Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses: The Baroque Brilliance of Seville’s Hidden Gem

This little-known chapel will have your head spinning, with gorgeous art and jaw-dropping details in every direction.

When we returned to Sevilla, our friend José told us of a little-known but absolutely gorgeous church, the Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses (the Church of Saint Louis of France). His partner Jo, who I once dubbed the Rock ’n’ Roll Nanny, gave Duke and me a tour of her favorite spots in Sevilla. In between stuffing our faces with delectable tapas dishes and sipping sherry, she took us to see José’s secret spot.  

We arrived during the lull of siesta, so we bided our time the best way we knew how: by indulging in yet more tapas, finding a quaint café in the Macarena neighborhood. 

When we returned to San Luis and entered the main chapel, we stood stock still as we took in the sheer spectacle before us. We understood immediately why José was so captivated — even for us recovered Catholics. Baroque churches have a way of being extravagantly maximalist, but even by those standards, San Luis packs so much into a small space. 

The chapel is a visual feast, where every surface competes for your attention. We moved from one altar to the next, making our way around the circle, grinning immensely and excitedly pointing out strange details to each other. You could spend an hour here and still not catch every detail.

The Schizophrenic History of the Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses

Built between 1699 and 1730, this Baroque marvel was the crowning achievement of Leonardo de Figueroa, an architect celebrated for his role in shaping Sevilla’s grandest religious spaces. 

The church was originally part of a Jesuit novitiate, meaning it was designed not only for worship but to serve as a spiritual training ground for novices. 

This complex was built on land donated by a noble family with French ties, hence the dedication to Saint Louis, the French King Louis IX.

In those early years, the church was a prime example of Jesuit opulence and influence. Every inch of the building seemed designed to overwhelm with splendor, drawing viewers into a theatrical experience. 

The main chapel, a circular space devoid of traditional seating, was meant to stand as a monument to Jesuit ideals, immersing novices and visitors alike in an atmosphere where spiritual grandeur took precedence over community worship. 

However, in 1767, the Spanish crown expelled the Jesuits. For a time, the building served as a Franciscan convent. 

As the 19th century rolled in, the property underwent secularization and was turned over to the state. The grand altarpieces designed to showcase Jesuit saints were stripped, and the space was adapted for pragmatic uses, including functioning as a factory. 

The building’s role shifted once again as it became a hospice for the city’s elderly and sick. For several decades, the church was a place of stark contrasts — its Baroque details and gilded interiors juxtaposed with the somber reality of its new short-term inhabitants. 

The 20th century saw further change. The once-sacred site became a stage for performances, with productions like Don Juan Tenorio taking advantage of the church’s dramatic acoustics and architecture to tell the tale of the infamous lothario. 

A lightning strike in the 1920s pierced the vault, destroying an oil painting — perhaps serving as a grim suggestion that God wasn’t happy with how the church was being used?

After decades of neglect, San Luis was finally restored in the late 20th century. This revitalization effort sought to reclaim the site’s former glory, reopening the doors of the church, domestic chapel and crypt to the public. 

Architectural Highlights of the Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses 

The façade alone is a visual feast. Ornate Solomonic columns twist skyward, framing a riot of Baroque symbolism covering the pale pink building. Statues of saints and angels stand guard like sentinels, their expressions a mix of stern devotion and regal authority. Above the entrance, the coat of arms of Spain is crowned by three archangels.

The Surreal Spirituality of the Main Chapel

But it’s when you step inside that the full spectacle begins. The church was designed in a Greek cross layout, and from the moment you cross the threshold, your gaze is drawn upward to the magnificent dome. Light filters through the lantern high above, illuminating frescoes that swirl like divine visions. Painted by Lucas Valdés, these frescoes depict scenes of Christian virtues — obedience, chastity, humility — interspersed with symbols of Solomon’s Temple. (Side note: Did King Solomon really exist?)

The main chapel is something of an enigma. Circular and intimate, it has no pews. Jesuit novices would have stood in silent contemplation, absorbing the intricate carvings, gilded reliefs and soaring altarpieces that fill the space. This is Baroque at its most intense. 

