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    Die Pummerin

    The largest bell in the peal in Vienna and third largest swing bell in Europe:

    http://www.stephansdom.at/dom_im_detail_pummerin.htm

    Praxiteles
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    Stefansdom in Wien – full peal on Soelmnities

    Praxiteles
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    Stefansdom in Vienna – full peal, Easter Sunday 2011

    Praxiteles
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    Antwerp Cathedral bells – full peal

    On Sundays and Holidays before the 10. 30. The peal takes about a half an hour to ring so it starts shortly after 10 am.

    Praxiteles
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    Bells throughout Germany

    Praxiteles
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    Hagia Sophia in Trebizond

    World heritage Trabzon Hagia Sophia must be stayed as a Museum

    The church of Hagia Sofia in Trabzon, north-eastern Turkey, which is a museum today, will be converted into a mosque according to the local Vakif Direction of Trabzon, which is the owner of the estate. The reconstruction works have already been started. The mufti of the Turkish province Trabzon, Veysel Çakı, said that “the works for opening the Hagia Sophia mosque in the city to practice prayers again are going on,” and that “during the prayer the mural paintings will be covered by curtains.”
    “The process of making Hagia Sofia a place of worship will not last long,” Çakı continued. According to Çakı, the Presidency of Religious Affairs has already appointed the imams for the mosque.

    World heritage Trabzon Hagia Sophia must be stayed as a Museum! Support us! sign the petition!

    Mosque conversion raises alarm
    Christian art in Byzantine church-turned-museum is at risk after controversial court ruling

    By Andrew Finkel. Museums, Issue 245, April 2013

    One of the most important monuments of late Byzantium, the 13th-century Church of Hagia Sophia in the Black Sea city of Trabzon, which is now a museum, will be converted into a mosque, after a legal battle that has dramatic implications for other major historical sites in Turkey. Many in Turkey believe that the Church of Hagia Sophia is a stalking horse for the possible re-conversion of its more famous namesake in Istanbul, the Hagia Sophia Museum (Ayasofya Müzesi).
    For around 50 years, responsibility for the Church of Hagia Sophia in Trabzon has rested with Turkey’s Ministry of Culture and Tourism. The courts now accept the claim made by the General Directorate of Pious Foundations, the government body responsible for most of the country’s historical mosques, that this has been an “illegal occupation”. The court has ruled that Hagia Sophia is an inalienable part of the foundation of Sultan Mehmed II who first turned the church into a mosque after his conquest of the Empire of Trebizond in 1462.

    “A building covenanted as a mosque cannot be used for any other purpose,” says Mazhar Yildirimhan, the head of the directorate’s office in Trabzon. He declined to speculate on whether this would mean covering up nearly half the wall space taken up with figurative Christian art, including the dome depicting a dynamic Christ Pantocrator. “There are modern techniques for masking the walls,” he says.

    The church was rescued from dereliction (it had been used variously as an arsenal and a cholera hospital) between 1958 and 1962 by the University of Edinburgh under the direction of David Talbot Rice and David Winfield. This included restoring the original ground plan and removing a prayer niche constructed into an exterior porch. The church also has an exterior frieze depicting “the Fall of Man”.

    “It is the whole ensemble—architecture, sculpture and painting—that makes Hagia Sophia unique,” says Antony Eastmond of London’s Courtauld Institute of Art, who is an authority on the building. “This is the most complete surviving Byzantine structure; there is no 13th-century monument like it.”

    Concern for the building is prompted by the fate of Istanbul’s Arab Mosque—originally a 14th-century Dominican church—also administered by the directorate. An earthquake in 1999 shook loose plaster from the vaults revealing frescoes and mosaics. The conservation of these paintings was finished last year but they were immediately re-covered.

    Like its namesake in Trabzon, Hagia Sophia in Istanbul was also turned into a mosque, after Mehmed II’s conquest of the city in 1453. It was famously made into a museum in 1935 by cabinet decree—unlike the informal arrangement in Trabzon. The re-conversion of Istanbul’s Hagia Sophia into a mosque has long been the “golden apple” sought by Turkey’s religious right.

    For such a thing to happen would have major implications for the country’s standing as a custodian of world heritage, according to one senior Western diplomat based in Istanbul.

    Yet already the current government has been working on a list of historical properties administered by the Hagia Sophia Museum. In January, Istanbul’s oldest surviving church, the fifth-century St John Stoudios, which became the Imrahor Mosque in the 15th century before fire and earthquake left it in ruins, was transferred from the Ministry of Culture and Tourism to the General Directorate, which plans to rebuild it as a mosque.

    Turkish scholars are also up in arms at the directorate’s decision to transform another ruin, the Kesik Minare in Antalya, into a mosque. The local chamber of architects has gone to court to prevent this happening. Originally a Roman temple, the Kesik Minare has a Byzantine, Seljuk and Crusader past. A plan had already been drawn up to turn the site into an open-air museum.

    Recent experience suggests that the directorate reconstructs mosques without regard for the millennia of history they contain. The restoration of the sixth-century Church of Sts Sergius and Bacchus (now the Small Ayasofya Mosque) was shrouded in secrecy and completed in 2006 without the academic community being allowed to conduct a proper survey.

    Similar complaints have been levelled against the repurposing of yet another Hagia Sophia—the fifth-century basilica in Iznik where the Second Council of Nicaea was held in AD787. It was a museum, but now it is a mosque. Contrary to accepted archaeological practice, the walls were capped with an attached rather than freestanding roof. “It has lost most of its original character,” says Engin Akyurek, an archaeology professor at Istanbul University. “There is a great difference between conserving a historical building and reconstructing it so it can be used as a mosque,” he says.

    Source – theartnewspaper.com

    World heritage Trabzon Hagia Sophia must be stayed as a Museum! Support us! sign the petition!

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775090
    Praxiteles
    Participant

    Radiant Light: Stained Glass from Canterbury Cathedral
    February 25–May 18, 2014

    Thomas Becket and CanterburyThe best-known English saint, Thomas Becket was born in London in 1118. He was made an archdeacon of Canterbury in 1154, appointed chancellor to King Henry II in 1155, and became the archbishop of Canterbury in 1162. Soon thereafter, Becket came into conflict with King Henry regarding the authority of the church versus that of the king. This conflict led to Becket living in exile in France for seven years before returning to Canterbury, where knights loyal to the king murdered him on December 29, 1170. In the end, the king’s attempt to silence Beckett failed. Miracles began to be recorded soon after 1171, and in 1173 Becket was declared a saint—the swiftest canonization in the history of the medieval church. His cult spread quickly, and pilgrims flocked to Canterbury. He was revered not only as a national hero but also, and primarily, as a symbol of ecclesiastical resistance to secular authority.

    A fire that damaged the cathedral in 1174 presented an opportunity to redesign the eastern end. This building program included Trinity Chapel, which was completed in 1184 and housed a golden shrine for the saint’s relics, dedicated in 1220. During this period the Ancestors of Christ windows in the clerestory and those in the ambulatory (walkway) around Trinity Chapel devoted to the miracles of Thomas Becket were completed.

