Sagrada Família — Passion Facade

Passion Facade of the Sagrada Família.

Where the Nativity Facade's exuberance and profusion seeks to charm the viewer, the severe and barren Passion Facade offers misery. Six bone-like columns support a sharply angular pediment. Four stark bell towers rise toward the sky, marked with emaciated apostles. Recessed within the shadowy archivolts beneath the pediment are austere statues depicting the betrayal, torture, and crucifixion of Jesus.

The facade is undergoing repairs.

Architect Antoni Gaudí knew he wouldn't live to see the Passion Facade built, much less the cathedral as a whole. Though he provided detailed blueprints and sketches for the completion of the cathedral, some were lost in fires during the Spanish Civil War. Today's architects, builders, and artists have proceeded since Gaudí's death by trying to honor his vision for the building, but controversy erupts periodically when elements of the cathedral are revealed. Of course, even Gaudí's vision for the building evolved over the decades he spent working on the building, so who can really know what Gaudí might envision with today's technological capability?

Gaudí's sketch for the Passion Facade.

Part of the vibrancy of a visit to the Sagrada Família cathedral comes from the bustle of construction. Stones are carved, cranes are swinging, and workers are clambering. This is not an ancient project. It is a monument — one of the modern world's wonders — being built right now. You visit in the midst of an historic achievement, not decades or centuries later. Imagine Paris, in 1889, for the erection of the Eiffel Tower. Or Istanbul, from 532 to 537, as the Hagia Sophia went up. Or Athens, from 447 BC to 432 BC, as the Parthenon was completed.

Stones now are precisely cut by machines, vastly speeding up the building process. I kinda wish they were still carved by hammer and chisel.

Cranes rise above the apse of the cathedral.

The crypt houses an extensive museum about the cathedral.

A craftsman works on the painstaking details for a plaster model of the cathedral.

The Sagrada Família will become — has become — the building for which Barcelona is known. Just as the iconic Eiffel Tower and Parthenon represent France and Greece to the world, I think the Sagrada Família will represent all of Spain.

Eventually, the cathedral's main entrance will be the Glory Facade on the south side of the building. A nine-story apartment building across the street will be torn down to allow a grander entrance and better view. The Glory Facade is still under construction. If all goes according to plan, the facade and the entire cathedral will be completed in 2026, the hundredth anniversary of Gaudí's death.

For now, visitors to the cathedral enter through the Passion Facade. Construction began in 1954. The four bell towers were finished in 1976. Catalan sculptor Josep Maria Subirachs started work on the facade's sculptures in 1986; he completed them in 2005.

As with the Nativity Facade and the (future) Glory Facade, each of the Passion Facade's four bell towers bears an apostle. The statues reflect the nature of this facade. They are severe; gaunt; tortured physically, mentally, emotionally. Here are two of the four:

The apostle Bartholomew is often depicted with a knife because, according to one tradition, he was skinned alive and then beheaded. This Bartholomew appears to lack skin, as well.

Doubting Thomas is depicted pointing to his palm. Thomas questioned Jesus's resurrection until he saw the crucifixion wounds.

Echoing the figures on the bell towers, at the bottom center of the facade is a statue of Jesus tied to a pillar for whipping.

The pain from flagellation. The bronze doors, with 8,000 letters, bear text from the New Testament about the Passion.

Unlike the Nativity Facade, where each of the three portals tells its own story, the portals of the Passion Facade are united by a version of the Via Crucis. Starting at the bottom left and proceeding upward in an S-shape, Subirach's sculptures tell the story of Jesus's path from the Last Supper through to being taken down from the cross and buried. Subirach's version of these "Stations of the Cross" is his own and does not strictly follow either the medieval or modern versions of the Via Crucis.