At the center of the main altar is a painting of San Luis, the church’s namesake, attributed to the school of Zurbarán. Flanking this are paintings of the Immaculate Conception and the Virgin of Bethlehem, all framed by mirrors that multiply the radiance of the gold. (Learn more about the various depictions of the Virgin Mary.)

But what really caught our eye are the relics embedded within this luxurious setting. Encased in delicate reliquaries, you’ll find a skull, ribs, and fragments of bones belonging to Jesuit holy men like Saint Ignatius of Loyola and Saint Francis Xavier. Vials of blood, believed to belong to lesser-known saints, are encased in gold and glass. There’s also a piece of cloth from Saint Stanislaus Kostka’s robes to honor this Polish saint who died at the age of 18. 

Each side altar tells a different story through its artwork and relics. On one side are scenes celebrating Jesuit virtues (devotion, sacrifice, spiritual fortitude), while the other side showcases key moments from the lives of saints who exemplified those ideals. 

The black-and-white checkered floor calls to mind dualities — light and dark, good and evil, the sacred and the profane — echoing the spiritual journey of navigating moral choices central to Jesuit teachings. In a space filled with opulence, the simple geometry of the floor offers a grounding presence, representing the balance between the earthly and divine realms. 

This is a chapel designed not just to be seen but to be felt — a place where spiritual reverence mingles with a sense of the macabre. 

The Domestic Chapel

As you wind through the quiet corridors of the Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses, following almost inconspicuous signs, you find yourself in another part of the complex. This secluded space, the Domestic Chapel, hidden within the old Jesuit novitiate, was designed for private worship by the novices. It’s a single-nave chapel, but, like the Main Chapel, don’t let its size deceive you — its beauty and detail are breathtaking.

The chapel is lavishly adorned, featuring stunning frescoes by Lucas Valdés and Domingo Martínez, and sculptures by the renowned Duque Cornejo. 

The richly ornamented altarpiece is a visual celebration of the Eucharist. At its center is the Virgin Mary, a gift from Saint Francis Borgia, flanked by statues of Saint Stanislaus Kostka and Saint Aloysius Gonzaga. Above the Virgin, a relief depicts Saint Stanislaus’ reception into the novitiate in Rome, surrounded by medallions illustrating the lives of Saint Francis Xavier and Saint Francis Borgia. Saints alive!

The Crypt

The crypt, once sealed off and hidden, has now been opened to the public. That being said, there’s not much to see here. The crypt of the Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses is a subdued space — especially when contrasted to the crazily ornate rest of the church or something like the catacombs of Paris — primarily intended for meditation and remembrance. 

Over 300 bodies are buried in the crypt — though you’d never know that. There’s not a single marker. So who’s buried down there? Some members of the Jesuit order and other notable figures associated with the church, although specific records of who’s interred there are sparse. 

Haunting Tales of San Luis de los Franceses

One of the most unsettling tales of this church is that of Manuel Cantelar. In the 1990s, this troubled man is said to have staggered toward the church one fateful night, a knife clenched tightly in his trembling hands. Eyes glazed with despair (or madness), he pressed the blade against his chest and threw himself against the cold stone façade in a bizarre form of suicide. It’s said his spirit never left. 

Strange occurrences continue to plague the church. Workers involved in restoration projects have spoken of tools vanishing, only to have them reappear in baffling places. Even the bravest of them have confessed to hearing ghostly whispers and feeling a sudden chill as if unseen eyes were fixed on them. And then there are the dogs. They growl and snarl at empty spaces, their hackles raised, as if warning off an unseen presence.

Even now, the murmur of phantom voices and the chill of restless spirits might greet anyone daring enough to explore the forgotten corners of San Luis de los Franceses.

Visiting the Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses

As we left the church of San Luis de los Franceses, we couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the beauty and history of this often-overlooked treasure — from the grand Main Chapel with its imposing dome and intricate altarpieces to the almost-as-impressive Domestic Chapel tucked away from the main church. 