    The Ancestors of Christ series reflects this history, as it emphasizes the lineage of Christ through priesthood rather than kingship. Moreover, ancestry and succession were important themes at Canterbury, since the cathedral represents the foothold of the Christian church in England and houses the throne (or Chair) of Saint Augustine, the first archbishop of Canterbury. The Chair, used to enthrone archbishops, was an important symbol of continuity, legitimacy, and authority. This symbolism is echoed in the monumental figures of the Ancestors of Christ, all of whom are seated.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775089
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    The Ancestors of Christ Windows at Canterbury CathedralCanterbury, as the seat of the archbishop of Canterbury, primate of England, was the richest and most prominent monastic cathedral in Britain and an important center of learning and the arts throughout the Middle Ages. It housed a community of Benedictine monks who commissioned some of the most famous works of English medieval art and architecture. The large stained-glass figures in the Ancestors of Christ are considered some of the finest surviving examples of monumental English painting of the period. These figures are among the first in the series and date from 1178 to about 1180. The almost sculptural gravity of the rendering of the draped bodies conveys an imposing presence. Equally impressive is the degree of psychological animation expressed in each unique character, while the group retains an overall feeling of substance and poise. The figures are complemented by a limited but rich palette and by broad and elaborately patterned borders. Depicted are the Old Testament patriarchs who represent the generations of humankind, from the Creation to the coming of Christ, underscoring the medieval Christian belief that Old Testament prophecy was fulfilled in Christ. The series originally included eighty-five ancestor figures, based primarily on the genealogy in the gospel of Luke (3:23–38). As a group, these figures symbolize the history and the continuity of the Christian faith in very human terms, as a sequence of fathers and sons.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775088
    Praxiteles
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    Noah, the son of Lamech and the father of Shem, represents the ninth generation after Adam. He is depicted looking upward and animated as if in conversation, alluding to the biblical account of God speaking directly to Noah, instructing him to build the ark in anticipation of the Flood. The raised left knee further animates the figure. The trilobed arch at the top, supported by two capitals on columns, is the first such architectural framing known in stained glass and may have been appropriated from illuminated manuscripts produced at Canterbury. The wide Romanesque foliate border is comparable to the rich borders that enhanced contemporary illuminated manuscripts.

    Noah was originally in the bottom half of a clerestory window in the northeast transept at Canterbury below Shem. The figure was probably moved to the Great South Window in the 1790s. The border panels, which remained in the original clerestory window, have been temporarily removed and are here reunited with the figure for the first time in more than two hundred years. The upper half of the original window with Shem is indicated in outline

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775087
    Praxiteles
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    Thara is the son of Nachor and the father of Abraham and represents, depending on the source, either the ninth or the tenth generation after Noah. During the Middle Ages, Thara was viewed negatively, as he came from the city of Ur in Mesopotamia, which was considered a hotbed of paganism, expressed here by his awkward hand gesture and uneasy twisted posture. The color of his cloak reinforced this interpretation, for yellow was associated with avarice and lust. Abraham, placed below Thara, represents the beginning of the generations leading to King David. He, in contrast, is depicted as confident and stable. The cloaks and long gowns worn by all the ancestor figures were characteristic of twelfth-century ceremonial dress of the ruling secular and ecclesiastical classes. These garments were thought to recall the dress of ancient priests and kings of the Old Testament who presaged the coming of Christ. The wide Romanesque foliate border is comparable to the rich borders that enhanced contemporary illuminated manuscripts.

    Thara and Abraham were originally in a clerestory window in the northeast transept at Canterbury. Both were moved to the Great South Window in 1792. As the windows in this part of the cathedral are somewhat larger, Thara and Abraham are slightly larger than the choir figures. The border panels, which remained in the original clerestory window, have been temporarily removed and are here reunited with the figures for the first time in more than two hundred years. Abraham’s face was replaced in the twentieth century with a copy.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775086
    Praxiteles
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    Radiant Light
    Stained Glass from Canterbury Cathedral
    February 25–May 18, 2014
    The Cloisters museum and gardens

    Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

    This exhibition of stained glass from England’s historic Canterbury Cathedral features six Romanesque-period windows that have never left the cathedral precincts since their creation in 1178–80.

    Founded in 597, Canterbury Cathedral is one of the oldest Christian structures in England. It was an important pilgrimage site in the Middle Ages—as witnessed by Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, a literary masterpiece from the fourteenth century—and is also the cathedral of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the leader of the Church of England and the Anglican Communion worldwide. Recent repairs to the stonework of the magnificent historic structure necessitated the removal of several delicate stained-glass windows of unparalleled beauty. While the restoration of the walls has been undertaken, the stained glass has also been conserved.

    The windows that will be shown at The Cloisters are from the clerestory of the cathedral’s choir, east transepts, and Trinity Chapel. The six figures—Jared, Lamech, Thara, Abraham, Noah, and Phalec—were part of an original cycle of eighty-six ancestors of Christ, the most comprehensive stained-glass cycle known in art history. One complete window (Thara and Abraham), rising nearly twelve feet high, will be shown with its associated rich foliate border.

    Masterpieces of Romanesque art, these imposing figures exude an aura of dignified power. The angular limbs, the form-defining drapery, and the encompassing folds of the mantles all add a sculptural quality to the majestic figures. The glass painting, which is attributed to the Methuselah Master, is striking for its fluid lines, clear forms, and brilliant use of color

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775085
    Praxiteles
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    Architecture and Royal Presence
    Domenico and Giulio Cesare Fontana in Spanish Naples (1592-1627)

    Sabina de Cavi

    ISBN-13:
    978-1-4438-0180-5
    Price:
    £59.99

    Cambridge Scholars’ Publications

    This book offers the first interpretation of Spanish architectural patronage in Naples during the reigns of Philip II and Philip III of Spain. The principal architecutral protagonists are Domenico Fontana (1543-1607) and his son Giulio Cesare (1580-1627), whose projects in Naples and Spain are set within the context of the cultural politics of the Monarquia Hispánica. Rather than being seen as resistant to habsburg imperialism, Naples (“the most loyal city”) actually participated, on a number of different levels, in the imperial program of the monarchy. While focusing on engineering and secular architecture, this book also takes related projects into account, such as commissions for major public sculptures and one fresco cycle, as well as the restoration and reuse of existing monuments and spaces. In this book, Sabina de Cavi discusses the evolution of Neapolitan architecture in ca. 1600 in relation to Rome, Palermo and Madrid, and in doing so casts light on the local process behind public commissions, and suggests a tentative explanation for the delayed flowering of Baroque architecture in Naples.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775084
    Praxiteles
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    Open Access
    Contextualizing the Archivolted Portals of Northern Spain and Western France within the Theology and Politics of Entry

    Mickey Abel

    Hardback
    ISBN-13:
    978-1-4438-3564-0

    Price:
    £39.99

    Cambridge Scholars Press

    Open Access: Contextualizing the Archivolted Portals of Northern Spain and Western France within the Theology and Politics of Entry explores the history, development, and accrued connotations of a distinctive entry configuration comprised of a set of concentrically stepped archivolts surrounding a deliberate tympanum-free portal opening. These “archivolted” portals adorned many of the small, rural ecclesiastical structures dotting the countryside of western France and northern Spain in the twelfth century. Seeking to re-contextualize this configuration within monastic meditational practices, this book argues that the ornamented archivolts were likely composed following medieval prescriptions for the rhetorical ornamentation of poetry and employed the techniques of mnemonic recollection and imaginative visualization. Read in this light, it becomes clear that the architectural form underlying these semi-circular configurations served to open the possibilities for meaning by making the sculptural imagery physically and philosophically accessible to both the monastic community and the lay parishioner. Pointing to an Iberian heritage in which both light and space had long been manipulated in the conveyance of theological and political ideologies, Abel suggests that the portal’s architectural form grew out of a physical and social matrix characterized by pilgrimage, crusade, and processions, where the elements of motion integral to the Quadrivium sciences of Math, Geometry, Astronomy, and Music were enhanced by a proximity to and cultural interaction with the Islamic courts of Spain. It was, however, within the politics of the Peace of God movement, with its emphasis on relic processions that often encompassed all the parishes of the monastic domain, that the “archivolted” portal, with its elevated porch-like space, are shown to be the most effective

    Mickey Abel is Associate Professor at the University of North Texas, USA. Her scholarly interests focus on Medieval architectural space of both France and Spain – its historical analysis, its contextual setting, its liturgical and experiential perception, and its geographical determinants. She has published in Gesta, Avista Forum, Peregrinations, and the Hispanic Research Journal. Her current work engages the mapping of spatial/geographical relationships between religious buildings, historical events, and social/economic life. Underway is a monograph on the monastic development of the canal system in western France.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775083
    Praxiteles
    Participant

    @Paul Clerkin wrote:

    Architecture and the Liturgy
    Francis McHenry OSB
    Catholic Truth Society of Ireland Publication
    http://lxoa.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/architectureandtheliturgy.pdf

    The passage of time allows a more critical appraisal of the assertions (often with without references of any kind) contained in booklet such as this – albeit a one which, in Ireland, is at the source of a cultural vandalism not seen since Cromwell and, in wider terms, since the French Revolution, the wars of religion in France and the iconoclastic crisis.

