The Basilica of Lisieux (by kerouac2)
Mar 19, 2016 13:06:04 GMT
Post by Deleted on Mar 19, 2016 13:06:04 GMT
I was passing through Lisieux this morning and I decided that I finally had to visit this place. Basically whenever you drive by Lisieux, you can see the big and ugly building from the autoroute, and you also get a perfect view from the train. The basilica is dedicated to Saint Thérèse of Lisieux, the Carmelite nun who died in agony at age 24 of tuberculosis, commonly known as "the little flower of Jesus." This is enough to normally send me running in the opposite direction, but this basilica is the second most important pilgrimage site in France after Lourdes. It's not very old because construction didn't begin until 1929, and it was just consecrated in 1954. It is one of the biggest churches in the world built in the 20th century and can hold 4000 people.
Lisieux was razed during the second world war, but the construction site of the basilica suffered very little damage since it was built on the outer edge of town. The government was not involved in any of this, as per the law of 1905 on the separation of church and state and did not put one franc into the operation. The money was received in donations from all over the world, since Saint Thérèse had become a superstar. The government finally threw its hands up in despair and declared the building a national monument in 2011, so I suppose that taxpayers will now be paying for part of the upkeep.
I did not take pictures of any of the side altars/shrines/what-do-you-call-them? because they were so dark. Each one has been donated as an ex-voto from the religious communities around the world. The list says: Mexico, Spain, Italy, Ukraine, Chile, Brazil, Argentina, Portugal, United States, Colombia, Great Britain, Scotland, Germany, Cuba, Ireland, Canada, Belgium, Poland. They probably ran out of room after that. I think I saw some other country names on plaques here and there, but no place to do anything fancy.
Looking out the door, you can see that the city has not yet arrived at the basilica, even after all of these years.
Finally got outside again to try to get some of the exterior. There were cloisters.
Plenty of room for processions to and from the parking lots, which were of course huge.
Okay, here's the main building.
I had to look up these people over the main entrance door.
They are the parents of Thérèse and were just canonized about six months ago by Pope Francis. They are also the first married couple to ever be canonized together. I also saw that they had 9 children but all 4 boys died in infancy. I suggest some DNA tests.
I still remember being told stories like this when I was in Catholic school, and the nuns were in complete and total admiration of Thérèse. For me, it was the stuff of nightmares.
Thérèse's final years were marked by a steady decline that she bore resolutely and without complaint. Tuberculosis was the key element of Thérèse's final suffering, but she saw that as part of her spiritual journey. After observing a rigorous Lenten fast in 1896, she went to bed on the eve of Good Friday and felt a joyous sensation. She wrote: "Oh! how sweet this memory really is!... I had scarcely laid my head upon the pillow when I felt something like a bubbling stream mounting to my lips. I didn't know what it was."
The next morning she found blood on her handkerchief and understood her fate. Coughing up of blood meant tuberculosis, and tuberculosis meant death. She wrote,
I thought immediately of the joyful thing that I had to learn, so I went over to the window. I was able to see that I was not mistaken. Ah! my soul was filled with a great consolation; I was interiorly persuaded that Jesus, on the anniversary of His own death, wanted to have me hear His first call!
Thérèse corresponded with a Carmelite mission in what was then French Indochina and was invited to join them, but, because of her sickness, could not travel.
As a result of tuberculosis, Thérèse suffered terribly. When she was near death “Her physical suffering kept increasing so that even the doctor himself was driven to exclaim, "Ah! If you only knew what this young nun was suffering!” During the last hours of Therese’s life, she said, "I would never have believed it was possible to suffer so much, never, never!” In July 1897, she made a final move to the monastery infirmary. On August 19, 1897, Therese received her last communion. She died on September 30, 1897 at the young age of 24. On her death-bed, she is reported to have said, "I have reached the point of not being able to suffer any more, because all suffering is sweet to me."
Her last words were, "My God, I love you!"
Thérèse was buried on October 4, 1897, in the Carmelite plot in the municipal cemetery at Lisieux, where Louis and Zelie had been buried. Her body was exhumed in 1910; not Incorrupted, but had the pleasant Odour of Sanctity. In March 1923, however, before she was beatified, her body was returned to the Carmel of Lisieux, where it remains. The figure of Thérèse in the glass coffin is not her actual body but a gisant statue based on drawings and photos by Céline after Thérèse's death. It contains her ribcage and other remnants of her body.
Somebody needs to go and see all of that stuff when it is full of pilgrims. Not me.
Lisieux was razed during the second world war, but the construction site of the basilica suffered very little damage since it was built on the outer edge of town. The government was not involved in any of this, as per the law of 1905 on the separation of church and state and did not put one franc into the operation. The money was received in donations from all over the world, since Saint Thérèse had become a superstar. The government finally threw its hands up in despair and declared the building a national monument in 2011, so I suppose that taxpayers will now be paying for part of the upkeep.
