Seville Cathedral

Can I tell you a secret?

I've already seen the cathedral in Seville.

It's kinda the reason I went on this trip.

Whew, that's a relief. I'm glad we got that out there. See, I've been a world traveler since the 8th grade. I went with a group from Suzuki School of the Arts in Hickory where I took flute lessons to Germany, Austria and Switzerland over spring break in my last year in high school. Then, in the summer after my junior year of high school, I went with Crossflame Youth Choir, the choir from my church in Hickory, to Scotland. I played flute then too. And lastly, I went with Suzuki one more time over spring break senior year to visit Spain.

On our trip in Spain, the planned visit to Seville turned out to be more of a pain than expected- about three hours in the coach for a day trip to the town. But I had read about Seville in a footnote about a Shakespearean joke during my English project comparing three Shakespearean sets of lovers and I was determined to visit. I went into the cathedral with a lady from my church and I walked around totally confused. There were all these side chapels with these metal fences in between me and them, and then the altar was in this box by itself, in front of a crazy carved wall. There were four organs and this huge box in the middle of the cathedral, also blocked off. It made it so that any lay person attending a service here wouldn't be able to see anything. And where was the pulpit? Where did the choir sit? There wasn't a choir loft. I mean, it was big and pretty and I loved moving from chapel to chapel and looking at the art, but overall, I left confused. We climbed the bell tower and I saw a wonderful view of the city and was honestly quite in love with the space again.  (I was going to show you pictures from then because I didn't make it up to the top of the bell tower this time, but I shudder at the quality of pictures back then compared to now. So sorry, you're out of luck on this one.)

Now, coming back to Spain, I was quite excited to see Seville again. I'd have loved to see Segovia again with its acqueduct, and Cordoba would have made a good story with its converted mosques and Moorish influence, but I was quite content to walk back into this cathedral that started my questioning about sacred architecture.

I walked back in just as confused as always. After all, you have this huge space, the third largest in Europe by area but the largest by volume, soaring up from columns all around you, and then you plop this big box down in the middle of it.

That's not the altar. And I'm sorry that the whole cathedral appears yellow...

That big box, by the way, is the architectural choir. Often, you have clergy sitting in there, or choristers. It's a bit of a trademark of Spanish cathedrals to have an architecturally distinct choir. The choir stalls in there are from the 15th century.

 And just like I thought, all the lay people coming to the service have to sit either in this tiny space between the choir and the chancel, or out in the wings, being unable to see anything. It reinforces the power of the clergy and the wealthy.

And this cathedral is wealthy. It was built on the spot of the Almohad Mosque with the gold and jewels of the recent Reconquest, the taking of the Iberian penisula back from the Moors who had invaded. The large orange grove and the bell tower are the remnants of the mosque.

Ways I identify Moorish influence: Does it look like Aladdin could have been here? (My Islamic Civ prof is shaking his head at me.)

The bell tower used to be a minaret. The treasury has plenty of golden things at which to look.

Above: Examples of Shiny Things

and that busy wall behind the altar is actually the world's largest altar piece, made up of 45 scenes from the life of Christ and covered in gold. The whole place fairly shines.

I'm real bad at identifying scenes when distracted by the shiny.

And so I wandered around again, looking into side chapel after side chapel. I paused in front of the tomb of Christopher Columbus, brought back from its original home in Havannah in 1902 after Cuba gained independence from the US after being taken from Spain in the Spanish-American War.

 I also stopped again and looked at this picture of a giant that has never ceased to baffle me,

 and walked in to see a bookcase in one of the chapels.

The only books I've seen in a cathedral that aren't for sale.

One evening I came back for mass. There was a wedding on the other side of the church, but it's such a large space, a quiet mass in one of the chapels couldn't mess with the ceremonies going on in other places. During the service I let my eyes wander, once again being stuck in a service in a language I didn't understand. First I let my mind wander up to the top of the chapel, where a real bird flew back and forth in front of the painted dove. Next I followed the old Spanish ladies and their fans with my eyes, standing when they stood and kneeling when they knelt. One of the daughters of the older ladies came up and read the scripture before the sermon. Even as she walked back to her seat, I watched her mother's fan sweep back and forth, back and forth, bringing a little bit of cool in this building that still reflected the heat outside. The air was thick with the ceremonial incense by the end of the service. I felt oppressed by the sweet smell, delighted to go outside and away from the smoke by the end of it.

Cathedrals like this were built for show, to tell the world how the people who had the building built were blessed. I feel out of place here, in a building built for the division of classes of people. At the same time, it's beautiful and impressive, holding the history of a city and a country in its old walls and in its new patrons. While it will never be my favorite cathedral, I'm quite glad I got the chance to see Sevilla again.