Saints by any other name

                               A comment from a former neighbor and childhood friend got me thinking. She was remarking upon our collective reliance upon the good offices of St. Jude. When we were children, the good Nuns of the Sisters of Mercy had inculcated in us the habit of praying to one saint or another for help with a given situation. St. Jude, I think, was the go to guy for extremely difficult situations when you were really up against it. In a working-class neighborhood like ours, most families lived paycheck to paycheck. The wolf might not have been figuratively at the door, but the unwelcome beast sure lurked in the vicinity. The large families, that we all had, also guaranteed that one of the little angels would be in a spot of difficulty at any given time. St. Jude was a good avenue to seek redress and assistance from the great beyond.

We never thought it odd that we were kneeling in front of a certain statue and beseeching the spirit, that the idol represented, for help. That is what they were for, or so we were taught. At the same time, most of the nuns were castigating the various peoples of antiquity for praying to “pagan gods,” who often made sacrifices to them as a bribe for their assistance. But at our tender age, you don’t see the contradictions in belief systems, nor their similarities either.

It wasn’t until we had the great good fortune to tour Italy that I even gave these seeming anomalies another thought. We were walking through the architectural wonders of ancient Rome. The Coliseum, the Forum, St. Peter’s and other edifices had us enthralled with the fading beauty of an imperial city at its zenith. We were foot weary from the line of march, but headed southeast from the Piazza Navona, in search of the fabled Pantheon, a 2,000-year-old temple that was built upon the ruins of Emperor Nero’s “Golden House.”

       We wandered the back alleys, consulting our trusty map and once asking a merchant for directions. The trouble with asking questions, in passable Italian, is that the hearer assumes you speak the language fluently and rattles off a response in rapid fashion. We smiled, strained to understand and thanked the man for “su aiuto.” (his help) As a parenthetical, I don’t know that we have ever found a people as gracious, patient and willing to help as we have with the Italians. They are as sunny natured as their weather and pleasant always to be around.

     Soon, we turned a corner and stood still for a moment, appreciating the classic lines of the Pantheon that stood before us. The building is a former pagan temple that had been constructed in 183 A.D. It is now a Catholic Church. It is fronted with classic Greek columns. A large dome caps the structure. It features at its center an open “oculi” which lets light enter the dimly lit church. It is at times like this that you understand the whole concept of a temporal mind warp. One of the newer television programs, set in a Scotland of 200 years past (The Outlander), now seemed less fantastic and more credible to me. A glint of the sun could instantly transform the fashionably clad young men and women of Italy around us into sandal-wearing and Toga-clad Romans striding hurriedly to hear the newest debate at the forum of watch some spectacle at the Coliseum. Truly, I could picture them before me in a mind flash of imagination.

Inside the temple/church, the floors are a polished and smooth marble. They are in rather good condition for so old a building. The painted frescoes and statues of Catholic Saints, along the circular walls, had replaced the many ancient and pagan deities that had once adorned the sculpted niches in the walls. Where Janus, Jupiter and others had once held court, now St. Anthony, Joseph, Peter et al now commanded the adoration of the faithful. It is an interesting religious and cultural transition that we were viewing. We admired the smooth marble and the artistic workmanship of the statues while we pondered for a time the march of civilizations that had come here to worship throughout the centuries. Each culture prayed to a “god” that they held dear. I wonder if any of them considered the similarities of their exercise, rather that the dissimilarities? I wonder if we do ourselves even today?

There are many Religions that ban the notion of stone idols that are worshipped by the faithful. These contemplative beliefs favor a more personal relationship with the almighty. It is a close personal relationship that doesn’t rely upon the stone enunciation of a gifted sculptor. The question of which credo is right is irrelevant. What works best for you is the universally accepted form of religious tolerance in the 21 century. Not so in centuries past when all of the religions had held various purges and bans on any apostate that held a belief separate and apart from the rigid doctrine then in vogue.

Usually you can figure these conundrums out with several, late night drinks at a favorite pub or watering hole. Things seem to make more sense then. Perhaps it is the congenial accord of a fraternity of the befuddled that makes collegial accord such and easy goal to reach. Think about that concept for a while.

We wandered forth from this venerable stone and marble masterpiece, with much to think about on a sunny Roman afternoon. And hereafter, I will never enter a church, mosque, synagogue or temple without wondering about differing manifestations of a similar belief and all of the troubles caused because of the supposed differences. 

                                    -30-

                              (961 words)

                      Joseph Xavier Martin