When Germans Come to Town

Well, distinguished readers, it has been awhile since I've written anything, so I want to update everyone as to the recent goings-on this side of the computer. I haven't blogged in a great long time because of a very happy set of circumstances caused chiefly by the visit to the US of my good friend Florian - of Weil am Rhein, Germany. You may recall some of my posts dealing with my grand tour of the Continent that transpired last May. Those wonderful travels grew out of my visit to him, for which I will ever be thankful. So, long story short, he has been staying in Grand Rapids with me and my family since June 10th and will depart for his home on July 5th.

In the time that he has been here, we have attempted to survey as much of the Midwest as possible, for he did not get much opportunity for travel while he was here on exchange (the genesis of our friendship was caused by him attending my high school my senior year). Chief among the places we sampled was the great city of Chicago. It is one of those cities that never really gets old - this, I believe, was my sixth (give or take) visit. Skyscrapers were gazed at, deep-dish pizza was ingested, and a grand time was had by all.

We shifted gears from the epitome of urban to the epitome of rural as we journeyed from Chicago to the humble town of Nappanee, Indiana (probably my sixth or seventh visit there as well). Several readers of this blog are residents of Nappanee and they were gracious hosts to the two of us. Seeing the Amish was a highlight for Florian and provided a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of the big city. On our return from Nappanee, we stopped off at the University of Notre Dame to enjoy the sights and atmosphere of that august institution.

Since then, we have stayed closer to home, with a weekend visit to the cottage (involving an entire cohort of the Schmalzel-Mitera clan, in addition to my lovely girlfriend), and a trip to Lake Michigan to enjoy the sun and sand. This past Tuesday, a party was held in Florian's honor which brought together many old friends from high school that I have not seen in some time. The jovial company lasted into the wee hours.

The greatest adventure, however, surely lies ahead. Tomorrow, at the shocking hour of 5am, we (my family, plus Florian, plus my sister's boyfriend) depart for a ten day escapade featuring such locations as Niagara Falls, Upstate New York, Boston, Acadia National Park, and the Province of Quebec. Several of the places on the itinerary will be new to all of us (Quebec City, Acadia, and Boston), while Upstate New York is an old family favorite and Montreal featured on my architecture field trip last October.

Keep us in your prayers for safe travels and the maintenance of everyone's sanity as we embark on what will surely be a memorable week. When I return, expect blogs on a number of things that have occurred recently (Pentecost, Corpus Christi) as well as my thoughts on issues as diverse as the Republican Presidential candidates to the necessity of streetcars in urban Grand Rapids. Until then, Arrivederci!

In which I say something vaguely political

Yes, observant reader, you did read that title correctly, I am indeed going to say something political on my blog. Mark this as a terrible day indeed. As I am consistently reminded by a good friend, primary season is almost upon us. Indeed, the three-ring circus has already begun with sundry colorful characters throwing their hats into the ring. Everyone has their pretty "candidate faces" on, preparing to woo some octogenarians in an Iowa diner.

And, as usual, I am completely disillusioned by the entire spectacle. Shockingly, no amount of MTV "Rocking the Vote" is going to induce me to be excited about voting for the next president of the United States (partially because I doubt the depth of political thinking among those who are doing the rocking). You might be thinking to yourself, "Why, he is one of those anarchists, intent on destroying all that America stands for." But, you probably aren't (I just enjoy the thought of others thinking of me as some sort of extremist). I am no anarchist, I am an American committed to the democratic republic set forth in the Constitution.

That being said, in my short lifetime I have had to live through the campaigns of some awfully dismal and annoying people. That some of them got very far in the race tells you the average sanity of the American citizen. And again this election cycle, America is being subjected to the babblings-on of people I would find distasteful at a dinner party, let alone in the Oval Office. Your choice America: the sly immoral one or the rambunctious idiot.

You may think that I am being unduly harsh toward politicians. I am. In the youthful Colonial days, we rebelled against a government that was distant, corrupt, and which placed undue burdens on ordinary people. Have we progressed? I simply ask you this question to prove my point: can I become president? You may start shouting, "Yes! Anyone can become president! This is America, land of opportunity! If you want to become president, go for it!" You'd be right in some sense; there is nothing prohibiting me from running for president. What I mean to say is that to become a powerful person in this country, you need to sell yourself to others (corporations and special-interests, namely), and it seems that the more a person sells himself to court the votes of a certain group, the less determined he is to pursue the goals that he holds in his heart to be true.