Unfortunately, during our visit, part of the Passion Facade was covered by nets and scaffolding, so we couldn't see some of the sculptures. {Ed.'s note: A good reason to go back for another visit!} But here are scenes we could see:

Judas's kiss; note the serpent behind Judas. The number grid always adds up to 33, the age of Jesus when he died — rows left to right; columns top to bottom; diagonals; four corners; four middle squares; four quadrants; middle squares on top row with middle squares on bottom row; middle squares on left column with middle squares on right column. Can you find any more permutations?

Peter's denial. The women symbolize Peter's denials about knowing Jesus, made to a serving girl and others. Jesus wears a shroud, a metaphor for denial.

Ecce homo ("Behold the man"). Jesus is presented to the crowd with a crown of thorns. Note the column in the background that says "Tiberius," the name of the Roman emperor when Jesus was crucified.

Pontius Pilate washes his hands to signify to the crowd that he is innocent of spilling Jesus's blood and not responsible for his execution.

The Three Marys and Simon. When Jesus collapses while carrying the cross, Simon of Cyrene is told to carry the cross for him.

In the next scene, Subirachs pays homage to Gaudí's own sculptural style. A famous Modernisme building Gaudí designed, Casa Milà, has its rooftop punctuated with chimney tops that look like soldiers standing guard:

Helmeted sentinels stand guard on the rooftop of Casa Milà.

Compare those chimneys with Subirach's Roman soldiers depicted below:

Veronica wipes the brow of Jesus. Touched by pity, Veronica offers her veil to Jesus. When he wipes his face, an imprint of his face is left on the veil. (Sculpted here as a hollow-face image.) The figure on the far left is a/the Evangelist who will tell the story of Jesus, which Subirachs carved in the likeness of Antoni Gaudí in old age.

Crucifixion and death. The iron cross protrudes parallel to the ground, to accentuate the hanging stature for the view from below. Jesus's head is presented as the pages of a book, representing the word of God. The painted red "I" symbolizes the Latin acronym INRI (Iēsus Nazarēnus, Rēx Iūdaeōrum, "Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews"). The orb in the top right is a moon, and the skull at bottom center represents Golgotha (Aramaic for "skull"), also known as Calvary (Latin calva means "bald head" or skull).

Jesus is prepared for burial by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus.

The golden soul of Jesus ascends to heaven between the towers. Despite weighing several thousand pounds.

The central portal. Between the doors (above the pillar with Jesus) is an alpha and omega.

The facade's pediment and supporting arches are designed to cast afternoon shadows on the portals below it. My pictures were taken in the morning, with the sun on the opposite (i.e., eastern) side of the building, so they don't do justice to the light/dark dichotomy — some say chiaroscuro — of the facade.

The Passion Facade is a grim aspect of the cathedral, a foil to the profusion and (mostly) happy scenes on the Nativity Facade. This facade reflects its subject matter and takes its job seriously. No gargoyles or fanciful beasts lighten the mood. The actions depicted are those of men. The pain is human. Gaudí was a devout Catholic who wanted to portray the angst and misery of the Passion without flinching.

On a lighter note, across the street from the Passion Facade is a tree-filled square with benches and a playground. If you're stuck in a long line to get into the cathedral — even in November, the hour-long line stretched halfway around the building — you might be able to occupy wee ones in the playground while you wait. Or, like us, it's a great place to pause and unwind after serious touristing within the cathedral.

A playground with a view.

A climbing set for the older kids.

Kid, go play. We'll sit here and marvel at the cathedral.

Happy.

In an upcoming post, I'll finally show you the inside of this amazing cathedral.

Sagrada Família — Nativity Facade

Nativity Facade of the Sagrada Família.

It's one of the greatest buildings of modern times.

It's the greatest cathedral {Ed.'s note: yes, we know it's technically a basilica} built in the last several hundred years. Frankly, it's one of the greatest cathedrals ever built.

Even if it's not to your taste — it's fantastically unique and idiosyncratic, to be sure — the sheer audacity, complexity, scale, and craftsmanship demand awe and appreciation.

It won't be completed until 2026, at the earliest.

Construction began in 1882.