While most visitors will make sure to see the Seville Cathedral, we found its beauty to only be skin deep: The façade is much more impressive than its interior. That’s why we were so happy to marvel in surprise at the unexpected tiny-by-comparison grandeur of San Luis. We owe our heartfelt thanks to our friends Jo and José for encouraging us to explore this hidden gem, a reminder that some of Seville’s most stunning spaces lie just beyond the well-trodden paths. –Wally

The deets

Hours
Monday: Closed
Tuesday to Sunday: 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. 
Summer hours (July 1 to August 31): 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. 
Note: Ticket sales end 15 minutes before closing time, and visitors are asked to leave 10 minutes prior to closing. 

Cost: €4, with discounts for students, seniors and local residents

Tour options: Guided tours are available as are audio guides in multiple languages. 

Iglesia de San Luis de los Franceses

Calle de San Luis, 37
41003 Sevilla
Spain 

 

Visiting Seville Cathedral

Discover the world’s largest Gothic cathedral, a UNESCO World Heritage Site with the iconic La Giralda bell tower and Columbus’ tomb. 

The Seville Cathedral dominates the skyline — not surprisingly, since it's the largest Gothic cathedral in the world.

As you walk through the narrow, winding streets of Seville, you’ll inevitably find yourself in the Plaza del Triunfo. There, rising as a colossal monument to faith and human ingenuity, stands La Catedral de Sevilla (Seville Cathedral). It’s hard not to feel a sense of awe as you take in the sight before you — this is the largest Gothic cathedral in the world, and it commands your attention.

Gothic architecture was all about height and light, creating spaces that drew the eyes — and the spirit — upward. The architects of Seville Cathedral embraced this philosophy wholeheartedly. They designed a building that seemed to defy gravity, with soaring arches, intricate ribbed vaults and walls of stone that appear as delicate as lace.

“The towering high altar of Seville Cathedral seems to glow with an otherworldly light.

It’s the largest and one of the most ornate Catholic altars in the world — a gilded masterpiece that took nearly a century to complete. ”

With its intricate ornamentation, the cathedral is gorgeous from any angle.

Visiting Seville Cathedral: First Impressions

The façade of Seville Cathedral is an intricate pattern of religious figures and mythical beasts, all carved in stone with remarkable detail. Saints and apostles line the entrances, each captured in dynamic poses, holding symbols of their faith and martyrdom. Figures like Saint Peter with his keys to Heaven and Saint James with his staff stand as silent guardians of the cathedral. Above the portals, scenes from the life of Christ and the Virgin Mary are depicted in elaborate reliefs.

Statues of holy personages ring the cathedral's doorways.

Interspersed among these sacred figures are gargoyles — grotesque stone creatures jutting out from the walls. Their twisted forms, often a blend of animals with something monstrous, serve both symbolic and functional roles. They channel rainwater away from the building, but they also act as protectors, believed to ward off evil spirits from entering the holy site. 

La Giralda rises 341 feet (104 meters) into the air.

The Symbolism of La Giralda: A Story in Stone

Look closely at the base of the tower, where the original stonework from the Almohad Muslim empire remains intact. The arches, adorned with delicate arabesques, are a reminder of the tower’s Islamic origins. They speak of a time when Seville was a center of learning and culture in the Islamic world, a place where scholars and artisans thrived.

Part Islamic, part Renaissance, La Giralda is a good symbol of the merging of East and West that's such a part of southern Spain.

Now, let your gaze travel upward, to the belfry that was added during the Renaissance. The clean lines, classical proportions and elegant simplicity of the design are a stark contrast to the intricate patterns below. This was a statement, a declaration of the Christian faith’s ascendancy. 

Driving home that point is the Latin verse inscribed around the belfry: “TURRIS FORTISSIMA NOMEN DNI PROVERB. 18,” translating to “The name of the Lord is a strong tower,” from Proverbs 18:10. 

High above the city, El Giraldillo stands poised on La Giralda, her massive bronze figure more than just a weather vane — she’s a symbol of faith and victory. Cloaked in a flowing tunic, she holds a mighty shield in one hand and a palm branch in the other. Her figure twists gracefully, moved by the winds, but her expression and stance evoke unshakable faith. Like a sentinel or an ancient goddess, she watches over her city.

El Giraldillo: the most famous weathervane in the world?

