In the center of Rome near the Termini Station, there is a sprawling ancient structure – one of many of course- what remains of the Baths of Diocletian. Described here:

It could accommodate 3000 bathers simultaneously, about twice as many as the Baths of Caracalla, covered 13 hectares (32 acres) and had the full panoply of changing rooms, gymnasiums, libraries, meeting rooms, theaters, concert halls, sculpture gardens, vast basins for hot, lukewarm and cold plunges, as well as mosaic floors and marble facades. Today’s luxurious spas and health resorts are but pale copies of the Baths of Diocletian.

Photographs of the complex as it stands today.

Now, we didn’t do any tours of the Baths themselves – it was our true Death March Day (Saturday) in which we started out near the Barberini station at the Capuchin Crypt, went all the way down to St. Paul Outside the Walls and points in between. Plus, one of the guidebooks said the tours really weren’t worth it. But we did, of course, go into the magnificent church that was so poetically built into the entry hall of the Baths – Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri

Diocletian being, of course, the perpetrator of one of the most severe, empire-wide persecutions – called the "Great Persecution." So it seems fitting that a church exists on the ruins of his power, dedicated to the victims of his persecution:

The church was built in the remains of the Baths of Diocletian by orders of Pope Pius IV (1559-1565), after a Sicilian priest, Fr. Antonio Lo Duca, had a vision of angels in the ruins in 1541. Pope Pius IV ordered then ordeed a church built there. Michelangelo designed it and started the work in 1563, and after his death in 1564 (indicentally the same year that Fr. Lo Duca died) his design was completed by Jacopo Lo Duca, nephew of Fr. Antonio and pupil of Michelangelo. Although the interior has changed considerably and the floor has been raised a few feet, this is one of the places where you can best appreciate the size and splendour of the imperial baths.

The church was granted to the Carthusians. They had a monastery built adajcent to it, possibly to a design by Michelangelo.

It is enormous and beautiful – not exactly warm, but that’s not what you go to expect. It was sprinkled with some contemporary art on exhibit, which didn’t quite seem to fit, but didn’t stand in stark opposition to the spirit of the place, either. Since I think I was doing baby backpack duty, I was hampered in my appreciation, especially because at this point in the journey, he had discovered The Echo. That’s right. He’d figured out that in certain places, when you yell really loud, you yell back at yourself. And it’s really cool. And you do it over and over and over again.

Babies are pretty smart. Unfortunately.

The most striking thing to me was the meridian – I’d never seen one in a church before, and was very glad to be able to catch this one – the anti-St. Sulpice moment! (that was for DVC readers) –

The floor was laid in the 18th century by Giuseppe Barbieri. On the left side is the Meridian Line, a sundial laid down along the meridian that crosses through Rome, at latitude 15º. At true noon, about 12.15 pm (1.15 pm in summer time), the sun casts its light dead on this line. If you look at the right side of the transept wall, you can see that part of the cornice has been cut away to provide the effect. The markings were made by the astronomer, mathematician, archaeologist, historian and philosopher Francesco Bianchini. Bianchini had been commissioned by Pope Clement XI to make them for the Holy Year of 1700. It took a bit longer; they were comleted in 1703 with the assistance of the astronomer G.F. Maraldi.

And so I stood there, baby bellowing on my back, doing his own experiments  – in acoustics, I suppose – giving Katie the Mom lecture – you remember this when you go to high school and they try to tell you that the Church is the enemy of science and intellectual activity. You remember this – see..look…

Yes, mom….