Dedicated to St. Andrew, this church lies a short block from the more famous Cathedral of Cologne. The nave, aisles and west end were built between 1180 and 1245 in the romanesque style.
The choir and apsidal transepts were added in the 15th century in the high gothic style. The choir is longer than the nave, almost making two churches that meet at the crossing. Yet, the overall effect is very unified.
This church is the repository of some remarkable relics (giving them the benefit of the doubt for the moment). St. Andrew’s arm bone is reputedly contained in a reliquary in the apse of the choir. The south transept holds a 16th century gilded reliquary that reputedly contains the bones of seven Jewish brothers and their mother. The apocryphal book of 2 Maccabees records their torture and death at the hands of Antiochus. When the synagogue near which they were buried was converted to a Christian church, their bones were recovered and eventually found their way to Cologne in 1164.
When the choir was built, the crypt underneath was sealed up. After WWII, the crypt was reopened and renovated. A chapel was opened up underneath the crossing to house the relics of Albertus Magnus, a Dominican scholar and scientist of the 13th century. The sarcophagus is a roman artifact once held at the nearby St. Ursula church. Albertus was canonized and declared a Doctor of the Church in 1931.
As unique as the shrine of the Jewish martyrs is, the reliquary in the vestibule (with St. Andrew in the background) is perhaps the strangest. I thought at first it was a baptismal font. It is in fact supposed to contain the blood of the virgins who were martyred with St. Ursula in the 3rd or 4th century. The stone “font” itself is 16th century.
The unique decagonal nave of this church opens to east into a choir which was completed about 1156. Much of the original furniture was destroyed in WWII and the structure required significant repairs. Yet the heavy, round-arch, romanesque design elements are evident.
The apse retains most of the original wall paintings, including the enthroned Christ, St. Gereon, and a bishop brandishing a sword. The windows are modern.
Opening off the south side of the decagon is a baptistry built 1242-45. By that time the gothic style had taken hold in German lands. The font itself is of a somewhat earlier date.
Opposite the font is a late gothic altar. The wall paintings date to the mid-13th century, about the time of construction.
One of the most striking features of the church is a chapel with a 19th century pieta. Although the gilded vault and variegated marble panels are eye-catching, the monochrome sculpture stands out even more.
The gothic style first appeared in France at St. Denis in A.D. 1147. The style came to Germany 60 years later. I’ve often wondered why it took so long. How the style came to Magdeburg is clear however. Archbishop Albrecht II von Kefernburg (in office 1205-1232) had studied in Paris and seen the building of Notre Dame Cathedral. The 300 year old church in Magdeburg burned in 1207. Albrecht razed the ruin and re-built in the new style beginning in 1209.
Although the church includes pointed arched and ribbed vaults, there are no flying buttresses, and the overall visual effect is a blend of the late Romanesque and early Gothic. Some of this blend can be observed in the chancel: mixed round and pointed arches, mixed groin and arched vaults and thick rectangular piers with half columns supporting arches.
On entering the cathedral, one is tempted merely to absorb the immensity, the repetition of lines and curves, and 800 years of history.
There are many details to study as well. (Click each thumbnail for bigger images).
Cowgoyle at west portal
The parable of the ten virgins and the last judgment. North Transept.
I didn’t catch his name, but he’s looking right at me.
Pieta with Flowers
Screen inside West Portal
Otto I (d. 973) who was instrumental in consolidating and extending the German Empire, is entombed in the center aisle of the choir. We attended an Anglican evensong service here (in English, mit deutscher Übersetzung). The sound was glorious.
One evening, we were reading the notice board at the entrance to the Cathedral when a man on a bike paused to speak with us. He told us how, as a student in the DDR (East Germany), during a two week work period before the term, he had helped lay the cobblestone paving of the churchyard. The statue is St. Mauritius a third century African Roman soldier honored by the cathedral.
When we arrived just before sunset to photograph the west front of the Cathedral, a boy and his father were kicking a soccer ball in the plaza. I was waiting quietly, but impatiently, for them to move on. After about 5 minutes they did.
What makes a restoration successful? Must it be a faithful reproduction of the original? How does one restore a church built 700 years ago that went through many modifications and then was nearly completely destroyed? What if little is known about the original furnishings or paintings? What if artifacts from any relevant period are rare or extinct? Perhaps it is easier just to do something completely modern. There is no simple answer.
St. Stephan’s Church of Mainz is a church that must have presented such a conundrum, but the answer turned out to be quite satisfying. The unique restoration there is at once modern, conveying an important message to today’s world and yet compatible with the historical architecture and sensibilities.
The church was founded in the 10th century by Archbishop Willigis, who also was the builder of the initial phase of the Mainz cathedral. It stands on a hill on the western side of the Old City. The present Gothic structure replaced the original building between about 1290 and 1340. The walls and piers however are all that remain of that church. An explosion in 1847 and several air raids in WWII gutted the church and adjacent cloister. Many historic furnishings are removed at that time. Since then the church has been in a nearly continuous state of restoration.
The most remarkable aspect of the restored church lies in the windows. Marc Chagall was engaged to create them in 1973 when he was nearly 90 years old. Collaborating with with Charles Marq, a long time associate, and Klaus Mayer, the parish priest, he created a distinctly modern set of windows that harmonize perfectly with the 700 year old building. Chagall was Jewish and desirous to provide a work that would heal the wounds of the war and bring Jews and Christians closer together. The result is a set of windows that demonstrates the reliance of Christianity on the history and writings of ancient Israel and celebrates the shared heritage of creation. The windows in the apse are the focal point, depicting scenes from creation, the lives of Abraham, Moses, David and others. The booklet written by Klaus Mayer waxes quite poetic on the windows.
Beyond the obvious, what struck me was the compatibility of the windows with the Gothic style. Though not geometrically regular, there is a balance to the design that mirrors the balance of the building. The flowing curves and sharp points echo the flow of the multi-shafted piers and pointed arches. The blues lend a peaceful atmosphere and complement the red sandstone. The impact is facilitated by the height of the aisles, which equals that of the central nave and all the windows can be viewed from any location by turning around.
Chagall originally engaged to provide the windows in the apse, but apparently became so interested in the project that he continued to work on additional windows for the transepts and aisles until his death in 1985. He left sufficient instructions for his associate, Charles Marq to finish the remaining windows. Thus the entire set of windows constitutes a unified whole.
The organ was being played as we visited, filling the building with sound. The adjacent window cast the entire area in a blue glow.
The cloister adjoining the church is striking for its intricate vaulting and its leaning walls. Changes in the flow of groundwater over the years have compromised the foundations. Fortunately modern techniques for injecting concrete into the foundation and other modern measures have strengthened the vaults from above.
Throughout the history of Israel, they were instructed to erect memorials and institute festivals to remind themselves of their heritage. St. Stephan’s church functions as such a reminder to our age.
Klaus Mayer, St. Stephan in Mainz, Regensberg 2010, ISBN 978-3-7954-4310-8