Nearer, My God
The cathedral in Leon, Spain, is a monument to Christian faith as one of the first and major examples of Gothic architecture. As is well-known (and can be better explained by others than yours truly), the Gothic achievement was to make ribs of stone that hold up the building’s weight and roof, rather than (as with the previous Romanesque) having the weight of the building upheld by the entirety of its walls. Leon’s cathedral was built from about 1250 to about 1300, and amazingly still stands today. One might say rather than “stands” that the building stretches itself heavenward; it is literally uplifting.
There is a choir in the middle of the cathedral, a later development that obscures the Gothic experience. (Originally the choir was close to the altar.) The audio guide at Leon asks the visitor to imagine the choir screen’s absence, and to think of the experience of light. There is so much stained glass possible in Gothic (since the walls do not bear weight), that visitor is moved towards God. The height of the building draws the eye along the sweep of the cathedral to the east. This is towards the altar, where the Eucharist is celebrated and Jesus, the Light of the world, becomes present to us in the sacrament of bread and wine. Every day begins with light coming in through those vibrant windows. Through the day (Leon being in the north) the light comes in through the southern windows of the church, and at sunset, through the western windows. At Leon, but not uniquely there, the northern windows (which never receive direct light) depict figures who preceded and longed for Jesus, but never knew the Light of the world. The southern windows depict apostles and saints and believers who knew Jesus or lived after his resurrection: the Light shines through them. The eastern windows have themes of the Incarnation itself, the beginning of the dwelling of the Light amongst us. To the west, the great rose window shows angels of the judgment that will come at the end of the world. Thus a day in the light of the cathedral provides meaning to the entirety of human history.
Mary is particularly venerated in Spain. She is, for instance, at the center of the western window. In the midst of judgment she provides, as the guide puts it, a softening element that invites us to trust and not to fear. She does this, of course, by pointing us to her son.
If you search online for “Virgen Blanca at Leon Catedral” you will find a wonderful image of Mary, the White Virgin (“white” from the stone color and lack of any paint) that greeted pilgrims to Santiago on their way. She has a visage and general attitude that was anticipated, by those who had heard of her, and is easily seen as encouraging for us who are still on our pilgrimage of life.
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I was impressed by the cathedral’s overall evangelical approach. The literature, for instance, makes clear that its primary purpose is to ground the life of Christians in the historic truth of faith. So tourism must yield to worship. Tourism also embraces basic evangelism: the tourist materials are educational, explaining Christianity to people who may never have heard it. I particularly thrilled to hear the guide say, of a particular chapel full of beautiful things, that of course the cathedral considered its greatest treasure to be the consecrated Bread of the Eucharist.
One’s mind suddenly went to the fire at Paris’s Notre Dame a few years ago and the image of a priest emerging from the flames, having rescued the reserved sacrament.
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There is a special chapel, beside and connected to Leon’s cathedral, where most of the masses are celebrated. I went to the noon mass last Sunday. The chapel seats at least 200, and there is overflow space, and it seemed full. There was a fine tracker organ and an excellent organist; besides voluntary music before and after, a Spanish hymn (known by the locals) and then the Kyrie, Gloria, and so on were sung to accompanied plainchant, words mostly in Latin. When we got to Communion, the organist started playing an old hymn, “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” You could have picked me up from the floor. Then a soloist started singing in Spanish to the tune which, I later learned, is called “Bethany (Mason).” It was masterful, simple, and sublime. In this church, as in any church, gathered on the Lord’s Day, everything can conspire to draw us closer to God. You don’t have to understand the language. You don’t have to know what the many elements of the building stand for. The truth is that the Light shines in the darkness, that God has visited us in Jesus, shared our life, put us on a journey to him, feeds us along the way, calls us to repentance, lures us to holiness, and at moments along the way one can become aware that one is indeed “Nearer to Thee.”