I was inspired to ponder this question yesterday when I went to see the awe-inspiring cathedral of Amiens in northern France. As I beheld the splendor and breathtaking beauty of this architecturally immaculate wonder, I began to ask myself if people were really so ignorant back then in terms of their understanding of the world and their place in it. Just imagining the rationality and purpose behind every element of the cathedral revealed to me in stunning terms the intimate knowledge and profound respect for the sublimity of God that people in that epoch surely had.
As I prayed in the adoration chapel, I looked up and noticed a beautiful vertical panel of stained glass which, upon close scrutiny, I noticed depicted the entirety of the history of Christ's Passion. It was unmistakeable. The beauty of the illuminations reveal the simple truths of the Gospel, and yet leaves the spiritual impact of our Lord's self-sacrifice to the heart of each individual believer. Every single part of the cathedral had a purpose. The floors were paved with labyrinth patterns to reveal the mesmerizing and intangible path towards the divine. The sheer massiveness of the nave left me breathless, and yet it depicted but a microcosm of God's immensity! And in the sanctuary-the holy of holies- cordoned off by a jube and beautiful choir stalls, even the most ignorant of persons could gather that in that place the most sacred of events- the consecration- transpires at every Mass.
I could not help but ask myself and reconsider the meaning of the word "ignorance". From where do our intellectual pursuits originate and whenceforth are they to lead us? I do not feel that it was merely the impressive beauty of the cathedral Notre Dame d'Amiens that truly brought forth this question in me. Rather, it was the perception of the simple sense of ordered purpose in that space wholly directed towards one goal: the glorification and revelation of our Lord's essence, which is beyond us. It is beyond me to divine how that space was so elegantly erected. It is beyond me to understand what drove otherwise simple people to gather together and build it up from nothing. And yet, in that cathedral, I understood that somehow, even in that allegedly most ignorant of epochs, there was manifest a profound and reasoned understanding of the unintelligible. So much so that, even lacking what we consider in our modern times to be the signs of advancement and progress, there could be witnessed a true sense of direction and, most importantly, faith.
The central questions, which I feel are really quite simple to answer are: have we truly progressed since then? Are we more or less ignorant?
Link to album of Amiens, including beautiful shots of the cathedral. Below are shots taken from Google.
3 comments:
I'll say we have definitely regressed. The cathedral is an excellent point, Anthony! (Unfortunately I did not make it to Amiens, but was able to visit Notre Dame de Paris. Wow)
The cathedrals of old were built to last. Today, we think something is "old" if it lasts 100 years. Back then, the cathedral was the dead center of the town, with the bell tower, dome, or spire being the tallest point for miles. Now, our tallest and most impressive buildings are the offices of corporations, all set in the heart of the city. Now you know I'm no lib socialist whining against corporations, but look at the shift in focus- God to money. I'd say this modern age deserves the term "Dark Ages".
Let us not forget that the terms "Renaissance" and "Enlightenment" were coined by pretentious thinkers who wanted to pretend that knowledge came into existence only through their efforts and those of their ideological ancestors.
There is nothing quite like walking into a Church whose architect understood that his task was to design a true House of God. The first time I set foot inside St. John Cantius in Chicago, it was as though an invisible hand was gently but insistently pressing down on my shoulder and compelling me to kneel. Very few churches still give me that sense of reverential awe.
Modern "wreckovators" like to strip churches of all that is sacred, and insist on building glorified social halls instead of a dwelling worthy of the name House of God on the grounds that the money is better spent elsewhere. When I walk into the fruits of their "labor," I'm usually greeted by the commotion you might expect at a townhall shortly before the meeting is commenced. There is little to no sense of awe on the part of the congregants. But walk into a truly majestic church building, and you are greeted by reverential silence.
Besides, what better way to ensure that a parish's investment withstands the test of time?
Yea it is amazing how radically people's behavior changes upon entering a truly well-designed church. When I walk into a butt-ugly church like Saint A's, I always see people chatting, running around, etc. The layout doesn't help either. I was indeed pleasantly surprised to notice the utter silence in Notre Dame d'Amiens when I walked in, considering that many places of such beauty are desecrated by noisy tourists on a daily basis.
Post a Comment