Como's jewel

We knew, of course, that our Italian holiday would center around two things: our daughter's wedding on our first Saturday, and churches. Many, many churches; the more the merrier. Being Catholic now meant a whole new area of interest for me that I completely lacked back in 1978. So, we wanted to see as many churches as we could fit into our itinerary, and the first on the list was the Duomo, Como's cathedral, which we took in our first day.

Photographs don't prepare one properly for opening the door to a church whose foundations were laid in the 14th century, and combined the Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque under one domed roof. The first observation the soul understands immediately is, "I am little, God is big." It's easy, it's ridiculously simple, and it hits right between the eyes. It is also comforting, for it follows that if our God is big, then He necessarily knows of our great need of Him. The theology of architecture is open to the meanest set of eyes, even mine!

There was much to see, like the high altar, carved in 1317...seven hundred years ago, and still here, still beautiful. The Altar of Our Lady of Graces, flanked on all sides by little silver hearts, signifying the grateful hearts who had received favors through her intercession. There is a marvelous baptistry, and numerous paintings, tapestries, and statues grace the nave and side altars. Chief among the these altars is the Altar of the Crucifix, featuring a lifelike crucifix adorned with many centuries old human hair.

 

The cathedral's hush shut out the activity of the piazza without, as the soul should shut out the din of the world, and indeed, must, if it is to hear the call of God. This first visit, this first retracing of the footsteps of the faithful through seven centuries left me humbled and wishing to take the silence with me back into the world, to contemplate many things, especially life, and what it means to confess Jesus Christ. I wonder what those faithful Catholics, long dead and forgotten, make of us as we think it such a small thing to tread the same marble tiles as they did, many of us never even thinking of genuflecting, or peering through the dimness to find the glowing red lamp. What would they make of our casualness, not only in dress and manner, but in our faith? I pray God, make me mindful of my folly, that I may fight it.

As we found our way back to the piazza, the sky was overcast, but our hearts were full.