    That it had dated very considerably (at least in its theoretical formulation if not in its continuing practical application by surprisingly uncreative and imaginationless disciples) is very obvious. A very nice example of that can be found in an article entitled “Benedict XVI and the Eucharist” published by Eamonn Duffy in New Blackfriars [88/1014 (2007, pp. 195-2012. The following extract from the article serves to contextualize the booklet in the present contemporary situation:

    “once one rejects the paradigm of the meal as the interpretative key to the Mass, the inner logic of the post-conciliar changes, from the re-orientation of sanctuaries to the deliberate cultivation of community spirit in such institutions as holy handshakes, collapses”.

    Keeping this comment in mind, re-reading Fr. McHenry’s liturgical musings from the 1960s produces some interesting illuminations and consequencs.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775082
    Praxiteles
    Participant

    Opus Sancti Lucae
    eine Sammlung classischer Andachtsbilder

    edited by Karl Dormanig (keeper of numesmatics at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Wien)

    This edition was published in Stuttgart in 1900

    This was a portfolio of images frm the classical canons of European painting and sculptor to help provide models for all sorts of painters, sculptors, mosaic workers etc.

    http://bvbm1.bib-bvb.de/view/bvbmets/viewer.0.5.jsp?folder_id=0&dvs=1392077123493~471&pid=2103622&locale=it&usePid1=true&usePid2=true#

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775081
    Praxiteles
    Participant
    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775080
    Praxiteles
    Participant

    A complete scheme for the decoration of a Cathedral nave using scenes from the ecclesiastical history of England as published in the Tablet, 17 June 1899:

    http://archive.thetablet.co.uk/article/17th-june-1899/34/decoration-of-the-nave

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775079
    Praxiteles
    Participant

    @Paul Clerkin wrote:

    Architecture and the Liturgy
    Francis McHenry OSB
    Catholic Truth Society of Ireland Publication
    http://lxoa.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/architectureandtheliturgy.pdf

    Ifone were looking for a good contemporary example of an approach to the liturgy of the Second Vatican Council which proceeded from an hermeutic of discontinuity rather than one of continuity – a fundamental principle of the Council Fathers – then you have it in this document.

    The polarization of “new style” orship and “old style” worship could not be clearer and could not be more pronounced. For eaxample:

    – “The type (old type) is dated by the Vatican Council …[and in this boolklet the author wishes] to espress the optimistic hope that the liturgical and archtectural conceptions behind it may be entirely discarded” (p. 5).

    – It [the old type] spole, and still speaks of true religion and yet of modes of worship that are at variance with true religion”. (page 7).

    – “an entirely new orientation of priest and people around the altar” (page 9)

    – “a new doctrinal and architectural context”.

    It will be noted that, the first part of the document, in referring to the Vatican Council very little explicit reference is made to Sacrosanctum Concilium and the documents on its implementation are also fairly sparce on the ground. In addition, no mention is made of the several letters issued by the Congregation of Rites deploring the destruction of churches.

    Also, the ecumenical aspect of this this document is interesting. It should be noted that it appears to refer only to Christian communities deriving from the Reformation about whose sacramental economies (when the exist) there is, at the least, considerable debate as to their validity. On the other hand, the comments made in book about ecumenism do not appear to take into account the Oriental or Orthodox churches whose liturgical disciplines all derives from the principles underlying the “old style” liturgy so excoriated by the writer. One wonders just how acceptable these views are among Orientals about whose sacramental economies there can be no question regardings the thier validity. It would seem that the writers ecclesiology is a little short-sighted here and perhaps lacking in its consciousness of the many facets of the Church outside of Western Europe.

    With the benefit of hindsight, it is amazing that this work was approved by an eccclesiastical censor.

    The writer’s attitude to 19th century architecture is also noteworthy – particularly to Pugin’s neo-gothic since the view had been put to bed by Kenneth Clarke in 1928.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775076
    Praxiteles
    Participant

    From the Journal of Sacred Architecture

    Architecture as a Form of Erudition
    Early Modern Priest-Architects
    by Susan Klaiber, appearing in Volume 24

    Disjunctions between contemporary Catholic architecture and the liturgical and representational needs of the Church often reflect conflict between the client’s sacred concerns and architecture’s secular culture, or divergence between the architectural needs of other denominations and those specific to Catholicism. But historically this was not always the case. A look at the early modern era—the period of Renaissance and Baroque architecture, and of the Counter Reformation—reveals a substantial tradition of the Church producing its own architecture, with architects drawn from the ranks of priests and other religious. Although such arrangements did not guarantee a lack of conflict between architect, clients, and donors, the practice generally met the needs of the Church in a period of rapid expansion. These priest-architects represent a unique architectural culture set somewhat apart from the rest of the early modern era, during which the architectural profession changed profoundly and secular architects sought to distance themselves from their origins in the crafts and trades through a process of professionalization. This involved, among other things, establishing a body of architectural literature, bringing architecture into the learned discourse of scientific scholarship, and founding architectural academies. Priest-architects contributed to this process in the secular world, but also within the context of religious institutions.


    Sant’ Irene Church, Lecce, Italy by Francesco Grimaldi, begun 1591. Photo by Angelo Costanza

    The new religious orders founded in the sixteenth century, both before and after the Council of Trent, were at the heart of the priest-architect phenomenon.1 The orders of regular clergy, such as the Jesuits,2 Barnabites,3 and Theatines,4 as well as the newly reformed branches of medieval orders, such as the Capuchins and Discalced Carmelites, frequently drew on the architectural talents of their own members when constructing new churches, houses, and other institutional buildings. To be sure, the orders also employed secular architects during this period, particularly when generous local patrons played a prominent role in decision making. Yet architects from the orders could always help evaluate plans, fill in as construction superintendents, or provide designs themselves, particularly when funding was precarious. This essay furnishes an overview of some of these men and their buildings across Europe from c. 1550 to 1750, and situates their work within the institutional culture of the religious orders.

    The first generation of Jesuit, Barnabite, and Theatine architects, active from the mid-sixteenth century through the early decades of the seventeenth century, generally had obtained their architectural training outside the order. These men with a background as craftsmen, such as the Jesuit Giuseppe Valeriano (1542 – 1596) who originally trained and worked as a painter, generally joined the new orders later in life.5 The Theatine Francesco Grimaldi (1543 – 1613) also entered the order late, at age thirty-one, but had already been ordained a priest prior to joining the Theatines.6 Grimaldi provided the first plans for Sant’Andrea della Valle in Rome, designed several churches in Naples, and the Theatines’ Sant’Irene in Lecce (1588). In contrast to Valeriano and Grimaldi, Lorenzo Binago (1554 – 1629), the first prominent Barnabite architect, joined the order while young, at age eighteen. Yet Binago also seems to have had previous training in drawing or architecture, since his earliest known drawing—made a year after entering the order—is already quite accomplished.7

    These priest-architects began to establish architectural identities for their religious communities as the orders moved from the temporary quarters of their earliest years to create permanent architectural presences in rapidly expanding networks of churches and houses across Italy and throughout Europe. Such early churches were often simple, since the immediate functional needs during expansion and financial constraints overrode wishes for more elaborate designs.


