Romanus

Constantine’s conversion ushered in an era of peace for the Church and planted the first seeds of Christendom. The imperial treasury was opened for the building of churches—large ones—testimony of the gratitude of the emperor to the God of the Christians. In Rome itself he ordered the construction of imposing basilicas over the tombs of the martyrs, and later, having moved his capital to the East, in the Holy Land he restored the places most sacred to Christians, places that pagan emperors had tried to obliterate—the grotto of Bethlehem, Golgotha, the Sepulcher, the Mount of Olives. . . Successive Christian emperors and bishops and monks continued this work, erecting basilicas, shrines and memorials on almost every place mentioned in the gospels.

With this era of peace upon them, with a restored confidence, Christians renewed their purpose of following in the footsteps of Our Lord by reproducing His dispositions in their souls. But human nature being what it is, they were also eager to follow Him in a more material way, up and down the roads He trod during His earthly life and thus increase, in a sensible way, their intimacy with Christ: to be a bit closer to Him by sitting at Jacob’s well under the midday sun, by perhaps sipping wine at Cana of Galilee, or walking along the shores of the lake of Genesareth, or kneeling on the rock of Golgotha, or bathing with their tears the slab of the Tomb, or joyously climbing the mount of the Ascension. . .

Most certainly, during the previous centuries, pilgrims had made their way to the Holy Land, but they left barely a testimony of their passage. Now, the Constantinian era opened the floodgates of pilgrimages and written memoirs. . .

One of the earliest surviving testimonies of such pilgrimages is an itinerarium ad loca sancta, “a journey to the holy places,” a manuscript fortuitously found in 1884 in a dusty Italian archive. It is composed of the letters sent back home to her dominae et sorores, “ladies and sisters,” by an anonymous woman who made a three-year pilgrimage from 381 to 384 through modern-day Egypt, Israel, Palestine, and Syria. A letter from Valerius, a 7th-century Spanish monk, praising the spirituality of a nun who had many years earlier written about her extensive pilgrimage to the eastern part of the Roman Empire, gave her name: Egeria.

“The Lady Egeria”

From the 3rd and 4th centuries, there were women who consecrated their lives to God, dedicated to prayer and good works and living in community, while in some cases still retaining their patrimony and a certain degree of freedom.

From her narrative, we discern that Egeria was most probably such a consecrated woman. Her long explanations on liturgical and catechetical matters and frequent conversations with clerics point more to the interests of a religious than of a laywoman. But she still retained considerable freedom of movement and abundance of resources at her disposal.

Egeria was certainly a courageous, devout and enterprising woman, not deterred by distance, deserts or robbers, seeking to pray at the holy places—all the while writing about her experiences to her “sisters,” “my ladies and light of my heart,” back home. Scholars deduce that she came from Hispania, Spain (Galicia, most precisely), not only because of her references to the ocean “at the ends of the earth,” but also because her Latin already shows a shift towards what will become the Spanish language.

She must have been of a noble family, having the means to embark on such an expensive trip and being constantly accompanied by a retinue of personal attendants, clerics and monks. Bishops received her with signal honors and offered themselves as guides during her pious visits. In dangerous places along her route, the commanders of Roman forts put military escorts at her disposal. All this suggests that she may have had connections in the imperial court and was even possibly the leader of what St. Jerome, in one of his bad moods, bitterly described as a wealthy and ostentatious travel party heading to the East at about that time.

She was a Latin speaker, but with knowledge of Greek. She had a degree of culture and was comfortably familiar with the sacred Scriptures, which she often mentioned and related to the places she visited.

She was certainly observant, noting every detail, and even acknowledged herself to be satis curiosa, “very curious,” eager to see everything, even at the cost of added efforts. So that her “sisters” could understand her descriptions, she made comparisons with places in Western Europe they would have seen or heard about—at the Red Sea, she pointed out that its waters were as clear and cold as the ocean; later, she mentioned that the Euphrates river ran as strong and fast as the Rhone in France. . .

Carpentum replica

The Journey

As the manuscript we possess is incomplete, the first part of her narrative is missing—her journey from Spain to Jerusalem and her first visits to the Palestinian sites mentioned in the gospels. But from what we know of travel in those times, the usual route from Spain to the East was to connect with the Via Domitia through southern France and northern Italy; then to embark at an Adriatic port to Constantinople, and continue again by land through Asia Minor (modern Turkey) until reaching Jerusalem.

In our days it is difficult to imagine the harshness and difficulty of the pilgrimage that Egeria made in Roman times—long, in exhausting stages covered on wagons or horseback, and often on foot. The Roman road network was extensive and reliable, but travel by road was slow and exhausting—the carpentum, a wagon pulled by many horses, could travel only about 10-15 miles per day, and on horseback a richly appointed tour could make 30-40 miles a day. . .

Egeria made four great excursions in the Holy Land, each ending with a return to Jerusalem. The manuscript we have begins half-way through the second trip: after having visited monastic Egypt, she returned from the Red Sea and climbed Mt. Sinai. The third trip took her to Mt. Nebo, from where she contemplated the Promised Land, as Moses did. The fourth was to Israel, visiting the places blessed by the presence of Elias, Job and the Baptist. The manuscript ends when, after having arrived at the eastern edge of the empire and unable to go beyond, into Persian territory, she returned to Constantinople and considered whether to push back into Asia Minor or to return home. . .

