Iglesia de la Concepcion in Santa Cruz, Tenerife - Canary Islands

By the dry bed of the Barranco de los Santos and crouched amidst high rises and private homes stacked like domino stones, lays the pretty, horizontal cathedral Iglesia de la Concepcion; its slender and square belfry like a bastion overlooking the sea.

The indented chapels could use a lick of paint on the outside but on the inside the church is well kept, spacey and utterly hospitable. When Draga and I enter we find the congregation conducting a worship service. We scoot through the isles and sit down somewhere and listen to a friendly Father deliver his sermon. I have no idea what he’s saying but around me the world stands still and becomes reverent, and I look at the statues, the paintings and the impressive arches that hold up the ceiling.

I’m holding Draga’s hand. I want her to know that I understand that she belongs to a world that’s not made from steel and peeling paint, and that needs to be perpetually maintained at the price of human lives. She belongs to an eternity that, although it must be misunderstood by the merits of its nature, can be wholly enjoyed in silence and surrender.

After the service the congregation shuffles out and lingers by the entrance, chatting and laughing. I remain inside and take pictures of the statues (with flash because the lights go out as soon as the door opens). When we finally also exit, we walk quietly around the church. Near the belfry we find a plaque that says rather esoterically:

“Although it was built very slowly (XVIth - XVIIIth century) the temple presents a great unity of style. The first edifice, that today corresponds to the first part of the central nave, was a little, rectangular ground-plan church. Along the XVIIth and XVIIIth centuries other naves were added to it, changing the temple to the present church of five naves, transept with cupola and isle chapels. 

The tile roofs with two and four slopes corresponds in the inside with the traditional Mudejar coffered ceilings. The walls are made with rubblework being the hewn stone only used in the corners of the edifice, in the tower and on the main facade on which a dark basalt is used. Outside the Canarian wooden balconies stand out, being considered a unique example of the architecture of the islands.”

Whatever cultural significance this church may have for the Canarians, to us it was a brief symbol of safety, of being part of something that must evolve like all other things, but which was based on something eternal that will never go away. Draga and I are part of each other. Today we were part of the congregation of the Church of the Conception in Santa Cruz, Tenerife. We are part of the much larger Body of Christ, equally unfathomable and ultimate more mysterious and eternal. Standing hand in hand in front of this cathedral, to which we will probably never return, we realized that we were part of the great union of heaven and earth; a marriage that can never be described in any human language of logical system, but which defines us at large and at every tiny detail; from the purpose of our lives up to the level of everyday’s most quiet need.



Iglesia de la Concepcion in Santa Cruz, Tenerife – Canary Islands



Could use a lick of paint

Staring over the heads of the congregation to the impressive Marian altar piece

Detail of the Marian altar piece of Iglesia de la Concepcion in Santa Cruz, Tenerife

Arches hold up the ceiling - Iglesia de la Concepcion in Santa Cruz, Tenerife

Mary and Jesus, probably

The baptism of Jesus; stained glass window of Iglesia de la Concepcion in Santa Cruz, Tenerife

Veronica - Iglesia de la Concepcion in Santa Cruz, Tenerife

After the service the congregation lingers

Iglesia de la Concepcion in Santa Cruz, Tenerife - Canary Islands



The Christless cross, unusual for Catholic churches but not in Santa Cruz,

which city symbol is the Christless cross.

(To the right, that's Draga, by the way... )

The delightful church of Bourg des Saintes



The Church of Bourg des Saintes

In Bourg des Saintes, Iles des Saintes, just off Rue du Marigot, stands a delightful little church, with a modest steeple that still hovers like a beacon over the town and doors wide open. Inside rules an atmosphere of Caribbean ease. There seems to be an emphasis on the humanity of Christ in this church, and more specifically on the humanity of His earthly parents and the humanity of their little family.

Salt of the earth; light of the world
The main altar of the church of Bourg des Saintes

The face of the main altar is as modest as the rest of the church, and features a crucifixion and the words “Salt of the Earth; Light of the World.” To the right of Jesus on the cross is painted what seems an angel. Elsewhere in the church stands a statue of that same person:

Saint George / Saint Michael in the church of Bourg des Saintes

An image of someone killing a dragon is often depicting either St George or St Michael. George is often shown piercing the dragon with a lance. He also usually carries the Georgian symbol of a red cross on a white field, or at least some obvious combination of these colors. And he’s most often seated on a white horse. Michael doesn’t need a horse because being an archangel, he has wings to get around by. We don’t know how it got the better of the dragon; all we know is that he fought him. There are three Michaelean battles recorded in the Bible; two of which are with satan. Once Michael expels him from heaven (Revelation 12:7-12) and once he argues with him over the body of Moses (Jude:9). But in both accounts he doesn’t kill him or run a lance down the dragon’s throat. The statue of the dragon-slayer in the church of Bourg des Saintes has the lance, colors and theriocidic mission of George, but lacks the horse of George and has the wings of Michael. I’m not sure if this weird hybrid is a cultural phenomenon to be treasured or a complete screw up of some ignorant sculptor, but I’ll keep my eye open for more of these saint Georchels.

