Jubilation!

Kathryn Casey
Jul 15
7 min read

Indulgence and Indulgences in Rome

You may already know that 2025 is a Jubilee year in the Catholic Church -- a holy year focused on reconciliation with God, spiritual renewal, and, somewhat notoriously in some circles, indulgences. A Jubilee year cycles around only every 25 years.

This year's theme is Pilgrims of Hope and, since Rome is basically the host of the Jubilee, that means pilgrimage to Rome for a lot of hopeful Catholics.

Naturally, we feared some obvious Jubilee haunts would be lousy with pilgrims, so it was with some dread that Rosie and I headed out on our own lapsed-Catholic sort of pilgrimage. Imagine our surprise when we found the city wasn't very crowded at all. It seems a lot of the faithful had already come and gone during the Christmas-New Year holidays, the official start of this Jubilee year that will run through January 6, 2026. I'm guessing there will be fearsome crowds during the coming holidays because now we also have a brand new pope to celebrate.

In a year such as this, one of the things pilgrims make a point of doing is passing through the Porte Sante, or Holy Doors, of any or all of the papal basilicas that claim them. These special doors are opened only in Jubilee years and cemented shut at all other times. In Rome, you can find them in four basilicas: St. Peter's, San Giovanni in Laterano, San Paolo Fuori le Mura, and Santa Maria Maggiore. Passing through the Holy Doors can entitle one to a plenary indulgence – a kind of grace chit that will spare the believer some of the punishment he or she might be in for in Purgatory. Contrary to a common misapprehension, the indulgence does not remove or absolve sin; it only removes some of the punishment time still owed for sins already confessed and forgiven through the sacrament of Penance.

Also contrary to popular misapprehension, earning an indulgence is not as simple as blithely cruising through a Porta Santa. One must walk through with the heartfelt and prayerful intention to turn away from sin and cross the threshold of a new life. Plenary indulgences are an esoteric and, for me, probably indefensible concept in Church doctrine, and the Church's abuse of indulgences -- namely, selling them back in the Middle Ages-- was one of the reasons an exasperated Martin Luther felt compelled to found a schismatic religion. (A thought just occurred to me: Was my Protestant brother-in-law mocking us when he kept urging us to enjoy the "Jamboree?" I'd assumed it was an innocent mistake, but now I wonder... )

Notwithstanding everything I've written above, we walked through the Porta Santa of Santa Maria Maggiore twice to make sure whatever benefits we might be entitled to actually “took.”

Speaking of reconciliation with God, a note of curiosity: Santa Maria Maggiore (which, to my discomposure, commentators stateside kept calling Saint Mary Major during coverage of the newly minted Pope Leo XIV), had confessionals to accommodate many languages. I don't think I've seen that elsewhere in Rome.

Our pilgrimage took us next to the Scala Santa (Holy Stairs) in the Sancta Sanctorum chapel, near San Giovanni in Laterano. The Scala Santa itself is a set of 28 white marble steps that tradition says Jesus climbed during his trial with Pontius Pilate. The stairs were brought to Rome from Jerusalem in the 4th century, and are now covered in wooden planks to protect the original marble that Jesus' feet would have touched.

Rosie made it up the Scala Santa on her knees, which is no mean feat. (Actually, it is mean; but it isn’t small.) Once she got started, she pretty much had no choice but to finish, because it seems you really can’t turn back. My own brittle knees all but shattered at the first genuflection, so I backed away and watched her in admiration. The fact that Pope Pius VII in 1817 granted an indulgence of nine years for every step ascended in that manner gives you some idea just how much it hurts..

Believers and non-believers alike are welcome to ascend the Scala Santa, but everyone, regardless of belief, must do so on the knees. If you want to attempt it, consider wearing thick pants that might give you some barrier. I’m tempted to recommend sneaking knee pads under your pants, but that would be so disrespectful that not only would you receive zero indulgences; you'd likely get a few more years in Purgatory parked next to someone who'd never shut up.

The Scala Santa leads to the Chapel of San Lorenzo (also reachable by another staircase one can ascend on foot), which houses a piece of the chair on which Jesus purportedly sat during the Last Supper.

