In Rome, the past is all around you. Sometimes it’s visible ruins, crumbling remnants of previous lives, some impressive, some humble, all empty. Other times it’s hidden beneath your feet, unseen but surprisingly intact. And sometimes it’s incorporated into the present, precious stones and metals salvaged, reworked, and repurposed into something new.
Take the Basilica of San Clemente, for instance. You have to walk down a flight of stairs to reach the entrance to the church and courtyard because streetlevel Rome is much higher today. The present basilica dates from the 12th century, but her marble chancel is from an earlier 6th century church. Descend one level and you enter a 4th century church, complete with medieval frescoes. Descend one level further and you’re walking down a 1st century Roman street, wandering into buildings and peeking into a cult temple.
Only thirty minutes to traverse 2000 years.
In some ways, we’re all a little like Rome. The past is never really past. We might press on, but it lingers in ways visible and invisible. It’s the foundation we build on. Some parts we carry forward, incorporating them into our present in new and different ways, and some are better left in the dust.
The past isn’t a place you want to get stuck. I don’t want to be 2 levels below the street when the fathers turn off the lights and shut the door for the night. But I also don’t want to leave the good stuff hidden. I want the precious parts to stay with me, to be a part of my today and a touchstone for my tomorrow.
In many places, the structure of ancient Rome holds up present day Rome, but it’s not as though you spend much time thinking about it. People cross piazzas, lounge in parks, go in and out of buildings without giving a single thought to what might be beneath them. My thoughts are mostly full of my shopping list, the conversation I want to have with my friend, what I’m going to make for dinner. I imagine it was the same for the people who passed this way before me.
The buildings were abandoned because they didn’t serve a purpose for the living anymore. Similarly, in the here and now, the past is a foundation, a backdrop to life happening in the present, but we live best with a heart oriented towards the future, to the time when all things will be made new. When the perishable, and all its accompanying decay, is set aside for that which will not wear out, fall down, or pass away.
One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. - Philippians 3:13-14