La Giralda’s Lesser-Known Secrets

La Giralda also holds secrets that many visitors aren’t familiar with. For instance, did you know that the tower was designed with ramps instead of stairs? This allowed the muezzin, who called the faithful to prayer, to ride a horse to the top. As you imagine this, you can almost hear the rhythmic clatter of hooves echoing within the tower’s walls.

Another lesser-known fact is that during the cathedral’s construction, La Giralda served as a lookout tower. From its heights, guards could survey the city and the surrounding countryside, a strategic vantage point that was vital during times of conflict. 

Duke got this shot from the nearby General Archive of the Indies. You can see the copy of El Giraldillo that topped the tower while the genuine article got restored.

The Entrance of Seville Cathedral 

In front of the cathedral, a statue of Ferdinand III of Castile proudly holds a globe and a sword, commemorating his pivotal role in the 13th century Christian conquest of Seville. Ferdinand’s victory led to the transformation of the city from an Islamic stronghold into a key Christian center, with the mosque being converted into the cathedral we see today.

But Ferdinand isn’t the only figure watching over the entrance. Nearby stands a replica of El Giraldillo. The bronze reproduction topped the tower during a restoration and was moved here when the original figure returned to its rightful place atop La Giralda.

As you step inside the cathedral, your eyes are immediately drawn upward. Massive stone columns rise like ancient trees in a forest, supporting the ceiling. These columns branch out into ribbed vaults, forming a web-like pattern that not only adds to the structure’s stability but also creates an otherworldly sense of space.

The high altar of Seville Cathedral, a breathtaking display of intricate gold niches, showcases scenes from the life of Christ.

The High Altar: A Golden Marvel

The towering structure of the high altar of Seville Cathedral seems to glow with an otherworldly light. It’s the largest and one of the most ornate Catholic altars in the world — a gilded masterpiece that took nearly a century to complete. 

Crafted by Flemish sculptor Pierre Dancart in the late 15th century, the altar rises over 65 feet high and 42 feet wide, composed of 45 intricately carved panels — it feels like an epic storybook springing to life, scene by scene, pulling you into its divine narrative. Imagine it as a tapestry of tales, each vignette acting as a page from the most sacred stories in Christian tradition.

The altar's reliefs are intricately carved wood covered in gold leaf.

At the base, you can see the Nativity, with Mary cradling the infant Jesus, the shepherds humbly offering their reverence, and the Magi presenting their gifts.

Move higher, and the story unfolds into more dramatic, intense episodes. In one vignette, you can see the Crucifixion, then comes the Resurrection, bursting forth from the altar’s center, where Christ, victorious over death, stands surrounded by heavenly figures. (Related: When did Jesus Have to Become God?)

The higher tiers focus on the Ascension of Mary, where she rises amid a host of saints and angels, emphasizing her purity and elevation as the Queen of Heaven.

Each story is framed with ornate Gothic tracery, like delicate borders separating the sacred moments yet tying them all together into one continuous narrative, acting like pages of a gilded gospel.

Columbus' tomb

The Tomb of Christopher Columbus: A Monument Shrouded in Mystery

Inside Seville Cathedral, amid its towering arches and breathtaking art, you’ll find something that has captured the imaginations of visitors for centuries: the tomb of Christopher Columbus, known in Spain as Cristóbal Colón. It’s a monument wrapped in mystery and steeped in controversy, honoring one of history’s most famous and contentious figures.

The ornate tomb seems to be held aloft by four statues, each representing one of the kingdoms of Spain: Castile, León, Aragon and Navarre. These larger-than-life figures, clad in armor and bearing the weight of the tomb on their shoulders, carry not just the remains of a man, but the legacy of an era that forever changed the world. Their expressions are solemn, their posture resolute, as if they understand the weight — both literal and symbolic — that they bear.

Is Seville Cathedral really the site of Columbus' corpse?

The Journey of Columbus’ Remains: A Tale of Many Cities

Here’s where the story takes a fascinating turn: Columbus’ remains have journeyed across the world almost as much as he did during his lifetime. After his death in 1506, Columbus was initially buried in Valladolid, Spain, the city where he died. Yet this was only the beginning of his posthumous odyssey.

A few years later, his remains were moved to Seville, then across the Atlantic to the island of Hispaniola (modern-day Dominican Republic) in the early 16th century, as Columbus had expressed a desire to be buried in the so-called New World he helped to “discover.”

