Sixth Sunset: Death



My dear friends with this last sunset the night is upon us. The dimming of the sun from the temptations and through the betrayal, the agony, the sentence, and the solitude; we arrive to the plenitude of the night with death. If we want to synthesized all our fears like fear to pain and suffering, fear to weakness and sickness, fear to age and lose, we can see that all of them have their origin in our fear to die.

Fear of death. Where that comes from? Or better, why do we fear death? Perhaps, because it is unknown what happens after it. But a more concrete reason maybe it is because we don’t want to leave everything behind: family and friends, things and business. We don’t want to go alone to the cemetery.

In my childhood imagination, I remember asking: what section of the casket is used to store the food? Or where in the coffin is the bathroom? Questions like those came up frequently after many funerals in Ituango where my grandparents were the proud custodians of the parish cemetery key. It was fascinated. I felt like if death in the town was owned and controlled by my family.

There can be added to my boyhood questionnaire observations like the ones we used to make on the tombs: we judged them by the amount of flowers and decorations they had. A simple tomb without anything meant forgotten dead person while an elaborate mausoleum meant a very fortunate well remembered dead person. However, those observations were not so original. I found out recently visiting the catacombs and underground necropolis in Rome that the Romans also thought the same things. There we can compare the pagan tombs like in a contest for exuberance. It makes sense since the place of the death was the seen as the final resting place for eternity. By contrast, we saw the simple Christians tombs with nothing calling the attention but raw dirt. Their tombs are just temporary waiting places, like forgotten a la Ituango. It seems then that a reason to fear death is that we will be forgotten alone.

Let us move then from an ephemeral reason to fear death to a transcendental one. We learn in Christian doctrine that we may run to one of two destinies: heaven or hell; in other words, salvation or everlasting damnation.  It is a preoccupation that only happens in the level of faith. In fact, St Teresa used to pray: ‘it does not move me Lord to love you neither your promised heaven nor the hell so feared.’ It is another reason to fear death based on the main preoccupation of not knowing what happens to us after death. The difference is that here the fear to die does not come from a materialistic foundation but from a kind of inferiority complex and insecurity about faith.

After being confronted during Lent by the lives and testimonies of the martyrs visiting the stational churches, I can say that they, the martyrs, understood well their faith to the point of placing their love for God above their lives. They did it with such radicalism because it was the only way to give literally their lives for Christ, their rock, savior and Lord.  The martyrs were holy men and women that not only professed a faith but that embodied it with the sacrifices of their own bodies. They found all the encouragement on the cross and death of Jesus for whom they also died. But they died, perhaps with much pain, but definitely fearless because they all knew deep down what their final destiny was: a share in God’s glory.

But where did Jesus find his support? Who did encourage him to descend to the complete darkness of death? It certainly was a very foreign situation for God who is only life. However, he went down there to illuminate it with his presence to claim it for him.

Dear friends, why do we fear to die? There is not room for a Christian to fear death because we now know what happens after we die. We go through a state known to God. We cross the gate’s threshold of the cemetery whose key are in God’s house. The family has control over death and power over it. God himself claims death by assuming it. There is nothing to fear.  This should be a good criterion to evaluate the radicalism of our faith. Perhaps, when I stop fearing death is because I am ready and affirmed by my faith. But, when? I can be from now on!

Saturday of the Fifth Week of Lent at St John in the Latin Gate

A little ways from the gate after which it takes its name, the old foundation of St. John at the Latin Gate commemorates the attempt to execute St. John the Apostle by boiling him alive in a pot of oil.  According to tradition, he survived the attempt unscathed and was sent instead into exile on Patmos, where he received the visions that he later recorded as the book of Revelation.

As can be deduced from first sight of this church, it is very old.  Archeological evidence points to a foundation somewhat before the year 550.  A liturgical celebration of the event here, with the same title as the church, began to be held in 683.  This is traditionally commemorated on 6 May. 

