Giornali 1: Santa Maria in Trastevere

The church of Santa Maria in Transtevere is old, and the fading paint and browning sculptures on the façade show it.  It looks small and cramped, pressed between two other, larger, buildings.  In a way, it appears both majestic and eerie, as if abandoned despite still being in constant use.  The inside, too, seems old yet glorious.  There is very little light streaming in from the windows, so the entire church seems dark.  It smells slightly of a musky scent, and a soft recording of a singing choir can be heard.  The church is not too large inside, but every inch of it is covered with intricate designs.  There are things to look at everywhere, and the darkness causes you to look longer, and harder, at everything you pass. 

Along the right wall, a display catches my eye.  It is a bronze statue of Jesus on the cross, and beneath him is a bust of the mother Mary.  He is dark, while she is lit up.  There is something terrifying about it to me, yet captivating at the same time.  His face is in agony, blood streaming from his side, while her hands are clasped and a pious smile is on her face.  It seems to fit well together at the same time that it does not.

The main altar contains a small painting of Jesus, and is made of red and white marble.  There is a cross on top, and another cross along with a bible on the desk below the altar, where I assume the priest might stand.  Other than those small details, the altar is simple, perhaps the most straight forward object in the church.

The simple altar, however, is beneath a very grand mosaic that makes up for the altars humbleness.  On the top of the arch, the mosaic shows Jesus in the center of eight men, four on either side.  Perhaps they are the apostles?  While I was taking a break and sitting in the pews gazing at the main altar, the lights began to go on.  The sudden ability to see the mosaics surprises me.  There is so much detail in them that it is astounding.  I can see now that beneath Jesus and the apostles are a series of sheep, and beneath that are angels.  The mosaic is so delicate, with such small pieces and so much gold and color. 

I admit I am not religious, and don’t understand many of the intricacies of the Catholic faith.  I do believe, though, that the sheer detail of the church, the grandeur of it, is meant to be overwhelming and awe striking.  And by doing those things, perhaps be a little frightening as well.  While sitting there, in Santa Maria in Trastevere, I feel a little uneasy.  I am fascinated by it all, and find it beautiful.  But at the same time it is something that I can’t quite grasp, and some of the strong imagery frightens me a little.  Honestly, there is nothing quite like sitting there, looking at the mosaics behind the main altar, feeling the overwhelming grandeur of the church.