Consider just the scale of the project. Currently it has eight towers, four for the Nativity Facade and four for the Passion Facade. Each tower rises 330 feet. There will be four more such towers made for the newly begun primary entrance, the Glory Facade. Besides those twelve towers, four even taller towers dedicated to the Evangelists will rise from the middle of the building. A tower dedicated to the Virgin Mary will rise higher still, to 400 feet. At the center of the cathedral, an eighteenth tower dedicated to Jesus will top out at 560 feet.

The cathedral will be the tallest church in the world. It might have been even taller but its architect, the renowned Antoni Gaudí, declared it should not be taller than Barcelona's tallest hill, Montjuïc, because he believed his creation should not surpass God's.

Inside, the cathedral is just as massive in scale. The central nave, 300 feet long, rises to a height of 150 feet, almost exactly the same height as the tallest church nave ever completed, St. Peter's in Rome. The vault in the center, where the transept crosses the nave, reaches 200 feet. In the apse, a portal ascends to 250 feet.

I'll show more of the interior in a future post. Here's a tease:

Looking across the transept from west to east.

But let's start on the outside. Construction on the Basílica i Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família (i.e., the Basilica and Expiatory Church of the Holy Family) began in 1882 and completed a small crypt in 1883. Then the original architect resigned.

At that point, the project was taken over and transformed by the devout Antoni Gaudí. He knew he would not live to see it completed; as he wryly remarked, "My client [i.e., God] is not in a hurry." Though he designed and built remarkable projects throughout Barcelona (see, e.g., here, here, and here), the Sagrada Família was his life's work.

In preparation for the project, Gaudí studied numerous great cathedrals around Europe. His design synthesized a Gothic style with his own blend of natural forms and Modernisme aesthetic. As typical with Gaudí, the design incorporates numerous geometric shapes, such as parabolas, hyperbolas, helicoids, and ellipses.

A double twisted column, ellipsoid knot, hyperboloid vaults.

Started in 1894, the cathedral's Nativity Facade is the only part of his masterwork that Gaudí lived to see (somewhat) completed. He died in 1926, and the eastern facade was finished in 1930.

The facade in 1926.

The Nativity Facade is a visual feast, both from afar and near. You can't imbibe it all in one sitting; it requires multiple viewings, from multiple distances. Since there's a man-made lake directly in front of the facade, the designed approach is at an oblique to the three arched doors.

Approaching the Nativity Facade in the morning sun.

The approach directs you to view the archivolt of the central portal, the Portal of Charity.

From a distance, the Nativity Facade looks like its stone once melted, curling and dripping but then re-solidifying. Getting closer, you can see the immense profusion of carvings, and then closer still you admire the exquisite craftsmanship and stonemasonry.

Even when you get close, it can still somewhat resemble dripping stone.

Like both the Passion Facade and the yet-to-be-completed Glory Facade, the Nativity Facade has three portals for entry into the cathedral. Each portal is named for a theological virtue. On the left is the Portal of Hope, centered on Joseph; in the middle is the Portal of Charity, centered on Jesus; and on the right is the Portal of Faith, centered on Mary. So here's a place you can, appropriately, shout "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" {Ed.'s note: preferably in a thick Irish accent}, and no one can call you blasphemous or accuse you of taking the Lord's name in vain.

I can't possibly describe all or even most of the myriad carvings on the facade. But I will try to show some of the statuary that caught my eye, starting with the Portal of Faith:

Joseph and Mary (far left and right) present baby Jesus at the Temple.

Mary, the new Eve, can step upon the serpent because evil has no power over her.

I found the left portal, the Portal of Hope, to be the most visually striking. In particular, the carving of the Roman soldier slaying infants was an unflinching portrait:

At top, Mary and Joseph get married; at bottom left, Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus flee to Egypt; at bottom right, a Roman legionnaire slaughters children on orders of King Herod; and in the middle, young Jesus sits on Joseph's knee.

