Building a New Gate to Paradise

On Sunday, in the late afternoon, Cardinal Roger M. Mahony will lead a procession through downtown Los Angeles to a hillside overlooking the Hollywood Freeway. There, he will bless the ground. Ten thousand people are expected to meet him at the end of his pilgrimage from the old cathedral, St. Vibiana’s, to the new Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels.

In reality, he will start at one parking lot and end up at another. There is no cathedral. The 3.6 million Roman Catholics in the Los Angeles Archdiocese--the largest in the nation--are without a mother church. St. Vibiana’s still slouches on the corner of 2nd and Main streets like so many other residents of skid row. The building was locked more than a year ago in a delayed response to the 1994 Northridge earthquake that nearly ripped it apart.

For the moment, Our Lady of the Angels exists only as a set of models and plans. After months of public bickering over everything from the historic significance of the abandoned church to the high cost of building a cathedral, the current plan is to open it in three years. Time enough to address a far more significant question: what difference will a new cathedral make for the archdiocese--and for Los Angeles?

It is a welcome break with local custom that a parking lot is making way for a bit of paradise. According to a tradition that extends back to the Middle Ages, a cathedral is more than a grand edifice--it is a preview of heaven, a taste of eternity. To enter is to pass through the “Gates of Paradise.” This belief was set in bronze on the baptistry doors of the cathedral of Florence by the 15th century sculptor Lorenzo Ghiberti.

Long before Ghiberti, the French monk Abbot Suger built the model for the Gothic cathedral at St. Denis near Paris, in 1144. Its vaulted arches and elongated columns directed the eyes upward. He hoped that the spirit would follow. “I see myself dwelling, as it were, in some strange region of the universe which neither exists entirely in the slime of the earth nor the purity of heaven,” he wrote. “By the grace of God I can be transported.” His dream still holds sway.

Anyplace that promises to transport people to a world suspended between heaven and earth does not consider itself ordinary. To bring about such a shift requires ingraining human hopes in the building’s stone and embedding dreams in the foundations. By necessity, the very act of raising such a structure leaves an imprint--and not just on the church itself. If a cathedral is doing its job right, the whole city ought to know its way around it and feel a part of it.

Imagine Paris without Notre Dame, Mexico City without its Metropolitan Cathedral, or New York without St. Patrick’s. More than a public monument, a great cathedral serves as a spiritual beacon that draws the faithful with the curious, the bored and the desperate, the saints and the pickpockets, as if all of them were looking for the same thing.

“Our cathedral will be a reminder of the presence of God in our community,” Mahony said. “It will raise up the inspirational dimension of the city.’

A number of Christian denominations include cathedrals in their tradition. The official requirements for a Catholic cathedral are precise. From its 4th century beginnings, it is the place that holds the bishop’s chair, from which he does his most important teaching and preaching. New priests are ordained there; holy oils are blessed there and distributed to all of the parishes in the diocese.

An inspiring cathedral, though, goes far beyond such functions. Heads of state are married as well as eulogized there. Babies are baptized and warring neighbors meet to talk peace. Government workers are blessed as they take office, but so are the protesters who march to City Hall demanding equal rights. The philharmonic performs in the sanctuary and the soup kitchen offers free tickets. Bankers kneel beside welfare mothers.

A cathedral is a home front of the religious realm, where the images and altar vessels are artworks, and the prayer life and preaching set the standard for the diocese. “A cathedral is not only a place to come and feel good,” Mahony said. “It is a place to be nourished and to be challenged.”

A Work in Progress

Our Lady of the Angels will be consecrated in 2000, with much of the interior left incomplete. “A cathedral is a work in progress,” Mahony said. “To be done right it ought not to be finished when it opens.” And to emphasize the enormity of the task, three of the best known cathedrals built in the United States have been under construction for most of the century.

All are Episcopal churches. Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, started in 1910, was dedicated in 1964 at a cost of about $23 million. The National Cathedral in Washington, under construction for 83 years, was dedicated in 1990; the final cost was $65 million. New York’s St. John the Divine, dedicated in 1941, is still not complete. Last fall, its retiring dean, James Parks Morton, saw the end in sight: “Give me $100 million and I can finish it in 10 years.”

Among America’s Catholic cathedrals, more have been restored in recent years than built from the ground up. In Louisville, Ky., Seattle and Salt Lake City, old buildings have been renewed and failing congregations replenished, each for well under $20 million. St Mary’s in San Francisco, completed in 1971 for $16 million, is the exception.

With a $50-million budget, most of it coming from just two donors, Our Lady of the Angels has rekindled a debate as old as cathedrals themselves: How can a place that claims to serve the poor justify such an expense?

