Melissa Birchfield

Autumn 2019
Odai Johnson
Honors Rome

Staging the City: Final Project

Exploring the Presence of Protestantism in Rome

When I first arrived in Rome, I was not surprised by how strongly Catholicism saturated the
city. Rome was the heart of the Roman Catholic Church, after all. From the peddlers selling
rosaries on the street to the open churches in every piazza, to the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica
rising prominently above Vatican City, I recognized the Catholic influence everywhere I walked.
What I did not anticipate, however, was the question that arose in response to this
overwhelming presence: was there room for any other faith traditions in Rome? As a Reformed
Evangelical Christian, I instinctively began searching for traces of the Protestant Church in the
city. In class, we discussed Martin Luther’s 95 theses and the extravagant response of the
Counter Reformation, which whetted my curiosity to discover the presence of Protestants in
Rome during and after the Counter Reformation. Most of all, I wondered how their spatial
existence​—​their representation in the architecture, monuments, and artwork of Rome​—​reflected
their place within the city’s identity.
My journey to unravel this question began with the Counter Reformation. Since Protestant
Reformers emphasized the stripping away of ostentatious statues and rituals from the church in
favor of religious simplicity, it would have proved difficult to find such Protestant-inspired
remnants even if they had been permitted to exist in Catholic Rome. However, the Reformers
do appear immortalized in stone as part of sculptures in the Jesuit Churches. The Jesuits, also
known as the Society of Jesus, are a religious militant order founded as part of the Catholic
Church’s response to the Reformation. They were known to brutally persecute Protestant
Christians in the name of preserving their faith from heresy.
The Chiesa del G​esù is the ​so-called mother church of the Jesuits​. Built between 1568 and
1584, it boasts the first truly baroque facade​—​this style became popular during the Counter
Reformation’s focus on lavish material beauty. Carved into this facade, the statues of two Jesuit
priests are set in rectangular openings above the entrance. On the right, St. Francis Xavier is
portrayed standing atop a writhing man, while on the left St. Ignatius of Loyola stands saintlike
above a woman who is struggling to free herself. This man and woman are considered heretics
whom the faithful Jesuits are crushing. Inside the church, I found two more statuary scenes with
similar themes: “The Triumph of Faith over Idolatry” by Jean-Baptiste Theodon, which depicts a
woman​—​either Mary or the Roman Catholic Church​—r​ aising her arm victoriously over a
cowering king and peasant woman; and “Religion overthrowing Heresy and Hatred” by Pierre Le
Gros, in which Mary holds a flame and a cross over two men who are tumbling away from
beneath her feet. These men are heretical reformers, likely Martin Luther and Jan Hus. In this
scene, an angel can be seen ripping pages from their books, which include vernacular
translations of the Bible, as well as books whose spines read “MART LUTHER” and “JOANN
CALVIN,” the works of well-known reformers (Challies).
Just a few blocks away, the Jesuit Chiesa di Sant’Ignazio di Loyola contains a similarly
degrading portrayal of Protestants. I had seen a photograph of the statue within this church on
another traveler’s blog, but when I saw it in person, it ripped my breath away. Towering above
me, a giant St. Ignatius stood triumphant, one arm outstretched and the other holding a book
inscribed with “Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam” and “Constitutiones Societat Iesu.” This open book
serves as a stark contrast to the closed one at his feet, held by none other than Martin Luther.
Luther is depicted in the most intense agony, one finger clenched between his teeth and his
other hand clamped between the pages of his closed book (Challies). It shook me deeply to see
this publicly preserved denunciation of Protestant beliefs. This representation of Protestants as
heretics who were rightfully crushed by the Catholic Jesuits reflects the persecution and
powerlessness that Protestant Christians faced in Rome for centuries.
Because for years Protestant Christians still visited the eternal city as scholars, statesmen,
and tourists, provisions had to be made in the event that a Protestant died in Rome. They could
not be buried in the Catholic cemeteries or any other designated sacred ground. Hence the
Protestant Cemetery, located near the pyramid of the emperor Cestius, was set apart for the
purpose by the approval of Pope Clement XI in the 18th century. Technically inside the city
walls, this land allowed Protestants more of a permanent presence in Rome. However, they still
had to abide by the Catholic laws governing the tombstones and epitaphs that they erected in
the cemetery. For instance, they were forbidden to inscribe any phrases or verses alluding to an
after-life; according to the Roman Catholic Church, they were heretics beyond hope of a future
resurrection (Stanley-Price). Thus we see Protestants granted a place on the city’s map, while
their agency was still largely censured by Catholicism.
In the 19th century, the first Protestant congregations began to establish themselves in
