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

By ROBERT Z. CORTES
January 27, 2016

Day 7: Holy Mary, Help of the Poor in SantissimaTrinitàdeiPelligrini

The seventh day of my novena to the Immaculate Conception in preparation for the Jubilee Year of Mercy happened to fall on a Sunday. Providentially, there's a church dedicated to the Blessed Trinity just two minutes away walking from my house. The day being a Sunday and with me having very little time for the visit, this church was perfect.

Unlike yesterday, today was rather cloudy, even gloomy. This atmosphere seemed to be in perfect harmony with this church, both outside and in.

It's called SantissimaTrinitàdeiPelligrini (Most Holy Trinity of the Pilgrims) and is called such because back in the 1500s, it had a hospice for poor pilgrims right beside it. The hospice is already closed as a victim of politics from the 19th to the 20th century, a sad reminder of an only too-common phenomenon that in political rancor, the victims are often the poor. The church itself used to be glorious, especially right after it housed 140,000 pilgrims in the Jubilee Year of 1575, and got a real boosting from Roman officials impressed by that feat. Now, the facade is probably one of the shabbiest in Rome. And if Benedict XVI had not made it the base of the Personal Parish of the Extraordinary for of the Roman Rite, perhaps the church would have been more rundown still.

When I went in, I saw that the church was dark – even darker than the Gesù on a normal day – and cold, even with my thick black coat on. I noticed that most tourists who came in never went past the first chapel. They'd give the whole church a quick survey and leave, pretty much like some people (including me, sadly) who many times give a street bum a quick glance from head to foot and then move on.

They were not impressed even by the remarkable painting of the Blessed Trinity by Guido Reni in the main altar. Naturally, as a result, they also missed the venerated and miraculous picture of Our Lady, Help of the Poor (Succurremiseris, in Latin) which has both a chapel and a small altar in its honor. I prayed before the one on the altar because it had more illumination and was more beautifully crowned. It also had that Latin title of Our Lady written in clear and bold letters, as if to tell me, "Go to her, oh you who are so poor and miserable."

Got it – loud and clear! I couldn’t fight that, naturally, and the message really did get me to pray more fervently for myself and "everyone I know - even those I've forgotten." I learned that style of praying from St. Josemaria who used to add the phrase "etiamignotis" (even those I don't know) to his prayer of thanks for graces received. Then, unconsciously, I clutched my thick black coat closer because it was getting really cold – a fact, as it were, that reminded me further of the misery in the world.

And then, when I looked down from the image to the left, I saw a small sheet of paper that further acknowledged that reminder. It bore the pathetic plea of someone who has felt (and perhaps is still feeling) keenly the suffering and misery of humanity. "Mother Mary," it said, “pray for the victims in Paris, Mumbay, Tunis, etc." Europe to Asia to Africa. He or she forgot America and Australia, so I had to add them as ellipses – but I’m sure they were in her mind too. Like that title of Our Lady reminding me of my misery, that prayer struck me, as well, for just a couple of weeks ago, Piazza Farnese, where the embassy of France in Rome is, just right down the corner, was strewn with flowers, lit with vigil lamps, buzzing with media, and filled with a sympathetic crowd for the victims of the recent terrorist attack in Paris. How odd, I thought, all these things coming together in this single moment of my life.

I left that church more pensive and sober than when I entered. How much, indeed, we need God's mercy and the intercession of Mary. Maybe not a very inappropriate thought as I approach the doorstep of the Jubilee Year of Mercy.

Day 8: Our Lady of Montserrat in Santa Maria in MonserratodegliSpagnoli

For the eve of the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, and the beginning of the Year of Mercy, I was directed to go to Santa Maria in MonserratodegliSpagnoli. The name suggests that this 16th and 17th church is dedicated to Mary under the title of Our Lady of Montserrat (also known as the Dark-skinned Virgin), patroness of the proud Spanish region of Cataluña, and is the national church of the Spaniards in Rome.

I won't go into details what I really mean by "I was directed to go." The most I'll mention is that I was vacillating between this church (just a three-minute walk from my house) and a very strong alternative (farther than the first one, however) as of yesterday morning - and then I received a totally random Facebook message from a friend in the Philippines. She was asking about an image of Our Lady of Pilar. Being a Spanish icon, it’s rare in Italy, and most probably found only in this church. In a flash, all my doubts were settled.

I also won't go into details about the political implications of this Catalonian image being the representative of all Spain: too incendiary. In fact, even the name Montserrat may spark (opposing) emotions from both Catalans and non-Catalans, for the word is not Spanish but Catalán meaning "saw mountain" (the sculpture of Our Lord sawing a mountain on the facade is an allusion to this).

Lastly, I won't go into details about the meaning of "national church" since I've explained that already in some other post. Only perhaps that being a national church of what used to be the most powerful nation in the world (and now perhaps still has remnants of that), this is one of those that has retained its renaissance and baroque elegance.

I will just say that now that I think of it, I found it quite providential and thus, appropriate, that I should be there on the eve of the feast of the Immaculate Conception, the Patroness of the Philippines. It's an appropriate way to thank Spain which brought Christianity to my country only three years after (1521) this church was founded (1518) and for which I am now here. That detail was quite clear to me as I knelt before the Dark Madonna to say the Rosary with baroque music playing in the background. Thus aside from praying for my myriad personal intentions, I thought about the people who live with me now, who are all Spanish speaking, except one. That thought led me to remember and pray as well for all the Spanish-speaking peoples of the world – that they may be faithful to the Faith that has built their nations.

And that thought in turn led me to remember that the Pope himself is Spanish speaking. I will be with him tomorrow as he opens the Jubilee Door - so there was probably no better shrine to go to today, to pray for him and prepare for that historic moment.

It’s amazing what a random Facebook message can do.