    Giovanni Francesco Grimaldi, black chalk drawing of Orazio Grassi’s Sant’ Ignazio Church under construction, Rome. Photo: © The Trustees of the British Museum

    After this first generation, the Jesuit Orazio Grassi8 (1583 – 1654) marks the transition to the later type of institutionalized scholarly priest-architects. By the early seventeenth century, the new orders had established themselves as centers of learning and education as well as patrons of architecture, constructing not only churches and convents, but also colleges and seminaries, hospitals, libraries, and other institutional buildings. The traits manifested in Grassi’s career came to characterize most priest-architects over the next century. These men were usually trained in mathematics through the educational programs of the orders—mathematics in its early modern sense of quantifiable crafts and activities such as mathematical astronomy, perspective, and architecture (“mixed mathematics”), in addition to the developing field of what is now known as pure mathematics.9 Thus equipped, the priest-mathematicians pursued vocations as teachers and scholars within their orders, and they participated as architects or consultants in many of their orders’ building projects.

    Grassi’s career in the broad field of seventeenth-century mathematics unfolded primarily at the Collegio Romano, where he briefly considered establishing a Jesuit architectural school, but became most famous for his clashes with Galileo Galilei regarding comets.10 Grassi designed several buildings for the Jesuits, foremost Sant’Ignazio in Rome (begun 1626), the church of the Collegio Romano, but also at least portions of other buildings for the order, such as San Vigilio, Siena, and Sant’Ignazio (now Saint-Charles-Borromé) in Bastia on Corsica.11 Although Sant’Ignazio was not completed entirely to Grassi’s plans, it stands as a monument to the architectural-mathematical scholarship and practical skills promoted in the Jesuit curriculum at the Society’s colleges.

    Under Grassi, the Jesuit order institutionalized the connection between architecture and mathematics, appointing the professor of mathematics at the Collegio Romano the order’s consiliarus aedificiorum. The consiliarus reviewed all plans for new architectural projects within the order, with his approval necessary before projects could proceed. The consiliarus commented on the plans, and when necessary, made suggestions for improvements—these were generally practical and economic in nature, rather than aesthetic. The plans were submitted in duplicate to the consiliarus, with one copy returned to the building site, and the other retained for the order’s archives; these plans are now all preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris.12

    In addition to architectural skills cultivated for the order’s own immediate needs, the Jesuit colleges throughout Europe often instructed their secular pupils in military architecture, such as the art of building fortifications. This met a future need for young men planning to pursue a military career, and was therefore included within their mathematics curriculum.13

    Similar architectural needs, educational programs, and—sometimes—institutional mechanisms led to similar architectural cultures in other early modern religious orders, particularly those associated with the Counter Reformation. For these orders, architecture fit into a larger vision of the scholarship that priests would normally pursue, and indeed could be considered a kind of apostolate for the order. In this sense, when a priest designed churches for his order—or other buildings for its patrons, thereby also supporting the order indirectly—he was doing work that was part of his vocation as a priest.14

    The Theatine Guarino Guarini (1624 – 1683) is perhaps the best-known of these architects, joining the ranks of major secular architects such as Bernini and Borromini in histories of Baroque architecture. Yet precisely this success has obscured his origins within the architectural culture of early modern religious orders. His early works in Messina and Modena, while accomplished and innovative in some respects, do not yet herald the radically inventive designs—particularly daring open-work domes—that he produced at the Savoy court in Turin, such as the Theatines’ ducal chapel of San Lorenzo (1670 – 1680) or the Chapel of the Holy Shroud (1667 – 1694) between the ducal palace and the cathedral. Guarini even officiated at the inaugural mass in San Lorenzo on May 12, 1680, although considering the dozens of early modern priest-architects, this was perhaps not quite the unique occurrence Rudolf Wittkower imagined.15


    San Lorenzo, Turin, by Guarino Guarini, 1670-80. Photo: SXC

    Guarini was so successful as a court architect for the Savoy that he seems to have had various assistants supporting him toward the end of his career. Documents mention a Theatine lay brother assigned to help him, although the records do not specify if this help was specifically architectural, or simply general logistic assistance.16 For his two large secular projects for the Prince of Carignano, the Palazzo Carignano and the Castello of Racconigi, the surviving drawings show at least two or three other draftsmen besides Guarini. These draftsmen seem to have been secular architects hired by the patron to assist the priest busy with numerous publication projects as well as other duties beyond the building site.17

    After publishing philosophy and geometry textbooks, and smaller works on astronomy, fortifications, and construction measurement, Guarini finally seems to have turned to writing his architectural treathttpise during the last five or six years of his life. Indeed, right up to the end of his life, Guarini remained a scholar: he died in Milan apparently while there supervising the publication of his two-volume astronomy treatise Caelestis Mathematicae (Milan: Ludovico Monti, 1683). Had he lived longer, he may well have written the theology textbook, a Cursum scholasticae theologia, which he had intended to write at least since his time in Paris in the 1660s.18 For Guarini and many other early modern priest-architects, architecture and scholarship were not separate activities pursued in addition to the priesthood, but rather integral parts of their vocations. Richard Pommer best expressed this in relation to Guarini when he remarked, “for him, architecture was a form of erudition.”19

    Active priest-architects were not confined to Italy, but also based in Spain, France, the German regions, and the Southern Low Countries. Through the international ministries and missions of their orders, they often traveled extensively, spreading as well as gathering architectural ideas all along the way.

    The Spanish Cistercian Juan Bautista Caramuel y Lobkowitz (1606 – 1682) was a polymath who published works in diverse disciplines and traveled extensively throughout Europe; he became bishop of Vigevano in Lombardy in 1673.20 Like Grassi and Guarini, Caramuel also approached architecture as a branch of mathematics, and he is best known for his architectural theory, first included in his mathematics treatise Mathesis Biceps (2 vols., Campagna, 1670), and then published separately as Architectura civil, recta y obliqua (Vigevano, 1678). The latter treatise is remarkable for its system of “oblique architecture,” which incorporated adjustments to architectural elements such as staircase balusters or colonnades on curved plans in order to avoid awkward transitions between rectilinear and oblique elements, or to compensate for other irregular optical effects.


    Juan Bautista Caramuel’s treatise Architectura civil, recta y obliqua, 1678, Part IV, Plate VI. Photo: Getty Research Library / Internet Archive

    Caramuel’s single built work is the façade of the cathedral of Sant’Ambrogio in Vigevano, Italy, completed in 1680, which finished off the fourth side of the city’s Piazza Ducale designed by Bramante in 1492-94. The façade’s idiosyncratic design with four bays rather than three or five masks the church’s skewed orientation to the square and thus breathes the spirit of the architectura obliqua system. The solution was perhaps inspired by Guarini’s façade for Santissima Annunziata in Messina of twenty years earlier, but Caramuel also looked to a Roman model: the portal on the far left leads simply to a street as do the lateral portals at Pietro da Cortona’s Santa Maria della Pace in Rome (1656 – 1657), while the three other portals lead to the three aisles of the church.


