We’ll start with the more confusing one – James. As is the case with (in English) “Mary” – there are a lot of “James” in the New Testament narratives, so sorting them out is a challenge. And perhaps not even really possible.
Today’s feast celebrates James “the Lesser” – as opposed to James the Greater, brother of John, one of the first four apostles called by Jesus, present at the Transfiguration, feast June 25, etc.
Thus, St James’ Letter shows us a very concrete and practical Christianity. Faith must be fulfilled in life, above all, in love of neighbour and especially in dedication to the poor. It is against this background that the famous sentence must be read: “As the body apart from the spirit is dead, so faith apart from works is dead” (Jas 2: 26).
At times, this declaration by St James has been considered as opposed to the affirmations of Paul, who claims that we are justified by God not by virtue of our actions but through our faith (cf. Gal 2: 16; Rom 3: 28). However, if the two apparently contradictory sentences with their different perspectives are correctly interpreted, they actually complete each other.
St Paul is opposed to the pride of man who thinks he does not need the love of God that precedes us; he is opposed to the pride of self-justification without grace, simply given and undeserved.
St James, instead, talks about works as the normal fruit of faith: “Every sound tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears evil fruit”, the Lord says (Mt 7: 17). And St James repeats it and says it to us.
Lastly, the Letter of James urges us to abandon ourselves in the hands of God in all that we do: “If the Lord wills” (Jas 4: 15). Thus, he teaches us not to presume to plan our lives autonomously and with self interest, but to make room for the inscrutable will of God, who knows what is truly good for us.
Now, Philip. I think this GA talk really highlight’s B16’s catechetical skills. We don’t know that much about Philip, but Benedict takes what we do know, and hones it down in the most practical…pastoral way:
The Fourth Gospel recounts that after being called by Jesus, Philip meets Nathanael and tells him: “We have found him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph” (Jn 1: 45). Philip does not give way to Nathanael’s somewhat sceptical answer (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”) and firmly retorts: “Come and see!” (Jn 1: 46).
In his dry but clear response, Philip displays the characteristics of a true witness: he is not satisfied with presenting the proclamation theoretically, but directly challenges the person addressing him by suggesting he have a personal experience of what he has been told.
The same two verbs are used by Jesus when two disciples of John the Baptist approach him to ask him where he is staying. Jesus answers: “Come and see” (cf. Jn 1: 38-39).
We can imagine that Philip is also addressing us with those two verbs that imply personal involvement. He is also saying to us what he said to Nathanael: “Come and see”. The Apostle engages us to become closely acquainted with Jesus.
In fact, friendship, true knowledge of the other person, needs closeness and indeed, to a certain extent, lives on it. Moreover, it should not be forgotten that according to what Mark writes, Jesus chose the Twelve primarily “to be with him” (Mk 3: 14); that is, to share in his life and learn directly from him not only the style of his behaviour, but above all who he really was.
Indeed, only in this way, taking part in his life, could they get to know him and subsequently, proclaim him.
Later, in Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians, one would read that what is important is to “learn Christ” (4: 20): therefore, not only and not so much to listen to his teachings and words as rather to know him in person, that is, his humanity and his divinity, his mystery and his beauty. In fact, he is not only a Teacher but a Friend, indeed, a Brother.
How will we be able to get to know him properly by being distant? Closeness, familiarity and habit make us discover the true identity of Jesus Christ. The Apostle Philip reminds us precisely of this. And thus he invites us to “come” and “see”, that is, to enter into contact by listening, responding and communion of life with Jesus, day by day.
Then, on the occasion of the multiplication of the loaves, he received a request from Jesus as precise as it was surprising: that is, where could they buy bread to satisfy the hunger of all the people who were following him (cf. Jn 6: 5). Then Philip very realistically answered: “Two hundred denarii would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little” (Jn 6: 7).
Here one can see the practicality and realism of the Apostle who can judge the effective implications of a situation.
We then know how things went. We know that Jesus took the loaves and after giving thanks, distributed them. Thus, he brought about the multiplication of the loaves.
It is interesting, however, that it was to Philip himself that Jesus turned for some preliminary help with solving the problem: this is an obvious sign that he belonged to the close group that surrounded Jesus.