A small round oratory on the main road marks the exact location of the attempted martyrdom (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent at St Stephen in Caelian Hill

The peaceful churchyard provides a welcome respite from the busy streets outside as we approach the church of St. Stephen on the Caelian Hill.  As the shape of the basilica materializes through the pines, we will likely be struck by its unusual shape, for St. Stephen’s is one of the three ancient round churches remaining in Rome, although time has obscured the original ground plan.  The design of this church is thought to have been inspired by the shrine built by the Emperor Constantine over the tomb of Christ in Jerusalem, and circular plans were often used for the shrines built over the tombs of martyrs, particularly in the Eastern Roman Empire.  This church, built on the site of a Roman military camp, dates from the pontificate of Pope Simplicius I (r. 468-483), being further decorated early in the following century.  Although there was no tomb here, the design would call that connotation to mind for the people at the time, appropriate for a church placed under the patronage of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr, whose supreme witness is recorded in the seventh chapter of the Acts of the Apostles.  This original church consisted of a circular sanctuary with a concentric aisle, with four projecting chapels connected by walls forming the outermost ring (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent at St Apollinaris

St. Apollinaris, the founding bishop of the see of Ravenna, may have been born near Antioch in Syria, though this is uncertain.  He is recorded as having been the first bishop of Ravenna and persisted in his ministry there despite being physically beaten many times, sometimes almost to the point of death.  He finally died after one such attack in Classe, a suburb of Ravenna.  While the exact date of his death is unknown, some hypothesize that it took place under Septimus Severus, at the turn of the third century.  The first record of a church on this site is during the pontificate of Pope Adrian I (r. 772-795), with general agreement that the church dates from the late seventh or early eighth century.  Previously, this was the site of the Baths of Nero and Alexander and the administration of the marble quarries during the imperial period.  The dedication to St. Apollinaris may come from the fact that Rome was under Byzantine control at the time, with the administration based in Ravenna.  It is thought that Basilian monks were the first in residence here (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC). 

Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent atSt Marcellus

As he lay dying in the stables to which he had been condemned to labor, the aged Pope Marcellus, I would hardly have imagined that this church in his name would one day stand on this site.  Elected in 308, he was faced almost immediately with the issue of the re-admittance to communion of those who had denied the faith in the persecutions, to which issue he responded by upholding the traditional period of penance.  Arrested some months later, he was made to work in the imperial stables just off of the main road which is now the Via del Corso.  Some traditions say that this had been the location of an oratory consecrated by him, turned into stables by the Romans to humiliate him and the Church.  After suffering in the difficult labor, he would die shortly thereafter.  In the late fourth and early fifth century, the first church was built here in his honor as part of a program to replace house churches with larger structures (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC). 

Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent at St Mary in via Lata

If we could have stood in front of this church two millennia ago looking out on the Via del Corso, a parade of history would have passed before us: not only Caesar coming into the city after crossing the Rubicon and Constantine after his victory as Milvian Bridge, but also a continuous stream of ordinary folk, among whom may well have been the great Apostle to the Gentiles, St. Paul.  Tradition holds that he stayed here for part of his time in Rome.  Archeologists have found remains dating back to the first century A.D. beneath the church, possibly being part of the actual house in which St. Paul stayed.  The original church had the opposite orientation as the current one, with the sanctuary being closer to the Via del Corso, also known as the Via Lata or “wide street” because this was one of the largest streets in the city at the time.  Around this time, this church became used for the stational Mass of today, as the assigned station, St. Cyricaus, had by then fallen into ruin (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Monday of the fifth Week of Lent at St Chysogonus

Although one would never suspect it approaching this basilica, which sits along the side of a busy city street, this location has a strong claim to being the site of the oldest purpose-built church in Rome.  It is connected with the name of Chrysogonus, a fourth century military officer martyred under Diocletian in 304 in northern Italy, near the city of Aquileia.  His cult soon became popular in Rome, with his name being included in the Roman Canon.  Soon after these persecutions ended, a large hall was constructed on this site, to which an apse was later added.  Many archeologists see this as a building intended from the start for Christian worship, apparently built even before the Edict of Milan.  Later in the fourth century, further provision for liturgical functions was made, a sign of the increasing level of comfort that Roman Christians felt about publicly expressing their faith. (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC)

Fifth Sunset The Solitude on the Cross

Indeed Jesus is alone on the cross; around it his solitude has been intensified. We all die alone even if we die surrounded by love and friendship. The dying person knows in the intimacy of intimacies that he is by himself, no matter how much he reaches to touch somebody else’s hand. We are most definitely alone in our death. It is the most human moment of our existences. It is part of the great paradox that precisely when we are much human is when much solitude we experience. But it is not the solitude of the absence of others. It is the solitude of the things that nobody else can do for us, but me.

