A Week in the Life of Rome

by James L. Papandrea

  Urbanus looked around the inn. “Men, I think we should change the subject. Speaking of politics can be dangerous.” Then he looked around again, leaned in toward the center of the table, and whispered, “And never say anything negative about Caligula around the green team. Many of their fans are still loyal to him.”

  Urbanus leaned back and spoke normally. “Now. Philologus. Tell me, what happened to you that you can’t find work?”

  Philologus explained how he had been expelled from his guild and how he had gone to the distribution of bread, but the dole had run out before he got any. When he finished his story, Urbanus was silent. Urbanus had never really thought about the truly poor—the people who lived without a patron. He wondered how they could even survive, and he could almost feel the stress of not knowing where one’s next meal was coming from. He felt a pang of helplessness in sympathy for Philologus and his family, and he didn’t know what to say.

  Marcus broke the tension with a pat on Philologus’s shoulder and a smile, saying, “Don’t worry, brother. The Way-followers are your guild now.”

  Back at home, Stachys was still reeling with the anxiety of vulnerability and regret from his meeting with Geta, but he covered it over with his “head of the household” routine and an authoritarian tone of voice. “Everyone, listen. Stay together in the crowds. Don’t go off by yourself. Maria, Rhoda, Julia, Prisca. Shawls and veils on? Good. I know it’s hot, but you don’t want to give anyone any reason to mistake you for a prostitute.” Prisca giggled, but Rhoda looked annoyed. Stachys thought he needed to justify himself. “Well you don’t want to be groped, do you?”

  The group made their way through the Fontinalis Gate and around the Capitoline Hill to the west, staying close to the inside of the wall. The streets were packed with people walking in every direction, vendors trying to get their wares to the circuses, and jugglers and acrobats doing tricks to advertise their shows later in the day. Stachys led the way as they continued along the river toward the Circus Maximus. Coming through an archway, the group was stopped by a beggar, howling and chanting a sob story about lost honor, invoking multiple gods and promising honor to any who would give him a coin.

  “We only believe in the one true God,” Marcus said to the man as he fished a coin out of his small leather bag. “But in his name, I’m happy to give you this.” Stachys looked over Marcus’s shoulder to see that he was giving the beggar a whole sestertius. He wondered whether that was the same sestertius that was supposed to buy his lunch yesterday. The beggar bowed and humbly thanked Marcus.

  “We should have gone to the Circus Flaminius,” Stachys muttered. “It’s closer to home and less crowded.”

  “But the Circus Maximus will have the better races,” Tertius protested. “And the emperor will be there.”

  As they approached the Circus Maximus, they made their way through the shops that surrounded the circus. Marcus ran ahead and confirmed that the traditional rituals were over, so they went in through the archway and scanned the crowd for some empty seats. Philologus noticed Senator Pudens sitting in the marble-tiled senators’ box. He waved to Pudens, but the senator turned his head away and went back to talking with a fellow nobleman. Philologus ran to catch up with the group as they navigated their way up the wooden bleachers on the Aventine side, all the way to the top, where a few empty seats remained.

  The sand on the track sparkled with quartz crystals, and the spectators squinted in the sun to see who would win. It was the last lap of race number four of a twenty-four race day. A charioteer from the white team crossed the finish line first, and two hundred and fifty thousand voices erupted into a combination of cheers, whoops, boos, and groans. The last chariot approached the final post, and the driver was whipping the horses mercilessly. They were going too fast for the turn, and the wheels of the chariot started to skid. The horses tripped, and then they hit the side of the track with a crash that splintered the chariot into a thousand pieces and left the horses maimed and the driver dead. The crowd made a noise that was some combination of groans and cheers.

  After every fourth race there was a break with the Troy Game: a demonstration of horsemanship that included vaulting and trick riding. There were also animal tamers and acrobatic acts, as well as the occasional animal hunt. Today the Praetorians were hunting panthers for the entertainment of the crowd. Stachys knew Maria didn’t like the animal hunts. She felt sorry for the animals, who didn’t stand a chance in the circus or the arena.