In December, when Mahony unveiled the model for the 43,000-square-foot complex--which will house the archdiocese’s headquarters as well as the cardinal’s private residence--protesters from the Catholic Worker soup kitchen waved a banner that urged: “Spend God’s Money on God’s Poor.”

Not surprisingly, it is a criticism that goes back to the days of Abbot Suger. When his fellow monk, Bernard of Clairvaux, learned about St. Denis--with its soaring arches and rose-shaped window shedding light on altar vessels studded with gems from King Louis VII’s court--he was caustic. “If you were to continue that pomp and circumstance of yours,” he wrote the abbot, “it might appear a little too insolent.”

Mahony’s response to the Catholic Worker is similar to Suger’s: “A cathedral isn’t a luxury. It’s a necessity. To do the job right you need a meaningful presence.”

For a time, Los Angeles did have such a place. Completed in 1876, St. Vibiana’s looked out on a town of 10,000 and was the largest building there, a Spanish baroque behemoth. “It introduced an element of European sophistication to a rough, western town,” said the Rev. Michael Engh, a professor of history at Loyola Marymount University. “It had the presence of St. Patrick’s cathedral in New York.”

By 1907, though, the church was inadequate to the needs of the city, and Bishop Thomas Conaty planned a new building on 9th Street near Valencia. His death in 1915 and World War I halted the project. Seven years later, Bishop John Cantwell found a site on Wilshire Boulevard in Hancock Park and gave the planned cathedral a new name, Our Lady of the Angels. The Depression and World War II scuttled his plan.

By the 1950s, with the rapid expansion of the city, Los Angeles Catholics lost touch with the idea of a cathedral. “From classical times, bishops have had their sees in cities,” said Kevin Starr, state librarian of California. “We talk about Los Angeles history of the past 40 years and say that’s Los Angeles now and forever. As if it’s always been a place with no center, that doesn’t like public spaces. With the new cathedral, the cardinal is calling Los Angeles to reaffirm its civic identity.”

As the fact and even the memory of a mother church faded, something more immediate took its place. The heart strings of Southern California Catholicism circled the Spanish mission churches. Every public school child studies the missions as part of the state’s cultural history. Twenty-one compounds cover the length of the state and attract 2 million tourists every year.

“The missions are more than a symbol of Catholics’ relationship with God,” said Bill Beverell, professor of history at Caltech. “[They] are a powerful icon for the whole state. We have a very romantic view of that part of our past.”

Recognizing this, the design of the new cathedral, with its covered arcades enclosing a large open plaza, suggests a mission made modern by a dramatic asymmetry. At Mahony’s urging, Jose Rafael Moneo, the Spanish-born architect, added a 120-foot bell tower.

Serving a Variety of Constituencies

Mahony doesn’t intend to announce specific plans for the cathedral until 1999. “Let’s see how in God’s providence, things take shape” is how he puts it. Still, he is applying the full resources of his office to the task. Since January 1995, an advisory board of about 40 has met with him each month, considering everything from adult education and concert series to homeless rehabilitation programs.

Some committee members are priests or nuns, but most are prominent local business people, lawyers and other professionals. Among them are Sir Daniel Donohue, head of the Dan Murphy Foundation, which donated $25 million to the building fund, as well as a representative of the Thomas and Dorothy Leavey Foundation, which donated $10 million. Architect Armando Ruiz, Master Chorale director Paul Salamunovich and J. Paul Getty Trust Chairman of the Board of Trustees Robert Erburu are also on the committee.

“We’re serving three constituencies, each using the sacred space in different ways” Mahony said. They are tourists, city workers and downtown residents. “Even if people don’t go inside the cathedral, they will sense God’s presence all around them.”

San Francisco, less than one-fifth the population of Los Angeles, sees 250,000 tourists pass through St. Mary’s cathedral each year. The cardinal along with his friend and ally, Mayor Richard Riordan, hopes that Our Lady of the Angels will be a similar attraction.

“Look at the great cities of the world,” Riordan said. “People visit them to see the architecture.” With the proposed Frank Gehry-designed Walt Disney Concert Hall a block from the cathedral, downtown could have two new landmarks.

Just as office workers in midtown New York can attend Mass at St. Patrick’s before or after work as well as at lunch time, the more than 300,000 people in downtown Los Angeles will find the new cathedral offering an extensive daily Mass schedule. The advisory committee is discussing whether Bible study ought to be scheduled at midday rather than after work. A landscaped plaza of three acres and “a good coffee shop” should draw a brisk business.

A greater challenge for the cathedral will be to attract the neighbors who live within walking distance and could be charter members of the parish. By the time St. Vibiana’s closed in 1996, the parish roll was down to 100. Many of them commuted from Eagle Rock, Glendale or other communities north and east of Los Angeles.