Joseph and Mary, with baby Jesus, flee to Egypt, led by an angel.

With a slain infant at his feet, the Roman legionnaire prepares to slaughter another while the child's mother pleads for mercy.

These carvings aren't the typical generic-visaged saints, or the somewhat humorous gargoyles, that you find at most cathedrals. The statuary at the Sagrada Família is personal. Individual. Each statue or setting shows a specific scene. Those scenes collectively provide a narrative within the portal, while the portals combine to illustrate a larger story. The overall facade not only demonstrates the theme but also provides a rich tapestry of symbology.

Viewed in this light, the Nativity Facade doesn't look like it's melting (which is how it's commonly described), but instead as though the facade is sprouting new growth. The stone isn't melting, it's germinating. If you look closely at many of the pictures in this post, you can see a wealth of flowers and plants covering the facade. Given the facade's theme of birth — physical, spiritual, theological — budding stonework makes much more sense than melting.

The central image of the facade.

With that understanding in mind, let's examine the central portal, depicting Jesus's birth in the manger. This Portal of Charity (i.e., Christian love) centers on Mary and Joseph with newborn Jesus in the manger. Three wise men look on from the left while shepherds gaze from the right. Angels sing and play instruments from above.

Newborn Jesus observed by an ox and mule.

The mule takes great interest.

Three wise men bear gifts.

The shepherds look on. As do the lamb and the dog.

A heavenly choir sings an angelic hymn, beginning: "Gloria in excelsis Deo . . ." ("Glory to God in the highest . . .") The words are carved into the stone below them. In this picture, you can see the "Gloria" below the leftmost angels.

Bassoonist, violinist, and lutist rocking out in praise. This has got to be the only bassoonist ever carved onto a cathedral, right?

At the very top of the Portal of Charity is the only scene that falls outside of Jesus's early life. It portrays a grown and bearded Jesus crowning Mary as the Queen of Heaven.

The coronation of Mary.

Dividing the three portals are two pillars. One is supported by a turtle, the other by a tortoise. They symbolize the immutable and unchanging nature of the theological themes of hope, charity, and faith.

The turtle at the base of one pillar.

The tortoise supports the other pillar.

Atop the pillars are four trumpeters, two on each side. These angelic trumpeters announce the the arrival of the the Last Judgment. They trumpet in four different directions — land, sea, heavens, and light — representing the all-encompassing nature of the Apocalypse.

Trumpeting to the four corners of Earth.

Rising above the three portals, at the pinnacle of the Nativity Facade, stands a painted stone cypress tree. At its base is a pelican, a symbol of the Eucharist. The long-lived evergreen cypress tree symbolizes Christ's eternal love. Perched above the tree stands a white dove atop a cross. The dove represents the Holy Spirit, the red cross represents Christ's blood, and the gold cross embracing the red cross represents God the Father holding his sacrificed son.

You've gotta strain to see the cypress tree from the base of the facade. Jackson announced: "Christmas tree!"

The cypress tree atop the Nativity Facade. The ladders at the base evoke Jacob's ladder.

The Holy Spirit circles the tree in the form of white doves.

Gaudí originally wanted the entire facade polychromed (i.e., painted) in the same manner as the cypress tree. That would have been amazingly garish. However, a painted facade would have further emphasized life and vitality, as a strong counterpoint to the facade on the opposite side of the cathedral.

Knowing the Nativity Facade would be the most generally pleasant in subject matter and execution, Gaudí cannily directed that construction on this facade be completed before work began on the other two facades. He feared that if construction began with either the Glory Facade or the Passion Facade, the public might recoil and the project would lose support. Currently, the Glory Facade — including depictions of the seven deadly sins, purgatory, and Hell — is under construction and likely won't be unveiled until the cathedral is completed.

Construction on the Passion Facade didn't begin until 1954. Its brutal sculptures were completed in 2005. It's a radically different approach and style from the Nativity Facade. More about the Passion Facade in an upcoming post. (See here.)