  “Come, ladies. Let’s take a walk.” Maria started walking down the bleachers, and Rhoda, Julia, and Prisca followed dutifully.

  “Stay together!” Stachys shouted after them. Then he turned to Tertius. “Oh! Tertius, look! Look over there, in the emperor’s box—there he is, Claudius himself!”

  From a distance, Claudius almost looked regal. He stood tall, until he tried to walk, and then his unsteady legs robbed him of any poise he might have had. He limped over to his seat as the crowd got very quiet. Then he waved, and the crowd raised a halfhearted cheer.

  As the women walked through the arcades beneath the bleachers, they encountered vendors selling food and wine, fortunetellers and astrologers, and prostitutes. Souvenir merchants sold cups engraved with the names and images of both the charioteers and their horses. They shouted out their merchandise. “Green team! Blue team! I have Victor! I have Tuscus!” Men placed bets on the races while stable boys and saddlers ran back and forth. The women strolled by, taking it all in but with no interest in buying anything. Then they noticed a magic and potion dealer and shook their heads. The vendor was shouting, “Curse tablets! I have curse tablets!”

  Prisca turned to the other women. “Should we pray for her?”

  “Yes,” Maria started to say. “Wait . . .” Maria could see the back of a woman buying a curse tablet from the magic dealer. “Is that . . . ? Sabina?”

  Sabina turned around and smiled to see Maria and the other women. “Oh! Maria! And . . . don’t tell me . . . Julia . . . and . . . Rufina?”

  Rhoda smiled. “It’s Rhoda, but that was close.”

  Sabina couldn’t help but respect Rhoda for speaking up for herself. She almost said so, but Maria jumped in. “And this is our friend Prisca. Her mother is the noble Priscilla. I believe you may know of her. She is married to the awning maker Aquila.”

  Sabina looked Prisca up and down. “Your mother is Priscilla? I do know her. That is, we knew each other as little girls, but I haven’t seen her in years. Tell me, is she well?”

  “She is, thank you for asking,” Prisca replied. “She and my father are traveling in Greece.”

  “Because your father is a Judean, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Well, that is no matter to me,” Sabina said with a smile. “Some of my newest friends are Judeans.” She looked at Maria and the others. “These brave women here may possibly have saved my life yesterday. And at the risk of their own lives.”

  Prisca nodded. “Yes, I heard all about your harrowing adventure during the rioting in the Field of Mars.”

  Sabina grasped Maria’s hands and said, “I owe you all a great debt. My family owes you a great debt.”

  Maria asked the obvious question. “May I ask . . . were you buying a curse tablet?”

  “Oh, yes. Great Mother, it’s a source of endless annoyance, but my weak-willed husband Urbanus insists on continuing to visit his favorite prostitute with embarrassing regularity. She’s no great thing, but she was his first, you see. His father took him to her on the day of his first shave, and he’s never been able to forget her. It’s not that I’m unwilling, but if he needs a break from me, he has the slaves, so I don’t know why he insists on returning to that old bag of bones. But I’m finally taking matters into my own hands. The magic dealer has inscribed the curse in the lead, and now I’m off to drop it into a well so that it can sink down to Hades, where the curse will take root! But why am I boring you with my problems. I’m sure you have the same grief with you
r husbands, am I right?”

  The women looked at each other. Rhoda spoke up. “Well, actually, Prisca and I are unmarried, but if we ever do have husbands, we plan to marry men who will—how do I say it?—Save their energy for the marriage bed.”

  Sabina laughed. “If only that could be true. But I think a man like that is as common in Rome as a phoenix.”

  Julia seemed disturbed by Sabina’s pessimism. Maria smiled at Sabina and said, “What if I told you that I don’t think the curse tablet is the solution to your problem?”

  Sabina was intrigued. “If you have some new spell or potion, I would definitely like to know about it.”

  “It’s not a spell or a potion. And it’s not a curse. It’s someone I’d like you to meet. A woman I think you will like.”

  “I can always use another fortuneteller.”