Anyway, this morning, the basilica did not hold 4000 people. It held just one. I had the entire place to myself -- I did not even see any of the staff.
The style is called Romano-Byzantine and is an homage to that other 20th century extravaganza -- Sacré Coeur in Paris.
Here's our superstar. Somebody lights all of the candles before they unlock the doors, but it was freezing in there!
There was a good use of space, though. Since there are no interior columns, the worshipers have a perfect view of the ceremonies.
Everything was a bit dark for my taste. If they had not put floodlights everywhere, it would be pretty awful.
The style is called Romano-Byzantine and is an homage to that other 20th century extravaganza -- Sacré Coeur in Paris.
Here's our superstar. Somebody lights all of the candles before they unlock the doors, but it was freezing in there!
There was a good use of space, though. Since there are no interior columns, the worshipers have a perfect view of the ceremonies.
Everything was a bit dark for my taste. If they had not put floodlights everywhere, it would be pretty awful.
I did not take pictures of any of the side altars/shrines/what-do-you-call-them? because they were so dark. Each one has been donated as an ex-voto from the religious communities around the world. The list says: Mexico, Spain, Italy, Ukraine, Chile, Brazil, Argentina, Portugal, United States, Colombia, Great Britain, Scotland, Germany, Cuba, Ireland, Canada, Belgium, Poland. They probably ran out of room after that. I think I saw some other country names on plaques here and there, but no place to do anything fancy.
Looking out the door, you can see that the city has not yet arrived at the basilica, even after all of these years.
Finally got outside again to try to get some of the exterior. There were cloisters.
Plenty of room for processions to and from the parking lots, which were of course huge.
Okay, here's the main building.
I had to look up these people over the main entrance door.
They are the parents of Thérèse and were just canonized about six months ago by Pope Francis. They are also the first married couple to ever be canonized together. I also saw that they had 9 children but all 4 boys died in infancy. I suggest some DNA tests.
These places need to make money.
I did not go to the crypt which is apparently worth seeing, so I guess I have a reason to go back in 30 or 40 years. But I walked into the Cloister of Mercy.
There is a fireplace to burn baby Jesus.
Basically, this was devoted to Thérèse's forgiveness of a triple murderer who was guillotined.
I did not go to the crypt which is apparently worth seeing, so I guess I have a reason to go back in 30 or 40 years. But I walked into the Cloister of Mercy.
There is a fireplace to burn baby Jesus.
Basically, this was devoted to Thérèse's forgiveness of a triple murderer who was guillotined.
I still remember being told stories like this when I was in Catholic school, and the nuns were in complete and total admiration of Thérèse. For me, it was the stuff of nightmares.
Thérèse's final years were marked by a steady decline that she bore resolutely and without complaint. Tuberculosis was the key element of Thérèse's final suffering, but she saw that as part of her spiritual journey. After observing a rigorous Lenten fast in 1896, she went to bed on the eve of Good Friday and felt a joyous sensation. She wrote: "Oh! how sweet this memory really is!... I had scarcely laid my head upon the pillow when I felt something like a bubbling stream mounting to my lips. I didn't know what it was."
The next morning she found blood on her handkerchief and understood her fate. Coughing up of blood meant tuberculosis, and tuberculosis meant death. She wrote,
I thought immediately of the joyful thing that I had to learn, so I went over to the window. I was able to see that I was not mistaken. Ah! my soul was filled with a great consolation; I was interiorly persuaded that Jesus, on the anniversary of His own death, wanted to have me hear His first call!
Thérèse corresponded with a Carmelite mission in what was then French Indochina and was invited to join them, but, because of her sickness, could not travel.
As a result of tuberculosis, Thérèse suffered terribly. When she was near death “Her physical suffering kept increasing so that even the doctor himself was driven to exclaim, "Ah! If you only knew what this young nun was suffering!” During the last hours of Therese’s life, she said, "I would never have believed it was possible to suffer so much, never, never!” In July 1897, she made a final move to the monastery infirmary. On August 19, 1897, Therese received her last communion. She died on September 30, 1897 at the young age of 24. On her death-bed, she is reported to have said, "I have reached the point of not being able to suffer any more, because all suffering is sweet to me."
Her last words were, "My God, I love you!"
Thérèse was buried on October 4, 1897, in the Carmelite plot in the municipal cemetery at Lisieux, where Louis and Zelie had been buried. Her body was exhumed in 1910; not Incorrupted, but had the pleasant Odour of Sanctity. In March 1923, however, before she was beatified, her body was returned to the Carmel of Lisieux, where it remains. The figure of Thérèse in the glass coffin is not her actual body but a gisant statue based on drawings and photos by Céline after Thérèse's death. It contains her ribcage and other remnants of her body.
I was happy to have sneaked the car on a little lane right next to the building. The official parking lots were 300 metres away and down about six flights of stairs...
Somebody needs to go and see all of that stuff when it is full of pilgrims. Not me.
