Pinoy in Rome: At the Door of the Jubilee Year of Mercy (IV)

By ROBERT Z. CORTES
January 20, 2016

Day 5: Mother of Sorrows in San Carlo aiCatinari

At around this time of year, there is one scene in the Roman sky that never fails to impress tourists. It is those huge swarms of black starlings that move around the city and form very graceful formations in the sky. If one didn't know what else these huge, graceful clouds of birds were capable of, he or she would then immediately take out his or her camera and then, perhaps with mouth agape, would video the magnificent flight exhibition in the sky.

Of course, the experienced Roman would know how dangerous that position is. In fact, not only would they not keep their mouths closed, they would even take an umbrella when walking under these swarms - and especially when these birds land on the plane trees which can be found all over the city. For it is then when one realizes the stinking truth: these graceful birds actually unload so much excrement on the unsuspecting passerby.

I tell this detail not only because this is an important warning for future tourists here in Rome. This detail is actually significant to my story on the fifth day of my novena to the Immaculate Conception. For as I approached the not-so--but-should-be-famous church of San Carlo aiCatinari, and heard from a distance the cacophony of starling sounds and began smelling the stench, both of which became unbearable as I got nearer the plane trees that fronted the church, I knew better than to stand there for a second more. I positively felt the need to enter the church as fast as I could.

The moment I closed the door behind me, I immediately felt the relief both of body and soul. I could still hear the unrelenting noise from outside, but it was greatly reduced and I felt quite safe inside the church. It may sound funny, but really, at the time, it came to my mind that the church was my salvation. It literally saved me from birdshit by providing a roof over my head and walls to protect my nose and ears. And what roof and walls: a richly gilded ceiling that only the baroque can offer and walls holding such beautifully adorned chapels.

The main altar holds a painting by Borromini's and Bernini's contemporary and peer in talent, Pietro da Cortona. It shows St. Charles Borromeo carrying one of the nails that bore our Lord on the Cross. Both the painting and the altar that holds it are breathtaking. But what was more breathtaking for me was the image of Our Lady to the right of the main chapel, the image of Our Lady, Mother of Divine Providence.

The entrance to the chapel shows the baroque in its magnificence - angels and drapes and all. Charming as well were the little pillows that bore the names of children born through the intercession of Our Lady: pink for girls, blue for boys. It was uplifting to see that Italy, which has the lowest birthrate in Europe, is still producing babies as late as 2015. Our Lady's image, of course, is the most charming of all. It is said that St. John Paul II was so fascinated by the beauty of the image that after praying, he exclaimed, "I would like to entrust Rome and myself to this Madonna so beautiful and remarkable..."

I couldn't agree less with that. But in this visit, what impressed me the most was not, in fact, this image, which I could only see from a bit of distance. I was struck more by the Madonna Addolorata (Our Lady of Sorrows) that greeted me right at the entrance. There were no railings to separate me from the image and so I could come very close – even touch the feet through a hole in the glass. I stared at the face filled with so much anguish and sorrow – and I couldn't help but kneel. Then I realized it was a Friday, the day for the sorrowful mysteries. Talk about the guidance of Providence.

So before that inspiring image I prayed for everyone I could remember in that Rosary – even the Pinoy OFW sitting on the bench some meters behind me. He had given me a startled and anguished look as I entered the church. I think I understood his feeling of solitariness and was sorry I couldn't be of any greater help, except to pray. But I was praying to Our Lady who knew what it was to suffer – so I'm sure he would be better somehow.

I knew I was. When I went out of the church, the starlings were still as cacophonous as ever and the stench of their dung so foul. But I took time to look back at the magnificent facade to appreciate the work done by Giovanni Battista Soria (who of course reminded me of Fr. Gary Edgar Fajardo Soria). What happened to my disgust of starling? Well, it was still there, But having been reminded about how much Our Lady had suffered, what's a little birdshit in this life to stop me from admiring the beauty of God's wonders?

Day 6: The Presentation of Mary in Santa Maria in Monticelli

Seeing that my schedule was going to be full in the afternoon, I decided to do my church visit for the sixth day of the novena to the Immaculate Conception in the morning. As well, aware that it was Saturday, I wanted to visit a church dedicated to Our Lady. There are several of these around where I live and I chose one which I just serendipitously discovered some days back, when I decided to make a random turn on my way home.

The relatively small church is called Santa Maria in Monticelli. It's a very old church, having been consecrated in the early 1100's, such that no one even knows where the name comes from. It has since then undergone a lot of restoration and the only thing left of the 12th century construction is the bell-tower. Nevertheless, most of the church that one presently sees is still quite old, having been done in the 1700s and so follows the baroque style.

I walked peacefully for some 5-7 minutes from my house to the church. The sky was blue and the morning was peaceful. There was nothing like the noise I referred to in my Friday visit. When I entered the church it was even more impressively quiet. I thought I was alone until I realized there was a man sitting in the very dark side altar where the tabernacle was. But he pretty soon left and so then, in fact, I had the whole church to myself.

The image of Our Lady on the main altar is the Presentation of the Virgin. This painting is pretty modern, having been painted only in the 1900s, but it blends pretty well with the baroque pillars and older frescoes flanking it, including the 12th century mosaic of Christ's face above it. It showed Our Lady so innocent and pure. It was a perfect time and place to be saying the Rosary on that Saturday morning. In between Hail Mary's, I would look up and see frescoed on the ceiling the famous women of the Old Testament. I'd look to my right and left and see the Flagellation here and the image of Mary, Help of Christians there.

Was that contemplation or distraction? Probably doesn’t matter. For then, I was reminded that amidst all the things we call trials in this life, there are many things both in this life and in the next that we can thank God for. As well, the quiet and peace in that church that morning helped me to pray for those who don't have it in these moments - both physically and spiritually. If these were, in fact, distractions I entertained in prayer inside this randomly found church, I hope nevertheless they can still help me prepare for the Jubilee Year of Mercy.

I guess Mary, who “keeps these things in her heart," and so not that easily distracted, will make sure of that.