    The title page of François Aguilon’s treatise on optics. Photo: © The Trustees of the British Museum

    The Belgian Jesuit François Aguilon (1567 – 1617) was known chiefly for his scientific work in optics, Opticorum libri sex philosophis juxta ac mathematicis utiles (Antwerp, 1613) with its frontispiece and six illustrations by Peter Paul Rubens. He directed the Jesuit college in Antwerp with its famous mathematical studies, and he also designed the splendid Jesuit church in Antwerp (1615 – 1621), St. Ignatius (now St. Charles Borromeo), together with the lay brother Pieter Huyssens (1577 – 1637) who took over the project after his death. Rubens also collaborated with Aguilon on this project, not only with his high altarpiece of the Deposition and thirty-nine ceiling paintings installed in the side aisles (now lost), but also contributing the design for various sculptural elements on the façade.


    Facade of Jesuit Church, Antwerp (completed 1621), print of 1678. Photo: © The Trustees of the British Museum

    The church suffered a devastating fire in 1718 which destroyed much of the interior, but one can still appreciate Aguilon’s original design in the rich façade and the barrel-vaulted nave with superimposed arcades, where the upper gallery was accessible to students from the adjacent college. The interest in optics at the Antwerp college probably also stood behind the innovative indirect lighting effects in the church’s Houtappel chapel, designed by Huyssens and perhaps inspired by Bernini’s early work at Santa Bibiana in Rome.21

    Many early modern priest-architects remain relatively unknown even today, with their accomplishments often obscured by misattributions to more famous secular architects. The pilgrimage chapel at Telgte (1654 – 1657) in northwest Germany furnishes an example of such an oversight. The chapel was commissioned by the Prince-Bishop of Münster, Christoph Bernhard von Galen, soon after he established the Telgte pilgrimage in 1651, with its focus on the sculpted Gnadenbild (a devotional Pietà) of c. 1370. Long attributed to the Danish architect Peter Pictorius the Elder active in Münster, twenty years ago the historian Helmut Lahrkamp uncovered evidence reattributing the original octagonal chapel to the Observant Franciscan Pater Jodokus Lücke (ordained 1642, died 1681).22 Lücke also designed portions of the Franciscan churches in nearby Hamm and Warendorf, and held administrative positions in the order, serving several times as the provincial superior.23 Interestingly, Lücke’s design for Telgte was preferred to that of another religious architect, the Franciscan lay brother Gerhard Mahler.

    Although gradually supplanted by academically trained priest-architects, lay brothers in the various religious orders continued to be active as architects and construction superintendents into the eighteenth century, although most of these men—lacking the formal education of priests—came from families already engaged in the building trades or other crafts. A few of these lay brother-architects achieved particular distinction.

    The son of a painter in Lyon, the Jesuit lay brother Étienne Martellange24 (1569 – 1641) provided designs for numerous Jesuit churches in France, such as the Jesuit Novitiate church in Paris (begun 1630), closely modeled on Giacomo della Porta’s Santa Maria ai Monti in Rome. Known also for his drawings of French cities and landscapes, Martellange entered the Jesuit novitiate in Avignon in 1590, and is referred to as an architect beginning around 1603 when he took his vows as a Jesuit frère coadjuteur temporel.


    Étienne Martellange, Jesuit novitiate church, Paris (begun 1630), print by J. Marot, 1652-61. Photo: © The Trustees of the British Museum

    The Jesuit lay brother Andrea Pozzo (1642 – 1709) worked primarily as a painter, particularly noted for his illusionistic quadratura frescoes with architectural elements, as in Sant’Ignazio, Rome, and for his altars. But he also was a prolific architect, designing churches in Dubrovnik, Ljubljana, Trent, and Montepulciano, among others. Perhaps inspired by the erudite publications of his more learned priest colleagues, Pozzo published his influential treatise Perspectiva pictorum et architectorum (2 vols., Rome, 1693 – 1700) in a parallel Latin–Italian edition that was widely translated in similar bilingual editions, thus addressing both craftsmen and scholars. His younger brother Giuseppe Pozzo worked as a lay brother artist of the Discalced Carmelite order in various churches in Venice.25


    Preparatory drawing for the Sant’ Ignazio vault fresco, by Andrea Pozzo, 1685-90. Photo: Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington.

    Caspar Moosbrugger (1656 – 1723) was a Benedictine lay brother from a family active in the building trades in the Vorarlberg region around Bregenz in western Austria, one of the dynasties comprising the so-called Vorarlberger school of architects and craftsmen. Moosbrugger trained and then worked as a stonemason until entering the order in 1682, around which time he began taking on the responsibilities of an architect. His architectural knowledge is preserved in the Auer Lehrgang, a manuscript treatise and pattern book used by the Vorarlberg builders’ guild. Moosbrugger designed numerous churches and monasteries in Switzerland, the most famous of which is the Benedictine Abbey Church of Einsiedeln where he spent most of his life.26


    Façade of the Benedictine Abbey Church of Einsiedeln, by Caspar Moosbrugger, begun 1721. Photo by Susan Klaiber

    Collectively, priest-architects, with their lay brother colleagues, shaped substantial portions of the built environment in early modern cities across Europe. The priest-architect phenomenon flourished during a specific historical moment lasting perhaps three centuries. With the advent of modern professional training in architecture in academies and then schools like the French École des Beaux-Arts in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the orders’ practical and theoretical training programs for their members became superfluous. The various suppressions of the orders at the end of the eighteenth century also contributed to the demise of this architectural culture.

    Although the nineteenth and twentieth centuries still produced some priest-architects, these were increasingly trained in mainstream secular schools of architecture, no longer within the Church’s educational programs. Some exceptions to this trend were priest-architects working in the mission field, where a general scarcity of formally trained architects prevailed—much as during the building boom of the Counter Reformation. The British Anglican priest William Grey (1819 – 1872) designed or remodelled eleven churches in Newfoundland according to the principles of Ecclesiology, and also trained Canadian Anglican seminary students in architecture.27 Other contemporary priest-architects, as with the early Jesuits, came from families active in architecture, such as the Dutch Benedictine monk Dom Hans van der Laan (1904 – 1991). Van der Laan studied architecture at the Technische Universiteit Delft and built austerely meditative churches and Benedictine abbeys in the Netherlands, Belgium, and Sweden.28 For all these men, creating sacred architecture comprised a facet of their religious vocation, helping them to serve the Church and their communities with buildings to further spiritual goals.

    Susan Klaiber (Ph.D., FAAR) is an architectural historian based in Winterthur, Switzerland, whose work focuses on Baroque architecture in Italy, France, and Germany. Her publications include the book Guarino Guarini (Umberto Allemandi & C.), co-edited with G. Dardanello and H. A. Millon. She serves on the governing committee of the European Architectural History Network, and was founding editor of the Network’s EAHN Newsletter (2007-2010). Website: http://www.susanklaiber.wordpress.com.