Statue of a lovely lady - I wonder who she is...

A lovely eyeing lady holds a crucifix. No idea who she is. She holding on to three red flowers; three white lilies are a symbol of purity and thus Mary, but Mary is mostly dressed in blue and she wouldn’t be holding a crucifix. I sure hope this isn’t supposed to be Mary and the sculptor who created Saint Georchel was running a two-for-the-price-of-one special. This lady is outfitted as a nun but I don’t know which kind. I’m obviously not less ignorant than any sculptor.

Mary teaching Jesus from a scroll

Mother teaching a royally robed pre-adolescent from a scroll. It’s a very small scroll. Maybe a shopping list, but certainly not Isaiah or something like that. It’s highly unlikely that Mary ever came close enough to any kind of scroll that she could touch it, and certainly not to a scroll that Jesus would famously learn from. It looks like our sculptor was running a three-for-one special.

The Good Shepherd

The Good Shepherd, presumably. The sheep also functions as holder for the cable of the sound system.

A delightful statue of Joseph, depicted as carpenter, holding on to the infant Christ.

The church of Bourg des Saintes, viewing down the isle to the entrance.

The steeple of the church of Bourg des Saintes looming over the town.

Lima - La Catedral on Plaza de Armas

Just off Lima’s busy central square Plaza de Armas stands an imposing Gothic cathedral, fittingly called La Catedral. The white façade covers one whole side of the square but all the doors are closed except one. When we enter, we find a kind of sub-cathedral; a smaller version for daily use, we surmise.

There are a few unusual pieces inside the church. The altar piece consists of an elaborate symbolic structure, centered upon a Trinity consisting of a humble Christ carrying a cross, God the Father and Mary beneath them. Over them flies the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove. Over the Holy Spirit towers a cluster consisting of the four evangelists, who are accompanied by their animal symbols derived of the four creatures of Revelation 4:7 (a connection I’ve always disagreed with). Strangely, only Matthew, Luke and Mark look up but John looks down.

Below the central Trinity we see a picture of the Lamb, again surrounded by four faces, presumably the four evangelists. Left and right are cherubim and images of Christ handing His cup to people.

Elsewhere in the church we find an unusual statue of what seems the twelve year old Christ, but already adorned as Pantocrator. Across the sanctuary stands a pieta, but again unusually, with Mary donned as Regina, posing in front of the empty INRI cross.

In its entirety, La Catedral in Lima is a tired old church which fails to engross. The noise from the street is deafening; the interior is dark and we feel unwelcome and shunned. Moments after we enter, some irked eyeing man in a T-shirt hastens across the central isle and disappears through a door next to the main altar. A moment later the lights go out without ado, and the man reappears and begins to herd us out the door. I’m sure it’s closing time but it’s sad when a church’s caretaker shows his sole modicum of enthusiasm only at that hour.

“Maybe there’s room for us at other inn,” Draga says wisely as she grabs my hand in consolation, and lovingly leads me out the door towards a coffee place off the other end of the square.

La Catedral on Plaza de Armas

Unusual 12 year old Christ Pantocrator

Magnificent altar piece of La Catedral on Plaza de Armas

Pieta/ Mary Regina

St Mary's Church - Port Stanley, Falkland Islands

A bit smaller but much brighter and certainly more festive than the dark Anglican Church just down Ross Road, the Catholic Church of St Mary’s stands cute and enticing in the gale. The church is white and so small that the scaffolding looks more like a dental brace than a building being maintained.  Two guys in dappled aprons dab the façade in white but stop to submit explanatory howls my way. Their voices get caught in the wind and taken over the Atlantic, where they tell of the unusual persistence of painters on the Falklands. St. Mary’s Church, it so appears, was created in England in the late 18-hundreds and sent over to the Falklands as a kit. It was put here in 1899, and has stood here unaltered save for a streak of paint every now and then.

On a windy day such as today, the church shudders and creaks. Inside we feel welcomed by the cozy interior; all light brown woods and reds from the carpet and stained glass windows. At the altar is a rather small INRI, but it has an unusual expression. I stand arrested initially trying to figure out whether he has his eyes open or not, but find myself caught in a pleasant review of the familiar Bible story. After a good three decades of studying Scriptures, I still have no idea what the crucifixion means. I’m sure I know more about it than most people, but I’m also one of the very few who recognize that the crucifixion of Christ is about a whole lot more than just a theocidal execution (which is a complete mystery in its own right).

To the left stands a beautiful Madonna with child. Their faces are much more classical than that of the INRI; pious and serene, hardly human but still so royal and divine.

Quickened I leave the church and head back to my ship. From the Falklands we’re heading straight south onto Antarctica. I’ve been there once before and I’ve been looking forward to going back ever since. It’s high summer on the southern hemisphere. Let’s go look for some ice bergs!

St Mary's Church - Port Stanley, Falkland Islands

Interior of St Mary's Church - Port Stanley, Falkland Islands

The Last Supper over the main entrance

An unusual INRI

The INRI of St Mary's Church - detail

Madonna with Child

Madonna with Child - detail

Christ Church Cathedral - Port Stanley, Falkland Islands

On Port Stanley’s Ross Road stands the smallest cathedral in the history of cathedrals. It makes me wonder what earns a church the predicate “cathedral,” and decide that it must be entirely arbitrary. But the Oxford explains that a cathedral is not just a big church but “the principal church of a diocese.” Being on a windswept pancake of an island, any old shed might be reckoned a cathedral.

