Discovering the Significance of San Marco in Lent

Statio ad St Marcum

Pour forth in Thy mercy, we beseech Thee, O Lord, thy grace into our hearts, that as we abstain from carnal food, may we also restrain our senses from harmful excesses. Through our Lord…

The Station today is held at the church of San Marco Evangelista al Campidoglio built in the fourth century in honour of the Evangelist by the holy Pope St Mark, whose relics are preserved there. The basilica stands near the Capitoline Hill, beside what was once the political centre of the ancient city. Here the Church planted one of her earliest Roman parishes in the very shadow of imperial authority, quietly proclaiming another kingdom—the Kingdom of Christ.

Before the solemn procession reached the station church, the faithful gathered at the Collecta of St Adrian. This church, dedicated by Pope Honorius I (625–638) to the martyr of Nicomedia, was associated with the strong Byzantine presence in Rome during the early Middle Ages. The gathering there reminds us that the Roman Church has always drawn together Christians from East and West, a unity that is echoed again today in the liturgical readings.

The stational basilica itself, originally known as the Basilica de Pallacine, was erected by Pope Mark between 337 and 340 and later dedicated to St Mark the Evangelist. It remains the only church in Rome specifically devoted to the Evangelist who was the faithful interpreter of St Peter and the companion of St Paul. Ancient tradition holds that Mark composed his Gospel in Rome after the death of St Peter, writing down the apostle’s preaching at the request of the Roman faithful who wished to preserve his testimony.

According to that same tradition, the Evangelist is identified with John Mark, mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles. He was the son of a woman named Mary of Jerusalem, whose house served as a meeting place for the early Christians. He was also the cousin of St Barnabas, helped evangelise Cyprus, and later rejoined St Paul in Rome. The early writer Papias, around the year 140, described him as the “interpreter of Peter,” faithfully recording the apostle’s teaching. Later he travelled to Alexandria, where he became its first bishop and eventually suffered martyrdom, perhaps during the reign of Trajan (98–117).

In 829, Venetian merchants carried his relics from Alexandria to Venice, where the Evangelist became the city’s patron and the winged lion its emblem. Yet Rome still preserves this ancient basilica dedicated to him. The church later came to be associated not only with the Evangelist but also with Pope St Mark, who founded it.

Built over an earlier oratory, the basilica became known as the titulus Marci, one of the original twenty-five parish churches of Rome. Though restored several times through the centuries, it still preserves the essential character of the early Roman basilica: a wide nave supported by ancient columns and a sanctuary that draws the eye toward the apse.

The imposing travertine portico and loggia that precede the church were constructed in 1465 by Pope Paul II, who used stone taken from the Colosseum when he incorporated the church into his adjoining residence, the Palazzo Venezia. The upper storey of the façade served as his loggia of benediction, from which he addressed the people of Rome.

Inside, the basilica reveals a striking richness. The columns are veneered in Sicilian jasper, and above them rises a magnificent coffered ceiling from the fifteenth century attributed to Giuliano dei Dolci, architect associated with the Sistine Chapel. It may be the oldest surviving coffered ceiling in Rome, rivalled only by that of St Mary Major.

But the true heart of the church lies in the ninth-century apse mosaic. There Christ stands in majesty, giving a blessing in the Greek manner, surrounded by saints. Among them appear St Agnes, St Agapitus, Pope St Mark, St Felicissimus, and St Mark the Evangelist himself. At the far end stands Pope Gregory IV (827–844) presenting the restored church to Christ after rebuilding it following a devastating flood. This mosaic is historically remarkable: it was the last great mosaic executed in Rome for nearly three centuries, marking the close of a long artistic tradition.

Below the sanctuary lies the crypt of Gregory IV, where numerous relics are preserved. Among them are relics of Sts Abdon and Sennen, Persian martyrs believed to have suffered in the Colosseum, and relics associated with the Holy Innocents slain by Herod. The basilica also contains the body of Pope St Mark himself.

The church later became the national church of the Venetians in Rome, and among those who held its title in modern times was Albino Luciani, Patriarch of Venice, who would briefly become Pope John Paul I.

All of this history forms the setting for the liturgy celebrated here today. The readings recall the story of Naaman the Syrian, who, though accustomed to the great rivers of Damascus, was healed of his leprosy only when he humbled himself and washed in the humble waters of the Jordan. For the catechumens preparing for baptism, this story had a clear meaning. To be cleansed from the leprosy of unbelief and original sin they must abandon the attractions of their former worldly life—the “rivers of Damascus”—and descend humbly into the saving waters of holy baptism.

The choice of this basilica for the station makes the lesson even clearer. St Mark, the disciple of the apostles, faithfully transmitted the preaching of Peter to the Church. The Gospel proclaimed in Rome was not the product of human wisdom or worldly power; it was the humble testimony of those who had encountered Christ and were willing to bear witness to Him.

Thus the Lenten pilgrim who stands in this ancient basilica is surrounded by reminders of apostolic faith and conversion. Outside lies the political heart of Rome, once the centre of an empire that ruled the world. Inside stands the quiet witness of the Gospel, proclaimed by the Evangelist whose words have outlived every empire.

The message for Lent is unmistakable. The healing of Naaman reminds us that salvation does not come through worldly greatness, but through humility and obedience. Like the Syrian general, we must be willing to abandon our pride and wash in the humble waters that God has chosen.

Here, beneath the golden ceiling and before the ancient mosaic of Christ in glory, the pilgrim is reminded that the true kingdom is not the one built by power or prestige. The Kingdom of God grows quietly—through repentance, through faith, and through the humble acceptance of the grace offered by Christ.

Have pity, Lord, and come to our rescue, so that with Thee for our protector and redeemer we may earn deliverance and safety from the perils that threaten us by reason of our sins: through Our Lord…