    (Endnotes)
    This essay draws on material presented in my two forthcoming articles: “Architecture and Mathematics in Early Modern Religious Orders,” in A. Gerbino, ed., Geometrical Objects: Architecture and the Mathematical Sciences 1400-1800, (in press); and “Architectural Education and Early Modern Religious Orders,” Cambridge World History of Religious Architecture, Richard Etlin, general editor, 3 vols., New York: Cambridge University Press (publication scheduled for 2013 / 2014).
    The title of this article draws on a comment by Richard Pommer, cited at note 19 below.
    1. See Rudolf Wittkower, Art and Architecture in Italy 1600-1750, Pelican History of Art, 6th ed., rev. by Joseph Connors and Jennifer Montagu (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), 1: 2-3, 15-16, 80-81, 84-87; Richard Bösel, “L’architettura dei nuovi ordini religiosi,” in Storia dell’architettura italiana: Il Seicento, ed. Aurora Scotti (Milan: Electa, 2003), 1:48-69.
    2. Jean Vallery-Radot, Le recueil de plans d’édifices de la Campagnie de Jésus conservé à la Bibliothèque nationale de Paris (Rome: Institutum Historicum S. I., 1960);
    Richard Bösel, Jesuitenarchitektur in Italien (1540 – 1773). Teil 1, Die Baudenkmäler der römischen und der neapolitanischen Ordensprovinz, 2 vols. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 1986), and Richard Bösel and Herbert Karner, Jesuitenarchitektur in Italien. Teil 2., Die Baudenkmäler der mailändischen Ordensprovinz (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 2007).
    3. Jörg Stabenow, Die Architektur der Barnabiten: Raumkonzept und Identität in den Kirchenbauten eines Ordens der Gegenreformation 1600-1630 (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 2011).
    4. Because the early modern Theatine order lacked a central repository for architectural designs, no comprehensive summary of Theatine architectural practice or production has yet been written. For aspects, see: Silvana Savarese, Francesco Grimaldi e l’architettura della Controriforma a Napoli (Rome: Officina, 1986); Susan Klaiber, “Guarino Guarini’s Theatine Architecture” (PhD dissertation, Columbia University, 1993), 9-38; and Fulvio Lenzo, Architettura e antichità a Napoli dal XV al XVIII secolo: le colonne del Tempio dei Dioscuri e la Chiesa di San Paolo Maggiore (Rome: “L’Erma” di Bretschneider, 2011).
    5. Pietro Pirri, Giuseppe Valeriano S.I., architetto e pittore, 1542-1596, ed. R. Colombo (Rome: Institutum Historicum S.J., 1970); and R. Bösel, “Giuseppe Valeriano,” in The Dictionary of Art, ed. J. Turner (London: Grove, 1996), 31: 819-820.
    6. Francesco Andreu, Oppidani illustri: Francesco Grimaldi (Matera: Arti Grafiche E. Liantonio, 1984), 23.
    7. Stabenow, 34.
    8. On Grassi, see Richard Bösel, Orazio Grassi: architetto e matematico gesuita : un album conservato nell’Archivio della Pontificia Università gregoriana a Roma (Roma: Argos, 2004).
    9. Antonella Romano, La contre-réforme mathématique. Constitution et diffusion d’une culture mathématique jésuite á la Renaissance (1540-1640) (Rome: École française de Rome, 1999); Gary I. Brown, “The Evolution of the Term ‘Mixed Mathematics,’” Journal of the History of Ideas 52, no. 1 (1991): 81-102; and my two forthcoming articles cited above, Klaiber, “Architecture and Mathematics in Early Modern Religious Orders;” and Klaiber, “Architectural Education and Early Modern Religious Orders.”
    10. Bösel, Grassi, 29.
    11. Bösel, Grassi, 31-33.
    12. Vallery-Radot, Recueil, 8*-11*. The several volumes of plans in Paris may now be consulted online through the Gallica digitization project: http://gallica.bnf.fr/Search?ArianeWireIndex=index&lang=EN&q=Recueil+…+contenant+tous+les+Plans+originaux+des+Maisons&p=1&f_typedoc=images (consulted May 29, 2013).
    13. François de Dainville, “L’enseignement scientifique dans les collèges des jésuites,” in Enseignement et diffusion des sciences en France au XVIIIe siècle, ed. René Taton (Paris: Hermann, 1964), 52; Denis De Lucca, Jesuits and Fortifications: The Contribution of the Jesuits to Military Architecture in the Baroque Age (Leiden: Brill, 2012).
    14. See Klaiber, “Architectural Education and Early Modern Religious Orders” (forthcoming, cited above).
    15. Rudolf Wittkower, “Guarini the Man,” in Studies in the Italian Baroque (London: Thames and Hudson, 1975), 178-186.
    16. Archivio di Stato, Turin, Sezione Corte, Lettere di particolari, “V”, mazzo 40, letter of the Theatine Father General Placido Visconti, dated May 22, 1677.
    17. On the other hands in these drawings, see Augusta Lange, “Disegni e documenti di Guarino Guarini,” in V. Viale, ed., Guarino Guarini e l’internazionalità del barocco (Turin: Accademia delle scienze, 1970), I: 100-102.
    18. Giuseppe Silos, Historiarum Clericorum Regularium (Palermo: Petri de Insula, 1666), III: 572.
    19. Richard Pommer, Eighteenth-Century Architecture in Piedmont (New York: New York University Press, 1967), 7.
    20. Augusto De Ferrari and Werner Oechslin, “Caramuel Lobkowicz, Juan,” in Dizionario Biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1976), 19: 621-626, also available online: http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/juan-caramuel-lobkowicz_%28Dizionario-Biografico%29/ (consulted May 29, 2013); for an overview of his architectural activity in English, see also Werner Oechslin, “Caramuel de Lobkowitz, Juan,” in Macmillan Encyclopedia of Architects, ed. Adolf K. Placzek (New York: Free Press, 1982), 1: 380-383.
    21. The exact division of labor and attribution of the various church components in Antwerp remain slightly unclear. On Aguilon, see August Ziggelaar, François de Aguilón S. J. (1567 – 1617): Scientist and Architect (Rome: Institutum Historicum S. I., 1983), and the recent overview in Joris Snaet and Krista de Jonge, “The Architecture of the Jesuits in the Southern Low Countries: A State of the Art,” in La arquitectura jesuìtìca, ed. María Isabel Alvaro Zamora, Javier Ibáñez Fernández, and Jesús Fermín Criado Mainar (Zaragoza: Inst. “Fernando el Catòlico”, 2012), 239-276, esp. 273 on the Houtappel chapel in the Antwerp church; also available online: http://ifc.dpz.es/recursos/publicaciones/31/96/08snaetdejonge.pdf (consulted May 29, 2013).
    22. Helmut Lahrkamp, “Beiträge zur Hofhaltung des Fürstbischofs Christoph Bernhard von Galen – mit einem Exkurs über Peter Pictorius d. Ä.” Westfalen 71 (1993): 31-71. The ornaments atop the exterior columns and the lantern were apparently added later: for the engraving of Pater Lücke’s original chapel in a 1660 Jesuit devotional book held by the university library in Münster, see http://sammlungen.ulb.uni-muenster.de/hd/content/pageview/834482 (consulted May 30, 2013). I thank Martin Raspe for drawing my attention to Lahrkamp’s work.
    23. Lahrkamp, “Beiträge zur Hofhaltung”: 54.
    24. This follows the recent study on Martellange by Adriana Sénard, “Étienne Martellange: un architecte de la Compagnie de Jésus en France au XVIIe siècle,” in La arquitectura jesuìtìca, ed. María Isabel Alvaro Zamora, Javier Ibáñez Fernández, and Jesús Fermín Criado Mainar (Zaragoza : Inst. “Fernando el Catòlico”, 2012), 213-237; also available online: http://ifc.dpz.es/recursos/publicaciones/31/96/07senard.pdf (consulted May 30, 2013).
    25. Vittorio De Feo and Valentino Martinelli, eds. Andrea Pozzo (Milan: Electa, 1996); Alberta Battisti, ed., Andrea Pozzo (Milan: Luni, 1996); Richard Bösel and Lydia Salviucci Insolera, eds., Artifizi della Metafora: saggi su Andrea Pozzo (Rome: Artemide, 2011).
    26. On Moosbrugger, see Werner Oechslin, “Moosbrugger, Caspar,” in Macmillan Encyclopedia of Architects, ed. Adolf K. Placzek (New York: Free Press, 1982), 3: 231-233; and Hardy Happle and Werner Oechslin, editors, Auer Lehrgang, 3 vols. (Zurich and Bregenz: Vorarlberger Landesmuseum, 2008-2011). Online resource: Moosbrugger in the Einsiedeln Professbuch, with images of his drawings for the abbey church http://www.klosterarchiv.ch/e-archiv_professbuch_liste.php?id=1374 (consulted November 30, 2012).
    27. On Grey, see: http://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.com/articles/william-grey (consulted May 29, 2013). For Grey’s sole surviving church, St. James Anglican Church in Battle Harbour, Newfoundland, and Labrador, see the entry on the Canada’s Historic Places website: http://www.historicplaces.ca/en/rep-reg/place-lieu.aspx?id=2137 (consulted 29 May 2013). I learned of Grey through a paper given at the European Architectural History Network’s Second International Meeting in Brussels, May 31-June 2, 2012, “Periodicals, Patrons, and Practitioners: The Transmission of Ecclesiological Gothic to the Atlantic Colonies of British North America” (Peter Coffman, Carleton University, Ottawa).
    28. On van der Laan, see the website of the Van Der Laan Foundation: http://www.vanderlaanstichting.nl/en/index.php (consulted May 30, 2013) with rich photographic and bibliographic resources.

