Sagrada Familia Can Be Built!!

I really have several reasons for writing this post. The first resulted from an article I recently came across. It contained some astonishing news. Apparently, in June of 2019 the city of Barcelona finally approved the construction of the Basilica de la Sagrada Familia. 

If you've experienced delays and problems getting governmental approval for construction or other purposes, just thank God you don't live in Barcelona. I suspect that city may well have set a world record. You see, the original construction request for Sagrada Familia was submitted in 1885, only 134 years ago before it was finally approved. I would guess, although I can't be certain about this, the architect, Antonio Gaudi, the local bishop, and the Sagrada Familia Foundation just assumed approval was pending and went ahead with the construction anyway. Why the city took so long, nobody is saying. But one thing is certain: the foundation, even though it's a not-for-profit organization, had to fork over 4.5 million Euros to get the construction license. Considering the basilica is perhaps the city's most popular tourist attraction, that seems a bit excessive to me...but, hey, what do I know? I'm not a European.

If you've ever been to Barcelona, I would hope you visited Sagrada Familia, this remarkable, yet still unfinished, church conceived by the great architect, Antonio Gaudi (1852-1926). If you've been to Barcelona and didn't visit the basilica, I suggest you return to the city as soon as possible. Sagrada Familia is well worth another trip.

Sagrada Familia (Nov 2010)

Ten years ago Diane and I spent about a week in Barcelona, a trip that included a full day at Sagrada Familia. Of course I had heard of the basilica and seen many pictures of it, but encountering this magnificent church up close and personal took my breath away. Quite honestly, as someone who appreciates the gothic, I didn't expect to like Gaudi's decidedly different architecture... until I was surrounded by it. To say I was overwhelmed would be an understatement. I remember Diane saying, "I've never been anywhere more beautiful." We both came away converted, convinced that Gaudi was a true genius. It's also apparent why he was called, "God's Architect." 

Here are a few of the many photos I took back in 2010.

The Four Evangelists High Above

Sagrada Familia Interior

Light and Reflections

An Exterior Façade: The Nativity 

Antonio Gaudi

Interestingly, the basilica is still unfinished. Its construction is ongoing and the current team of architects plans to complete the work six years from now in 2026. Sadly, Antonio Gaudi died in 1926 after being hit by a Barcelona streetcar. The architects, then, hope to complete construction on the 100th anniversary of Gaudi's death. That will certainly be quite a day for Barcelona and for all of Spain, assuming that Catalonia is still a part of Spain in 2026 -- but that's a whole other story. Fittingly, Gaudi, a devout Catholic who lived a life of ascetic poverty, was buried in the basilica's crypt. His cause for sainthood is ongoing. I include him in my intercessory prayers. 

Another landmark day in the life of the basilica was its dedication by Pope Benedict XVI on November 7, 2010, just 128 years after construction actually began in 1882. This day was particularly interesting for Diane and me, and our friends, Deacon Walter and his wife Ellen, because we happened to be in Barcelona at the time. Although we didn't have tickets for the basilica's dedication, we managed to see the pope as he passed by quickly in his pope-mobile. The photo's not very good, but he was moving fast and the crowd was a bit pushy.

Pope Benedict XVI on his way to Sagrada Familia

We are fortunate Sagrada Familia still stands since it was burned by Catalan anarchists and communists in the 1930s during the Spanish Civil War. Seeing the same kind of activity by anarchists, communists, and others in our country today, we pray that our churches suffer no more damage than they already have.

Statues in the Lateran, Iconoclasts, and Islam

Constantine at the Lateran

The first time Dear Diane and I traveled to Rome, during the Holy Year of 2000, the first church we entered happened to be what is commonly called the "Basilica of St. John Lateran" or simply "The Lateran." It's full, official name is quite a mouthful: the "Archbasilica of the Most Holy Savior and Saints John the Baptist and the Evangelist in the Lateran." I suspect the basilica's office receptionist uses one of the abbreviated versions when she answers the phone. The Lateran, though, probably deserves an especially long name; after all, it's the first church built for public worship in Rome, and perhaps in all of Christendom; hence, it is the mother of all churches. The original structure was built by the Emperor Constantine (306-337) in the early 4th century on land donated to Pope Miltiades (311-314). The archbasilica was officially dedicated by Pope Sylvester I in 324.

Lateran Facade

The Lateran, and not St. Peter's Basilica, is the pope's cathedral church, something many Catholics don't realize. As the cathedral of the Bishop of Rome, it is also the home of the pope's cathedra, or cathedral seat. The Lateran, therefore, takes precedence over the other three major papal basilicas of Rome: St. Peter's, St. Mary Major, and St. Paul Outside the Walls. 

Of course, the current church is very different from the church built by Constantine. Over the centuries fires and earthquakes, barbarians and wars, decay and neglect, renewal and reconstruction, and dramatic shifts in artistic expression all brought about major changes and gave us the church we see today. Anyway, I digress...