But the story doesn’t end there. Before the French took control of Hispaniola in 1795, Columbus’ remains were supposedly transferred to Havana, Cuba, to prevent them from falling into French hands.

Then, in 1898, after Spain lost control of Cuba following the Spanish-American War, the explorer’s remains were sent back to Seville, where they were interred in the cathedral. 

The ornate tomb that visitors see today was designed by the Spanish sculptor Arturo Mélida. Made from a mix of materials, including bronze and marble, the tomb features intricate carvings that tell the story of Columbus’ voyages. 

The underside of Columbus' tomb

The Controversy: Are These Columbus’ True Remains?

But here’s the twist: Are the remains in Seville Cathedral really those of Christopher Columbus? This question has sparked debate among historians, scientists and enthusiasts for years. The Dominican Republic claims that it still holds the true remains of Columbus in the Columbus Lighthouse in Santo Domingo, and that the bones moved to Havana and later to Seville were actually those of his son, Diego.

In 2003, DNA testing was conducted on the remains in Seville, comparing them to the known DNA of Columbus’ brother, also named Diego, who’s buried in the city. The results were inconclusive but suggested a close familial match. While this supports the claim that Seville holds Columbus’ remains, the mystery remains unsolved — especially since the Dominican Republic has refused to allow the testing of the remains in Santo Domingo.

The Ghost of Columbus and His Troubled Legacy

Some say that Columbus’ spirit roams the cathedral, restless due to the uncertainty surrounding his remains. And it’s said that if you listen closely at night, you might hear the faint sound of waves lapping against a ship’s hull — Columbus’ spirit, still seeking the shores of a New World. It’s just one of the many legends of Seville Cathedral. 

While many Spaniards still recognize and honor Columbus for his role in history — particularly for his voyages that led to the European colonization of the Americas — there’s also a growing awareness and acknowledgment of the darker aspects of his legacy, recognizing the consequences of his expeditions, including the forced labor and diseases that devastated indigenous populations.

A few kings of Spain are buried in the Royal Chapel of Seville Cathedral.

The Capilla Real (Royal Chapel): Resting Place of Spanish Royalty

In most Gothic cathedrals, the eastern end is typically home to an apse and an ambulatory, designed to guide the flow of worshippers and pilgrims. But in Seville Cathedral, the eastern end holds something quite different and historically significant: the Capilla Real, or Royal Chapel. 

The Capilla Real

This impressive, domed structure houses the tombs of Spanish royalty. Dominating the chapel is the ornate burial site of King Ferdinand III, known as Ferdinand the Saint, whom we met out front — the monarch who played a critical role in the Reconquista by reclaiming Seville from Muslim rule in 1248. His body, said to be miraculously preserved, lies in a silver casket beneath the altar.

The chapel also contains the remains of Alfonso X, his son, a king remembered for his patronage of the arts and legal reforms, leading to his nickname Alfonso the Wise. 

Then there’s the tomb of Pedro I, often called Pedro the Cruel (or Pedro the Just by his supporters). Known for his ruthless methods of maintaining power, Pedro I rebuilt much of the nearby Real Alcázar of Seville. 

The treasury includes the Crown of the Virgin of the Kings, made in 1904.

The Treasury: Relics and Sacred Artifacts

Beyond the paintings and sculptures, Seville Cathedral houses a vast treasury filled with relics and sacred artifacts. Among the most notable is the Custodia de Arfe, a massive silver monstrance created by Enrique de Arfe in the early 16th century. Standing over 12 feet tall, this masterpiece of metalwork is used during the annual Corpus Christi procession, where it’s paraded through the streets of Seville.

The treasury also contains an array of other priceless items, from jewel-encrusted chalices to intricately carved crosses. 

The Vision of Saint Anthony of Padua by Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, 1656. At one point, the saint had been cut out of the painting and smuggled to the U.S.!

Murillo’s Masterpieces: Capturing Divine Grace

Seville Cathedral is home to many works of art, but among the most revered are the paintings of Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, one of Spain’s greatest Baroque artists. Murillo’s work is known for its luminous quality, capturing the divine grace of his subjects with an almost ethereal softness. 

