Memento Mori | Reflections from Rome 2025

St. Mary of Prayer and Death

A few days ago, I was told of a church that held décor made mostly of bones, and when it happened to be just down the road, I felt compelled to check it out in my free time. Just a block down the road from our place of residence, towards the River Tiber, almost hidden, is the famous Chiesa di Santa Maria dell’ Orazione e Morte or the “Church of Saint Mary of Prayer and Death”.

From the outside, the church building does not appear much different from many of the other churches in the area. On top of that, the main body of the church was undergoing a number of renovations. The church itself was founded and continues to be run by the Archconfraternity of St. Mary of Prayer and Death, with notable members including the architect who redesigned the church in the 1700s as well as St. Charles Borromeo.

When I visited, I spent some time in the side chapel and crypt of the church, where you find much of what has given the church its nickname – the Death Church – among the seminarians. I was astonished by the simple yet stark design of the crypt’s interior. Upon descending the steps, one is met with a set of chandeliers composed of what I can conclude are vertebrae and finger bones. One side of the room is then dominated by a large cross adorned with skulls and holy water fonts which are topped with carved skeletons in the stone, greeting those who enter. On the opposite wall is a small altar as well as a display of memorabilia from the older days of the confraternity. When pondering the reason why such a church would exist, I recalled a quote that was carved beneath a laureled skull on the outside façade: Hodie mihi, cras tibi (“Today for me, tomorrow for you”). This would have been seen by anyone who was a regular attendee of the church, but I do not think it to be a sign of an obsession with death but an acknowledgement of it. We live in a society that in many ways is both obsessed with death and also unwilling to discuss it, perhaps even with our closest friends. To read that quote and step through that church, one accepts that in this world, we memento mori (“remember death”), venturing into the church for a Mass which reflects the world to come, where we will adore Our Blessed Lord alongside the angels and Powers of Heaven, singing in exultation.

Jacob Schneider
Diocese of Evansville