pius XII ever approved of contact with Communists.

I will look differently at lovely, peaceful, seemingly small Santi Quattro Coronati when I return to Rome, thinking about all that went on behind its walls, and the raging controversy to which it is still contributing.

Dianne

A note on David I. Kertzer's work: the Vatican opened more of its archives in early 2020, just before Covid shut down or severely limited research everywhere. [Interesting Washington Post article headline: "Pope Pius XII was silent during the Holocaust. Now Vatican records may reveal whether he collaborated with the Nazis."] With the help of an Italian researcher, Kertzer was able to publish a lengthy article in The Atlantic, based on the newly opened archival material. The article tells the story of two French Jewish boys, hidden by Catholics and baptized, and the struggle to return them to their Jewish relatives. The story bears many similarities to Kerzer's superb book, "The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara," which we found so riveting, and so helpful in understanding Italian politics in the 19th century (as the country was being liberated from the popes), that we've given it to many people.

The loggia of Santa Maria Maggiore - its almost hidden mosaics

If Church Lady were in Rome... she would direct you to the loggia of Santa Maria Maggiore, one of only four papal basilicas in Rome. The 13th-century mosaics here are magnificent. They were originally on the facade of the church, but were made more difficult to see from the street when, in the 18th century, a new portico was created, along with the loggia where the mosaics now seem almost hidden.

The top half of the mosaics are traditional depictions. For example, the Christ figure in Byzantine style in the upper half of the mosaic wall. That wall also curves slightly, apparently so that the mosaics were not foreshortened for someone viewing them from the outside (when they were originally the outside facade).

Other mosaics elaborate on the founding of the church - these stories are always fun. The photo at right show mosaics depicting a Pope and a patrician, John, dreaming.

The basic legend of the church is that it was founded on the spot of an August snowfall, a miracle if there ever was one. Mary predicted this snowfall in John's dream, and the patch of snow was found the next morning. So, of course, childless John and his wife then needed to fund the building of the church. This is a 4th century event that was first recorded in the 1200s.

Another mosaic (below) shows the snowfall. The snowfall continues to be celebrated each August 5 with the dropping of white rose petals from the basilica's dome, which we - who avoid the heat of Rome in August (although we might make an exception this year if Italy would get Covid under control and let us in) - have never seen.

One might wonder about the rather odd angel at the side of the photo at left. There are four angels in the loggia by Pietro Bracci. They date from the 18th century and were moved from their positions inside the church where apparently they blocked the view of the apse (another photo of them below). It's almost as though the church decided to use the loggia as a storage place for surplus artworks.

Another oddity from the original positioning of the back wall of the loggia as the outside wall of the church is the "oculus" or round window - that would have been a window on the facade of the church. Bill took the photo below that shows the column topped by the Virgin in the piazza in front of the church - a reflection in the oculus.

The column itself is, like most of Rome's columns, an ancient one from the Forum, moved here in 1614 and then crowned with the statue of Mary and Child. It's also known as the Column of Peace, and it's an archetype for Marian columns around the world. In the photo, there's a mosaic of a column as well, meaning the Colonna family must have been involved in the church's funding at some point.

One can only see these mosaics and the other features of the loggia with a paid tour, which costs very little. Euro 5 a few years ago. Our tour guide was excellent. As a bonus, he took us into the Papal "back rooms" where almost everything has Pope Paul V's (1605-21) name on it. (Photos at end of post.)

A final bonus from the guide was the great sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini's burial site in the church, a modest floor plaque here:

There is much, much more to see in the basilica. This post focuses almost solely on the loggia, itself a taste of what's inside, and a reminder of the richness of art and culture in the hundreds of churches in Rome, or... part of what we miss in Rome.

Dianne (aka, Church Lady)

Monte Mario Alto: the Suburb that's Nowhere near Monte Mario

In our latest effort to escape the powerful gravitational pull of central Rome, RST got on the scooter and headed out the heavily trafficked and not-too-safe via Trionfale to an area known as Monte Mario Alto, which we had never heard of and on our map had some curvy streets that we thought might yield this or that pleasure.

