Catedral de Sevilla

Home is a concept that conjures a myriad of emotions, images, feelings and responses. Ever constant, home morphs and evolves, having unique characteristics that tell the tale of a life. Today, as I travel between the European and African continents, home is firmly rooted between rows 7 and 8 of TAP Portugal’s flight 345. The bond of our family unit experiencing the world together is as strong a sense of home as I have ever had.  But like unearthed Roman ruins discovered in the excavation of a parking structure in Seville, older concepts of home can surface in unexpected places. So it was upon entering Seville’s Gothic crown jewel, Catedral de Sevilla that a more distant version of home surfaced in my consciousness.

Growing up catholic, a great deal of home life centered on our local parish of St. Clair in our hometown of Braintree, and our second parish of St. Joseph at our weekend home in Bridgton, Maine.  Countless hours of sitting in pews, attending catechism class, serving as alter boy, kneeling in confessionals, day dreaming through stained glass, suppressing uncontrollable laughter, contemplating all the rout rituals, imagining the life of the guy gored and nailed to the cross… the collective experience has undoubtedly left an imprint, if not religiously, certainly as a version or facet of home. Walking into the third largest cathedral in the world, located just steps from the door to our building in Seville, I instantly experienced both the familiar and the utter discrepancy from my version of “church” as a child.

 

This cathedral is absolutely massive in scale, sprawling out so widely that it is difficult to get a sense for it’s whole form. While it is considered the largest Gothic building in the world, you can see the mark of former civilizations, including Muslim and Roman influences. The grand edifice was built on the site of an ancient mosque, taking just over 100 years (1402 – 1506) to complete. The interior is absolutely massive, with the ceiling reaching dizzying heights.  While it is the third largest cathedral in Europe, in sheer volume is outstrips even St. Peters Basilica at the Vatican. Gold is everywhere, especially in the “treasury” rooms, encrusted with jewels brought back from the vast Spanish explorations around the globe.

Indeed, Cristobal Colon, whose monumental tomb is a focal point in the massive cathedral space may well have brought some of that colonial booty back to Sevilla. You know him as Christopher Columbus, and you can read all about the country’s curious fascination with this man and his tomb in Otto’s well-crafted post here!

 

ColumbusLike the church of my childhood home, the community is embraced and permeates beyond the anointed walls. During our stay in Seville, we are watching the massive preparations for Christmas, which centers on the Cathedral. Holiday lights of grand scale and design are being assembled everywhere, though sadly not turned on until December.  The most unique element, however, which brings so many memories of home flooding back, is the 20^th anniversary of a 1-month marketplace of manger and nativity artisans from all over Spain! At least 30 different vendors lined a neatly constructed bazaar in front to the Cathedral, featuring thousands upon thousands of mangers, crèches, wise men, barn animals, the Holy family, Baby Jesus, scale models of Bethlehem… some are animated, lighted, have water features, clothing jewels… It’s just CRAZY! The Nativity scene my family had held a special place in all of our hearts, having been painted by hand by Memere, my maternal grandmother. As a little boy, I played with the cherished figures for hours, especially the 3 Wise Men on camels encrusted in faux jewels. As I wandered the stalls in Seville, cold, snowy Christmases, with an inviting fire smoldering and the Nativity manger glowing warmly in the pale yellow Christmas bulbs washed my soul with nurturing memories of home.

The cathedral holds the world’s largest Catholic alter, and while it has been closed for the past couple of years for extensive renovations, just sitting in the pews contemplating mass brought warm feelings of childhood and home. While on an incredibly grand scale, the smells, the confessionals, the tabernacle, the echoes, the stained glass, the carved biblical scenes and omniscient cross all coalesced in a similar manner as the church of my youth. The sheer magnitude of architectural feat and the at times vulgar display of vast wealth were not elements of my boyhood version of Catholic church, but I can’t help but be overwhelmed by the triumph of man and his love of art and God while walking around this holy place.  While I no longer practice an organized religion, Seville Cathedral reminds me that I can always feel at home in many places around the globe.