    in reply to: reorganisation and destruction of irish catholic churches #775075
    Praxiteles
    Participant

    From the Journal of Sacred Architecture

    Bible Made in Brick
    THE 125TH ANNIVERSARY OF SACRED HEART BASILICA, NOTRE DAME

    by The Most Rev. Daniel R. Jenky, appearing in Volume 24

    Bishop Daniel R. Jenky, C.S.C., gave the following homily at the celebration of the 125th Anniversary of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart at the University of Notre Dame on July 16, 2013:

    Everything about God is tremendous, and everything God does is extravagant! Our God is simply awesome. There is nothing meager about God. Think for just a moment about the miracle of creation. The universe is endlessly vast, almost beyond comprehension. There are countless galaxies of stars, scattered across the unbounded vacuum of space and time. Beside stars and quasars, planets and moons, asteroids and meteors, there is the dust of creation and the black holes of destruction. Our telescopes and satellites capture images of stunning beauty and fascinating complexity. And then there are the bugs and beasts, and that special beauty that Gerard Manley Hopkins once delighted to call “dappled things.” And also there’s us human beings, with our unique capacity for consciousness. You would have to be brain dead or as dull as a slug, not to feel wonder and awe before the spectacle of the material creation.


    Sacred Heart Basilica at the University of Notre Dame. Photo by Duncan Stroik.

    But infinitely surpassing the glory of creation is the glory of the Creator. How does Saint Thomas Aquinas, whose painted image can be seen in the second spandrel of the East Nave, how does he describe the absolute singularity of God? The Angelic Doctor takes great pains to explain that God is ineffable. That means, God is incomparably greater than the capacity of our human language to either categorize or fully explain. God is in His essence, utterly beyond either similarity or difference. Because there is no kind of anything that God is. There is nothing in God that is not God Himself. That is why the endless mystery of God, echoed in the endless hunger of our humanity, is so captivating and fascinating. God is sheer existence, sheer being, sheer bliss. God is Who He is, or as God Himself reveals in the Third Chapter of the Book of Exodus: “I Am Who Am.” And this One True God, wondrously, is a Trinity of Persons. The Un-begotten Father speaks His Word, generating and loving His Only Begotten Son; the Son hears and loves and obeys the Father. And the Holy Spirit endlessly expresses this relational love among the Divine Persons.

    Both creation and redemption come from this infinite plenitude of the Trinity’s inexhaustible love. For it was from that same super-abundance, that in the fullness of time, “the Word became flesh.” With amazing generosity, the Word was “tabernacle” among us. With astonishing condescension, the Word “pitched His tent” and made His “dwelling place” among us. Jesus, the perfect Image or Icon of the Father, reveals the splendor the Father’s love. Christ is the Sacrament of the Father, making visible the invisible glory of the Godhead. And the Church, the community of believers, is called to be the image or the icon of Christ, a living Sacrament that makes Christ present in this world, until He appears again in glory.

    That’s why Catholics, despite some temporary bouts of iconoclasm or passing moments of spiritual amnesia, intentionally build glorious churches like this one. Catholic Christianity is sacramental and incarnational. That is the reason for this place. Down through the march of centuries and in the many and various changing styles of art and architecture, our churches are outward signs, material icons of inward spiritual realities, where the physical signifies the metaphysical. Glory and beauty are Divine attributes, and so believers of both the Eastern and Western traditions of Catholic Christianity have always tried to build churches as glorious and as beautiful as possible. Saint Francis of Assisi, whose image here is painted twice, once on a West Nave spandrel, and once more on the ceiling of the Lady Chapel, is rightly famous for his profound love of evangelical poverty. But in his own day, he was almost as infamous for his fierce insistence that poverty stop at the doors of the church. Folks often miss the sharp polemic of his witness against the heresies of his own era: the anti-sacramental Waldensians and the anti-material Albigensians. Along with his enthusiastic preaching of the Kingdom, his delight in the natural world, his direct service to lepers and to the poorest of the poor, Francis continued to collect stones to rebuild churches and chapels, almost until the very last year of his life. He certainly scandalized some folks, by spending a share of the money that he and his friars had begged, in order to purchase precious vessels, elaborate linens, and expensive sacred art, in order to glorify and beautify the House of God. For Francis and for so many of the Catholic saints that came before and after his time, what is spiritual and interior should be celebrated in this world by what is material and external. Consecrated Sacred Space signifies the beauty and glory of a “new heaven and a new earth,” in a world that is yet to come.

    [img][http://www.sacredarchitecture.org/images/uploads/jenky_2.jpg/img]
    The decorative ceiling depicts the Four Evangelists, prophets and angels. Photo by Matthew Cashore, University of Notre Dame.

    When Blessed Basil Moreau built the Conventual Church of Our Lady of Holy Cross in Sainte Croix, France, and when Edward Frederic Sorin built this church here in Indiana, they both shared that profound Catholic conviction that nothing was too good for the honor and glory of God. By 1869 here at Notre Dame, the Old Church was no longer large enough for the needs of the student body. In the spring of that year, the Provincial Council decided to build a new collegiate church dedicated to Our Lady of the Sacred Heart. Sorin rejected plans for a baroque church similar to “The Gesù” in Rome, as being simply beyond the means of the Congregation. Later there was another design for a gigantic, gothic church, most likely drawn up by Mr. J. Brady, a well-known architect from Saint Louis, Missouri. His drawings were also rejected, also because the church they envisioned was just too expensive. But the ever resourceful Brother Charles Borromeo, first “borrowed” those plans, extensively modified them, and then executed what became the design of the present church. It was Father Alexis Granger, Sorin’s great confidant, who was largely responsible both for the finance and decoration of Sacred Heart, in a process that was protracted over ten years.


    Entrance doors to the east transept of the basilica. Photo by Matthew Cashore, University of Notre Dame.