Statue of St. Peter in the Lateran

On that first visit back in 2000, I was almost knocked off my feet by the statues that line both sides of the Lateran's nave, statues of the twelve Apostles, each standing in its own niche and each larger than life. Indeed, these marvelous Baroque statues seemed almost alive, and as I moved toward the high altar from one Apostle to the next I realized how much I liked -- no, how much I needed -- a church filled with statues and other works of art. It suddenly dawned on me why I had never felt at home in those minimalist churches built back in the 1970s, buildings that tried to imitate so many bare-bones Protestant churches. To me they more closely resemble barns than churches. 

Minimalist Catholic (Cistercian) Chapel

The Baroque churches of Rome are in no way minimalist. They were constructed or renovated in a style that broke away from the classical, elegant styles of the Renaissance. In a sense they broke all the architectural rules and presented the world with an in-your-face richness designed to display the deep and varied theology of the Catholic Church. Patriarchs and prophets, archangels and cherubim, the Virgin and the Apostles, martyrs and saints, popes and bishops, friars and monks  -- all come alive and all point to Jesus Christ, leading the faithful more deeply into the church and to the altar on which the Eucharistic sacrifice is offered. It's enough to take your breath away. And I think that's exactly what the Jesuits hoped to achieve when they supported the spread of Baroque architecture in the Church. One need only visit the 16th-century Gesu, the mother church of the Society of Jesus where the Church Triumphant is on obvious display. When I first entered this church, I could do nothing but stand there agape in a vain attempt to take it all in. I simply did not know where to start, and so I didn't. I just sat down and let it fill me.

The Gesu (Jesuit Mother Church) in Rome

I give thanks to those many early popes who strongly resisted the iconoclasm of the Byzantine Empire, a movement influenced in part by the Muslims in the Middle East. In those dark days virtually all the worldly power was in the East, but the popes remained in Rome in the chair of Peter. Some, like Gregory VII and Innocent III, were powerful and influential, protecting the eternal Church from kingdoms doomed to disappear. Many others were weak, but even they resisted the attempts to strip the Church of its beauty, to make religious art something other than religious. 

Even today, some Protestant Christians still consider any religious images to be nothing more than idolatry. (A few years ago, in nearby Wildwood, Florida, a young lady working in a grocery store called me an "idol worshiper" because Catholic churches contain statues. Not particularly good public relations, but I gave her a pass.) And certain elements in Islam -- e.g., the Islamic State, the Taliban, and the religious leadership in Saudi Arabia -- have spent much effort destroying ancient historic structures, shrines, and other religious sites.

St. John Damascene, one of the last of the Early Church Fathers, lived his entire life under Muslim rule and wrote extensively against the iconoclasts. He saw iconoclasm as something indeed evil:

“Does anyone who has divine knowledge and spiritual understanding not recognize that [iconoclasm] is a ruse of the devil? For he does not want his defeat and shame to be spread abroad, nor the glory of God and his saints to be recorded.”

Yes, we can all thank the popes and saints like St. John Damascene for holding the line against the iconoclasts and allowing art to thrive in the Church. Without it, we would be much poorer and certainly much duller.

Architecture: Old & New

Pantheon - Rome

One of the most remarkable man-made structures I have ever visited is the Pantheon in Rome, once a pagan temple and now both a Catholic church and one of Rome's major tourist attractions. When one considers that the Pantheon was originally built in the first century, rebuilt in the second century, and still stands today as an intact and usable building, one's appreciation of the capabilities of Roman architecture and engineering soars. I realize the pyramids of Egypt are thousands of years older, but they are, in some respects, rather primitive structures built to impress the world (and presumably the gods) by their size. The pyramids are magnificent, but they lack the remarkable blending of art and architecture that results in a beautiful building fit for daily use, a building like the Pantheon.

Pantheon Interior - Rome

I can't imagine many structures being built today lasting more than a few hundred years. Indeed, I suspect the design and construction of most buildings these days include some consideration of planned obsolescence. Today's structures are also completely dependent on their internal systems, the infrastructure that enables them to function as usable buildings. Without its electrical, climate control, plumbing, and communications systems, without its elevators and fire-prevention systems, no modern skyscraper would be even inhabitable.

The Pantheon's dome and oculus

We can be thankful that the ancients didn't think the same way. If they had, ancient structures like the Pantheon would not be standing today. When they built something special they didn't consider such concepts as mean-time-between-failure or maintainability or six-sigma quality standards. But they built these structures to last. The walls of the Pantheon's dome, for example, are 20 feet thick at the base and only five feet thick at the oculus or eye at the top of the dome. The Roman engineers cleverly embedded lighter materials in the upper sections of the dome to reduce weight, and used the multi-row arrangement of waffle-like coffers for the same purpose. Until the 19th century no dome was larger, and the Pantheon's dome still remains the world's largest unreinforced concrete dome.

Interestingly, modern cement and concrete mixtures are much stronger than those used by the Romans, and are also reinforced with rebar steel. I wonder how many structures using these modern materials will still be around in the year 4100.