St. Vibiana’s tiny parish was typical of downtown churches. In Louisville, the Cathedral of the Assumption claimed 110 members when the Rev. Ronald Knott was named rector in 1983. The numbers began to climb when he introduced an arts program that staged free previews of local opera and theater, developed a religions of the world series and staffed a dining hall for the homeless with volunteers from nearby offices. When Knott retired last year, Assumption counted 1,600 households in its parish book.

This is exactly what Mahony wants for his church. Residents of the Bunker Hill condominiums will soon find invitations from Mahony in their mailbox. He could also extend the sort of invitations sent out by San Fernando Cathedral in San Antonio. Over the course of a year, the rector invites most of the city to be blessed: June for newly elected City Council officers, August for the public school board, teachers, bus drivers and cafeteria staffers, September for union members, and so on.

Mahony also wants to use the cathedral to reach out to downtown’s most disaffected residents--its homeless. He talks about “networking” with St. Vincent’s Cardinal Manning Center and other shelters near the cathedral. “I’d like to see us very involved in efforts to deal with downtown homelessness,” Mahony said. “My goal is to have no more skid row. I’d like programs to rehabilitate people and get them off the street.”

Like the city itself, the Catholic Archdiocese of Los Angeles is the most culturally diverse in the country. Its 285 parishes represent 102 nationalities. On a typical Sunday, Mass is offered in more than 50 languages. Spanish is spoken by about 60% of Los Angeles Catholics. In shepherding this disparate flock, Mahony says, a new cathedral is key. It will be “the point of unity for the archdiocese.”

The new cathedral will hold Mass in English and Spanish, adding Tagalog, Vietnamese and other languages later. Mahony and his advisors are also discussing ways to highlight the favorite celebrations of the city’s various communities--Our Lady of Guadalupe for Latinos, St. Patrick’s Day for the Irish, Simbang Gabi for Filipinos.

“The Los Angeles cathedral has a unique opportunity to become a center for celebrating all the cultures of the diocese,” said the Rev. Virgil Elizondo, director of the Mexican American Cultural Center in San Antonio. In his years as rector of San Fernando cathedral, he brought flamenco dancing, cantina songs, pageants and processions to the church.

Mahony has plans of his own, several of them to be previewed during the ground-blessing ceremony this month. “We want to make processions a real feature of our cathedral life,” he said. The new plaza will hold 6,000 people--ample space “to do it up right.” He wants to bring back some of the feast day processions that were integral to early church life.

More than one person has suggested another procession--the blessing of the cars. “I could stand on the hillside over the Hollywood freeway and fill a hose with holy water, douse the cars as they go by,” Mahony suggests. He can’t keep a straight face when he describes this.

Father Gregory Coiro, spokesman for the archdiocese, imagines other possibilities. “Could the cathedral have a service in the afternoon before the Academy Awards?” What to wear?

Pageantry is the show biz of church culture. In the current enthusiasm to restore that drama, music and arts programs have become more important. Our Lady of the Angels will be the only Catholic cathedral in the country with a state-of-the-art video and sound system built into its design. So far the only definite plan is for the cathedral to sponsor sacred music concerts performed by the Master Chorale. “We also are having conversations with the philharmonic,” Mahony said.

Chicago’s Holy Name cathedral made music a signature during the 14 years when composer and conductor Richard Proulx was music director. “A cathedral should be a model of churchmanship / showmanship,” said Proulx. “You need a strong liaison with the symphony, the opera and the chamber music groups.” His budget was in the $200,000 range. “There’s a payoff,” he said. “the Christmas offering went from $75,000 to $175,000.”

A Voice for the Dispossessed

A cathedral invites metaphors. For Mahony, Our Lady of the Angels will act as a public prayer. It will serve as a megaphone for a world too deaf to hear the voice of the dispossessed. Sometimes that requires pomp and circumstance. At other times, it demands a march out onto the street.

For Father Coiro of the archdiocese’s office, Our Lady of the Angeles should function as a sanctuary. “A cathedral,” he said, “is a place of solitude for people to contemplate their own lives and their relations with other people. What flows from that is the question of how to be of service to God and the community.”

And there is another metaphor that could apply to Our Lady of Angels as well: In a darkened nave, unevenly lit as if by torches, a sparely dressed man presses the tip of a wire into the stone floor and follows it with his eyes to the vaulted arches high above him. Deft as an acrobat, he steps onto the wire and begins to walk.

“This sort of theater is the vibrating, pulsing heart of the cathedral,” said Philippe Petit, who performed his “Ascent” in New York in 1986, as a tribute to medieval times when actors and jugglers staged morality plays against the gothic facade.

Suspended between heaven and earth, balancing the certainties against the risks, his walk amplified a life of faith. In that moment, the aerialist and the cathedral were one.