This essay first appeared in our weekly Scripture reflection newsletter on November 8, 2025.
Eze 47:1-2, 8-9, 12; 1 Cor 3:9c-11, 16-17; Jn 2:13-22
You can find the readings for the The Feast of the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome here.
The question comes up once a year: Why are we celebrating a feast for a building?
To begin with, the Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome is not just a building. (The name St. John Lateran is not a first and last name; it reflects the fact that the building stands on the site of the former Lateran palace, itself named after the owners, the Lateran family.) It is the oldest of the four main basilicas—churches that are afforded special papal privileges and so outrank cathedrals—in Rome. St. John Lateran was dedicated in 324 A.D. by Pope Sylvester I; and the land on which it stands was donated by the Emperor Constantine. In terms of antiquity, it far predates St. Peter’s Basilica.
As if that were not enough to establish the building’s bona fides, it is the Cathedral of the Diocese of Rome. On the front wall is a plaque that reads SACROS LATERAN ECCLES OMNIUM VRBIS ET ORBIS ECCLESIARVM MATER ET CAPUT (“Most Holy Lateran Church, mother and head of all the churches in the city and the world”).
On this feast day, we are not celebrating simply an ancient building, but the antiquity of the church itself.
So on this feast day, we are not celebrating simply an ancient building, but the antiquity of the church itself. And that is certainly something to celebrate. One of the reasons that so many people find Rome such a compelling spiritual place (if you can make your way past the tourist-trap restaurants, crowds of impatient tourists and rows of souvenir shops) is that it is nearly impossible not to come away without an awareness of how far back the Catholic Church stretches in time. Except for the Holy Land, perhaps nowhere else can one better appreciate the continuity of the church. And one of the symbols of that continuity is this fascinating basilica in Rome, where Mass is still celebrated daily, sometimes hourly.
In that case, why do we read about the “Cleansing of the Temple” in today’s Gospel, in which Jesus drives out the “moneychangers” from the Temple? (Before we stereotype Jewish merchants of the day, I want to say that I was recently in a Catholic cathedral where they were selling coins imprinted with the image of the church, so we are not “simon-pure” when it comes to this either!) For Jesus and for the Jews of his time, the Temple was a supremely holy place. It angered Jesus when he saw it disrespected. It was the locus of the Holy of Holies, which held the Ark of the Covenant, which in turn held the tablets given to Moses by God.
Even holier than the Basilica of St. John Lateran are the members of the Body of Christ, in whose hearts the Holy Spirit dwells.
But even holier than the Temple was Jesus himself. And even holier than the Basilica of St. John Lateran are the members of the Body of Christ, in whose hearts the Holy Spirit dwells. That is one reason why the second reading, from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, reminds us that each of us is “God’s building” and a “temple of the Holy Spirit.” It’s a beautiful image evoking the Temple in Jerusalem. As the Temple holds the Ark of the Covenant, so our bodies hold the Spirit of God, dwelling in us in love.
If you visit the Basilica of St. John Lateran today, you’ll also see that, not surprisingly for a building of its age, it shows some signs of wear and tear. You can see worn-down stones, marks on the wall and even some indications of rot in the wood. So, it’s not perfect. The Catholic Church isn’t perfect either; its members are sometimes prone to all manner of sins and failings. Rot can set in there too and we must be careful to repair and renew it as often as possible. So, the Basilica is an apt symbol of the church for many reasons.
The church is many things: an ancient institution symbolized by historic buildings like the Basilica of St. John Lateran, with ties to the Emperor Constantine; as well as the Body of Christ, which we see in an infant being baptized in a brand-new church while his or her parents, perhaps in their 20s, look on with joy. Today we celebrate the classic “both-and” of the Catholic church, ever ancient and ever new.