These odd thoughts were precipitated by an article addressing the latest findings on the construction of the Vatican's Basilica of St. Peter. Using specially designed radar, Vatican researchers discovered that the dome of St. Peter's was constructed using seven iron rings designed to reinforce the dome's travertine stone. And so, what we have is the totally unexpected use of a kind of reinforced concrete during the 16th century. This was apparently quite a surprise since the original construction details had long since been lost.

I'm always surprised by those who think we are so much smarter than those who went before us. Our predecessors might not have had access to our technology, but they certainly made better use of the technology they had. We do indeed stand on the shoulders of giants.

To read more about the engineering investigation of St. Peter's dome, click here.

Miscellany

Homeschooling resources.

For all you homeschoolers out there, here's a link to Sally Thomas' blog, Icons & Curiosities, on which she provides some reading lists, resources, and other goodies that I trust you'll find useful.

Father Rutler on Blessed Mother Teresa

If you have never read Father George Rutler, you might start by reading his book, A Crisis of Saints. I promise you'll enjoy it, as I have enjoyed everything of his I have ever read. Among Father Rutler's many interesting revelations are these comments about Blessed Mother Teresa:

In the 1935 film The Crusades, there is a breathless moment when Loretta Young pleads with Henry Wilcoxon, playing Richard the Lion Heart, “You gotta save Christianity, Richard! You gotta!” Though not a high point in cinematic art, the line reminds me of how so many spoke to Mother Teresa, now Blessed. All who knew her have their stories to tell, but common to most encounters with her was a confidence that she could do something about the fragile circumstance that believers and half-believers found themselves in at the end of the millennium.

Strange to say, I cannot remember our first meeting, which was in 1980 when I was studying in Rome. In the moral constancy of her presence, every conversation seemed the same and the surroundings were totally irrelevant. But she always gave the impression that she had all the time in the world, and the one to whom she was speaking was the only other one in that world. Once I arrived at the ancient church of St. Gregory with my cassock a bit disheveled, having been chased over a wall by a dog, and Mother gave the impression that it was a normal way to prepare for Mass. She would kiss the hands of the priest who had given her Communion in thanks for having brought Jesus, but she had no illusions: More than once did I hear her say how people wherever she went felt betrayed by priests. Nonetheless she asked them to remember her as the drop of water mingled with the wine in the preparation of the chalice.

She silenced even a Jesuit who joked that she seemed to be getting smaller: “Yes, and I must get smaller until I am small enough to fit into the heart of Jesus.” I still have the radiant memory of listening to her talk with my own mother on a visit to New York some years later, and it was like listening to two neighbors chatting over the backyard fence. Just as picturesque was the time in Rome when she led me by the hand through a large field of poppies on the periphery of the city and then served tea on a rickety table in the garden. Afterward, because there was a public transportation strike, she and another sister and I tried hitchhiking. No one gave us a lift, but Mother barely shrugged her shoulders.

I have a picture of her wearing an insulated coat such as meatpackers wear when she arrived in the Bronx one winter night. When that picture was taken she winced because of the cataracts that had swollen her eyes: “Jesus told me to let the people take pictures, so I told him to please let a soul out of Purgatory each time the light flashes.” Her eyes could look ineffably sad, as when she heard that during Holy Hour in our hospice, a patient had hanged himself upstairs. There was no humbug about her. She could give orders like a Marine sergeant, and her counsel was pointed but not piercing. When she told me to correct a reporter who had misquoted her, I said I’d pray about it and then write. “No,” she insisted, “we need this right away. I pray. You write.”

After I had preached one morning, she pushed a book across the kitchen table: “Reading is good but make your meditation before you preach and then just tell the people what Jesus told you.” I had the sense that she was on a special wavelength. On my way to say Mass for her in New York, I found myself in the subway standing in front of a kiosk featuring magazines with women who were only innocent of the Legion of Decency. After Mass, although I had said nothing, she said, “On your way through the streets when you are coming to say Mass, don’t look at the magazines with the women on the covers.” By showing the utter naturalness of supernaturalness, saints are a sacrament of the transfiguration. All through the Christian annals it has seemed perfectly natural and not silly to tell them, “You gotta save Christianity. You gotta.”

What a woman in Blessed Mother Teresa! And what a wonderful writer in Father Rutler!

Church Architecture: Some Interesting Possibilities

For those of you who, like me, are members of a parish currently planning the construction of a new church building, here's a link to a website depicting 50 interesting examples of ecclesiastical architecture that I am sure your pastor and building committee would just love to see. I suggest, however, than you deliver them anonymously. Click here to view all 50.

Catholic Pantheism in Elementary School?

Finally, here's one that should make you weep: a Catholic elementary school in New Jersey that seems to be a bit confused about the Catholic Church's theology of creation, not to mention its teaching on Mary, as Mother of God.

Who's the greatest mom of all? No, not Mary, but "Earth Mama." And that ain't all. Did you know that "God and the environment are one"? Gosh, I always thought that pantheism was a heresy. And do your kids pledge allegiance "to the earth and all her sacred hearts"? Didn't think so.

Here's an interesting Fox News video describing the school and its theological approach to environmentalism.