Jesus cries out with intense pain. It is a cry from the cruelty of his agony. This is a moment of total nakedness in which he does not have anything to rely on. It is the most intense desolation. The night of an unspeakable anguish sieves his heart. Jesus invokes the Father from the deepest part of his soul, from the silence, from a terrible loneliness: He prays with his same prayer from psalm 22: My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? Why so far from my call for help, from my cries of anguish? It is a call to God who seems distant, far away; a God who does not respond.

The prayer asks to be listened to and answered. It asks for a contact point. It seeks a relationship that can offer consolation and salvation. If God does not respond, the cry for help would be lost in empty space and the solitude would become unbearable. But, these words are prayer. Therefore, it reaches God. The psalms are deeply personal prayers, formed while wrestling with God. They are prayed in the presence of suffering, and yet they already contain within themselves the gift of an answer to prayer, the gift of transformation. They cry of extreme anguish is, at the same time, the certainty of an answer from God, the certainty of salvation – not only for Jesus himself, but for many

In this most lonely moment of his time among us, Jesus worships the Father with unquestionable confidence and faith. The solitude expressed with his words is not to complain. It is the embodying of his prayer. Yes, death is the most terrible lonely moment of our existences, but it is the joining point of our transcendence.

Jesus lonely on the cross, pray for us in our solitudes.  

Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent at St Nicholas in Jail

We come today to one of the most unique churches in the stational list, St. Nicholas in Prison.  St. Nicholas was the bishop of Myra, in present-day Turkey, in the early fourth century.  He was imprisoned during the persecutions of Diocletian, being released after the Edict of Milan.  Just over a decade later he would be among the defenders of the orthodox party at the First Council of Nicea.  He is perhaps better remembered for the many charitable deeds he performed during his ministry, such as paying the dowry for three daughters of a poor man.

The current church building is built in the remains of three Roman temples which once stood on the edge of the Forum Holitorium, the vegetable market of the ancient city.  After the decline of the city during the middle of the first millennium, the church of St. Nicholas was built on their site.  It is possible that one of these had been used as a prison for a time, leading to the name of the church (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Collect

May the working of your mercy, 

O Lord, we pray, direct our hearts aright, 

for without your grace we cannot find favor in your sight. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 

one God, for ever and ever. 

Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent at St Eusebius

Set back from the busy square in front of it, this modest church can boast of a long heritage.  The founder, St. Eusebius, is recorded as being a priest of the Roman church in the fourth century.  Holding the orthodox doctrine regarding the divinity of Christ in the tumultuous period after Nicaea I, he was condemned to death by starvation in 357 after defending St. Athanasius before the Emperor Constans.  This sentence is believed to have been inflicted in his own house, which later became a titulus under his name.  This tradition was strengthened by the discovery beneath the current edifice of Roman ruins dating back to the second century.  

The first record of the titulus dates from 474, although archeological remains hint at an original construction date of the church around the turn of the fifth century.  This first church was restored around 750 before being rebuilt later that century.  Another reconstruction, under Pope Gregory IX, was completed in 1238 and commemorated in a plaque still to be found in the porch.  A campanile was added around this time as well.  The old church was extensively renovated and redecorated from 1711 to 1750, giving us, with a few later changes, the church as it stands today (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Collect

O God, 

who have prepared fitting helps for us in our weakness, 

grant, we pray, that we may receive their healing effects 

with joy and reflect them in a holy way of life. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 

one God, for ever and ever. 

Thursday of the Fourth Week of Lent at Ss Sylvester and Martin

With our mind’s eye we imagine the pillar of smoke billowing out of a roaring fire, into which scrolls are being thrown, while the pope and clergy of the city look on, their faces illuminated by the blaze.  This was the scene at this location in 326 when the works of Arius and other theologians condemned at Nicea I were burned, a public sign of their rejection by the Church.  Tradition holds that the first place of Christian worship on this site was in the house of a priest named Equitus, after whom the titulus would later be called upon its foundation by St. Silvester in the early fourth century.  

