Sacred Space

As I walk up to the Cathedral, I notice that a large tent-like structure sits in front of the main entrance. Stepping over bundles of wires and avoiding some important-looking people, I make my way to the front entrance for the 9 o'clock Saturday morning mass. A reserved woman standing by the door gives me a modest smile as I step through the doorway. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness inside. Several windows work to counteract the dimness, but they are so high up that they barely seem to make a dent. The air is damp and cold, and the structure of the inside of the church feels labyrinthine. Instead of an open nave, the inside of the church is divided into many small chapels and chambers. Almost immediately upon walking in, I am faced with a large wall bearing an extensive painting of Mary and Jesus, surrounded by ornate gold framing. From where I walk in, I cannot see the main altar. Unsure about where the mass will be held, I venture to my left, walking in what I hope to be the direction of the service.

A feeling of solemnity pervades the space, augmented by the absence of natural light, the stone floors and walls, and the severe gaze of various royals from medieval Spain staring down at me from the paintings on the walls. The individuals depicted in these paintings, characteristic of the era, are clad in black and bear melancholy expressions. The church has many side chapels, but most of them bar entry through large, black gates. A particularly ornate one features a Mary, dresses all in blue, surrounded by a background of brilliant gold. Kneelers and stands with candles stand in front of the shrine. After walking uncertainly through the church, I find a chapel that is relatively full of people. It is not, however, facing the main altar. The pews appear to be moveable, so for the purpose of this smaller-scale daily mass, they are facing a side chapel. It feels strange, however, to be facing the right of the church (instead of the front) for mass.

The chapel, enclosed by an altar rail, indicates the traditional nature of the church. Its opulence seems reminiscent of that which I saw in several churches in Rome several years ago. The deacon carries a communion plate with him in the opening procession. A crucified Christ hangs above the altar, surrounded by two figures on either side. Behind the crucifix, blue-white crystals emanate in an almost star-like pattern. The most interesting point, however, is the statue of Jesus. In contrast with the other medieval paintings hanging in the church, the Jesus on the cross has dark brown skin. After further research, I learned that this is a famous crucifix entitled "Señor de los Temblores," entitled thus due to its purported role in preventing further destruction after an earthquake in 1650. It is the patron saint of Cusco and the crucifix is processed through the town on Holy Monday.

Another interesting aspect of the Cathedral is the central chamber in the nave. Before the mass starts, I don't know what it's for. It looks relatively empty to me. When the service starts, however, I notice that the organist is positioned inside, creating the impression that he is in a large cage. Organist might be an overly generous term, however--he is playing an electric Korg keyboard on the organ setting. The music features an interesting blend of the arpeggiated organ accompaniment and the keyboardist's heavily amplified voice. While the text is the traditional Catholic liturgical text, the tune seems very different from anything I know. They remind me of the carefree singing in the film "Madeinusa." Instead of the traditional organist / cantor division, one musician does both, albeit in a way very different from what I am used to. For me, it is an unusual setup. I look over at the musician several times throughout the service, and I can't shake the feeling that I am in some sort of zoo for musicians.

The last feature that strikes me is the continual motion of people throughout the church as the service progresses. The pews facing the altar are divided into two sections, so there is a small aisle between the front and back sections. Various guards, janitors, and church visitors walk through it at random points throughout the service, making it slightly more difficult to focus on the service. Out of the corner of my eye, I see tourists walking around, admiring the art. Custodians carrying brooms march purposefully throughout the church, and I see a continual bustle of confessions going on in the far corner. Overall, there is much more activity happening outside of the service, further supporting my impression that this daily mass is but a small part of the Catholic culture here in Cusco.