By Emma Malinasky
During our class trip to Assisi, our beloved Giampiero led us into the Cattedrale di San Rufino. As we entered the church with our necks bent upward to admire its magnificent architecture and art, Giampiero, naturally, with his resounding “allora,” corrected the object of our awe to where it ought to be directed: a Roman wall. Beneath our feet, long glass panels lined the nave, revealing the remains of a Roman wall upon which the church was built. So, as you are sitting in the pews and praying to the Catholic god and Saint Rufino, obviously you’ll also want to see the Roman walls that lie beneath you, right?
Um, what? The dichotomy between Catholic churches and pagan history have always struck me as things that should not coexist in the same building. I experienced this same bewilderment when we visited the Basilica di Santa Maria sopra Minerva. Before you enter the church, you must first go back in time as you walk up immense steps beneath the shadow of six perfectly preserved Corinthian columns. Once you’ve climbed the steps, you are forcefully hurled back into the present as you walk through the doors and find, to disappointment, not a perfectly preserved cella, but an ornately decorated Catholic church.
What strikes me about these Assisi churches is that they both simultaneously cover and reveal pagan remains, which is clearly an intentional decision. So… why? Is the display of these pagan remains threatening? Or is this perhaps a way of showing Christianity’s victory and dominance? Or am I giving the Catholic church too much credit, when in reality it was just cheaper?
The San Rufino we see today results from a repeated cycle of construction and destruction. The erection of the pagan sanctuary below has been dated to the late 4th to early 3rd century BC (Museo Diocesano e Cripta di San Rufino). We know of the presence of a female cult to the Umbrian divinity Arenta or Cupra Mater from finds discovered during the site’s excavation (Museo Diocesano e Cripta di San Rufino). Further evidence of the cult comes from a dedicatory inscription found on an altar, dating to the end of the 2nd century BC (plaque at the Museo Diocesano e Cripta di San Rufino). The inscription reads: “Arentei O […] / aso sacr […],” which translates to “sacred altar to Arenta” (Boldrighini 2020, 39).
Arenta or Cupra is the Umbrian-Picenian goddess likened to Roman Venus. In 89 BC, Asisium became a Roman municipality, making the official language Latin, thereby changing the goddess’s name from the Umbrain-Picenian Cupra Mater to the Latin translation Bona Mater (Ross 2014, 61).
At the time of the burial of the bishop San Rufino (early 3rd c. AD), the patron saint of Assisi, the Bona Mater was in a state of complete abandonment (Museo Diocesano e Cripta di San Rufino). So, in the 8th century AD, a small basilica dedicated to San Rufino was built atop these ruins. In the 11th century, the basilica was transformed into a magna ecclesia. Finally, in 1140, the magna ecclesia was destroyed and rebuilt into the building we see today (Museo Diocesano e Cripta di San Rufino).
With the history of San Rufino in mind, let us now look at Santa Maria sopra Minerva. Unlike San Rufino, the entirety of the original temple was not destroyed—its façade is virtually untouched. The temple was built in the 1st century BC under the command of the city’s two quattuorviri (MacMahon 2006, 429). Excavations beneath the modern piazza revealed extensive remains of a large colonnaded terrace that was in front of the temple (Ross 2014, 62).
Although the modern church is “on top of Minerva,” there is no concrete evidence as to whom this temple was dedicated. In 1539, the temple’s cella was destroyed during the church’s construction (MacMahon 2006, 429). The only remains of the sanctuary are hidden behind the apse, where the altar would have been.
It is important to bear in mind that the construction of these churches on top of ancient remains does not inherently imply that they are trying to destroy paganism, be it from fear or power. Economically, it is much cheaper to build on top of an area that is abandoned or to repurpose an already existing structure. Strategically, it makes sense to continue using a place that people have long been visiting, or that is geographically advantageous for meeting and exchange. For instance, the Bona Mater was built at a crossroads connecting the mountains to the valleys of the Chiascio and Tiber rivers (Museo Diocesano e Cripta di San Rufino).
However, I am still wondering why both churches incorporated pagan remains into their architecture. What strikes me is what this duality of display and destruction reveals about what it means to be human. This superposition of pagan temples under Christian churches beautifully mirrors this almost transcendental human experience and identity that we all have shared since the dawn of our existence.
Cycles of destruction and creation speak to the nature of this connection we share on some basic level. The human experience forever consists of circles of beginnings and ends. Just like these churches, so too do we have layers that we build throughout our lives and that ultimately create a complete picture of our being. These layers unite us while simultaneously giving us complete and total uniqueness.
What I love about these churches is that their display of ancient remains breathes life into our past. The Roman structure beneath the glass of the aisle or the perfectly preserved façade are the product of the dynamic and provocative thoughts of the flesh and blood of real people, real people who lived and loved no less than you or me, real people who are tied to this very place where human beings have worshiped for thousands of years.
Do I think that the architects thought of this while building these churches? Probably not. But what these churches forced me to confront and question, not only as an aspiring archaeologist, but as a human being, was the nature of humans as stratified beings and why it is quintessential to study ourselves as such.
Works Cited
Boldrighini, Francesca. 2020. “Asisium: some more aspects of the “self-Romanization” of Umbrian settlement.” ACCADEMIA PROPERZIANA DEL SUBASIO. 25-54.
MacMahon, Ella. 2006. “ASSISI: AN IMPRESSIONIST SKETCH.” n.d. 429. Accessed June 28, 2022. https://www.proquest.com/openview/73392f321cef90ba/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=21909.
Ross, Ian Campbell. 2014. “Umbria: A Cultural Guide. Chapter Three: Roman Umbria.” 54-72.
“Un luogo di culto dedicato alla dea Cupra/ Bona Mater.” n.d. Museo Diocesano e Cripta di San Rufino (blog). Accessed June 28, 2022. https://www.assisimuseodiocesano.it/un-luogo-di-culto-dedicato-alla-dea-cupra-bona-mater/.
Trasimeno Archaeology Field School 