This was the location for both the preparatory meeting of the Roman clergy, in which they prepared their statement of faith for Nicea I, as well as the subsequent reception of the decrees of the council and carrying out of the destruction of the works of those there condemned.  Tradition passes down that a basilica in honor of St. Martin of Tours was built nearby in the late fifth century.  Later some older buildings nearby were converted into a church named after St. Silvester.  St. Silvester I became pope in 314, just after the legalization of Christianity.  He oversaw the construction of the Lateran basilica and the other early churches built after the Edict of Milan.  Along with this he helped in the development of the liturgy in the city, including in the preparation of the martyrology.  He also supported the orthodox belief in the Arian crisis (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Collect

We invoke your mercy in humble prayer, O Lord, 

that you may cause us, your servants, 

corrected by penance and schooled by good works, 

to persevere sincerely in your commands and 

come safely to the paschal festivities. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 

one God, for ever and ever. 

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Lent at the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls

Today we travel down the Via Ostiense, to the tomb of the great Apostle to the Gentiles, St. Paul.  The story of his conversion and travels of evangelization recorded in Sacred Scripture (see Acts 8-28), tradition holds that he was killed during the Neronian persecutions, in 64 or 67.  His status as a Roman citizen meant that he merited a more dignified manner of death than the cross or the arena, and so at the end of his life he too once traveled this road, to a place now marked by the monastery of Tre Fontane. Beheaded, his body was interred in a tomb along this busy road between Rome and the port at Ostia.  

There it was quietly honored for many years, until Constantine began his building program on behalf of the recently legalized Church.  This first church of St. Paul’s was complete by 340 at the latest, although the nearness of the tomb to the road dictated that the church above it be rather small.  The popularity of the Apostle soon drew large crowds to visit the site, making apparent the need for a larger church.  The emperors Valentian II, Theodosius I, and Arcadius finally took the initiative to provide for a more fitting edifice and building began around 385.  When it was dedicated around 400, in the reign of the emperor Honorius, it was the largest and most architecturally advanced basilica in Rome; its builders had learned from experience with the older churches at the Lateran and Vatican how to build a structure that would best serve both as a shrine and a center of worship.  The embellishment of the basilica soon began, including the still remaining, though heavily restored, mosaic on the triumphal arch  (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Collect

O God, who reward the merits of the just 

and offer pardon to sinners who do penance, 

have mercy, we pray, on those who call upon you, 

that the admission of our guilt may serve 

to obtain your pardon for our sins. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 

one God, for ever and ever. 

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent at St Lawrence in Damaso

The busy Corso Vittorio Emanuele II helps to recreate some of the bustle that must have been present in this area when this location held the stables of one of the chariot teams in ancient Rome.  In time, these gave way to residential dwellings, one of which was the home of Pope St. Damasus.  This holy man, famous for the epigraphs composed by him for the tombs of the various saints around Rome, converted the hall in his home into a church in honor of St. Lawrence.  His devotion to the saint may have begun during his years of service at the Basilica of St. Lawrence outside-the-Walls before his election to the papacy in 366. While he spent much of his energy in supporting orthodox teaching against the attacks of the Arians, he also strove to adorn the shrines of the martyrs in this city, even writing verses in honor of the saints himself.  He passed away in 384. (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

 Collect

May the venerable exercises of holy devotion 

shape the hearts of your faithful, O Lord, 

to welcome worthily the Paschal Mystery 

and proclaim the praises of your salvation. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 

one God, for ever and ever. 

Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent at Four Crowned Saints

Approaching the medieval gateway of this ancient church, dedicated to the Four Crowned Saints, one immediately gathers that this is a unique place.  Indeed it is, for though it stands only a few blocks from some of the busiest areas of the city, this oft-forgotten church holds centuries of tradition within its scarred walls.

The title of this church is actually in reference to two groups of martyrs from the Roman persecutions.  The first group were four soldiers, Severus, Victorinus, Carpophorus, and Severinus, who refused to take part in pagan worship, and were killed for this in the persecutions of Diocletian.  The name of this church may be derived from a military decoration of a small crown, which the four soldier saints may have earned during their service.  The second group were a group of five stonemasons, Claudius, Nicostratus, Sempronianus, Castor, and Simplicius, who were put to death for their refusal to carve a statue of Asclepius which would be used for pagan worship (From: Procedamus in Pacem, PNAC).

