The Bishopric of Utrecht

The large city of Utrecht lies inland from the North Sea coast and wielded significant influence on theology, politics, and art in the Low Countries.  The Cathedral of St. Martin was the center for the diocese of Utrecht, and in the sixteenth century the city's powerful bishop was elevated to the status of archbishop.  Also in the sixteenth century, the Netherlands converted to Protestantism, but Utrecht remained an important headquarters for Dutch Catholics.  Today churches and museums dot the downtown area.

In front of the church of St. John stands a statue of St. Willibrord, the courageous, seventh-century bishop of the city who undertook a dangerous mission to convert the pagan tribes in Friesland (northern Holland) to Christianity.  A flower market was taking place outside St. John's, and when I went inside I was a little shocked to find a huge book sale going on that filled the entire building.  I'm not sure if it is used as a church anymore, but there were essentially no religious objects or furniture anymore.

According to my map it was a little bit of a walk from the train station to the old cathedral downtown.  First, though, I had to make my way through a mall with hundreds of shops attached to the station.  Then there was a maze of streets with more shops, and when I finally got out, there was the cathedral with its massive bell tower right in front of me!  The "long walk" on my map had been completely colonized by retail!

Jan van Nassau, an important historical figure for the city, stands guard outside a university building on the cathedral square.

The wind was racing through a gateway in the cathedral bell tower so ferociously that it was almost impossible to take a picture without making the image blurry.  I went into this fifteenth-century cloister to take refuge.  The frieze over the door depicts St. Martin of Tours dividing his cloak to give half of it to a beggar.  According to legend, St. Martin was a righteous soldier, and after his encounter with the beggar he had a dream in which Christ appeared, wearing the torn cloak the saint had recently parted with.  The beggar had been Christ in disguise: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

The cloister was quiet and beautiful with more of the legend of St. Martin carved above each window.

Hundreds of years of rain and snow have weathered the gargoyles so that they look like corpses of monsters in in various states of decay!

Sadly, most of the cathedral was destroyed in a terrible hurricane in 1674.  "Hurricanes in Holland," you ask?  I wouldn't have believed it either, but after experiencing the near-cyclone-like weather conditions in Utrecht, I'm not surprised that the wind was the culprit here!  At least the transept of the church did not fall down.

In the case of this painted and gilded carving, however, the wind was not the culprit.  The smashed faces of these saints are the work of Calvinist iconoclasts who bashed apart an enormous amount of sacred art in Holland and Belgium.  This particular example comes from a chapel inside the cathedral--and, almost appropriately, the "cathedral" is actually no longer a real cathedral.  It is kind of an ecumenical space shared by a variety of denominations.

Every Saturday, for instance, the "cathedral" has public concerts, free of charge.  I was really happy to be there on a Saturday, especially when I saw that the performance for the day was Rossini's "La Petite Messe," or "The Little Mass."  It started at 3:30 pm, and so I decided to go look at a couple churches and a museum, drop in for the "Little Mass," and then have enough time afterwards to visit another museum briefly before  closing time at 5:00 pm.  Well, the "Little Mass" turned out not to be so little.  It was, in fact, extremely long.  I sat on a very hard folding chair made of wood between two elderly Dutch women for an hour and a half and started to go cross-eyed from looking at this organ for so long.

Needless to say, I didn't get to go to another museum.  I did have a wonderful visit at the Catharijnconvent, a marvelous museum of medieval art located next door to the new cathedral--the functioning cathedral for the archdiocese of  Utrecht.  This is a courtyard in the museum.

The Catharijnconvent has a wonderful collection of wooden and stone sculpture, ecclesiastical vestments, and precious church treasure.  This is a close up of a seventeenth-century monstrance made from gold and decorated with diamonds.  The consecrated Host, or bread of the Sacrament, would be enclosed in the circular window and then the monstrance would be placed on the altar or carried in procession for adoration.

One of their most famous pieces is a painted statue of St. Ursula from the sixteenth century.  This is a view of the righteous companions and clergymen who followed her to martyrdom depicted as miniature figures gathered around her feet.

I went to a service in the new cathedral in the evening.  It was dark when it was over, and I started back for the train station.  The train I needed to catch only came every half hour, and, uncharacteristically, I had given myself more than enough time to get to the station--usually I find myself madly running to get to platforms just seconds before the doors close.  As I walked along, though, I started to realize that if I ran a little I might be able to catch an earlier train.  So ironically I again ended up running, even though I had plenty of time.  Just as I flew down the stairs to the platform, though, the train left.  I was really annoyed that now I would have to sit on the platform for half an hour with the cold wind hurdling down the tracks when I could have spent more time in the cathedral listening to the organ postlude.  I waited and waited, and finally thirty minutes passed, and it was time for my train to arrive.  When there were four minutes to go, the signs switched for the next departure, and I was shocked to see that it was not my train!  I looked all around for a conductor to figure out what had happened, but I couldn't find one.  I re-checked the schedules and suddenly realized I was on the wrong platform!  I dashed to the right platform with only two minutes to go, and ... just as I arrived, the train left!  It was like a comic routine!  Only it was not funny.  It was not at all funny.  I sat back down--this time on a new platform--in the cold wind, and half an hour later I was finally on the right train and on my way home!