A Homily of St Gregory the Great Carved in Stone

Today is the feast of two Roman Saints named Nereus and Achilleus. An inscription placed over their burial place by Pope St Damasus I (366-84) tells us that they were soldiers who were forced to participate in the persecution of Christians, but threw away their weapons and armor, and were in turn martyred for the Faith. There can be no doubt of the authenticity of their martyrdom, or that their feast is very ancient, but the date of their death is uncertain, and the various details later added to their story are considered legendary. In the pre-Tridentine Roman Divine Office, their Matins lessons amount to barely over a hundred words, which are restated with similar brevity in the reformed version of St Pius V. Their feast was kept at the lowest rank, and shared with another Roman martyr who died on the same day, St Pancratius.

Pope St Gregory the Great venerating a miraculous image of the Virgin and Child, surrounded by Ss Papias and Maurus (left), and Nereus, Achilleus and Domitilla (right); 1606-7, by Peter Paul Rubens. This painting was commissioned for the Chiesa Nuova, the church of the Roman Oratory, which dedicated to both the Virgin Mary and St Gregory; parts of the relics of the five Saints depicted in it are in the high altar.

They were buried in part of the Christian cemetery complex now known as the Catacomb of Domitilla, about 1½ miles from the Aurelian Walls down the via Ardeatina; Pope Damasus then built a small basilica on the grounds over this cemetery. More than two hundred years later, Pope St Gregory the Great preached in this church on the martyrs’ feast day. However, in later centuries, when the empire had fallen apart, and the countryside around Rome was no longer safe for pilgrims to traverse, the relics of nearly all the Saints who had originally been buried in the various catacombs were brought into the city, and placed in churches. The basilicas over the cemeteries were then abandoned and mostly fell into ruin, in some cases, so completely that their exact location is no longer identifiable.

The interior of the modern reconstructed basilica of Ss Nereus and Achilleus, at the catacomb of Domitilla. (Image from Wikimedia Commons by Dennis G. Jarvis, CC BY 2.0)

It is not certain when Nereus and Achilleus were brought into Rome. Around 800 AD, Pope St Leo III built or rebuilt a church in their honor next to the baths of Caracalla, and it is possible that this was done specifically to accommodate the translation of their relics. But one way or another, four centuries later, they were brought to the church of St Hadrian in the Roman Forum.

When Pope Clement VIII elevated the great Church historian Cesare Baronio, a priest of the Roman Oratory and close friend of its founder, St Philip Neri, to the rank of cardinal in 1596, he gave him the church of Ss Nereus and Achilleus as his title. Baronio immediately set about giving the building a much-needed top-to-bottom restoration. The following year, the Saints’ relics were discovered at St Hadrian, and solemnly translated to their own church on the day before their feast.

Image from Wikimedia Commons by RealRome, CC BY 4.0 

Image from Wikimedia Commons by LivioAndronico2013, CC BY-SA 4.0

At the time, it was mistakenly believed that this was the church in which St Gregory had preached the aforementioned homily, and the cardinal therefore had the full text of it carved onto the episcopal throne in the apse, where it can still be seen today. The feast itself was raised to the rank of semidouble, and excerpts of the same homily, on the Gospel of the healing of the prince’s son (John 4, 46-53) were added to the breviary. (Another part of the same homily is read on the 20th Sunday after Pentecost.)

Image from Wikimedia Commons by Lalupa, CC BY-SA 3.0 

Here is the conclusion, starting from where St Gregory mentions the Saints for the first time. If he seems very pessimistic about the state of the world, one must remember that Rome was in a terrible condition after the Gothic wars of the sixth century, and he would have walked through roughly two miles of ruins to get to the place where he preached it. Assuming he took the shortest route from the Lateran, where the popes lived at the time, he would have passed by at least one broken aqueduct, an abandoned bath complex, and a good many large but long-empty houses.

“Behold, this world which is loved flees away. These saints at whose grave we stand trampled the flourishing world with contempt. They had long life, continual health, material riches, many children, tranquility in long-lasting peace, and yet, though it flourishing in itself, this world had already withered in their hearts. Behold, now this world is withered in itself, and still, it flourishes in our hearts. Everywhere is death, everywhere mourning, everywhere desolation; on all sides we are struck, on all sides we are filled with bitterness. And yet, in the blindness of our mind, we love the very bitterness of the tasted fleshly desire; we pursue what flees, we cling to what falls, and since we cannot hold onto that which falls, we fall with what we hold onto. Once, the world captivated us for itself with its delight; now it is now full of such misfortunes that already it sends us back to God.

Consider, therefore, that what happens in time does not count, for the end of all temporal things shows how meaningless is that which can pass away. The collapse of things shows us that something which passes away was almost nothing, even when it seemed to stand firm. Dearest brothers, think of these things with careful consideration; fix your hearts in the love of eternity, so that, while you disdain to reach the heights of earth, you may come to that glory which you hold by faith, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is God, and lives and reigns with the Father in unity of the Holy Spirit, through all the ages of ages. Amen.”

The ruins of the baths of Caracalla in Rome, depicted in an engraving by the Swiss artist Louis Duclos (1748-1810), ca. 1780. In St Gregory’s time, the complex was already abandoned, but of course nowhere near so badly ruined.