Rome. This movement started in 1817, when Christian Josias Bunsen was appointed Prussian
minister to the Vatican. Two years later, a Protestant minister named Heinrich Eduard
Schmieder arrived to join Bunsen and held the first Protestant services in a chapel where
Bunsen was staying, namely the Palazzo Caffarelli at the Campidoglio, on the Capitoline Hill
(“The Evangelic-Lutheran Community”). Following in their footsteps, other Protestant churches
began to appear in Rome, including St. Paul’s Within-the-Walls Episcopal Church, All Saints’
Anglican Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church, and St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church of
Scotland. Some of these churches faced persecution during the pressures of the Catholic
Inquisition, when ministers would be threatened with arrest and imprisonment. The congregation
of St. Andrew’s, for example, worshipped clandestinely for several years and even had to move
outside the city walls until Rome was freed from Vatican control in 1871 (“About: Our History”).
With the growth of these churches, the Protestant presence strengthened within the fabric of the
city’s narrative, weaving themselves ever more tightly into the identity of Rome.
Another noteworthy landmark regarding Protestant history in Rome can be found in the
Campo de’Fiori: the bronze statue of Bruno in the center of the campo. Because I walked past
this statue every day on my way to class, I was excited to learn more about its story. The
heretical philosopher Giordano Bruno was burned at the stake in the Campo de’Fiori in 1600;
after many protests, his monument was inaugurated on June 9, 1889. While Pope Leo XIII
lamented its unveiling, Rome university students heralded this statue as a symbol of freedom of
thought and the boldness to challenge the Roman Catholic Church​—i​ ndeed, Bruno’s hooded
figure faces the Vatican in defiance. Around the base of the monument, large medallions
represent other philosophers and theologians who likewise were persecuted by the Catholic
Church. These faces include Martin Luther, John Wycliffe, and Jan Hus, all of whom were
notable Reformers (Challies). Protested so long ago, their almost unnoticeable presence in the
Campo de’Fiori today nevertheless speaks volumes about their place in the city’s narrative. The
fact that they are commemorated in a public space for challenging Catholic authority gives them
a powerful right to belong in Rome.
My last stop was the Piazza Martin Lutero, a hilltop piazza near the Domus Aurea. It was
inaugurated in commemoration of the 500th anniversary of Luther’s trip to Rome around 1510,
when his experience in the Augustinian Order of the Roman Catholic Church prompted him to
question the doctrine and practices of Catholicism. Thanks to the impetus of the Seventh-Day
Adventists and other Protestant leaders in Italy, the piazza was inaugurated on September 16,
2015 with​—s​ urprisingly​—t​ he backing of the Holy See, which operates as the Roman Catholic
Church’s sovereign central government (McChesney). When I visited this piazza almost exactly
four years after its inauguration, I was admittedly a bit disappointed by the scene: a dry fountain
in a mostly deserted area surrounded by a construction fence. However, the very presence of a
sign in memory of Martin Luther, “teologo tedesco de la Riforma,” illustrates the monumental
changes in Protestantism’s place in Rome over the course of these 500 years. From being
persecuted and trampled as a heretic by St. Ignatius, Luther now has the right to officially exist
in the heart of the city. He, and the Reformation for which he stands, have a place in the
collective memory of Rome​—a
​ place on the physical map gives Protestants permission to
belong in the city’s narrative.
As Pope Francis remarked at the inauguration of the Piazza Martin Lutero, “Luther’s
intention was to renew the church, not to divide her” (Keilo). This reveals the drastic change in
the Catholic church’s perception of Luther and its relationship to Protestantism over time. From
degradation to dignity, censorship to commonality, and persecution to peace, Protestant
Christians have gradually gained respect in the eternal city. It was fascinating to uncover this
narrative as reflected in the architecture, monuments, and public spaces of Rome, and I left the
city thankful for a more nuanced understanding of the interactions between Catholicism and
Protestantism. Hopefully I will be able to return one day to investigate even further the vast
historical troves that Rome has to offer!

References:

“About: Our History.” St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church of Scotland, 2019. Accessed September
10, 2019.
Challies, Tim. “The Mischievous Protestant’s Guide to Catholic Rome.” ​Challies.com​, June 9,
2017. Accessed September 10, 2019.
Keilo, Jacques. “Martin Luther in Rome: Piazza Martin Lutero in the Eternal Centre.” Centrici,
December 12, 2017. Accessed September 10, 2019.
McChesney, Andrew. “At Adventist Request, Rome Will Name Square after Martin Luther.”
Adventist Review,​ August 31, 2015. Accessed September 10, 2019.
Stanley-Price, Nicholas. ​The Non-Catholic Cemetery in Rome: Its History, Its People, and Its
Survival for 300 Years​. The Non-Catholic Cemetery in Rome, 2014. Print.
“The Evangelic-Lutheran Community in Rome.” ​Chiesa Luterana,​ 2019. Accessed September
10, 2019.