Cover
story Subterranean mystery tour
By JOHN L. ALLEN JR.
NCR Staff Rome
Certain spots seem flooded with
holiness, places where mystery crackles in the air. The tomb of St. Peter, part
of an ancient Roman necropolis buried 40 feet deep under St. Peters
Basilica, offers a case in point.
Descending a metal staircase, analogous in my mind to descending
through centuries of Christian tradition, and following the first-century stone
street leading to the tomb was a sublime experience. The hush, the soft
lighting, the ghosts of Christian history create an air of anticipation
powerful enough to evoke the presence of what Rudolf Otto, in his classic
Idea of the Holy, describes as tremendous and fascinating
mystery.
Beyond a pilgrimage to Christian origins, though, this visit to
the ancient cemetery that contains St. Peters tomb is also an encounter
with a riveting detective story. Are Peters bones buried in the place
long known as Peters tomb? Despite Paul VIs unequivocal
yes in 1968, questions have long lingered. Perhaps they always
will.
After two years of cleaning, lighting and reconstruction, the
ancient cemetery can now be seen more or less as it was when small bands of
Christians furtively scratched their testimonies on its walls. Visitors can
soak in the spiritual energy, muse over whether the bones preserved under
Plexiglas are really St. Peters -- and ponder how to reconcile this
humble legacy of a persecuted sect with the massive baroque splendor of the
16th-century basilica that rises above it.
My wife, Shannon, and I went down into the scavi, as the
site is called in Italian, on a rainy Saturday morning in early October, one
week after details of the restoration had been presented at a news conference.
Accompanying us on our tour was Pietro Zander, an official from the
Vaticans excavations office, along with Nazzareno Gabrielli, the
avuncular director of scientific research for the Vatican museums. Gabrielli
was an ideal companion, explaining complicated points of microbiology one
minute, joking the next that hed never entered a particular mausoleum
because he is too portly for its narrow door.
The environment is hot and dank. Visitors have been known to
faint. Gabrielli, however, said the oppressive humidity is a necessary
preservation strategy. Because they were buried in damp soil near the Tiber
River, the walls of the necropolis soaked up moisture. If they become too dry,
many of the magnificent images on their surfaces would dissolve.
This delicacy also vastly complicated the process of removing 16
centuries of grime. A square foot could take six hours to complete, sometimes
using the equivalent of an electric toothbrush.
Making the rounds with members of the projects brain trust
did have its privileges. At one point, we stepped inside a mausoleum normally
off limits, as Gabrielli wanted to explain something about differences in the
masonry used to construct the walls. He proceeded to thump the walls and
encouraged us to do the same. He swiftly brought down a small chunk of masonry,
which elicited little more than a bemused mama mia and a
shrug. Were I to do the same thing under different circumstances, I
couldnt help thinking, I would probably find out what the Swiss Guards
are capable of doing with their halberds.
Preserving the necropolis
As Gabrielli explained it, the two-year restoration project was
driven by the need to preserve the necropolis, not just for scientists and
historians, but for pilgrims. Its lighting, its organization, its mood was
planned to be one that invites prayer rather than research. The tomb exists,
Gabrielli said, above all, to lead Christians back to their roots.
Difficult as it is to imagine today, there once was a Rome without
the papacy, a Rome in which the word Vatican referred not to the
worlds most powerful religious bureaucracy but to a hill outside the city
notorious for bad wine and too many snakes. In the second century, some wealthy
pagan families built tombs here.
For the earliest Roman Christians, the hill is a site of supreme
importance. Here, they believed, the apostle Peter had been martyred under Nero
-- crucified upside down at his own request in a final act of humility
(believing himself unworthy to die in the same manner as his master).
When Constantine decided in 330 to build a basilica in
Peters honor, he chose the Vatican hill. He did so despite two major
obstacles -- the need to fill in tons of earth to create a level space and the
political uproar that must have followed his decision to build over a
graveyard, then as now considered an act of sacrilege. The tombs were filled in
with dirt and remained sealed for the next 1,600 years.
When Constantines basilica was torn down to build the
present St. Peters in the 16th century, its floor was preserved a few
feet under the new structure, creating a space for crypts for popes and other
ecclesiastical VIPs, such as Queen Christina of Sweden. In 1939, Pius XII
needed a place to inter his predecessor and authorized lowering the floor.
About two feet down the workmen struck a brick wall, and the rediscovery of the
necropolis was the result.
Popes all along had known that the basilica was supposedly erected
over a pagan cemetery, said to house Peters tomb. But for 15 centuries
there had been no exploration; the site was felt to be too sacred. Pius XII,
however, had been impressed by the massive global interest in the discovery of
Tutankhamens tomb in 1923. When presented with a proposal to excavate he
approved.
Supervising the excavation
The work was administered by four archaeologists under the
supervision of Msgr. Ludwig Kaas, a friend of Pius XII. Their friendship dated
to the popes days as nuncio in Germany. Kaas -- one of the figures in
Pius XIIs controversial relationship with Nazi Germany -- had been the
head of the Catholic Center Party, and his support had been critical in passing
bills in 1933 that handed Hitler absolute power. Kaas followed Pius to Rome,
where he was given responsibility for running St. Peters Basilica.
