Nov. 9th – Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica (2025)

In 193, the first year of his reign as Roman Emperor, Septimius Severus ordered construction of a fort on one of Rome’s seven hills, the Caelian Hill, for the purpose of housing the cavalry guard. It remained as such for almost 120 years, until Emperor Constantine I, believed it no longer useful and ordered its destruction.

On an adjacent parcel of land sat a palace, owned by a family named Lateran. Over time, their land and the palace upon it were entrusted to this same Roman emperor, Constantine.

At about this same time, things changed greatly for the Christians of the Roman Empire. It was the year 313 that an agreement was established—we commonly call it the Edict of Milan—which allowed the Christians to live peaceably and publicly, in accord with their religion.

Near the Lateran Palace, Constantine had a large basilica built, to serve as the Cathedral for the Bishop of Rome and the palace was to be his residence. The cathedral was dedicated by Pope Sylvester I on November 9, 324. Over the centuries it had been formally dedicated no less than three times—to Christ the Savior; to John the Baptist; and to John the Evangelist and thus it formally bears the name of Archbasilica of the Most Holy Saviour and of Sts. John Baptist and John Evangelist in the Lateran.

Through the centuries it endured two major earthquakes (443, 896) and attacks from barbarian armies (455, 700s), and remained the residence of our popes until 1309. At that time, it had recently suffered fire damage, and Pope Clement V decided to move his residence to Avignon.

Roughly 70 years later, when the papacy returned to Rome, a new residence was eventually built near the site of St. Peter’s martyrdom and burial, on Vatican Hill. But the basilica, across town on the Caelian Hill, that sat atop the ruins of Septimius Severus’ fort remained, despite being in disrepair.

A new basilica was constructed and commissioned in 1646 and stands there today. Along the roofline of its front façade, one sees the great towering statues across the roofline, including Jesus, John the Baptist, and John the Evangelist. Inside, beneath the main altar are pieces of a table that tradition tells us St. Peter used to celebrate the Eucharist.

The Basilica of St. John Lateran, as we commonly call it, remains after centuries of social change and waves of destructive forces, from both within the Church and from without. It’s one of four major basilicas of Rome, along with St. Peter’s, St. Mary Major, St. Paul Outside the Walls. In a city of seemingly endless number of stunning churches, one after another, St. John Lateran stands out among a few because of its history, but also because of its unique grandeur and beauty. And to be clear, in whatever way churches are big and beautiful, they are foremost as a statement about our God: to show the world that God is strength and beauty.

But St. John Lateran stands out also because, although the papal residence moved to another part of Rome, it is still the cathedral church of the Bishop of Rome. In the same way our ancestors in faith celebrate each year the rededication of the Temple in Jerusalem that followed the Maccabean revolt (2 Macc 10), we celebrate each year the dedication of not so much a mere building, but instead the meaning it bears for the whole Church.

But I also consider this building in which we now find ourselves. I think of all the people who first dreamed of building this church on this property and all that they hoped would come from it. This building came to life and continues to be alive. The faith we bring to the Mass mingles with the faith of those who have worshiped here through the years.

Yes, buildings are important—all throughout the Scriptures places are recognized as sacred. And as Winston Churchill once said, “We shape our buildings, then our buildings shape our lives.” But our Christian faith tells us that in some ways these places lose their sacredness without our engagement of God in this place.

This building continues to live according to its mission and purpose, only to the extent that you and I make a temple within ourselves, seeking to fulfill our baptismal promises, to make a home for our God within us. So I ask: What work have you put into inspecting the condition of the temple that is you? How have you sought to restore it or even renovate it? In what way have you asked our Lord to come and make His home in you? This community and all that we do within this parish church is more effective—and rendered more beautiful—only to the extent you desire to become the Temple God dreamed of…the Temple he designed and constructed at your Baptism.