Thus, many of the candidates look good at the beginning of an election. I agree (at least philosophically) with a few of the people running. Yet, as we saw with Barack Obama, the illusion change and reform is easily shattered. As we discuss in architecture, in order to have a good building, you need to start with an outstanding idea(l). With each step toward reality, the outstanding idea(l) will lose a bit of its shine as room is made for mechanical systems, plumbing, and building code requirements. The idea(l) is watered down, out of necessity. At the end, you may have a good building, if that initial idea(l) was strong enough to guide the rest of the process.

None of the current candidates is proposing a strong idea. Obama has certainly proved himself a weak president, easily swayed by foreign leaders, social opinion, and political opportunism. His convictions are exceedingly difficult to pinpoint because they are so ephemeral and relativistic. His notion that government health care is good because it will give more people a better shot at a better life is good, in theory, but is soured by the direct contradiction of his vehement stance on abortion (his willingness to shut down the federal government rather than cut funding to Planned Parenthood, being the most recent example of his morally reprehensible position). So, he's out.

But, no one else really looks good.

This has been an excessively rambling and incoherent rant, and I'm not quite frankly sure what my point was supposed to be. Just, I guess, that I usually don't talk about politics on this blog because the political arena disappoints me and makes me angry.

How not to honor someone...

Yeah. I dunno where to even start with this. Even thinking about this statue is tempting me to anger. This, in case you didn't hear, is the latest "tribute" to the beloved memory of Pope John Paul II. This statue is currently gracing the front lawn of Rome's Termini Rail Station, one of the chief arrival points for visitors to the city. Imagine yourself as a pious pilgrim, finally arriving in the Eternal City, stepping out of the station into the brilliant sunlight, being greeted by this hulking aesthetic catastrophe. The thing is UGLY. Period.

I was in Indianapolis this past weekend, and, among other virtues, the city is known for its quantity and quality of monuments. They all pay tribute to great men/women/events without paying tribute to themselves or their artists. In short, they are dignified, just as we wish to recall the times or people memorialized. John Paul II was a dignified man, alive with the dignity of Christ. In fact, he spent vast swaths of his papacy spreading the Gospel message of the dignity of each human person; from the Poles under Soviet oppression, to the unborn, to the elderly, to the workers, and to young people. And, we repay his beloved and dignified memory with something that bears a strange resemblance to a door-less, green port-a-potty.

It may be "politically incorrect" to complain about the decline of Western civilization, but with "art" like this littering the streets, the fact of the matter becomes more and more apparent. Rampant and unchecked individualism, combined with an adolescent love of rebellion has lead to artists creating works that glorify themselves instead of object itself. Art becomes an "original product" rather than a thing of beauty. And we end up with things like this - the Vicar of Christ looking like something vaguely fascist and sci-fi at the same time.

Here ends today's rant.

Cathedral of St. Peter in Chains, Cincinnati

Lest anyone think that I harbor a grudge against any remotely modern church architecture, I submit to you these images of the Cathedral of St. Peter in Chains in Cincinnati, Ohio. It was remodeled in the 50s, I do believe, and the result is pleasing in my opinion. The mosaic/fresco/image behind the altar is a very nice piece of Art Deco design. The remodel was clearly a modernization, but it respected the history and iconography of the church, unlike many of the construction projects in the following decades. (Images taken from cincyimages.com)

English Tudor Chapel

This is a hypothetical design for either a small parish church or a large chapel designed in a hybrid Tudor/Gothic style. A peculiarity of English Gothic architecture is the use of hammerbeam roofs with their interconnected arches and shaping of vertical space. The particular ceiling used for inspiration here comes from the great hall of the grand English manor house Wollaton Hall.

As for the liturgical elements of the chapel, I decided on a relatively restrained interpretation of the Gothic, which was common in the British Isles during the Medieval period. The sanctuary is traditionally arranged with a large freestanding altar at the center; the tabernacle, crucifix, and accompanying candlesticks immediately behind the altar; the ambo on the Gospel side of the sanctuary; a smaller lectern on the Epistle side of the sanctuary; and the sedilia (seating for the priest and altar servers) on the Epistle side, facing perpendicular to the nave.