The Christ Church Cathedral is the principle church of the Anglican parish of the Falkland Islands. Its interior is like all other protestant churches grimly void of anything that might violate the second commandment (make no graven images) and disturbingly adorned with symbols of nationalism and coats of arms.

The windows are stained glass - because for some reason statues are no-no’s but stained glass windows aren’t – and show scenes from the New Testament. Up front lies Bible opened on Proverbs 6. In front of the church four massive whale bones (ribs I reckon) construct an arch, which is entirely macabre now that I think of it.

I aim my nose to the gale and trudge down Ross Road. I’m sure I saw a pretty white church just a bit further up. With a little luck that one is a bit more festive than this gloomy pit.

Christ Church Cathedral - Port Stanley, Falkland Islands

Interior of Christ Church Cathedral - Port Stanley, Falkland Islands

Stained glass windows

Sola Scriptura

Catedral Metropolitana in Buenos Aires, Argentina

In a city where children sleep in card box boxes on the street, waiting for night to conduct their business, churches ought to be very small, very poor and very much focused on earth’s goings on. But perhaps the clergy of the Catedral Metropolitana in Buenos Aires is doing just that. They only inherited their sanctuary, after all.

Amid the pillars of the high colonnade men women and children hold up signs explaining why they have no food or shelter. They hold up calloused hands, look at us as we enter the building. A sign in four languages says, “Mind your possessions.”

Buenos Aires consists of many enormous buildings that dwarf this cathedral; its size becomes obvious only on the inside. And on the inside size is all we find; size and a disturbing artistic vacuum. There are statues but no flowers; murals but no candles. “What a dead church,” Draga whispers beside me.

The altar piece depicts the woman mentioned in Revelation12, which many take to denote Mary, but it’s monotonous, monochrome and plumb ugly. In one of the side chapels we find an endearing depiction of the Czech saint John Nepomucene. Among other things, he’s the patron against calumnies, I tell Draga. That when someone makes a false statement to injure another person’s reputation.

“Imagine that,” she says, and after a brief glance at a crowned Madonna with Child, “Let’s get out of here.”

And we go, past the beggars and the columns, to swiftly vanish into the Argentinean evening.

Catedral Metropolitana in Buenos Aires, Argentina

Inside Catedral Metropolitana in Buenos Aires, Argentina

Altar piece of the Catedral Metropolitana in Buenos Aires, Argentina

Saint John Nepomucene

Madonna with Child, Catedral Metropolitana in Buenos Aires

Madonna with Child, close up

The Church of Immaculate Conception in Manaus, Brazil

It takes crossing a few noisy, filthy streets to reach the park around the Church of Immaculate Conception in Manaus, but any crossing is worth the effort. The church grounds are converted to a haven to stroll or sit or admire the ancient trees that tell of the jungle that once was here. In the middle of it rises the white and yellow sanctuary; low, horizontal, with two pivotal belfries over its main entrance.  At night, well-aimed lighting transforms the building into an almost elfish haunt, like something out of a story; baby blue, perhaps to recall Mary’s royal color, and an ochre in complimentary contrast.

We enter through its massive main doors and are immediately arrested by the dramatic altar piece, showing an enraptured Mary, probably ascending, amidst cherubim and standing on her signature lilies. The backdrop is heavenly blue and illuminated to ultimate effect.

Draga masters Portuguese and while I’m trying to figure out who the effeminate angelic figure in the pink robe might depict, she engages a kind lady who’s obviously involved in the church’s goings on. We should really check out the church’s museum, insists the lady, and we follow her to an adjacent chamber. She points at a kind of wooden throne.

“This is where the pope sat,” she whispers, pointing at the picture of John Paul II on the wall, and explains that the wall is a remnant of the original church that stood here. It burned down and the present white cathedral was build in its place in 1850. Some of the artifacts in the room are from the earlier period.

A striking Lady of Sorrows stands facing a rather unusual sculpture of the Deceased Christ, laying horizontal and covered in a death shroud. Against the back wall He falls under the weight of His cross. Priestly garments hang behind glass. In a cupboard against the opposite wall are manuscripts and antique Bibles.

As we walk out of the church I realize what great comfort I draw from finding any kind of church, or even any kind of fidelity to the great mystery of who we are. Whoever walks this planet baffling at the great differences that seems the divide us, will find ultimate kinship in religious expressions, but only when he remembers that these images reflect questions, never answers. 

Tree in the church yard, Manaus, Brazil

The Church of Immaculate Conception in Manaus, Brazil

Marian altar piece of the Church of Immaculate Conception in Manaus, Brazil

Pink angel shielding a child



Pink Angel - close up

St. Jospeh, I'm guessing

The chair that once held JPII



An unusual depiction of Christ; deceased and covered with a shroud

Our Lady of Sorrows



Our Lady of Sorrows - close up