Reflections on the Parthenon

When I posted here the other day, I neglected to post a picture of the Pantheon itself for several reasons. The most practical is that a picture of the Pantheon is easy to find anywhere, and I do not have anything to make it personal, like a picture of me or of one of my friends next to it.

The other reason is that I have no interesting picture of it, no closeups. I think a closeup image of the Parthenon is more revealing than the generic postcard image of the entire structure, which can in no way express the enormity or the genius or the antiquity of the structure. A close-up would, however, be more revealing not only of the structure itself, but as a sample of Rome itself.

The thing was built in 27 B.C. by Agrippa (as the inscription states in its abbreviated Latin) as homage to the pagan gods, and modified by Hadrian between 118 and 128AD. The renovations later ion 609 included a Christianization of the interior, and this day it looks like a church. There is an altar and crucifices and other Chrisitan iconography... yet the thing is fundamentally a work of ancient pagan Romans, and not at all like the first churches, basilicas, catacombs, etc. The construction of the building is fascinating, absolute genius -- not only was the dome the largest in the world until 1436. It was constructed over a wooden frame in a single operation. The oculus, appx. 7.8 meters in diameter, is the only source of light in this surprisingly bright structure. Although it was never covered, a remarkably small amount of rain enters the structure: the small amount that does is immediately whisked away by Roman drains. The entire structure of the Pantheon, I have been told, was at one point covered in marble, but is now primarily brick. In fact, on the interior one can easily tell the different stages of the architecture; the more ancient areas are their original brick, while the newer additions or reconstructions or Hadrianic renovations are done in marble.

Rome, once the center of the pagan classical world, has become the ubi of ubi Petra, ibi Ecclesia. The Vatican itself was built upon a very ancient Etruscan burial site, and the "gates" of St. Peter's once stood where the Roman circus was, where St. Peter, the head of the church, was killed. And there he lives in contradiction found and reconciled so often within the church. Innumerable pagan sites have been reconciled to Christianity in this way ... as has the whole of Rome.

This mash of the past and the present is not in short supply, either. One of the first things that struck me when we visited the Vatican for the first time was our angle of approach. One of my first pictures of that day is this:



St. Peter's, as viewed from the gas station. Who would have thought? It seems that the very presence of St. Peter's bones ought to radiate such holiness and sacredness that nothing should be built around it for miles. Yet here, the unremarkableness of every day life juts up against the higly remarkable St. Peter's basilica. Such a symbol is in and among the mundanity of familiarity.

Simili modo, neither is our Christianity to be kept entirely separate from the vast, dirty city of our every day existence. I should stand out and be a universal monument for all to see and to imitate and to wonder. Indeed, our being a temple of the Holy Spirit is much more beautiful and impressive than St. Peter's, or of any basilica or church that could ever be constructed by mortal hands.

One of my friends once composed a poem which captures this, in two parts, extremely well. He's describing his love, whom he says is "like an old cathedral; / Crafted by men but breathed of God / Living stone of Christ made beautiful, /Ever sure." He further expounds in this sonnet:

Can mortal words, like mortals, near to death,
Place perfect predicate of beauty on this hall
That hears my every prayer, and every breath,
And rings with every song and beauteous call

This fashioned stone, this mortal-crafted stone –
Yet testament to Heaven’s immortal face -
Is tossed, and carved, and built, in purest grown:
A mortal craft endures by Heaven’s grace.

And is this not much like my mortal love?
Who mortal-like is yet of loveliest mind;
Whose beauty, grace, and kindness from above,
Lend grace immortal that from Love is shined.

Thus mortal words unjust may yet give praise,
When whom they laud herself does so them raise.

Everywhere I go, I see these old cathedrals, these mortal monuments to immortal Love, the greatest works of art in the world, but not even as great as we, living testaments of Love.

Rome was the city first of man, but now of God. What more appropriate reason is there for the title of "The Eternal City".