I have discussed here numerous times as to why it is symbolically important to keep the altar, the crucifix, and the tabernacle grouped together (though it is not mandated specifically, and there are other noble options if the arrangement is not practical), however, the placement of other furnishings in the sanctuary is also symbolically derived. Many of the earliest Christian churches had their altars located in the east end of the structure, since east is the direction of the rising sun, and worship toward the east speaks to Christian belief about the resurrection and rising with Christ. Given the altar in the east, the presider would often sit along the south wall in the sanctuary, so that he was facing north. In the early Christian world, south represented the Christianized Roman Empire, while north was filled with heathen barbarians. Thus, the priest would preach from "the Church" to the non-Christians. Additionally, the Gospel was often read from an ambo (pulpit) on the north side of the sanctuary. The Gospel must be spread by those who already believe to those who do not believe.

Having the priest and the altar servers face perpendicular to the nave also serves another purpose - it keeps them from being the center of attention. Often in modern churches, the priest's chair is situated so that he is always facing toward the people when seated. This can detract from the true meaning of the celebration of the mass. If the priest is not directly facing the people he becomes less of an attraction unto himself.

I have thus explained myself. I must say that I am very happy with how this drawing turned out, and count it among my favorite hypothetical designs. As always, click the photo to view larger.

St. Justin, the Ancient Mass, and Martyrdom

This post is one of those hodge-podgey assemblages full of things that your author doesn't have the patience to sort into nice and tidy categories (much as he would like). Today just seemed like a good day to throw together some wisdom from the Church Fathers (when isn't there a good time for that) and some even more enlightening wisdom from G.K. Chesterton (always a good time for that!).

Today is the feast day of St. Justin Martyr, an 2nd Century early Christian convert from Palestine who lived from 103 until his martyrdom by beheading in 165. Justin Martyr is notable to us today both for his devout faith that he clung to even to death, and his apologetical works that he authored. His First and Second Apologies offer numerous insights into the early doctrine and worship of the Church; insights and descriptions that align with the ritual and beliefs of the Church today. Most notable (in my opinion) is his description of the Eucharist in his day:

And this food is called among us Εὐχαριστία [the Eucharist], of which no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has enjoined. For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Saviour, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh. For the apostles, in the memoirs composed by them, which are called Gospels, have thus delivered unto us what was enjoined upon them; that Jesus took bread, and when He had given thanks, said, This do in remembrance of Me, this is My body; and that, after the same manner, having taken the cup and given thanks, He said, This is My blood; and gave it to them alone. Which the wicked devils have imitated in the mysteries of Mithras, commanding the same thing to be done. For, that bread and a cup of water are placed with certain incantations in the mystic rites of one who is being initiated, you either know or can learn. - First Apology, LXVI

That seems to put to bed the myth of the Catholic "invention" of transubstantiation during the Middle Ages (as Luther and his companions unwisely maintained). You will also note, patient reader, that Justin slips in a mention of the sacramental view of baptism "the washing that is for the remission of sins, and unto regeneration" - a view that was tossed out by many of the more radical Protestant sects who claim baptism as a mere symbol. Additionally, this passage and the one immediately following, describe a liturgical church, focused on orderly worship and weekly reception of the Eucharist. This "proto-mass" described by Justin Martyr was the "source and summit of the Church's life" (Lumen Gentium, 11) just as it is for Catholics today. It is certainly comforting to know that our ancestors and forefathers in faith worshiped in the 2nd Century much as we do in the 21st Century.

To switch gears a bit, I thought I'd add a tidbit on martyrdom from the famed Catholic apologist and sometimes funny man, G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936). Chesterton struggled in his path toward Catholicism (and Christianity in general) to understand why the Church upheld martyrs as the greatest of the saints, but cast suicides as the worst of the sinners:

About the same time I read a solemn flippancy by some free thinker: he said that a suicide was only the same as a martyr. The open fallacy of this helped to clear the question. Obviously a suicide is the opposite of a martyr. A martyr is a man who cares so much for something outside him, that he forgets his own personal life. A suicide is a man who cares so little for anything outside him, that he wants to see the last of everything. One wants something to begin: the other wants everything to end. In other words, the martyr is noble, exactly because he confesses this ultimate link with life; he sets his heart outside himself: he dies that something may live. The suicide is ignoble because he has not this link with being: he is a mere destroyer; spiritually, he destroys the universe. - G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy, Chapter 5. Sam Torode Book Arts. Nashville, TN. 2009.

Good things to keep in mind, especially in these confusing times of suicide-bombers acting like martyrs. The two are diametrically and forcefully opposed.

St. Justin Martyr, pray for us!