Kaas meddled constantly. Finally a deal was struck: The
archaeologists would be left alone during the day, but Kaas would check their
work at night. He did so with an employee named Giovanni Segoni. Incredible as
it may sound, whenever they would find bones during these nightly inspections,
Kaas would order Segoni to put them in boxes and store them for reburial, away
from the prying hands of scholars.
On one such evening in early 1942, Kaas came upon a small cavity
in a wall near Peters tomb that the archaeologists had not explored. He
told Segoni to scoop up the bones lying therein and consign them to a
storeroom. Kaas died shortly thereafter.
Meanwhile, archaeologists penetrated the tomb under the high
altar. There, along with bones heaped together under a wall, they found
markings linking the space with Peter. These, the discoverers felt, were
undoubtedly the apostles remains. The popes personal physician,
asked to examine them, pronounced them the bones of a strongly built man. His
age at death was estimated to have been 65 to 70. That was enough to convince
most of the project leaders that the bones belonged to Peter, though the pope
retained some doubts.
During the Holy Year in 1950, Pius announced that the tomb of St.
Peter had been found beyond all doubt. The pope then said that some
bones had also been found, and while it was impossible to establish them as
Peters, he left the impression they were something special.
In 1956, Pius permitted rigorous scientific examination in
response to mounting demand. It emerged that what his physician had identified
as the remains of one man were actually bones of three different people, along
with scores of animals. Of the humans, two were men in their 50s, and one was a
woman in her 70s. Clearly, these were not the fishermans bones.
Strange graffiti
As this disappointment unfolded, another scholar, Margherita
Guarducci, was at work deciphering some strange graffiti found on a necropolis
wall. One day in 1952 she happened to be standing by the cavity emptied by Kaas
a decade before, and asked Segoni, who was still laboring away, if anything had
been found inside. He led her to the storeroom and the bones. She made nothing
of them, simply recommending that the specialists take a look.
It was 1962 before the bones were identified as those of a man 5
feet 7 inches tall, of heavy build, aged between 60 and 70. The hollow of the
bones contained soil, suggesting they had lain in a bare earth grave. Stains
suggested the bones had been wrapped in a purplish, gold-threaded cloth.
In the meantime, Guarducci found a partial inscription by the
cavity that she reconstructed as Petros Eni, which in ancient Greek
could mean Peter is within. She concluded that the bones gathered
from the cavity by Kaas must be those of Peter -- moved out of the tomb 1,800
years ago, she theorized, during a persecution.
She presented this theory to Paul VI in 1964. After additional
tests, the pope was convinced, despite the fact that three of the original four
archaeologists dissented. Paul announced that the bones of Peter had been
identified in a manner which we believe convincing. On June 27,
1968, Paul re-interred them in Peters tomb, stored in 19 Plexiglas
cases.
Despite the declaration, debate has intensified. Why, some ask,
would the early Christians not have moved the bones back after the danger had
passed, given their passion for preserving the tombs exact site? Others
suggest that Guarduccis inscription is open to many interpretations.
Under the impact of such scrutiny, the Vatican has backed away
from Pauls confidence. At the Sept. 29 news conference, Cardinal Virgilio
Noè, archpriest of the basilica, said the church is in a very
discrete and insecure position on the bones. One must understand
references to Peters remains, he said, as a bit relative.
Moreover, Noe said, the site has a kerygmatic message for tourists and
pilgrims independent of whether the remains are genuine.
Just what is that message? The Vaticans version, offered up
with youthful zeal by seminarians from the North American College who act as
tour guides for English-speaking visitors, has to do with love for the
prince of the apostles and a special bond with the Holy Father.
Undeniably, thats part of the experience. A Catholic cannot
walk these passageways, peer into its long-forgotten places, without
imaginatively identifying with the first band of Roman believers huddled around
the memory of their founder.
Yet theres something more. To ponder ones origins is
always, in some sense, to critique the present. It prompts us to ask how the
church once understood itself, and how faithfully we have lived that vision.
The spiritual power of the necropolis is that it invites the question without
dictating an answer.
And what of Peters bones? Perhaps those approximately 134
fragments really are his remains. We will almost certainly never know; as with
the so-called Jesus boat lifted out of the Sea of Galilee in 1986,
the best we can do is conclude that the materials were in the right place and
come from approximately the right time.
In a sense, the bones are relics by contact. Whether
they are Peters, they laid for centuries in his tomb, giving them a
strong association with the apostle.
The wonder of coming here is not contained in bones. It is in the
chance to see oneself in the light of eternity, to ponder beginnings and ends.
For that purpose the necropolis itself, now beautifully restored, serves
well.
Requests for visits to the necropolis must be made with the
Vaticans Ufficio Scavi. The fax number is 06.69885518; reservations must
be made 20 days in advance.
The e-mail address for John L. Allen Jr. is
jallen@natcath.org
National Catholic Reporter, October 27,
2000
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