In The Vision of Saint Anthony of Padua, the saint gazes upwards, his expression one of pure rapture, as the Christ Child appears before him in a radiant burst of light. Here’s a crazy story: Saint Anthony was cut out of the painting in 1874 and smuggled to the United States, where an immigrant sold it to a New York gallery owner. Thankfully, the man made sure it was returned to the cathedral.

Other works by Murillo in the cathedral include The Immaculate Conception, Saint Isidore of Seville and Saint Leander of Seville. 

Saints Justa and Rufina by Francisco de Goya, 1817. The women are the patron saints of Seville.

Zurbarán and Goya: Masters of Light and Shadow

The cathedral’s collection also includes paintings by Francisco de Zurbarán and Francisco de Goya, two other giants of Spanish art. Zurbarán’s work is known for its dramatic use of light and shadow, creating a sense of intense spirituality.

Goya, on the other hand, brings a more psychological depth to his works. His Santa Justa and Santa Rufina, depicting the two patron saints of Seville, is a study in contrasts — between light and shadow, and faith and suffering. The saints’ expressions are both serene and sorrowful, capturing the complex emotions of their martyrdom. 

The Patio de los Naranjos was part of the original mosque that stood on this site.

The Patio de los Naranjos

Tucked away within Seville Cathedral lies the Patio de los Naranjos, a courtyard steeped in history and shaded by fragrant orange trees. This serene space is one of the few surviving remnants from the original Almohad mosque that once stood on this site. Built in the late 12th century, the patio was initially used by Muslim worshippers for ablutions, a ritual washing before prayer. 

The patio’s arched entranceways and elegant fountains have been preserved, though the orange trees themselves were likely added after the Christian Reconquest. 

Seville Cathedral was built on the site of a 12th century Almohad mosque, with some elements retained.

The courtyard’s irrigation system is a holdover from the mosque’s original design. Channels carved into the stone floor direct water to the trees and fountain, showcasing the advanced engineering techniques of the period. 

Beyond its architectural significance, the Patio de los Naranjos has also served as a gathering place over the years — first for religious purposes, and later as a civic space where citizens met, traded goods and exchanged news. 

La Giralda was undergoing repairs when we visited.

Restoration and Preservation: Protecting a Cultural Treasure

The largest Gothic cathedral in the world: With such a significant title comes great responsibility. Over the years, Seville Cathedral has undergone numerous restoration and preservation efforts aimed at protecting its delicate structures and priceless artworks from the ravages of time. These projects are often painstakingly complex, involving skilled artisans and conservators who work to maintain the integrity of the cathedral’s original design while using modern techniques to ensure its longevity.

One of the most significant recent restoration projects focused on La Giralda. Over centuries, exposure to the elements had taken its toll on the tower’s intricate stonework, leading to erosion and structural weakening. The restoration, completed in the early 2000s, involved carefully cleaning and repairing the stone, reinforcing weakened areas and restoring the tower’s original splendor. Today, La Giralda stands tall, a beacon for all of Seville — and, as mentioned, its temporary replacement can be seen in the entrance courtyard. 

Inside the cathedral, restoration work is ongoing as well. The high altar, with its intricate gilded panels, has been the focus of several preservation efforts aimed at protecting it from humidity and pollution. 

Similarly, the cathedral’s numerous chapels, paintings and sculptures are regularly monitored and conserved to ensure they remain as vibrant and inspiring as they were when first created.

The Puerta del Perdón (Door of Forgiveness) gets its name from the tradition of granting absolution to debtors and sinners who entered through it.

A Major Tourist Attraction: Drawing the World to Seville

Seville Cathedral is one of the city’s top tourist attractions, drawing millions of visitors each year who come to explore its architectural wonders, artistic treasures and historical significance. The cathedral’s central location makes it an essential stop on any tour of Seville.

Guided tours, often led by knowledgeable local historians, offer visitors a chance to delve deeper into the history of Seville Cathedral and its many hidden stories. 

In addition to its historical and religious significance, the cathedral offers one of the best views in Seville. Visitors can climb to the top of the Giralda tower, following the same winding ramps that were once used by horseback riders to ascend to the top. 