Collect

Grant, we pray, almighty God, 
that by Saint Joseph’s intercession 
your Church may constantly watch over 
the unfolding of the mysteries of human salvation, 
whose beginnings you entrusted to his faithful care. 
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 
one God, for ever and ever. 

Fourth Sunset: The Death Sentence

To punish and to impose a penalty has been in society from ancient times as a coercive instrument to accomplish basically two things: the common good and the conversion of the criminal. Now, you can witness that I have learned well a lesson in penal law. Obviously, all of us know that to reach the point of punishment one must commit an offense. It should be grave enough to cause public disorder, scandal and harm to others. Therefore, the offender deserves the punishment so he may correct his behavior and order and justice are restored.

We understand the sense of justice and its application and necessity are seen from the domestic level of a family to the large system of a society. There are penalties given in proportion to the offense perpetrated. The problem is when there is an innocent offender in a system with a capital penalty. Following the same reasoning and logic of offenses and penalties, we can deduct that if a society imposes a death penalty, it is because there is not hope for the rehabilitation of the criminal. It sentences that even the existence of the offender is a threat for society and the reestablishment of order. Is it ever possible? Is it ever possible that someone’s conversion is impossible?  Is it ever possible that someone’s existence, in control of the authorities, is a threat for everyone else? I know it is a controversial topic worth of much debate. But I think yes. It is possible. It is always possible to preserver the order of society without the elimination of the person. Death penalty never has been necessary. Rather, it always has been a sign of weakness of the State.

Anyway, this is neither the space nor the moment to debate how opportune or unnecessary death penalty is. I think that the point I want to make is that Jesus was an innocent death penalty victim.  Jesus is condemned to death, we pray in the first station of the cross, and it is our fourth sunset. Now it is becoming darker. We are closer to the night of death. Now it is official, unjustly but official. The way to death has been marked. Jesus is victim as much of our offenses as of an imperfect judicial system. It is a capital penalty which is unjust and unnecessary in itself. It is unknown what the end is going to look like for Jesus and his followers. Only the confidence in God is enough to endure and wait for the end result. Jesus is an offender who does not need any correction. There is not crime. They only pretend the scandal. There is not enough light that illuminates as the eyes as the mind. Only God is enough in a situation like this. While the accuser rejoices on his apparent victory, he does not count with God’s last card. God precisely takes advantage of this horrendous evil to take possession of the Devil’s most precious power. God takes possession not only of the sentence of a broken judicial system, neither only of its tortures and agonies, but above all of death itself. God is in the process of becoming the owner of the Devil’s most cherished possession to destroy it.

The sunset of the sentence kisses the night itself of death. Only there rest to wait to witness the destruction of the enemy to laugh on his misfortune.  

Saturday of the Third Week of Lent at St Susana

Although this church existed for over fourteen centuries before the creation of the United States, Americans can in some sense claim it as our own, as it has been the home of our national parish in Rome since 1922.  The importance of this site to Christians can be traced to the late third century, during the reign of Diocletian.  This emperor, whose name is well known for the persecutions under him, desired to marry his relative, Susanna, to one of his co-emperors in a political marriage.  Susanna did not wish to be part of this, not only because of her Faith but also because she had taken a private vow of virginity.  When Diocletian found out about this, he ordered the punishment not only of her but also of her father, Gabinus, and three Christian uncles, one of whom was Pope Gaius.  Susanna received the crown of martyrdom immediately, with her father dying in prison and her uncles and some other relatives being executed outside the city.  Pope Gaius escaped these persecutions, returning to continue leading the Church in the city (From Procedamus in Pace PNAC).

Collect

Rejoicing in this annual celebration of 

our Lenten observance, we pray, O Lord, that, 

with our hearts set on the paschal mysteries, 

we may be gladdened by their full effects. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of 

the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Friday of the Third Week of Lent at St Lawrence in Lucina

