St. Paul Outside the Walls

Though there were many churches I had not seen and wanted to visit (there are approximately 913 churches in Rome and 1 synagogue), I really, really wanted to visit St. Paul Outside the Walls.  My friend Jhennifer, the erudite and gifted voice behind Matters of Taste, had told me about the 4th century church that was rebuilt.  The basilica was destroyed by fire in 1823, but rebuilt as an exact replica.

I got on the Metro B line at the Colosseum, where the lines were incredibly long, and headed to the 4th stop, Sao Paulo.  I was told it would be easy to find.  I went up the stairs and took a long look up and down the street to get my bearings.  I didn't want to get lost.  I went left and then left again and soon saw a bell tower off to my right.  I walked up the slight hill, past the outdoor market where one could buy all kinds of toiletries, makeup, jeans, underwear, and other stuff, and then crossed the street at the McDonald's.

From that angle and distance, the building didn't look all of that large and certainly not very impressive. I walked around to what I thought was the front of the building (see photo right).  There are nice grounds there with a few benches, a little cafe so people can buy coffee and pastries.  I stepped on to the portico and glanced at the floorplan that was on the door, but didn't really pay attention.  Long entryway, apse, etc.  The usual church layout.  I knew only the little history that Jhennifer had given me and remembered that she had said something about this being the church where Paul was buried.  Really?  This?  St. Paul is kind of an important guy in the whole grand scheme of Christian teaching.  So, you know that adage about not judging a book by its cover?  Pay attention to the truthiness of that because then I stepped inside, glanced to my right. . .and gasped.

I walked around the interior of this church in awe.  I soon realized I was standing in the sanctuary, which is huge.  The papal altar that rises over the Tomb of the Apostle, while not as grand as that in St. Peter's, is still quite impressive.  I walked slowly around the altar as I saw there were two large sculptures on either side as well as a massive Pascal candle.  And then I saw the people walking down some stairs.  I drew near to the rail and was able to see that people were able to kneel as they looked into the area which marks the tomb and sacrophagus of the Apostle Paul, what are called "Altars of Confession."  A group of people were praying and, based on the cadence, it sounded like The Lord's Prayer and then the General Confession.

As I walked through a number of these churches, I often felt compelled to cross myself though I've not worshipped in an Episcopal church in years, except for the occasional visit to the church my folks attend.  Still, the pull was quite strong.  But at this church, I didn't have that feeling.  I did, however, feel the need to kneel and I could not help but weep.  I knelt for a long moment and heard the whispered prayers of the priest to my right, though in a language I couldn't understand.  And I thought again of the power of this thing called faith and how it can build bridges.  And how this thing called religion can be the impetus for so much hate and destruction.

This was the only church that moved me to tears as well as awe.  It's not that it was more beautiful than the others, though it is gorgeous.  Perhaps it was that tomb and the life and sacrifice it represents.  Perhaps it was those two gigantic sculptures--one of Peter with his keys and one of Paul with his letters (my perception) and his sword--and the power of those works.  Perhaps it was because I was so physically and emotionally tired that this church simply took me past the tipping point.  Perhaps. 

It was a short, easy walk back to the metro.  The train came quickly and soon I was being whisked back to the Colosseum.  I bought a shot of espresso from one of the vendors and sat on some steps outside of the metro station and across the street from the Colosseum while I munched on a granola bar.  And watched people, fed a few pigeons with some granola bar crumbs, and thought.  I was so glad I'd gone the wrong direction on Sunday and ended up saving this church for my last day.

I got up slowly.  Ankles were swollen and my left knee was protesting after so many days of walking on heaved cobblestones.  I was grateful for the Roman stroll.  I wandered up and over to the Trevi so I see a man about some pictures, then back toward the Piazza della Minerva and the Piazza della Rotonda for some final shopping.  I found what might be the only Jewish-owned store in ancient Rome and bought some lovely parting gifts there.  I walked into the leather shop on Via del Seminario four different times, though only twice on this day.  I'd been looking at two bags, neither of which I wanted to leave in Rome.  They were beautiful, but I did the math and couldn't justify the expense for two bags I'd probably rarely use.  But oh my they were lovely.

And with my shopping done, I went back to the Hotel Senato to clean up a bit and do some packing.  I went to the salon around 6P to have a glass of wine, chatting with a large family from France.  About 7:15P I gathered my things and meandered out to the Casa Coppelle Ristorante, which had been described to me as a Roman with a little French.  It is a quiet place with low lights and soft jazz, scrumptious warm artisan bread.  At just past 7:30P, I was not the first to arrive.  I had an artichoke appetizer and I have to say that the Romans know their way around an artichoke.  This was the third appetizer I'd had with artichoke; none had been the same and all had been delicious.  For dinner I had the recommended beef dish, which was quite good.  I had no room for dessert, but I've learned that saying "No, grazie" to dessert and asking for a coffee (of any kind) means a small plate of cookies will be brought to the table.  It was a wonderful meal for my last night in Rome.

Some random thoughts:

• Casa Coppelle and Due Colonne, near the Pantheon, were two very fine restaurants.  Service was quite good; the food was excellent.  I thanked the owner at Casa Coppelle and told him it was my last night in Rome. He gave me a big handshake and the double-cheek kiss and thanked me for having my dinner at his restaurant.  Due Colonne (on Via del Semario, not far from the leather shop) seems to be a family-owned place.  Service was very, very good as was the food.
• Grano was good, but you must want fish if you don't want pasta as those are your two choices.
• Buca di Ripetta near the river is also quite good, but if you're staying near the Pantheon, it's a bit of a walk.
• 8 nights in Rome is not enough.