The first thing you need to know is that Monte Mario Alto is nowhere near Monte Mario, the 500-foot hill near the Olympic Stadium.  The second is that you don't have to drive (let alone risk your life on a scooter) to get there; there's a train station in the center of "town," and it's clearly labeled Monte Mario (not Monte Mario Alto). More information on using the train to get to Monte Mario Alto is at the end of this post.



Anyway, we parked the scooter and headed slightly uphill on via Vicenzo Troya, arriving a few minutes later in what appeared to be the town square: Piazza Nostra Signora di Guadalupe.  There are a couple of businesses in the square, including a comfortable coffee bar, run (and owned) for many years by a Filipino woman, with whom we had a nice chat about, among other topics, being a decades-long immigrant and how long it had been since she'd seen her adult children in the Philippines. We were the only ones at the bar, but there were the usual several men at tables outside, smoking and chatting in the wide piazza.

Across the way there's a newspaper stand amply graffitied, and a sign in the red and yellow of the Roma soccer team: La Curva Sud non si Divide!  PGU Roma.  Curva Sud  (literally "south curve") refers to the section of the Olympic Stadium (in US football, it would be the end zone) where the Roma fans sit, and the sign appears to suggest that the curva (the fans there) are united.  We have no idea what PGU stands for.




At one end of the piazza is the church for which the piazza is named: Parrochia Nostra Signora di Guadalupe (Our Lady of Guadalupe parish), built in the late 1920s and early 1930s, originally to serve Mexican nuns.  The parish priest was outside talking with his flock.  We admired the heavy metal doors of the church (below).

Gorgeous doors that feature the agricultural themes and stylized Art Deco design,
popular under Fascism. We couldn't figure out the artist, but the work
resembles that of Duilio Cambellotti (described in a future post). These types of
decorated doors are on many churches in Rome and hearken back to
 Ghiberti's doors on the Baptistry in Florence.

Turning a bit north and then left (vague, yes, but this isn't an itinerary, really), we came upon Monte Mario Alto's public marketplace, on Piazza Pietro Thouar.  We were a bit late to observe it at its mid-morning best, but even so, it seemed clear that the market had seen better days--perhaps the victim of several supermarkets in the area.

But the side of the market had some interesting "graffiti"--what Bill calls "found art."

You'll find this piece on Bill's website: http://www.foundartphotos.com

Back to via Trionfale, we noticed this building, a once-handsome structure from the late 1950s, now housing a technical training facility.

The sign reads "60 years of quality technical instruction." The degraded state of the building and the weeds don't exactly
underscore the slogan.

We crossed via Trionfale and made our way around the back of the station.  We passed this industrial building.  Note the new-ish bike path.  This is no podunk.

We soon came to the rear of another church, Parrocchia S. Luigi Maria di Monfort, built in the 1960s, a nice contrast to the 1930s church and an indication of the expansion of Rome's population into the suburbs. The graffiti on the walls between the church and the bike path reflect the left- and right-wing sloganeering around Rome.

"Attention: No racism."

Not everyone in Monte Mario Alto is on board with liberal progressivism.  This graffiti translates: "With the Syria of Assad, forward to Victory."  

And the following poster, with its slogan, "Tomorrow Belongs to Us," is put up by a right-wing organization. Chillingly prescient of the Salvini government.

"Tomorrow Belongs to Us!"

Around the front of the church, the courtyard was open--but the church closed.  However, our interest in the structure was noticed by a cleric who let us in and walked away, telling us to close the door behind us!  (Life in a small town?)  We enjoyed the interior with its 1960s art reflected in the liturgical furnishings and stained glass window behind the altar.

Always interesting to us is the addition of "homey" touches to modernist features in contemporary churches.

Satiated with church stuff, we followed via di Torrevecchia westward, into the more upscale side of Monte Mario Alto.  We imagine that middle-class people live here and commute to Rome.

We found a café with a sidewalk tent, and had a forgettable but surely tasty lunch, complete with our regular Coca Lite.  There are several other cafés and restaurants on this more modern side of town, the 'sides' being fairly clearly demarcated by via Trionfale..

Back to the scooter, and home to Salario--and we're still alive!