On another occasion very important for future history, before the Passion some Greeks who had gone to Jerusalem for the Passover “came to Philip… and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus’. Philip went and told Andrew; Andrew went with Philip and they told Jesus” (cf. Jn 12: 20-22).
Once again, we have an indication of his special prestige within the Apostolic College. In this case, Philip acts above all as an intermediary between the request of some Greeks – he probably spoke Greek and could serve as an interpreter – and Jesus; even if he joined Andrew, the other Apostle with a Greek name, he was in any case the one whom the foreigners addressed.
This teaches us always to be ready to accept questions and requests, wherever they come from, and to direct them to the Lord, the only one who can fully satisfy them. Indeed, it is important to know that the prayers of those who approach us are not ultimately addressed to us, but to the Lord: it is to him that we must direct anyone in need. So it is that each one of us must be an open road towards him!
There is then another very particular occasion when Philip makes his entrance. During the Last Supper, after Jesus affirmed that to know him was also to know the Father (cf. Jn 14: 7), Philip quite ingenuously asks him: “Lord, show us the Father, and we shall be satisfied” (Jn 14: 8). Jesus answered with a gentle rebuke: “Have I been with you so long, and yet you do not know me, Philip? He who has seen me has seen the Father: how can you say, “Show us the Father?’ Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father in me?… Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father in me” (Jn 14: 9-11).
These words are among the most exalted in John’s Gospel. They contain a true and proper revelation. At the end of the Prologue to his Gospel, John says: “No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has made him known” (Jn 1: 18).
Well, that declaration which is made by the Evangelist is taken up and confirmed by Jesus himself, but with a fresh nuance. In fact, whereas John’s Prologue speaks of an explanatory intervention by Jesus through the words of his teaching, in his answer to Philip Jesus refers to his own Person as such, letting it be understood that it is possible to understand him not only through his words but rather, simply through what he is.
To express ourselves in accordance with the paradox of the Incarnation we can certainly say that God gave himself a human face, the Face of Jesus, and consequently, from now on, if we truly want to know the Face of God, all we have to do is to contemplate the Face of Jesus! In his Face we truly see who God is and what he looks like!
The Evangelist does not tell us whether Philip grasped the full meaning of Jesus’ sentence. There is no doubt that he dedicated his whole life entirely to him. According to certain later accounts (Acts of Philip and others), our Apostle is said to have evangelized first Greece and then Frisia, where he is supposed to have died, in Hierapolis, by a torture described variously as crucifixion or stoning.
Let us conclude our reflection by recalling the aim to which our whole life must aspire: to encounter Jesus as Philip encountered him, seeking to perceive in him God himself, the heavenly Father. If this commitment were lacking, we would be reflected back to ourselves as in a mirror and become more and more lonely! Philip teaches us instead to let ourselves be won over by Jesus, to be with him and also to invite others to share in this indispensable company; and in seeing, finding God, to find true life.
As I said, they are random – just to give you a taste of the style of writing and the focus. The chapters in the book, each focused on a particular traditional Catholic prayer, are a mix of history and spiritual reflection.
Remember the structure: Each entry has two pages. The left-side page features a beautiful illustration and a short definition. The facing page – which I don’t show here – features a longer explanation, suitable for older children.
Don’t you think every Catholic school classroom needs a copy?
I wanted to get a fall trip in, but it was tricky. I had obligations – local talks, plus the Notre Dame conference. Family members were moving about – new homes, new cities – and could use a hand in those activities. I had originally planned to do this trip at the end of September, by myself. I wanted to get in the two major sites I’d not visited on my first trip to Barcelona 14 years ago – actually going inside Sagrada Familia as well as the journey to Montserrat – and I’d happened upon what looked like a good festival – Santa Tecla in Tarragona. Tarragona also has important Roman sites I was interested in seeing. So I was set – even had a couple of hotel reservations.
But then…the family members who were moving – two sets of them – came closer to solidifying their plans, and the dates for all of this were too close to the end of September for comfort.
So scratch that!
Then, through conversation, a new plan evolved – and that week in November – in between Notre Dame and Thanksgiving and maybe a trip out West – worked very well, not only for me, but for a friend, when we decided to do this trip together.
