14/03/2022
Greetings to all from Father after a long absence! Today's Lenten stational church in Rome is the Basilica San Clemente, and in keeping with recent years' custom Father Carola gave the homily at the Pontifical North American College English-language Mass there early this morning. He has sent along the full text and some selected images. A blessed and fruitful Lent to all.
A. M. D. G.
SAINT CLEMENT OF ROME, LENT 2022
Praying for peace in the Ukraine
First Reading: Daniel 9:4-10
Psalm 78 (79)
Gospel: Luke 6:36-38
At the beginning of the eighteenth century, Pope Clement XI had the nave of the Basilica of San Clemente sumptuously renovated. The Supreme Pontiff commissioned works from Rome’s finest artists. Drawing upon the mid-fifth-century, legendary Passio or martyrdom account of the late-first-century Pope Saint Clement, Sebastiano Conca and Giovanni Odazzi painted respectively The Miracle and The Martyrdom of St. Clement that adorn the church’s upper nave. Odazzi also depicted St. Cyril’s ninth-century Transfer of the Remains of St. Clement to Rome. According to the Passio, Clement incurred the Emperor Trajan’s wrath for having successfully converted to Christianity many illustrious Roman senators and imperial friends. For this sacrilege against the Roman pantheon, Trajan commanded that Clement “be persuaded either to sacrifice to the gods, or else undergo exile across the Black Sea in a deserted place which lies next to the city of Cherson.” Clement refused to renounce his faith and consequently suffered exile to the Taurike Chersonesos, that is, to the Crimean peninsula, an historically tortured land. There Clement encountered two-thousand fellow Christians who, on account of their faith, were likewise “condemned to hewing rocks in the quarries.” On that dry, Crimean steppe, those Christians, condemned to hard labor, suffered immense thirst relieved only by water found six miles away. Merciful as our heavenly Father is merciful, Pope Saint Clement came to their aid.
Invoking Jesus Christ who through Moses in the desert had brought forth water from the rock, Clement prayed for those confessors of the faith. At the conclusion of his prayer, Clement beheld a lamb extending its right foot toward a particular spot. “St. Clement, picking up a light little hoe and striking under the feet of the lamb, opened up a spring graced with flowing water, which, pouring out with its own impetus, created a small river.” Not only then did those Christians quench their thirst, but many others also came to believe in Jesus Christ. Upon receiving news of Clement’s further success at evangelizing even the Crimea, the infuriated Emperor sent the military commander Aufidianus to compel Clement to sacrifice to the gods. Despite the military threat, Clement remained steadfast in the faith. For his refusal to comply, Aufidianus ordered that Clement “be taken to the sea, and have an anchor tied round his neck, and […] thrown into the midst of the sea.” The fifth-century Passio concludes that annually on the Martyr’s feast day the Azov Sea recedes miles from shore, revealing “a marble dwelling-place prepared by God in the shape of a temple, and […] within it the body of St. Clement the bishop, the disciple of Peter, placed in a stone coffin.” In the ninth century, St. Cyril, together with his brother St. Methodius, the founders of Slavic Christianity, found Clement’s reputed relics along the shores of the Azov Sea, and brought them to Rome. Soon afterwards, Saint Cyril himself was laid to rest in a tomb of the ancient church that lies below our feet.
While the Passio of St. Clement may lack an historical foundation, it is not, however, without contemporary historical relevance. For even now in that same troubled land, a world leader has demanded an impossible sacrifice from a people who have remained steadfast in their convictions despite military threat. Their consequent martyrdom presently ensues. As we gather to celebrate the Eucharist on this second Monday of Lent in the Basilica of San Clemente especially honored by Slavic Christians, Russian troops lay waste to the eastern Ukraine and in particular to the Ukrainian city of Mariupol, Mary’s City, on the northern shore of the Azov Sea. Earlier last week a Father Pavlo, along with other Pauline monks, barely managed to escape from that besieged city. Reporting how they had sought shelter from the bombardment, Father Pavlo relates:
Recently we also had no electricity, no water, and nothing to eat, only the supplies which we had brought with us. For two days I just had a tin: when you are going through something like this, you don’t feel hungry. You can survive without food, but not without water. People left their houses looking for water, and as a result many of them died brutal deaths. Walking in the streets in Mariupol amounted to su***de.
The Passio of Saint Clement had become the Passio of the Ukrainian people. Even Conca’s and Odazzi’s anachronistic depiction of the Roman Pontiff dressed in white soutane, red camauro, mozzetta, and shoes evokes images of wounded civilians wrapped against the bitter cold in blood-stained white blankets.
Amid this devastating war through which flow, in the words of the present Roman Pontiff, rivers of blood, the ancient Passio’s theological significance strikes a deep and pertinent chord. It reminds us that, in the words of Saint James, “the prayer of a righteous man has great power in its effects” (James 5:16 RSVCE). It calls us to measure with the faithfully confident measure of Saint Clement as we pray to the God of justice and compassion in the psalmist’s words: “Let the groans of the prisoners come before you; according to your great power, preserve those doomed to die!” (Psalm 79:11 RSVCE). Like Saint Clement of the Passio, we look to the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, and beseech His mercy upon the Ukrainian people that He grant them, Europe, and indeed the entire world His peace. Offering the Eucharistic Sacrifice at the basilica’s high altar over the very relics that Saint Cyril brought centuries ago from the Azov Sea, we implore: Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis, dona nobis pacem! Praying toward the east whence comes the Rising Sun, we trust even now that, “in the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:78-79 NAB). Through the intercession of Pope Saint Clement, may it indeed be so.
Father Joseph Carola, S.J.
The Station Church of San Clemente
Rome, 14 March 2022
The Second Monday of Lent