Finding Cassiodoro: An Architect’s Journey into Sacred Memory
By Rossana Graça
A Morning with Cassiodoro
One Saturday morning during the fourteenth week of Ordinary Time, just before leaving Squillace — a small town in Calabria with classical Greek roots — I read from Cassiodoro in the Divine Office. It said:
Salmo 135 (136). Hino pascal. Anunciar as maravilhas de Deus é louvá-l’O. (Cassiodoro)
(Psalm 135 [136]. Easter hymn. To announce the wonders of God is to praise Him.)
In other words, Cassiodoro is telling us to look closely, to appreciate the beautiful things that God has created, and to give thanks. He was a monk-scholar who organised knowledge to serve the faith. It is said that he founded a monastery called Vivarium. It was a wonderful way to start the day, setting a tone of reverence and intention.
I hadn’t expected to encounter Cassiodoro’s words that day. It caught me by surprise. I was in Squillace for two weeks, participating in an archaeological campaign called The Vivarium Project, hosted by the Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana (PIAC). The focus of the project: Cassiodoro and his birthplace — his locus operandi.
The Vivarium Project
The archaeologists involved had been investigating every detail of Cassiodoro’s life as part of a project initiated by the Vatican’s Ministry of Holiness, which oversees the canonisation of saints. Their questions were far-reaching:
- Where was he born?
- How was he raised?
- What did he study?
- What role did he play in spreading the Catholic message?
The Mistery Hunters — a group of knowledgeable archaeologists assisting PIAC — participated in the excavation campaign. In a compelling blog post (linked below), they suggested that the agricultural landscape surrounding the monastery was deeply tied to its function. Cassiodoro, they noted, tended the vegetable garden as a symbol of both healing and knowledge.
Archaeology, at its heart, is the art of tracing the footprints of time. The language of the earth becomes a metaphor for the human soul. The word Vivarium comes from the Italian vivaio, meaning a place where young plants are cultivated. The same root exists in Portuguese: viveiro.
The Vivarium, as described, is a precious container — a sanctuary preserving the faith and knowledge of this soon-to-be canonised saint. For centuries, the monastery was physically lost and absent from collective memory. But thanks to the efforts of skilled archaeologists, the project has been revived and reconstructed in memory, revealing a man who deeply loved Jesus Christ. At its heart were monks, silently copying manuscripts that preserved profound theological knowledge.
The Monastery and the Man
Before excavation could begin, archaeologists pored over historical archives to reconstruct Cassiodoro’s life and the cultural context of Squillace in Late Antiquity through the Medieval period. Disenchanted with politics, Cassiodoro ultimately turned toward contemplation. His vision of the monastery as a cultivation of the soul and intellect was both original and deeply meaningful.
His figure can serve as a beacon today, especially in our complex and often fragmented modern world. The cause for his beatification, initiated in 2020, renews both academic and religious interest.
The interrupted respect surrounding Cassiodoro is what canon law refers to as cultus ab immemorabili tempore — a sign that devotion to him once flourished continuously. The archaeological evidence uncovered in Villa Ceraso, in Squillace, supports the possibility of identifying the site of the original Vivarium.
The silent act of manuscript copying at the Vivarium evokes a poetic image: the continuity between written memory and buried memory. The idea that the Vivarium is an archaeological enigma worthy of romance is not an exaggeration. Cassiodoro never ceased writing, and his works remain monuments to the intersection of culture and Christianity. The Bibbia Amiatina, copied at the Vivarium, is a monumental biblical codex — possibly as old as, or older than, St. Jerome’s Vulgata.
I had no idea how important this work was. I hadn’t realised it was part of the process of canonising saints. But as I listened to my academic colleagues, professors, and directors outline the project’s purpose, I knew I was in the right place. Though not involved directly in the investigation, I participated as a student, eager to learn.
An Architect in the Field
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This campaign helped me integrate everything I had studied during the Propaedeutic Year in Christian Archaeology at PIAC and prepared me for my doctoral research. It was the practical counterpart to a year’s worth of theoretical study.
I participated in identifying architectural structures and dating their construction. One structure — a Roman villa — revealed a heating system beneath its foundation, an early example of plumbing and domestic infrastructure. Questions abounded:
- How was it built?
- What techniques were used?
- What does it reveal about the values and philosophies of the time?
- Can it inform contemporary architectural thought — or is it merely a relic?
As an architect, I was fascinated.
We also catalogued ceramic materials, which are essential for chronological dating. Together with historical sources and monuments, these findings helped locate the excavation site itself.
I brought with me a copy of Páginas Arqueológicas by Félix Alves Pereira, the subject of my doctoral research. A 19th–20th-century Portuguese lawyer turned archaeologist; he seemed like the right companion for this journey. Though not an architect, Pereira understood the power of history, and history, like for me, drew him into archaeology.
He pointed to Christian toponyms. He taught me to look carefully at spatial and cultural transitions — from Classical antiquity to Christian civilisation. In his words and work, I found grounding and inspiration.
Reflections from the Dig — Toward the Sacred
Before this experience, I had never heard of Cassiodoro. I didn’t realise his legacy was so significant, nor that it was tied to a Vatican-led project. It was a revelation — one that showed me what could be possible after completing my doctorate: perhaps contributing to the lives of saints through archaeological research or helping restore monuments, whether physical buildings or ancient manuscripts.
In both paths, the goal is the same: to reveal Christian heritage.
Biography
My name is Rossana Graça, and I’m a thirty-six-year-old Angolan Portuguese architect. I grew up in both England and Portugal. I worked for over twelve years in a construction company, where I was deeply involved in the conception of monuments, ecclesial designs, and architectural manifestos. That work rekindled another passion: the history and theory of architecture.
Today, I’m pursuing a doctorate in Christian Archaeology at the Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana (PIAC) out of a desire to understand the sacred nature of monuments. I want to know why we build them today, why we built them in the past, and how history can not only help us reconstruct spaces, but also restore sacred beauty to contemporary design.
Bibliography
- Mistery Hunters — Vivarium Project: Alla Ricerca del Monastero di Cassiodoro
- Vivarium Project on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/p/Vivarium-Project-100094590540432/
- Vivarium Project on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/vivarium.project/
- Ongoing excavations — Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana https://www.piac.it/scavi-attivi
Publication Tags
· Christian archaeology, architecture, history, Cassiodoro, monasteries, faith, sacred design, Mistery Hunters, Pontificio Istituto di Archeologia Cristiana, Vivarium Project.
