by Fr. Keith Pecklers, SJ

Last October, the Oratory of St. Francis Xavier del Caravita, in the center of Rome, reopened its doors as a regular place of worship for the first time since 1925.

Caravita, built in the 1630s, was named after the Jesuit responsible for its construction. It housed nine congregations of laypeople who served Rome's homeless, sick, and imprisoned and then returned to the oratory to pray and to receive spiritual direction from Jesuits at the Roman College, just across the street.

Monasteries and convents of monks and nuns were in the countryside; Ignatius and the early Jesuits were in the heart of the city, where alongside elegant palazzi of Rome's nobility, there was suffering and need. It was here that Ignatius developed a strategic program for Jesuit ministries: hearing confessions, preaching, and teaching, of course, but also caring for the poor and victims of the plague and also steering prostitutes into houses of reformation, for instance.

So almost 400 years later, when the Roman College (now the Gregorian University) celebrated its 450th anniversary, Jesuit professors there wanted Caravita reactivated as a center of lay formation and ministry.

One part of the plan was already in place: the basement, former home for several of those early lay congregations, was being used by the Jesuit Refugee Service. As to the oratory itself, used for art exhibits, concerts, and meetings but only the occasional liturgy since 1925, the idea of a mass in English for tourists and pilgrims came up.

But "Sundays at Caravita" was going to be more than just another mass in English; the focus would be on returning to that Ignatian vision embodied in the spirit of Caravita. Lay ministry would be an important component of the project. We wanted pilgrims, strangers, and regulars alike to take part in a participative liturgy that reflects a faith that does justice.

Caravita, a Jesuit oratorio in Rome that housed lay congregations (including the first to admit women) was also a center for music; Mozart played the organ here.

The worship space is inviting. At the entrance is a bowl of baptismal water, a table with candles, bread, and wine, and a basket for offerings (there is no formal collection). People pick up a hymnal, sign the guest book, and take one of the 75 seats in an oval around the altar. Three Jesuits and Mark Francis, the superior general of the Clerics of St. Viator, share the rotation of presiding over a diverse congregation.

On any Sunday you can find British and Pakistanis, Ethiopians and Belgians, Slovakians and Australians, French, Brazilians, and Italians, all worshiping together. There is a group of regulars, but many worshippers are transientÑin Rome for a few days or a week.

And Caravita draws its share of seekers. Recently, a visitor in his 30s spoke with me after mass, his first time in church in more than fifteen years, long enough, he said, to have forgotten that forgiveness was even possible. Visiting Rome on business, he attended a concert at Caravita the previous evening, saw the announcement for our English mass, and returned the following morning but with great trepidation.

The liturgy was a Catholic mass as he had remembered. But something happened during the Eucharist. He felt embraced and forgiven. People offered prayers for Muslims during Ramadan, for those living in exile, for those estranged from their families. He told me that the liturgy had brought him back into the circle. Such visitors bring their own grace; the community is richer for their presence.

Visiting Rome? Come to Via del Caravita 7, between Via del Corso and the Church of St. Ignatius at 11:00 any Sunday morning, and then join us for an aperitivo in the atrium of our historic and welcoming place. Arrivederci!

Fr. Keith Pecklers, SJ, professor of liturgical history at the Pontifical Liturgical Institute in Rome, also lectures at the Pontifical Gregorian University.