Now, I’m a comfortable solo traveler, and enjoy traveling with family, but this would be new – could it work?
It did! My friend and I are both low-maintenance people and we worked out a system, as it were, in which the first few days we saw all of the big sites and did the acclimation to the city together, but then, the last few days, perhaps saw one site together, but then she & I split up for the rest of the day until dinner, following our own interests. It worked great – and in particular, worked well for me since there’s only one thing I’m not super comfortable doing solo: eating dinner during those late-night southern European dining hours. I determined to do so in Italy in February, but could never quite get there and not feel weird. Perhaps I will in the future, but this worked out great.
So that’s why. Now, where?
We just stuck to Barcelona. We had originally thought about – and even planned – a day trip to Tarragona. For me, it was mostly because I was convinced I would be sick of Barcelona and just want to get out of the city. But it didn’t work that way. As Monday (the day we’d thought we go) approached, we both agreed that there was plenty left to do and see in Barcelona, and as for me, no, I wasn’t sick of it at all.
Day 1 – November 8 – Landed at BCN about an hour earlier than scheduled, contacted AirBnB host, who let us drop off our bags and get the keys from the cleaner. They’d meet us at noon to orient us. We spent the day orienting ourselves to Barcelona, including one of those open-bus tours, which was freezing (it did warm up a lot during the stay, but those first couple of days were chilly) – but helpful.
This will be the last daily report – hopefully in the next couple of days I’ll be able to do my usual compilations – itinerary, accommodations, food, etc.
Saturday began with a visit to my store that I can find in any really major city.
The only reason I am a fan of Muji is the notebooks. They are thin, basic and cheap. Everything else in Muji seems to be ridiculously expensive, but the stationary goods? Loss leader, I suppose.
So I’m stocked for a while, although I will have the chance for another Muji visit when I go to NYC in a month, so..well, that’s exciting.
Located on Passeig de Gràcia, in the heart of the Barcelona Eixample, La Pedrera is Gaudí’s last residential apartment building, constructed between 1906 and 1912, coinciding with the architect’s mature period, which was inspired by nature’s shapes and which gave rise to one of the most thought-provoking and unique works of modernist architecture.
The audio tour focuses on the owner’s apartment, the attic, roof and courtyards. The attic is an important element of the building – it’s not just a storage space. Gaudí was very intentional and innovative in its design, and that innovation was not for its own sake, but had an important structural purpose as well. There’s a rather extensive exhibit space in the attic which focuses on Gaudi’s techniques here and in his other structures.
Yes, to do “all” the Gaudí in Barcelona is going to cost you – it’s probably the most expensive sightseeing I’ve ever done – but the quality of the experiences is high and I can’t begrudge these organizations from taking Gaudi’s achievements seriously and wanting to preserve and build on them. That costs money.
The hospital was to be something very special: in a relaxing, tree-lined environment where patients could recover from their illnesses and pains and breathe fresh, clean air. The medieval and Moorish-influenced architecture – typical of much Catalan Art Nouveau – makes it difficult to tell that this is a hospital. The orientation of the buildings to the north-south axis of the site allows for maximum solar radiation on the facades of the pavilions. In addition, the design as a “Park Hospital” created open areas for the well-being of patients, which was considered a novelty at the time.
The hospital area takes up almost an entire block – the almost 30 buildings are located in a park. With the inclusion of two gardens per pavilion, the architect Lluís Domènech i Montaner gave the complex a cheerful, optimistic character that helped the sick and their families to feel better. Horse chestnut, linden and orange trees line the central promenade and provide shade in summer. Medicinal medicinal plants such as laurel, lavender, rosemary and lemon trees grow in the roadside beds.
At the main entrance to the Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant Pau complex is the chapel-like administrative building with a large domed roof and an impressive entrance hall with marble columns and mosaic-covered ceilings. It is no coincidence that the building looks like a church, as it is intended to symbolize the Christian tradition. At the same time, the building should represent a person who spreads his arms and welcomes the patients with open arms.
I would add that every ward building had its own chapel area.
It’s beautiful, impressive and moving. I just did a self-guided tour with pamphlet, but there are audioguide and in-person guided tours as well.
