Ok, so how does one explain these pictures? When I come to something
like this, I wonder anew about the study of history. One of its basic
tenets is that people are people, and
history helps us to understand
ourselves because those who
lived long ago were just like us today. Looking at stuff like this, you gotta wonder.
Antonio Barberini was a Capuchin monk, and very, very religious. His big brother was the Pope,
so I guess he damn well had
to be religious! Antonio founded a modest little church near the Via Veneto. When he died he was buried there and, for generations thereafter, his Capuchin brethren decorated
the basement chapels with—well, with themselves. In all,
some 4,000 skeletons have been used.
When my wife emerged from this church, she had two comments. First, she said “I wonder how the first conversation
went? Did someone come into the
office one day and say “You know, I've got
a great idea!
Instead of burying our dead
brethren, wouldn't it be
easier if we just boiled the meat off the bodies
and
then used their bones for decoration?” She also
had
another observation:
“Those monks were crazy, sick bastards!”
You gotta admire the planning and ingeniousness that went into this project. The "angel" in the middle of the ceiling,
for example. The skull, of course, is immediately recognizable. The wings are made of hip bones, however, and the circular
decoration consists
of vertebrae. Ribs, thigh bones, leg bones,
knee
bones, them bones, them bones, them dryyyy bones--sorry. I really am so sorry. Don't know what came over me just now. Hard to keep your balance in a place like this. Won't happen again, I promise.
To get back to the problem of explanation. One has to step back a little from ourselves and what we think
we know. The "cemetery"
is a relatively new concept in the West. The idea of having a segregated, suburban, park set aside for quiet
relaxation and contemplation is a Victorian invention. Christians originally had a much different view of death, and how to dispose of bodies. From early times, the physical remains of martyrs and saints were venerated by the faithful.
Their tombs were pilgrimage destinations
and soon became places of worship. St. Peter's,
for example, started out as the tomb of--guess who? Very good.
Most of us can't become saints and even fewer want to be martyrs. Most of us want to get closer to God,
however. That
meant that for most of the Christian Era, churches were the most popular places to be buried. And, as always,
money talks. Rich people
could be buried in side chapels and crypts close to the altar. Others, not quite as wealthy,
could buy space in the walls, or under the floor
of the nave. The vast majority of people went into common vaults in the basement.
You'd think that after you were laid to rest, your troubles would be over. Wrong! Churches are
The Victorians were a sentimental people
who had a romantic vision of death involving spirits looking
down on, and
even walking among, the living. Instead
of poor, cramped churches, the fashion of being buried in clean,
spacious parks arose. This way the living
could visit the dead without
being creeped out. Death
became almost de-Christianized,
sanitized--a white bread, suburban, version of the hereafter.
When you walk into Santa Maria della Concezione, you run into the old, traditional, unfamiliar face of death. The body is unimportant. Whatever is left after this life is just material stuff that can be used to make a point for the living. Eternal life
is what is important, not the here-and-now. The very bones that once held our souls are just junk. Think!
Repent! Prepare!
There are two mottos
in the church that sum up this old attitude. Antonio
Barberini's epitaph says: "Here lies dust, ashes. Nothing."
As one leaves the crypt, a Latin motto over
the exit reads: "What you are, We used to Be. What We are, You will Be."
