This church struck me magnificent as soon as I walked in. It wasn’t very crowded, and the lights were dim enough to create a sense of gravity and seriousness while still illuminating the decorative nature of the building. I have not had a lot of experience with such large and decorated churches and basilicas, which made the experience that much more impactful.
I didn’t take any pictures, because I knew I would never be able to capture the dimensionality of the experience, and therefore didn’t want to allow myself to become distracted with such a knowingly frivolous task and instead basked in the depth of the moment. At some point during my wanderings within the basilica, my mind struck on the realization that, as beautiful as this building was, it remained perpetually in the shadows of the one it had been created to praise; this building which held my rapt attention was nothing compared with the glory and love of Jesus Christ. Such speculation would have been left in the irresoluteness of theory had I not stumbled across a small side-chapel with Eucharistic Adoration. I was wary to actually enter the room because the sign outside the door was in Italian and I was unsure exactly what it said, but I knelt on the floor outside the glass door, in the center of the aisle, to pay my respects. In that moment, I knew that I really believed that sentiment. After being face-to-face with Jesus, I found that the physical beauty of the church, while not dismissed, was no longer as compelling as it had been to me originally.
In an art history class called Beauty: Ancient and Modern, we read an excerpt from Abbot Suger’s account of his work on the Cathedral of St. Denis. Upon the enormous, gilded doors of this building was the following inscription: “All you who seek to honor these doors, / Marvel not at the gold and expense but at the craftsmanship of the work. / The noble work is bright, but, being nobly bright, the work / Should brighten the minds, allowing them to travel through the lights / To the true light, where Christ is the true door. / The golden door defines how it is imminent in these things. / The dull mind rises to the truth through material things, / And is resurrected from its former submersion when the light is seen.” While St. Denis was done in the gothic style and Santa Maria Maggiore seems to be more baroque, the parallel in ideology really resonated with me.
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