The Basilica of San Juan Capistrano

Yesterday I promised to shock everyone by taking them into the "modern" parish church of San Juan Capistrano.  Undoubtedly, some readers envisioned an ugly, hulking, modern disaster that focused more on social interaction than religious worship.  This is not unreasonable of them, as much church architecture of the past forty years or so has ended up being, how shall I put this, lacking spirit.  Some would claim such buildings were cheaper to construct, and that a more pastoral theology of the highlighting of the Eucharist, Word, and community as separate but interconnected elements is all so important.  Maybe so.  Still, nothing is wrong with the concept of tradition, or literally a "handing down" of what we have received in the past.  In the Church, as elsewhere, a nice balance is struck when we can have this intermingled with progression, adaptation, and discovery.  At the risk of sounding political, raw revolution and raw conservatism have never been good for the world.  Organic growth, on the other hand?  Well, step inside and take a look at what this sort of thing does.

The building, from the outside, is a rather plain monumental mass of adobe.  It fits in well with what California and the southwest tries to promote as an image, but it is also obviously a modern structure, which, if not for the dome and cross crowning it, does not seem too out of place.  This is rather deceptive, as the closer one gets to the building, the more the little details tend to jump out at the viewer.  Above the main doors, for example, is the coat of arms of the Diocese of Orange.  From a few more yards away, this thing is a blur that draws people in for a closer examination.  Up close, the building is revealed as a church, and a Catholic Church at that.  Otherwise non-assuming grey doors stand below this, unlocked, and ready to invite people into what appears to be yet more plain, dark space with arches and some chandeliers.

Then of course, you walk into the doors, and find a completely different world waiting.  See all the light?  This was not produced by anything other than the sun itself, which is quite plentiful in Orange county.  The chandeliers are mere accents meant for night illumination, and they are arranged in a flow leading to the altar space, which a few spot lights do illuminate, but because the reredos, or as it is known in Alta California, the retablo, is meant to draw visitors to the focal point of the meaning of the place.

The retablo is built in the baroque style that the Jesuits had brought to New Spain, and that the Franciscans chose to promote when they were forced to withdraw from the land.  All of this took around 20 years to find funding and construction time for, starting in 1986.  The Retablo itself was finished in 2007, a clear indication the the local community wanted to embrace a very different and seemingly distant past in building this sanctuary.  200 years ago, as the era of the mission was drawing to a close, this was a land of native peoples, Mexican colonists, and a frontier.  These days, the city of San Juan Capistrano is largely rich, Caucasian, and decidedly not a frontier.  The city is, however, mindful of a past which ruins and a name keep it conscious of, incorporating both the old and the new to make one of the most distinct communities left in the greater Los Angeles area.  The Catholic Church certainly thought this was a distinct church, as John Paul II made it into a basilica and national shrine.

To take a more detailed look, visit their website.