    Regarding the final result I would assert that few in our Notre Dame Family would disagree with Father Arthur J. Hope’s evaluation of Sacred Heart given in his celebrated history of the University: Notre Dame One Hundred Years. He enthusiastically extols: “The exquisite grace of its exterior and the lavish attention given to the decoration of its interior.” This church in its history variously named: the New Church, the Church of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, Sacred Heart Church and now in these days, the Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, is not a “Bible made in stone,” but is instead a “Bible made in brick,” indeed brick formed from the very clay of Saint Mary’s Lake [on the campus of Notre Dame]. Like all great Catholic churches, everything about Sacred Heart is both intentional and instructional. Luigi Gregori and his students did the paintings. The stained glass windows were imported from France. In this “House of God” on earth, there are vivid depictions of the “House of God” in heaven. When you look up, you see the stars, the prophets, and the angels. The saints in glory adorn the walls and the windows, beginning with Saint Rose of Lima, the first canonized saint from this hemisphere. The worshiping saints in eternity visually encircle us, the worshiping saints of time, in the celebration of the Sacred Liturgy. High over the sanctuary is Notre Dame our Mother, the type and symbol of the Church in glory, that most honored and revered title of this University, and the glorious patron of the Congregation of Holy Cross. Our Lady is depicted crowned, in prayer and rapture, beneath the Persons of the Most Holy Trinity. The tabernacle tower above the high altar triumphantly presides over the sanctuary and depicts the New Jerusalem “coming down from heaven like a Bride.” Above is “the Lamb once slain but now living forever.” Within its enameled and bejeweled walls, with the surrounding images of twelve angels and twelve apostles, the Most Holy Eucharist is reverently reserved both for our ministry to the sick and for our constant adoration and devotion. Beneath the altar is a shrine of martyrs, who shed their blood for the sake of Christ. And finally, at the heart and center of this church, as in every Catholic church, is the altar of sacrifice, where the one perfect oblation of Christ on the cross is daily renewed in our midst, and where we are fed with the “Bread of Life,” that Bread that comes down from heaven to earth.


    Stations of the Cross by Luigi Gregori, artist of the Household of Blessed Pius IX and Professor of Art at Notre Dame. Photo by Duncan Stroik.

    125 years ago on the occasion of Father Sorin’s 50th anniversary of priestly ordination, this glorious church was gloriously consecrated. Most of the American hierarchy was in attendance, including my predecessor John Lancaster Spalding, the first Bishop of the Diocese of Peoria. At 6:00 am, Bishop Dwenger, the second bishop of the Diocese of Fort Wayne, assisted by two other bishops, consecrated this church, in a liturgy closed to the public but open to the clergy, that lasted for three and one half hours. This building was washed with Holy Water, the altar and walls were anointed with the Most Holy Chrism, the sacred linens were laid on, and the candles all lit. To mark the places on the walls that were anointed are the consecration candles, that are still in place and lit today. At the same time as the church was being consecrated, Bishop Maurice Burke of Cheyenne, in ceremony very much like the Rites of Initiation, named, baptized, and anointed the bells of Sacred Heart’s great peal, including the eight ton bell named in honor of Saint Anthony. Next the doors were opened wide, and almost at once the church was filled with a capacity crowd. A procession began at 9:30 am for a Low Mass celebrated by Father Sorin. Pope Leo XIII had granted a special Plenary Indulgence to all who assisted at Sorin’s Jubilee Mass. Immediately following at 10:30 am, another procession began including all the prelates, visiting priests, and an army of Holy Cross priests that made their way into the sanctuary for a Solemn High Mass celebrated by Cardinal Gibbons. Haydn’s Third Polyphonic Mass was sung by a paid choir imported from Chicago.

    The sermon was delivered by Archbishop Ireland of Saint Paul, Minnesota. Its topic was the growth of the Church in America and the important role Father Sorin had played. “He had accomplished so much with so little,” was the Archbishop’s tribute to Sorin’s great labor, deep devotion, and intense American patriotism. This Mass did not end until 12:30 in the afternoon. Basically all the ceremonies lasted for more than six and one half hours, on a hot August day, without any air conditioning or even any fans, with the clergy, religious, and many of the laity fasting from midnight, even from water. This was a worship extravaganza that might have tested even the legendary liturgical endurance of Father Peter Dominic Rocca, the current and rightly renowned Rector of this magnificent Basilica.

    The day’s extended festivities included what was called a French Banquet, but where in a totally un-French manner, toasts were proposed and parched throats slated only with water. This was in the spirit of the Catholic Total Abstinence Society, which at that time was strongly supported, at least in public, by many of the bishops as well as by many of the Holy Cross Fathers, because of the so called “Irish failing.” They had temporarily forgotten a perennial cultural truth, rendered in verse only a few years later. The words of the lyric are: “Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine, there’s always laughter and good red wine. At least I always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!” Let us hope, Reverend Father President [John Jenkins, C.S.C.], that on this festive day of anniversary, we remember that “we are ND” and that we are Roman Catholics and definitely not Southern Baptists.


    The belfry of Sacred Heart Basilica. Photo by Matthew Cashore, University of Notre Dame.

    All the outward signs of glory in any Catholic church and in the Rites of Consecration are intended to signify an inward vocation to holiness to which all the People of God are called. Believers are the living stones that build up the Church of God. Christ is the Head and we are His members, constituting His Body which is His Church. And if we allow this sacred space to do its work with us, there should always be the glorious evidence of our cooperation with God’s glorious grace. Remember all the Baptisms, Confirmations, and all the Holy Masses celebrated here. Remember the multitude of sins forgiven and personal conversions continued here. Remember the visits, the prayer, and adoration that this holy place invites. Remember the Marriages, the Ordinations, the sad funerals, joyful Jubilees, the blessing of new projects, and the end of special events, that have all taken place within this consecrated space. We all have our own personal stories of praying and feeling, and again and again discovering, the consoling and the challenging presence of our Good God. Because what goes on inside these walls, and inside the other more than 63 chapels of Our Lady’s School, is all for the sake of what should always be witnessed outside these walls, that is, living the Christian life of love and service. Notre Dame’s intentional extravagance in this place of worship embodies the University’s hunger for holiness, confidence in learning, and commitment to service. The Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Jesus is the sacred steward of our best memories and the sacred inspiration for our most audacious dreams. Glory’s Mantle and Notre Dame’s Golden Fame are imprinted everywhere you look, in this house constructed for the honor and praise of Almighty God and for the blessing of God’s People.


    Exaltation of the Holy Cross, Lady Chapel, by Luigi Gregori. Photo by Matthew Cashore, University of Notre Dame.

    God is always the Master of His own House and the inherent holiness of this, His consecrated dwelling place. Notre Dame’s Basilica images the grandeur of the universe, because God fashioned the universe. This Basilica images the beautiful, because God is beautiful. This Basilica images God’s Holy Church because in this church the members of Christ’s Body are taken up through the celebration of the Mass into the very language and love shared by the Persons of the Most Holy Trinity. This Basilica images the Communion of Saints, because we are all called to be saints, and all saints share a vocation to signify the goodness and the glory of God. This Basilica images God and God’s incandescent heaven, because our destiny is to see God face to face in the eternal splendor of heaven.


    The altar in the Lady Chapel, fabricated by the school of Bernini. Photo by Duncan Stroik.

    Right here, 125 years ago yesterday, on the Solemnity of the Assumption, the following majestic words of consecration were pronounced by Bishop Dwenger, I am sure, with some appropriate fear and trembling:

    Be magnified, O Lord our God, in your holy place and show your presence in this temple which was built for you. According to your will, accomplish all things in your adopted children, and may you be ever glorified in your inheritance, through Christ our Lord. How awesome and terrible is this place! Truly this is the House of God, and the Gate of Heaven.
    For the Congregation of Holy Cross and for the entire Notre Dame Family, may this deep conviction of our Catholic faith never be lost but ever be lived, affirmed, and gloriously celebrated!
    Born in Chicago in 1947, Daniel R. Jenky was ordained a priest with the Congregation of Holy Cross in 1974 and served as Rector of Sacred Heart Basilica at the University of Notre Dame for twenty years. In 1997, Jenky was ordained as Auxiliary Bishop of the Diocese of Fort Wayne-South Bend, IN. He was appointed the eighth Bishop of Peoria, IL in 2002. His Excellency continues to serve as a Fellow and Trustee of the University of Notre Dame.

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