  “Well, she isn’t a fortuneteller, but she is a very wise woman. Would you be willing to meet her?”

  Sabina nodded. “You’ve already saved my life once, so I believe I can trust you. Yes, I’ll meet this woman.”

  The next race was about to begin. This was a race of four-horse chariots. Each horse had ribbons with its team’s colors woven into its mane and tail. Freedmen of the imperial house drove the chariots for the blue team, but one of the drivers for the red team was a famous charioteer named Diocles, who had won over one thousand races and had become very wealthy. Most of the people in the crowd were cheering for Diocles, but those who wanted to gain favor with the emperor were cheering for the blue team. The senators were also cheering for the blue team, which made the people feel as though they were against Diocles, and tensions in the bleachers started to run high, as fans began yelling obscenities at opposing fans. Marcus and Stachys looked at each other and nodded their silent agreement. They could see that the Praetorians were already coming into the bleachers and moving among the crowd. The emperor had promised a free outdoor banquet and distribution of coins if no fights broke out all day, but that was a promise he was never going to have to keep.

  The Phoenix

  It may seem odd that a pre-Christian legend should become a popular image in the early church. But we find— both in early documents and in early Christian art—that the phoenix was an image that reminded Christians of the promise of life after death.

  There are various versions of the legend, often with differences in the details, but in a nutshell the phoenix was a female songbird. She was one of a kind, so there was only the one phoenix; she didn’t even have a mate. In early Christian art she looks something like a peacock or flamingo, often depicted either with a radiant halo or corona around her head or standing in the midst of flames. The phoenix lived five hundred years, and at the end of her life, she flew back to her home (depending on the version of the legend, in Arabia or Egypt). She built a nest of frankincense and myrrh at the top of a date-palm tree, and then in the heat of the desert sun the nest burst into flames. The burning nest became the bird’s cremation fire, but from the ashes the bird rose incorruptible and took to the skies to begin the cycle again.

  Figure 4.9. Mosaic image of a phoenix (Santi Cosma e Damiano, Rome)

  For the early Christians the phoenix became a kind of metaphor for the resurrection of Christ and for the promise of resurrection for all who die in Christ. To be clear, though, the bird was not meant to represent Christ himself but rather the concept of resurrection. In many versions of the legend the bird that rose from the ashes was not actually the same bird that died in the fire but rather the “offspring” of that bird, which started out as a worm crawling out of the nest. So it is clear that it is not a very good analogy for Christ himself. This may be one of the reasons why the image of the phoenix did not ultimately stand the test of time in the church.

  We may also ask why the early Christians didn’t use the butterfly as an image of resurrection instead. The answer is probably that the butterfly was so light that for the ancients it was more of an analogy of the soul apart from the body. The early Christians did not look forward to the afterlife as a disembodied soul; rather, they looked forward to resurrection in a resurrection body (1 Cor 15). The resurrection of Christ was a bodily resurrection, and so the image used to remind the early Christians of resurrection had to be one in which “flesh” was raised to new life. The phoenix provided that image.

  Figure 4.10. Mosaic image of a phoenix (Santa Prassede, Rome)

  We see the phoenix in the catacombs and in the apse mosaics of ancient basilicas in Rome. Ironically, the phoenix was also used as a political symbol in the city of Pompeii. To read more about the phoenix and other early Christian symbols, see Mike Aquilina’s book Signs and Mysteries: Revealing Ancient Christian Symbols (Our Sunday Visitor, 2008).

  “Well, I’m afraid it’s time to go,” Stachys said.

  Tertius started whining. “What? No! The bull rodeo is up next. That’s my favorite part.”

  “Sorry, Tertius,” Marcus said. “We can’t stay. Looks like the fights are breaking out early today. We don’t want you to be hurt. So come on, let’s go.”

  Figure 4.11. A temple in the Forum Boarium, or Cattle Market

  They filed down the bleacher steps and out of the stands. As they walked through the arcade, they could hear the stomping of feet above them, and they could feel the vibrations in the ground under their feet. They hurried out of the stadium toward the Cattle Market. Stachys, Marcus, and Philologus all breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the women waiting at their prearranged meeting spot by the river.

