Numerous times I have roamed inside, outside, and underneath St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, Austria. (Yes, there are catacombs beneath which date back to the era of the Black Plagues which devastated Europe -- and Vienna for that matter -- throughout the 14th century.) For the dedicated and patient observer, this religious icon has an overabundance of stories to tell.
St. Stephen's Cathedral (Stephansdom in German), the dominant structure of Vienna and her Stephansplatz, is more than a cathedral -- she is an enduring grand matriarch, for centuries hosting the seat of the Archbishop of Vienna and his Archdiocese. Given her Romanesque and Gothic prowess, St. Stephen's is a living monument not only to historic periods but to specific historic events.
St. Stephen’s was initiated primarily by Rudolph IV, one of the initial progenitors of the Habsburg dynasty. (Termed centuries later by historians as the Holy Roman Empire, did this unique family consider themselves either holy or Roman? Such questions fuel the engines which drive late night reading and debate.) It stands on the ruins of at least two earlier churches, the first being a parish church consecrated in the mid-12th century. Archaeological evidence suggests it stands on the site of a Roman cemetery, implying the site has had some form of religious significance for at least 2000 years -- if not longer.
By the way, Marcus Aurelius passed away in Vienna. His son Commodus was present and the dead Caesar was quickly cremated and deified. Could this act of ancient Roman pomp and circumstance have occurred on or near the site of the present cathedral? We’ll never know. We do know his ashes found their way back to and remained in Rome until it was sacked in 410 by the Visigoths -- lost forever to eternity.
Arguably, Stephansdom is a living monument to the evolution of at least a part of Christianity in Europe, albeit a millennium after the birth, death and resurrection of Christ. Its initial dedication was witnessed by German nobles who were departing on the Second Crusade; it also was the site of a rallying sermon to muster a later crusading effort to defend Christian Europe from Muslim invaders. (The Theresian Military Academy's chapel, just south of Vienna, contains Holy Land relics brought by returning crusaders.)
Perhaps ironically, St. Stephen's also served as the main watch tower and military command post for the defense of Fortress Vienna during both sieges by the Ottoman Turks (1529, 1683). Congratulations, Prince Eugene of Savoy, ye who liberated central Europe from 150 years of Ottoman occupation -- implications of which still surface as Turkey pursues European Union membership. Is not Austria's reluctance to accept Turkey's overtures to Europe then understandable? Outside the cathedral there is an 18th century statue depicting St. Francis triumphantly trampling a defeated Turk. Oh my. Did anyone bother to clear this with the founding Franciscan?
Later, as a few German nobles and their men were leaving Vienna in the spring of 1945, St. Stephen’s was ordered destroyed, to be left “in just debris and ashes”. Providence, however, was manifest in the form of an officer who refused to follow these orders -- due to either his reverent upbringing or a simple, honest intellect. Again, we'll never really know. Unfortunately, the cathedral's roof did collapse, alight, though most of its internal treasures were spared. Flames had spread from nearby shops and torched St. Stephen's roof, started by civilian looters during the interlude between fleeing German troops and advancing Russian forces.
It is interesting how Vienna managed to spare most of its historic icons during the war -- Eugene of Savoy's massive statue at Heldenplatz was encased in brick to avoid damage from Allied bombing raids; Fredrick III's sarcophagus inside St. Stephan’s was also provided such protection. Someone was apparently aware that intentional human destruction permeates and dominates the world's historical record.
St. Stephen's is also a cultural casserole -- over time various local influences have left their mark, such as common modern graffiti. Building stones from unknown Roman structures were used and are visible in the oldest parts of the cathedral (the two Roman towers and the west wall). Over the main entrance to the church, the Giant’s Door (Riesentor), there once hung a mastodon bone. (Where did that come from?) A zodiac adorns the main facade. There are official measuring standards, used during the Middle Ages to set local standards for merchants, embedded in the external walls. The cathedral's largest and main bell was cast from captured Ottoman cannons. And the handrail of the stairway leading up to the stone pulpit is adorned with biting lizards and toads, symbolizing the struggle of good against evil. At the top, a dog guards those that are in place to preach. (I'm still trying to sort through the numerous symbols found in St. Stephen's -- to include the grim skeletal representations apparently borne of the bleak plague period.) St. Stephen's was also Mozart's parish church at the end of his life -- he was married, two of his children were baptized, and his funeral was conducted here. He also served as an adjunct parish music director.
Christendom’s cathedrals are historic and best placed in context. In my opinion, St. Stephen's is one of the best. Grasping historic context, however, is a tremendous challenge. As I have often sat in a St. Stephen's pew, I am occasionally drawn to reflect upon the meaning and context of Jesus' 1st century pronouncement of the Kingdom of Heaven -- and the enduring theological, political and cultural struggles between those who accept, reject or reinterpret Jesus' core message.
For me, St. Stephen's is a complex, physical manifestation of this ongoing social phenomenon. I highly recommend you give exploring this cathedral a "go".
Seek and ponder historical context.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
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