A reconstruction of the Constantinian basilica.

Holy Week in Jerusalem

A traditional Catholic’s attention will be attracted by Egeria’s description of the ceremonies of Holy Week as celebrated in Jerusalem, taking comfort in knowing that we substantially celebrate them as they were in the earliest times, while humbly acknowledging that we fall short of the devotion, commitment and sheer stamina of our ancestors in the faith. . .

On Palm Sunday, everybody went up to the Eleona, the church built by Constantine on the Mount of Olives, where hymns were sung and there were readings from Scripture.

As the eleventh hour draws near, that particular passage from Scripture is read in which the children bearing palms and branches came forth to meet the Lord, saying: “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” The bishop and all the people rise immediately, and then everyone walks down from the top of the Mount of Olives, with the people preceding the bishop and responding continually with “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord” to the hymns and antiphons. All the children who are present here bear branches, some carrying palms, others, olive branches.

On Wednesday, after the night vigil at the Martyrium, the great basilica built by Constantine, the bishop went to the Sepulcher. There:

A priest takes up the Gospel and reads that passage where Judas Iscariot went to the Jews to set the price they would pay him to betray the Lord. While this passage is being read, there is such moaning and groaning from among the people that no one can help being moved to tears in that moment.

On Thursday, after the Mass, everybody hurried home to eat, and immediately after went back to the Mount of Olives, where they continued praying until daybreak. Later:

Singing hymns, they come to Gethsemani very slowly on account of the great multitude of people, who are fatigued by vigils and exhausted by the daily fasts, and because of the rather high mountain they have to descend.

At Gethsemani, the passage of the Gospel narrating the arrest of Our Lord was read.

During the reading of this passage there is such moaning and groaning with weeping from all the people that their moaning can be heard practically as far as the city. And from that hour everyone goes back on foot to the city singing hymns. . .

Having returned to the church of the Holy Sepulcher, the bishop addressed the people, comforting them, admonishing them not to grow weary, but to have hope in God who will bestow great graces on them for their efforts.

On Friday, all proceeded to the adoration of the Cross, much as we do today (but perhaps without the devotional excess that Egeria mentions):

The bishop holds the sacred wood of the cross with his hands, while the deacons keep watch over it. There is a reason why it is guarded in this manner. It is the practice here for all the people to come forth one by one, the faithful as well as the catechumens, to bow down before the table, kiss the holy wood, and then move on. It is said that someone (I do not know when) took a bite and stole a piece of the holy cross. Therefore, it is now guarded by the deacons standing around, lest there be anyone who would dare come and do that again. . .

It was followed by a 3-hour-long office of readings.

First, whichever Psalms speak of the Passion are read. Next, there are readings from the apostles, wherever they speak of the Passion of the Lord. Next, the texts of the Passion from the Gospels are read. Then there are readings from the prophets, where they said that the Lord would suffer; and then they read from the gospels, where He foretells the Passion. And so, passages from Scripture are continuously read, to show the people that whatever the prophets had said would come to pass concerning the Passion of the Lord can be shown, both through the gospels and the writings of the apostles, to have taken place. And so, during those three hours, all the people are taught that nothing happened which was not first prophesied, and that nothing was prophesied which was not completely fulfilled. At each reading and at every prayer, it is astonishing how much emotion and groaning there is from all the people. There is no one, young or old, who on this day does not sob more than can be imagined for the whole three hours, because the Lord suffered all this for us.

On Saturday, there were no services during the day, for preparation was made for the Easter Vigil in the great basilica.

The Easter vigil is observed here exactly as we observe it at home. Only one thing is done more elaborately here. After the neophytes have been baptized and dressed as soon as they came forth from the baptismal font, they are led first of all to the Anastasis with the bishop; a hymn is sung, and he prays for them. Then he returns with them to the major church. After the vigil service has been celebrated in the major church, everyone comes to the Anastasis singing hymns. There, once again, the text of the Gospel of the Resurrection is read and the bishop offers the sacrifice. However, for the sake of the people, everything is done rapidly, lest they be delayed too long. And so the people are dismissed.

Frederic Edwin Church, Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives.

Farewell. . .

Finally tired and perhaps ill, Egeria ended her letters in Constantinople.

So, beloved ladies, light of my heart, my present plan is, in the name of Christ our God, to travel to Asia, since I want to make a pilgrimage to Ephesus and the martyrium of the holy and blessed Apostle John. If after that I am still alive, I will either tell you about them face to face, if God so wills, or at any rate write to you about them if my plans change. In any case, ladies, light of my heart, whether I am “in the body” or “out of the body,” please do not forget me.

We may embark on similar journeys to holy places, but perhaps a bit closer to home. Still, let us remember the admonition of St. Gregory of Nyssa, putting visits to such places in their proper perspective:

A change of place does not bring one closer to God, but there where you are, God will come toward you, if the condition of your soul is such that the Lord can there reside and move around. But if you have the interior man full of evil thoughts, even if you are on Golgotha, even if you are on the Mount of Olives, even if you are in the tomb of the Anastasis, you are as far from receiving Christ in you as those who have not even begun to confess Him. . .