The Sancta Sanctorum does leave an impression. For starters, there's a hush to the place. You can’t take any photos at all; nor are you allowed to speak. Employees reprimand the crowd every so often, as they do in the Sistine Chapel when the hum of whispers grows too loud. Moreover, though, the atmosphere is heavy with significance. I couldn't help but be struck by it. And perhaps because I'd already fallen under the spell of the place, I found the statuary around the Scala moving (emotionally moving, that is; I didn’t catch it actually moving from one spot to the next, which would have been fittingly miraculous but highly alarming).

A more profane pilgrimage (And speaking of statues that might be alarming...)

If you’re pretty familiar with Rome and just looking to give your roamings a sense of purpose, you can seek out the Talking Statues of Rome, Le Statue Parlanti. Also called the Congregation of Wits, the statues began “speaking” in the 16th century. The colorful -- if, at times, apocryphal --stories surrounding them are worth reading if you're so inclined.

There are six "talking statues." Okay, these statues don't actually talk. That would have given me quite a fright, too. Rather, they're called such because they became a sort of mouthpiece for the grievances of everyday Romans, who would leave wry comments -- often in verse --about the Church, popes, and government on the statues. Notes sometimes are still left on them today. We found some only on Pasquino, and they tended to bemoan the condition of the statues themselves and blame Parliament.

The loquacious statues are all in the historical center, and you can Google them to get location info, though you'll still need to do a little hunting. We started with Il Babuino because we already knew where he was, then proceeded from there according to what made sense geographically. For whatever help it's worth, we found the statues in the following order:

1) Il Babuino (the Baboon)

...with whom Rosie saw fit to monkey around. (A clue to his whereabouts: You could say he's eponymous.) I’d often wondered about this peculiar and somewhat revolting Chia pet-reminiscent statue with its mossy body and moss-free head. Turns out the sculptor Intended to depict a satyr from Greek mythology, but the citizenry found it more baboonish and named it accordingly.

2) Abate Luigi

Though this headless statue dates back to the Roman Empire, it was apparently named for a more modern Abbot Luigi affiliated with a nearby church and known for his wit.

3) Pasquino

Pasquino was the first of the voluble statues. History reports that some popes found him such a troublesome gadfly that they plotted to get rid of him, including by tossing him into the Tiber. Eventually, the powers that were settled on posting guards to discourage commentary. As a result, and rather predictably, other statues started to find their voices.

4) Madama Lucrezia

The only female among the Congregation of Wits, Madama Lucrezia might have started life as a statue of Isis or a priestess of Isis' temple in Rome.

5) Marforio

Marforio was sometimes seen as a kind of stony-faced interlocutor to Pasquino. (I guess Pasquino wasn't silenced entirely!) Postings on one got retorts from the other, and so on.

Marforio is now part of the Capitoline Museums, which require a ticket. It was late, so we resolved to go back another time for a closer look.

6) Il Facchino (the Porter)

The statue of Il Facchino is actually part of a fountain -- and for good reason. Though called the Porter, the statue actually depicts a water-carrier, or acquarolo, who earned his living carrying fresh water to people's homes. The statue is thought to depict a real-life local water-carrier by the name of Abbondio Rizio. Il Facchino is the most modern of the talking statues, dating to the 16th century. In fact, it's the only one that doesn't date back to Imperial Rome.

More Profane Indulgences: Hotels & Restaurants

During this very short visit, we stayed at the small, lovely Margutta 19 hotel in Via Margutta, a quiet street near the Spanish Steps that the movie Roman Holiday probably put on the map for many Americans. It's packed with little art galleries and shops.

The owner of Margutta 19 was a charming guy who’d gone to Boston University and lived for awhile in New York. We discovered we’d probably crossed carts in the supermarket because his apartment at the time was around the corner from mine.

Lunch at Babette in Via Margutta

Rosie’s whole wheat pasta dish pretty much sh-t the bed, the flavor match of shrimp and artichokes having likely been made in hell. The happy news for me was that my soup of small pink chickpeas* pureed with rosemary and ginger was very tasty. So I won lunch.

*Apparently, these chickpeas grow only in a place south of Florence called Regello.

Indulgence score: 😇 +👿🤮

Dinner at Osteria La Segreta in Via Margutta

This jewel box of a place dedicated itself to Neapolitan food, and so it was not surprising that everything involving tomatoes was lip-smackingly good. The atmosphere was beautiful in a way that the camera (or, more likely, this photographer) failed to capture.

Indulgence score: 😇😇