Gothically Speaking

Constructing monumental buildings takes time--procuring materials, placing those materials in ways and places that defy gravity, and incredibly, using those materials to create magnificent works of art. There is no 1% for art in Gothic cathedral construction. Two hours is an insultingly small amount of time for visiting the largest Gothic cathedral in the world and the third largest cathedral in the world. We are pressed for time.

This time, the mosque is razed, save for the minaret transformed into the bell tower, the Giralda. Flying buttresses arch overhead, vaulted ceilings rise to the heavens, stained glass tints sparse natural light, and carved and gilded altars glorify God, Jesus, saints, and a few presumptive nobles. Enormous columns march solemnly in rows, bearing the weight and sinking under it. One very large statics problem.



Private chapels ring the interior, tombs attesting to the regional power of this church, still in use. Parishoners bundle flowers before the main altar, decorating the paso (hand-carried float) that will carry the Host for tomorrow´s observance of Corpus Christi. Bishops lie noblely entombed in marble. Engraved floor panels cover ladder entrances to family vaults, where generations rest, their places reserved through generous donations and patrilineal affiliation. Remains lie in boxes, consigned to smaller containers after lying in coffins until only bones remain.







Columbus lies at rest here, or at least, a part of him does. His remains make several more voyages before coming to rest in Sevilla. The bones in this tomb are his, genetic testing says this is so. It is simply that not all of the bones are here. Claims to his final resting place abound in the Americas--Dominican Republic, Cuba, and others. Billy the Kid or Jesse James intrigue on a larger scale.





Art to the glory of God fills the Catedral. Intricate carvings and magnificent paintings testify to past largesse while gathered dust affirm declining Church attendance and support. A Goya, recently cleaned, pays homage to the patron saints of Sevilla, Santa Justa and Santa Rufina. Like the painting of the sainted sisters, another, of the crucified Christ, stands in contrast to other paintings nearby, Goya´s brushwork introducing an earthliness to the rendered figures.



And last, the challenge of the Giralda, iconic symbol of Sevilla. We benefit from ancient engineers and architects who lay ramps instead of stairs. Each landing offers a view in one direction. At the top, the robust panorama of rooftops stretches outward, striking in contrast to 1920 photographs of a dustier, poorer city as seen from the same vantage points.





Our time is up. The Catedral is closing. A guard, working sweep, shoos us down the ramp. We vow to return, to mass, to hear the twin pipe organs perhaps.