This ancient church stands in a small piazza just off the busy Via del Corso.  The titulus of St. Lawrence in Lucina took its name, as with many other of the early tituli, from the name of the donor of the site or structure itself, who in this case was the Roman landlady Lucina.  This area first became developed during the early Imperial period, with the famous Ara Pacis standing in a location just behind the apse of the church.  On this spot itself stood a large apartment building, known as an insula, traditionally that of Lucina though the original place of worship may have been located in another location nearby.  In the mid 430s, Pope Sixtus III built the first basilica here, like others of the time with a nave flanked by an aisle on each side and terminating in an apse.  Being in the midst of an area often hit by floods of the Tiber, the church was in need of periodical restoration, with at least two recorded in the first millennium.  During this era this church fulfilled an important liturgical role as the starting point of the procession for the Greater Litany, a penitential procession and liturgical service, on 25 April.  This procession, beginning here, would head up the Via Flaminia, crossing the Tiber at the Milvian Bridge before returning down the other side of the river for the stational Mass at St. Peter’s. (From: Procedamus in Pace, PNAC)

Collect

Pour your grace into our hearts, 

we pray, O Lord, that we may be constantly 

drawn away from unruly desires and obey 

by your own gift the heavenly teaching you give us. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of 

the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Thursday of the Third Week of Lent at Ss Cosmas and Damien

Sitting discreetly to the side of the Roman Forum, the small basilica of Ss. Cosmas and Damian can boast of not only a longer history of use than that ancient center of government, but also of that use continuing to the present day.  In fact, parts of this basilica date back to the time of the ancient forum, these structures being converted into a church in honor of these two saints some time later.  Ss. Cosmas and Damian were two brothers in the medical profession, who used their skills to heal people without seeking payment.  Although there are different traditions concerning their martyrdom, it seems likely that they suffered during the Diocletian persecutions in the early fourth century in the city of Aegea, then in Roman Syria.  Brought before the tribunal, they were tortured before being killed by decapitation, likely in 303.  Some years later their relics were brought to the city of Cyr, before being brought to Rome during the time of Pope St. Gregory the Great.

Collect

We implore your majesty most humbly, O Lord, 

that, as the feast of our salvation draws ever closer, 

so we may press forward all the more eagerly towards 

the worthy celebration of the Paschal Mystery. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in

 the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Wednesday of the Third Week of Lent at St Sixtus

The chapel can still be visited in the catacombs of St. Callistus where Pope St. Sixtus II and four deacons were celebrating the liturgy when the Roman soldiers burst in and arrested them.  On the way to their execution, another deacon came forward to the pope and begged to be allowed to accompany him.  The pope replied that, while not now, in a few days time the deacon would join him in suffering for the faith.  And so did St. Lawrence go and prepare for his own death.  Now the memory of the martyred pope is kept by this modest basilica, which has quietly stood on this location for over sixteen centuries.

The foundation of the basilica here is dated to the reign of Pope Anastasius, who reigned from 399 to 401.  At that time it was known primarily as the Titulus Crescentianae, with the name of St. Sixtus being more frequently used beginning in the sixth century.  This first basilica had a nave as wide as that of the current church, having aisles and a courtyard in front as well.  Like other basilicas of this time, such as St. Peter in Chains and St. Vitalis, the entrance to the church was through an open colonnade, although this was soon enclosed.  In these early centuries the scrutinies of the catechumens were held at this church, before receiving Baptism at the Lateran Baptistery.  At the time of the Iconoclastic persecutions in the East a group of Byzantine monks established themselves in some old Roman structures behind the church around the year 800, creating the monastery of St. Mary in Tempulo.  The remains of this structure can still be seen some ways behind the apse of the current church (From Procedamus in Pace, PNAC).

Collect

Grant, we pray, O Lord, that, 

schooled through Lenten observance 

and nourished by your word, 

through holy restraint we may be devoted to you 

with all our heart and be ever united in prayer. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 

one God, for ever and ever.

Tuesday of the Third Week of Lent at St Prudentiana

The little church of St. Pudentiana holds some of the earliest memories of the Roman Church within its ancient walls.  The Christian history of this site begins with St. Pudens, a Roman senator.  He allowed St. Peter to live in his house for at least six years, and it is believed that the first Mass celebrated by St. Peter in Rome took place here.  He may also be the Pudens named by St. Paul in one of his letters (2 Tm. 4:21).  An early tradition also held that he had two daughters, Pudentiana and Praxedes.  These two collected the remains of the martyrs after their death, laying many of them to rest in a well within their home.  Another early member of the Roman Church, St. Pastor, is thought to have set up an oratory on this site as well.

Collect

May your grace not forsake us, O Lord, we pray, 

but make us dedicated to your holy service 

and at all times obtain for us your help. 

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, 

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, 

one God, for ever and ever.