Bill

Re: arriving/departing by train. Regular trains leave from the Roma Ostiense station and the trip takes less than 30 minutes. Here's a map showing the station in the community:

A modernist gem in Vittoria: the Chiesa di Cristo Re

The area of Rome we're living in is called "della Vittoria," and it begins about a mile north of the Vatican.  It was all developed after 1900.  On the whole, it lacks exceptional buildings, although there are plenty of attractive ones built in the 1920s--large apartment buildings with enticing interior courtyards.

On viale Mazzini

The bronze above the door is by one of the
more famous 20th century Italian sculptors,
Arturo Martini

We've walked the area before, and never paid much attention to the Chiesa di Cristo Re (Church of Christ the King), with its modernist facade of brick.  The other day, having read in our architectural guide that the church was designed by Marcello Piacentini, surely the most famous architect of the Fascist era (and sometimes called "Mussolini's architect"), we made our way to nearby viale Mazzini, where the church stands.  The exterior is in rows of Roman hand-made brick.

And there, on the side of one of the front doors, proof of Piancentini's role, though why the spelling is Marcelli remains a mystery (perhaps an attempt to Latin-ize his name- to go with "Opus" = "work" in Latin).












Inside, the chiesa is rigorously symmetrical, with powerful streamlined features--the narrow, curved balcony in the photo below, and other curved features-- that strike us as unusual, even for the early 1930s, when the building was constructed.

Unfortunately, the modernist features of the structure were not replicated in the mosaic windows that line the sides of the church.  They're colorful, yes, but too busy and complex.

An exception is a fine piece on the left side, near the front door.














The dome is at once powerful and elegant.  Other concrete elements (some of which, on close inspection, need work) anticipate the brutalist era that began in the 1950s.

Christ on his throne, and the angels to either side, are by Achille Funi (another artist favored by the Fascists, and influenced by Giorgio de Chirico's metaphysical style).

Bill

Mario Ceroli: Rome Sculptor

He's hardly a household name.  And doubtless less well known than some of the other unknowns we've featured on the Rome the Second Time blog.  But he has had, and continues to have, an impact, here and there, on Rome and its environs.  He's Mario Ceroli.

Readers of the RST Facebook page may recall that Ceroli is the designer of a very large late- modernist sculpture, a polyhedron in pine, painted red, that now resides in Flaminio, just steps away from Pier Luigi Nervi's Palazetto dello Sport. That piece--a favorite of Bill's, but not Dianne's--was designed for the 1990 World Cup (its title is "Goal"), and its original location was, appropriately, close to the stadium in which important games were played.  It was positioned in Foro Italico.

Incredibly, the sculpture may also have been located, at one time, next to Nervi's other Rome masterwork, the Palazzo dello Sport, in EUR.

Or perhaps this is a fanciful invention--that is, not a real photo.  

Ceroli is perhaps better known for another piece in wood: the Cavallo Alato (winged horse, 1987), at the Centro Direzionale Rai (RAI the television station) at the entrance to via Carlo Emery in Saxa Rubra, a town not far to the north of Rome.  The horse is covered with gold.  We haven't seen it in person.

Ceroli also specialized in church furnishings.  He designed furnishings for the church of Porto Rotondo, Sardinia (1971), and for Santa Maria del Redentore, in lovely (a touch of irony here) Tor Bella Monaca, on Rome's outskirts.   We have been to this church, which is striking on the outside and, we know now, decorated on the inside by Ceroli.  More work in wood. More photos of the interior of this church at the end of this post.

Born in Castel Frentano (in the Abruzzi) in 1938, Ceroli soon found himself in Rome's grasp.  Among his first artistic influences was the Accademia di Belli Arti di Roma.  In the 1960s he was much taken with the new vogue of pop art, and especially with the work - often in wood -  of Louise Nevelson (and see here for more on Nevelson's work) and Joe Tilson.  In later decades, his creative energies were frequently expressed in a series of multiple wood cut-outs, of the sort pictured immediately below.

A typical Ceroli cut-out sequence.  A comment on identity? homogeneity? Postmodern repetition?

A church pew, of inlaid wood

Chapel

Chapel detail

Interior, Santa Maria del Redentore

Bill