Spanish Catholicism still very robust (3 shrines and The Sagrada Familia)

Speaking of the strength of Spanish Catholicism, I saw three of the country's best known Marian shrines last week: Montserrat, Torreciudad, and the Virgin of Pilar in Saragossa. One is struck by the crowds they draw, and the palpable faith and devotion on display inside. If one were to judge solely by these places of prayer, the crisis of European Catholicism might not register at all.

I watched the elderly, the very young, and all ages in between lost in prayer before the tiny statue of the Virgin of Pilar in Saragossa, for example, and could not help thinking that there is life still in this tradition. (The story goes that Mary appeared to St. James here while she was still alive, encouraging him to continue with his efforts to evangelize the hard-headed Aragonians. It is the only alleged apparition of the Virgin during her lifetime.)

The shrine at Torreciudad is the most recent of these Marian shrines, built according to the wishes of the founder of Opus Dei, St. Josemaria Escriva, whose mother had prayed to the Virgin when the infant Escriva was very sick and pronounced all but dead by the family doctor. When the child recovered, his mother took him on a pilgrimage to Torreciudad, which had been a site of Marian devotion for nine centuries. (The ancient tower, or torre, was originally built by the Moors to protect themselves from attack by Christians, and then converted into a Marian shrine when the Christians succeeded anyway).

I had the chance to chat over lunch with Manolo Fenández Gómez, a Spanish Opus Dei layman who gives tours of the sanctuary, which is very near the French border. One humorous moment came when Fenández described the difference between French and Spanish pilgrims. When busloads of French arrive, he said, one of the questions they usually ask when they get to the sanctuary's crypt is, "What are all those confessionals for, since we don't do that anymore?"

When Fenández protested that individual confession is still the discipline of the church, the young French translator traveling with the group decided to skip that part, one indication of some of the challenges facing French Catholicism.

A potent reminder of the power of popular faith struck me in the Cathedral of the Virgin of Pilar in Saragossa, where a large oil painting in St. Ana's Chapel of a man lying on a bed with a crutch propped up against it commemorates the famous miracle of Calanda. (Italian Catholic writer Vittorio Messori made this incident the subject of his book The Miracle).

Briefly, the story holds that in July 1637, a young peasant from Aragon, Miguel Juan Pellicer, was working as a farmhand at his uncle's house when he fell off a mule and a cart ran over his right leg, fracturing it under the knee. Eventually the leg was amputated. Pellicer became a beggar in front of the huge cathedral of the Virgin of Pilar, leaning on a wooden leg.

In March 1640, Pellicer went home to his village. On the evening of March 29, he went to bed around 9 p.m. (wildly early by Spanish standards, as I discovered on this trip). His mother went in to check on him between 10:30 and 11:00, and was startled to see not one foot sticking out from under the covers, but two. Two years and five months since the amputation, Pellicer, so the story goes, had an intact right leg.

As Messori notes, royal notaries arrived two days later to take down depositions about what had happened. These were officials of the crown, not clergy, and the records they created still exist.

One can of course make of this whatever one likes (Messori, for his part, believes that Calanda is a "great miracle" that almost all by itself demonstrates the authenticity of Christian claims about the miraculous). What is striking, however, is that in a secularized post-Christian age, a lively belief in the supernatural still surrounds places such as the Cathedral of the Virgin on Pilar.

Another example: ETA, the Basque terrorist organization, once planted a bomb at the sanctuary of Torreciudad. The bomb went off in the underground crypt, apparently with the object of bringing down the entire structure. It failed, although it did wipe out a couple of the chapels and most of the confessionals. The lone confessional that emerged unscathed, in fact, was the one in which Escriva and his successor, Fr. Alvaro del Portillo, had once heard one another's confessions. Many Opus Dei members and others who visit the shrine regard the event as a miracle.

Again, the point is that despite all the turbulence besetting Catholicism in Europe, the endurance of such beliefs suggests that there may still be a cultural bedrock upon which the church can rebuild.

Another sign of life for Christianity in Europe is currently taking shape against the skyline of Barcelona, capital of the Catalan region of Spain. It's the mammoth church of the Sagrada Familia, whose construction began in the late 19th century and is not expected to be complete for perhaps another 50 years.

Everything about it is sweeping; a local expert explained to me that the sound system is designed to be so powerful, for example, that if traffic were to be stopped, the organ and choir could be heard from any point in Barcelona.

The Sagrada Familia is the brainchild of Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí i Cornet (1852-1926), whose cause for beatification is currently underway. In 1915, the papal nuncio in Spain called Gaudí "the Dante of architecture."

Every detail has theological significance, so that the Sagrada Familia is a sort of Summa Theologica in stone. Its effect can be overwhelming. A Japanese sculptor named Etsuro Sotoo, for example, converted to Catholicism from Shintoism after spending time in Barcelona studying Gaudí's work. A Japanese architect, Kenji Imai, similarly converted to Catholicism after spending time at the Sagrada Familia.

If the beatification cause succeeds, Gaudí would be one of the few laymen raised to the altar for something other than martyrdom. Local supporters see him as on a par with Robert Schumann as a lay Catholic who has helped shape modern Europe, in Gaudí's case through architecture rather than politics. It would also, naturally, be a boost for the Catalan church, which sees in Gaudí perhaps its most eminent native son. Given Catalonia's eternal resentment with respect to Castilia, this would be a major moment indeed.

For the rest of the world, Gaudí's beatification, and eventual canonization, would be a reminder that embers of the old faith still stir, even in the midst of highly modern and secularized environments such as today's Barcelona.

Very interesting comments about Gaudi. I had no idea he was being considered for beatification.

Well, I'm not a big fan of Opus Dei, but it's obviously helpful to many Catholics. Escriva is a saint, after all.

Lip service is one thing; the actions of the populace tell a different story (rampant cohabitation, no reproduction, low vocations).

Spain held on longer than most (due to the Franco government, which delayed the 60s liberalism another 10 years), but the fall was all the quicker...

I saw a pregnant mexcian woman in my office yesterday. She was there with her husband and little boy about 5 years old. She had just had an ultrasound and it showed a female baby. I asked the little boy what he thought of that and he answered " The baby will be whatever kind Jesus gives us" I told him that was the best answer I had ever heard. I know this has little to do with this article but I was impressed with this Catholic family and I am not Catholic.

To the extent that Opus Dei is maligned by evil liberals then I've come to think that it is a very good thing indeed. To be maligned by the DaVinci code which accuses them of murder and then be called a cult by you is truly an honor. They malign Saint Escriva, they malign the Pope who looks favorably upon Opus Dei (he promotes Opus Dei priests at every opportunity), and ultimately they malign Christ.

Your comments make me want to sign up for Opus Dei, where do I sign up? I'll take Saint Escriva, Pope John Paul II and Chirst any day.

I want to hang out where liberal heretics feel uniquely unwelcome. Opus Dei sounds like it's the right place.

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