Even though the wards are empty now, one can’t walk around without being struck by two realities: the depth of human suffering and what can happen when that suffering is met with respect for the human person, body and soul.
One simple example. Below (and seen to the far left above) is the ceiling of a ward. The designer/architect wanted an evocation of the natural world, bathed in light, to be the first thing patients saw when they opened their eyes in the morning:
Do remember that this was a hospital for the poor.
I’ve previously highlighted some interesting Spanish church features here and here. Well, let’s look at another
Video would be better to get the full effect here. That is, walking into Santa Maria del Pi, surveying the side altars, which look like this:
…and then facing front and seeing:
It’s huge.
Before we get all judgy, let’s read the signage:
(Remember – click on the image for a larger one)
So, basically – graffiti was an issue, and they decided to engage instead of fight, to use the moment to strengthen ties.
I just don’t think that admirable goal necessarily calls for a massive, dominating piece like this. But then, of course, I don’t have the inside point of view. Wouldn’t it be more interesting, though, to engage with say, local graffiti artist by inviting them to learn about sacred art and symbolism and use their talents – or invite an artist like this who works in that style – to enhance the space in a way that respects what’s already there without apparently seeking to overwhelm it and draw attention to itself?
They had an…interesting space for the reservation of the Eucharist:
The explanation, with a computer-generated translation:
THE WORD OF GOD
IT BECAME FLESH
AND HE PUT HIS TENT
BETWEEN US
JOHN 1,14
THE RENOVATED CHAPEL OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT
OF SANTA MARIA DEL MAR
The reorganization of the Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament of Santa Maria del Mar has been done thanks to generous and discreet donations, respecting the heritage values of the Basilica, Cultural Heritage since 1931, and emphasizing its eucharistic meaning.
In this renovation, the Chapel is presented as a Tent of Camp where Jesus Christ is present in the consecrated bread of the Eucharist, given “the Word of God became flesh and pitched his tent among us” (John 1, 14).
In this Camp Tent, God himself “set the table” (Psalm 22.5), with the sacramental presence of Jesus who is “the bread of life” (John 6.35), and for this reason “the Church gives herself in breaking bread with everyone” (Pope Francis, 2021).
Jesus celebrated the first Eucharist in “a large room” (Mk 14, 15), on a wide table, an expression of “the double table of the Word and the Body of Christ which is the Eucharist” (DV 21). In this framework, the tabernacle of white and luminous alabaster, where the Bread of Life is collected, and the firm and austere iron altar, from where the Word of God is proclaimed, offer worship the presence sacramental of Jesus himself, “bearing in mind that the Eucharistic Celebration is in itself the greatest act of adoration of the Church” (Pope Benedict XVI, 2007).
The tabernacle:
It is late, and I am tired, so I can’t access great depths of thought right now. I will just say that this installation – and that’s the vibe it gives – as an art installation – suffers from the modern’s loss of symbolic weight and depth. It seeks to avoid any references to any ways that the Body of Christ has responded to the presence of Christ among that might have had expression between the first century and the present day. It’s so literal, its attempt to bring the what the Scriptures tell us about all of this – Jesus’ Passion, death and resurrection, the Last Supper, Jesus’ Real Presence among us – into the present moment and into our daily lives in a recognizable way seems (to me) ironically shallow, perhaps evoking a Is that all there is? feeling.
Which, as I have said a few times, is a project of the past few decades of Catholic thought leaders – to get all of those pesky accretions out of the way, for they believe that all of that indeed does, stand in the way of us and the kind of encounter with Christ that meets us and challenges us here, where we are. All of that other stuff? Obstacles, not doors.
That said, there was a person praying there – a rather alternative-coiffed person using a thick prayer book, perhaps the Liturgy of the Hours.
Yes, I know there is a lot going on news-wise, but I am over here and who cares what I think anyway. It’s a good discipline, to be out of the loop.
(Not that I won’t have thoughts when I return, if not from this trip, from the next [quick] one.)
Today was one more Gaudi stop – very different from the others and totally worth it, despite some rather over-dramatic narration on the audio guide. Casa Batlló is beautiful, and once again, one has to wonder what is stopping us from creating living spaces with even a bit of this creativity and imagination now.
And then, an afternoon of wandering.
