San Pietro in Vincoli (built approx. 500 A.D.)

This church lies at the foot of the Esquiline Hill and is one of the newer ones in Rome (relatively speaking).  Translated, the name means, “St. Peter in Chains.” According to tradition, the chains used to shackle St. Peter, when he was held in prison near the Forum,were taken to Constantinople. In the

5th Century, the Empress Eudoxia sent them to Pope Leo I who built a church to house them.  Some years later, a second set of chains were sent to Rome. These were supposedly used on Peter when he was being held in prison by King Herod in Jerusalem. When the two sets were paired in the church, they miraculously linked together, and remain to this day in a reliquary below the high altar.

Aside from these relics, there is another reason to visit this church: Michelangelo’s Moses. In 1505, Pope Julius II commissioned Michelangelo to carve his tomb. He wanted something modest as befitted your average, run-of-the-mill Vicar of Christ: a tomb 10 ft. high, by 50 ft. long, with 40 life-size statues carved by one of the greatest artists of all time.  Michelangelo spent 8 months alone looking for just the right marble in Tuscany. After a few years, Julius got interested in a new project: having the Sistine Chapel painted. This meant Michelangelo had to get interested in it as well. After Julius’ death, Mike resumed his work, only to get side-tracked again! Pope Paul III had a little project of his own: rebuilding St. Peter’s basilica. Some things are doomed from the start. This statue, and a few other minor works, are all that is left of Julius’ monument to himself.

Still, it’s well worth looking at. The musculature, the beard and hair, the intense gaze—all testify to Michelangelo’s genius. You know, however, those look like horns growing out of Moses’ forehead. Well, actually they are. See, when the Bible was translated from Hebrew into the Latin Vulgate, St. Jerome made a tiny mistake. The Hebrew says “rays of light” were radiating from Moses’ face.  Jerome read it as "horns growing out of his head." No one thought it odd, or thought to double-check the translation for a few hundred years.  I can’t really blame Jerome too much. I never took Latin myself in high school—they stuck me in French—but it looks like a real pain to learn.  Plus add Hebrew! I mean, that stuff doesn’t even look like a language so much as chicken scratch.  Give the guy a break.  Jerome didn’t think most people would even read that part! Quick! When’s the last time YOU read the Bible? I rest my case. Also, this gives tourist guides something to talk and write about.

San Vitale (built 400 A.D.)

This church is located right across the street from our hotel. I remember looking at it the first day while eating breakfast. It’s located below street level. The roof barely peeks over the curb of the sidewalk. You don’t have to be an expert to guess that it’s an ancient building. The brickwork looked Roman to me. It was obviously a church and a very old one. Constructed along the lines of the early Christian basilicas, even the entrance looked authentic. Before there were narthexes in churches they built front porches. We went down the steps to find out its name one day. The plaque said San Vitale. Ok, fine, now we had a name to go on. No problem. We looked in our guidebooks to find out all about this little treasure. Uh—not mentioned. Not a word. Not in any of our books and pamphlets. Nothing in the church listings of Rome.  Strange. This thing looked really important. In desperation, we went to our favorite Internet café (yes, the world is really small), and did a Google search. Presto! The Church of San Vitale: built in the year 400 A.D. and dedicated by Pope Innocent I. That’s nine years before the Visigoths sacked Rome, and the Empire began to collapse. And you know what else this church is famous for?  Nothing. Just another 1,600 year old church in Rome with no historical or religious significance whatsoever. Wow. Think about that for a minute. This is one old city.

So, my wife and I decided to give it significance. The next day, at the end of the afternoon, we were walking back to the hotel and decided to pop in and get out of the heat for a few moments. We also wanted to see what the inside was like.  Mass was about to be said, so we stayed and took communion. Only us, three old Roman ladies dressed in black, and a couple of tourists like ourselves, were there. A very nice feeling. The church was gloomy and cool. No carvings were inside, but the entire plastered interior was painted with faded, black fresco, probably the result of age.  It reminded me of Delacroix’s Wreck of the Lampedusa. Demons, columns, angels, martyrs, scrollwork, and landscapes surrounded us. It was hard to keep it all straight in the dimness.

We liked the service so much that we decided to go one more time on Saturday evening, the night before we were to fly back home. We took a leisurely shower, packed, ate, and ambled over to the church. We couldn’t get near the place.  A wedding.  Crowds of people. Limo out front, tuxedos and rice, photographers, a mob scene. So much for our last peaceful moment in Rome. Of course we couldn’t find another service in time, so we had to content ourselves with watching the joyous bridal party pose for pictures. You never know what will happen in Rome.