Colosseum and Cenotaph

by Ruth Gee.

At the end of October I visited Rome with my daughter, as she had never been to the city we did much as possible in the few days we were there. On the final day of our visit we joined a guided tour of the Forum and the Colosseum. The guide introduced himself as an archaeologist who had worked for ten years on the Palatine Hill. He was clearly knowledgeable about the history and archaeology of the site. Inside the Colosseum he described in some detail the pageant and brutality of the events that had taken place, designed to glorify individuals, to pull people together in times of disagreement, or to make a political point. As the three-hour tour was ending he drew our attention to the cross which stands at the site of the emperor’s box. He then told the group about the annual Via Crucis or Way of the Cross ceremony, traditionally led by the Pope on Good Friday, when thousands gather with lighted candles outside the Colosseum and prayers are said at four stations of the cross. Our guide described this as Christians praying to their God and forgetting or covering up the brutal history of the place. He did not approve and it seemed that many in the group agreed with him.

As I listened to our guide I wanted to say that, far from wiping out the memory of brutality and suffering, Good Friday is the time when we recognise that Christ stands among those who suffer, stands against injustice and offers the hope of transformation. This year, at each of the four stations, accounts of suffering of migrants and refugees from war, civil warfare or hunger, were read aloud. The theme of the procession was “voices of peace in a time of war.”

Sadly, the Christian message was not communicated to at least one person because it was concealed by ceremony and symbolism that was not understood. While Christians were remembering the transformational and restorative love of God in Christ, our guide felt that the symbolism of the Colosseum as a place of violence and death was being forgotten and devalued.

A few weeks later, I stood in the cold and rain alongside my colleague from the Church in Wales and civic representatives. We were at the war memorial in the centre of the town where we led prayers, kept silence together and sang hymns. I reflected that my shivering in the rain and cold was little in comparison with those fleeing in terror from bombarded homes, or those who had spent months in the horror of the trenches.

Wreaths were laid by representatives from the armed forces and many community organisations. We spoke of the love of God in Christ, prayed for all those affected by war and remembered the conflicts of today as well as those of the past.

One of the standard bearers from the forces was a chaplain, her presence embodied something of what it means to stand alongside those who experience extreme conflict and trauma. Through readings, prayers and hymns we were trying to share the truth that Christ stands among those who suffer, stands against injustice and offers the hope of transformation.

Among Methodists and others there is a range of differing views about the commemorations that take place on Remembrance Sunday. For some in this range of views they are occasions that celebrate or even glorify war and warriors; for some they are an opportunity to remember lives lost, to lament and to commit to working for peace. The symbolism of poppies, processions, bands and marches is powerful and evokes a variety of responses and memories.

In the report to the 2023 Methodist Conference, “A Justice-seeking Church: the report of the Walking with Micah project” we are reminded of the rootedness in our tradition of the commitment to seeking justice. We are also reminded that this commitment to justice and to peace is a gospel imperative, shaping all our relationships, because we know and experience a God who is just.[1]

As I reflect on my recent experiences in Rome and in North Wales alongside our commitment to be a justice seeking church, proclaiming the good news and working for justice and peace, I am left with (at least) two questions:

  • How might we better communicate the gospel message of the transforming love of God in Christ and of commitment to justice and peace, when we participate in public events?
  • How can we ensure that the symbols we use are contextually appropriate?

[1] A Justice-seeking Church: the report of the Walking with Micah project, 2023 para 6

4 thoughts on “Colosseum and Cenotaph”

  1. Thank you Ruth – a really helpful and thought provoking message. I always find leading acts of worship for Remembrance challenging – not least because of the range of expectations and emotions around from many individuals.

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  2. Your ‘I wanted to say’ took me back to an occasion in my youth, when a Local Preacher leaned heavily on the pulpit and addressed some children who were talking and therefore not listening to him. ‘God won’t love you if you’re naughty!’ he thundered, and I shrank in my seat.

    ‘But that’s the POINT’ I wanted to say to him. ‘As a preacher you must know that God loves you, full stop.’

    I can still remember the guilt I felt then, and afterwards, because I, a very young woman, had not stood up and challenged this elderly man (several feet above me in the pulpit) to retract his statement. I still regret that I didn’t put that ‘I wanted to say’ into action.

    Thank you for some interesting questions.

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  3. How might we better communicate the gospel message of the transforming love of God in Christ and of commitment to justice and peace, when we participate in public events? For me, and possibly for the Colosseum guide, the Christian Church with its ceremony and symbolism can come over as appropriating the act of Remembrance with a Gospel message of power and glory. Furthermore, I often wonder if people of other Faiths see these acts as an opportunity to proselytise. I visited the National Arboretum at Alrewas recently and was struck by the inclusiveness, where even the 306 men who were shot at dawn for desertion are commemorated. I also noticed there was no reference to religion, just remembrance of those who died in warfare, and no reference to power and glory because the events remembered were anything but powerful and glorious.
    I agree with Josie and feel I should be very careful about what I want to say.

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  4. At the Remembrance Parade i overheard this interesting comment when the Bishop led prayers by saying “we are hear to worship God” people around me were making statements like, ” I’m not here to worship God. I dont believe in God. Im here to remember and support those who are serving today offering their lives for others peace. Im here to remember my granda”. They were very frustrated by the prayers but sang the hymns. Not sure what it showed apart from the church trying to impose on other peoples experiences.

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