For some reason, this bakery featured (baked) sweet potatoes in the case. I haven’t seen them in any other Barcelona bakery so far.
Do they sell legs of Iberico ham at Aldi in the US? I….don’t think so.
I eventually made it over to a couple of churches. First, Iglesia del Sagrado Corazón. Ignatius’ sword is here, but the main body of the church is inaccessible, and I presume the sword is on display there. There is a lot of nice plexiglass and another chapel behind more plexiglass that they seem to use for daily Mass, but all I could do was sit in the pews set up between the two spaces.
Next, to the Basilica of Santa María del Mar. Ignatius has a connection here as well, it being a site where he begged. It is a towering Gothic structure, built in a relatively short time and in a consistent style (because of that short time) by the local parishioners, most of them involved in trades related to the sea. Obviously.
There was a room for eucharistic reservation which merits its own post. So come back in a second for that.
Dinner – it was planned to be an apertif, but was so satisfying and interesting, it became dinner – was at Quimet and Quimet. The emphasis is on tapas built around Spain’s tinned seafood – anchovies, sardines, tuna, cockles, squid – and it was wonderful. You do not sit – you stand at the bar or at one of the couple of tables. You can stay for an hour, tops, then you have to move on. It was a great experience and wonderful food.
One more note from the day: I stopped in a large bookstore – Casa del Libro – and of course looked for religion books. The section on “personal beliefs” was huge – and it was all new age/affirrmation/self-help spirituality. The low shelf on the left was mostly yoga. I didn’t know there were so many books about yoga.
The Christianity section was not tiny, but yes, it was much smaller than the general “personal beliefs” section filled with books filled with advice on how to find happiness even if your personal belief is that no personal beliefs are actually about things that are true for everyone.
So how about a fraction of a fraction of a fraction (of a fraction) of some of the beautiful architectural and decorative sites of Barcelona. And a sunset.
It was a day full of crowds of people praying, protesting, dancing, running, watching and strolling.
On the way to the Cathedral for Mass, dodging hundreds of walkers and runners.
The Cathedral, 10:30 Mass is in Catalan. A celebrant, with perhaps 6 concelebrants, a deacon and six very serious and well-trained servers. The music was beautiful, mostly a cappella choir, some organ, and a very Spanish-forward cantor who directed us with choir-directing-motions. There was no congregational hymn singing, but the Mass parts were sung, some in Latin (Gloria, Credo) others – the Kyrie, Sanctus and Agnus Dei – in Catalan, which surprised me – do the really long ones in Latin, but the shorter, actually (still) more commonly sung in Latin/Greek in the vernacular?
No matter. The music was beautiful, the liturgy was prayed with reverence and the homily – read from two sides of a single sheet of paper – was about ten minutes long. Whatever he said, he said succinctly and with care.
No photos or videos were allowed during Mass, but I got a few after – and before we were run out for the next Mass. If you would like videos, go to Instagram Stories.
Walking out of the Cathedral, the sardana – or traditional Catalan dance – was already in progress in the square, a Sunday afternoon tradition. Again – video at Instagram.
Lunch was at a tiny place in the Gothic Quarter called Salterio, discovered through the Instagram page of Keith Taillon, whom I started following because of his Gilded Age recaps and background, but who is also a great travel Grammer and was in Barcelona in May. Lovely herbal tea, a white-wine Sangria which was light and refreshing, and a gorgeous dish called sardo – I suppose you could say it’s an North African/Near Eastern quesadilla, made here with extreme care and high quality ingredients. Fantastic. (I’ll have a full Barcelona food report when I return).
Then, some buskers.
Then on the bus up to Parc Guell. More Guadi, more fascinating Barcelona history.
Another busker, with parakeets who live in the park.
The streets around the church were packed with people, the church was mostly dark to those of us outside. Mass had begun at 5:30 inside, so we were waiting for it to end, at which point the blessing would occur. At about 6:45, episcopal personages – I assume the Archbishop of Barcelona – processed out, choir music was piped outside, prayers were prayed, holy water was flung a few feet – but what else could one do – spray them with a fire hose? – and the lights came on, and the crowd oohed, clapped, and moved back into life in the city that night, this place in the midst of it all, always in sight.
Charlotte was Both 