  “We should have gone to the Circus Flaminius,” Stachys said, shaking his head.

  When they arrived back at the house it was already time to start getting ready for the evening gathering, and everyone dispersed to their own afternoon tasks. Maria waited patiently until she could get Stachys alone. “We need to talk,” Maria whispered. Stachys knew that tone. “What are you going to do about Tertius?”

  Figure 4.12. The temple dedicated to Hercules in the Forum Boarium, or Cattle Market. Most temples in Rome were not round; the only known round temples were the ones dedicated to Vesta, in the Old Forum, and to Hercules. This temple is in the area that was the Greek Quarter, so it makes sense that there would be a temple dedicated to the Greek hero-god Hercules.

  “He will have a tutor.”

  “No, Stachys. I can’t accept that. I know you think it will be good for your career, and his, but this is not good for anyone. It will not bring security to this house, and it will not bring you peace. Just the opposite. You Romans . . .”

  “I’m Greek.”

  Figure 4.13. The statue of Hercules from the Temple of Hercules in the Forum Boarium, or Cattle Market (Capitoline Museum, Rome)

  “Yes, I know that. But you know what I mean. You think the Pax Romana is such a great blessing that the Romans have bestowed on the world. You import the spoils of the colonies, and you export only your rule, and you call that peace. But you will never have peace on earth until you have peace of mind. And you can never have that in a world where young boys are seduced by older men in the name of mentoring. Rome does not grant peace—it robs everyone of peace. Even the rich are robbed of their peace because of greed and envy. Real peace doesn’t come from increasing money and power. It comes from our Lord Iesua.”

  Stachys didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked out of the house. He was confused—part of him knew she was probably right—and in any case he didn’t have the energy to defend himself. He could only shake his head at the fact that he had to walk out of his own house to clear his head and think.

  After the opening prayers and the petitions for the Lord’s mercy, Marcus took out a scroll. As he opened it, the door swung in slowly. It was clear that whoever was opening the door was trying to do it quietly to avoid notice, but that only made it squeak all the more. Everyone turned to see who it was. An old woman slowly entered the room. She was bent over, walking with a cane, and she seemed to move only with great difficulty, but she smiled a great toothless smile,
and her eyes held the light of a woman in her prime. Everyone in the room became excited and buzzed with whispers. “Susannah! It’s Susannah!”

  She was followed by another woman. It was Sabina, feeling very sheepish and out of place. Marcus smiled and began to read:

  Iesua said to his disciples, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God.” The disciples were amazed at his words, so he said it again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” They were even more astonished at this and asked, “Then who can be saved?” Iesua looked at them and said, “For people it is impossible, but not for God. All things are possible for God.”

  Marcus closed the scroll. “All things are possible for God . . . except to lie, right, Scrap?” Scrap smiled and nodded. “Brothers and sisters,” Marcus continued, “here in Rome, we can’t sell all of our possessions and share all things in common, mostly because some of us are slaves and are owned by other people—some of you don’t even own yourselves, let alone possessions. And yet the poor among us are only one apartment fire away from homelessness and starvation. And every day, there are more and more of the hungry and homeless in Rome. Farmers who have lost their land to debt and to the farm consolidation of the corporations. Widows who were left with no inheritance because they could not have a registered marriage. Orphan infants rescued from the garbage piles. The laws protect the rich and powerful but restrict the poor.

  “Freedom is a luxury that the rich think they have earned, by which they mean they have inherited it. But they don’t know about real freedom. That’s the freedom we have in Iesua, the freedom that comes from forgiveness. Friends, we know that the Romans do not believe that all people are created in the image of God. They believe that some were created to rule, and the rest were created to be ruled and to be expendable, for the profit and entertainment of the nobility. They do not believe that all people are created equal, but we do believe that. Whether a person is rich or poor, free, freed, or slave, or man or woman—Iesua loves us all.”