From there, the panoramic view of Seville is breathtaking, with the city’s rooftops, narrow streets and distant hills stretching out as far as the eye can see. It’s a view that not only showcases the beauty of Seville but also puts the cathedral’s dominance over the cityscape into perspective.

The cathedral interior doesn't instill that immediate awe that so many others do — until you look up.

Is the Seville Cathedral Worth Visiting?

The cathedral’s interior is vast, covering an area of about 124,000 square feet (over 11,500 square meters). However, unlike many other large cathedrals where the central nave and the main altar dominate the space, Seville Cathedral has a somewhat fragmented layout that feels sprawling and compartmentalized. It just doesn’t inspire the immediate awe that other Spanish churches do, like the Iglesia de los Santos Mártires and Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol in Málaga. Maybe I’m just not a huge fan of Gothic interiors — I felt similarly underwhelmed at Notre-Dame in Paris. 

Numerous chapels, side altars and smaller spaces break up the vast interior. One reason for this disjointed feel is the fact that the cathedral was constructed over more than a century, with different architects and styles influencing its design. The structure incorporates elements from its previous incarnation as a mosque, Gothic architecture, Renaissance additions and even Baroque influences in later restorations. This mix of styles and the extended timeline of construction contributed to the compartmentalized nature of the interior.

If you have extra time during your stay in Seville, the cathedral is certainly worth a visit — if only to appreciate its historical significance, the impressive Giralda and its role in the city’s rich cultural tapestry. However, if your schedule is tight, you shouldn’t feel bad about prioritizing other adventures in Seville. 

Mary holding a young Jesus

Saint Rufina and Saint Fulgentius

A Center of Faith: Continuing Religious Significance

Despite its status as a major tourist attraction, Seville Cathedral remains first and foremost a place of worship. Every day, locals and pilgrims alike come to the cathedral to attend Mass, light candles and seek spiritual solace in its sacred spaces. 

For many Sevillanos, the cathedral is a symbol of their identity, a place where personal and communal faith is expressed and celebrated. Its bells toll for the city’s most significant moments, marking everything from joyous occasions like weddings and christenings to solemn events like funerals. In every way, the cathedral is woven into the fabric of daily life in Seville.

As happens in Spain, some of the chapels are caged off, so you have to admire the small surprises throughout the space, like this pillar.

Visiting Seville Cathedral

Hours: 

Monday: 11 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.
Tuesday to Saturday: 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Sunday: 2:30 p.m. to 6 p.m.

Admission: Generally €9 for adults, with discounts available for students and seniors. 
Children under 14 can enter for free. 
Check the official website for any changes or special events that may affect hours. 

Buying tickets: We found that tickets had sold out days in advance. It’s highly recommended to buy tickets online as early as possible. Tickets can also be bought at the cathedral box office if they’re still available. 

Free entry: You can explore the cathedral without a ticket in the morning, before one of their mass services, typically held at 8 and 10 a.m. Keep in mind they’ll kick you out about 15 minutes before the service starts. We do wish we had taken a proper tour — we would have come away with more of an appreciation of this historic site. 

Grab a bite at one of the many cafés along Calle Mateos Gago.

Exploring the Area: A Walk Through the Heart of Seville

Chances are you’ll find yourself walking past the Seville Cathedral numerous times on any given visit. 

It’s in the Plaza del Triunfo, a beautiful square that forms the heart of the city’s historic district. Nearby is the Real Alcázar, a stunning palace complex that’s not to be missed, as well as the General Archive of the Indies, a treasure trove of documents that chronicle Spain’s colonial empire. 

The plaza and the narrow streets that fan out from it are lined with charming shops, boutiques and eateries (including a Starbucks we found ourselves stopping at most days). 

Fuente Farola, or Lamp Post Fountain

Alongside the cathedral is the Fuente Farola, a fountain topped by an enormous, ornate lamp post. Beyond this, you’ll find Calle Mateos Gago, a lively thoroughfare teeming with outdoor cafés and tapas bars. This street is a local favorite, especially in the evenings, when the tables are filled with people enjoying a meal and a drink while watching the world go by. There’s also a spot where you can indulge in the delectable Portuguese tarts known as pasteis de nata, a sweet treat that Duke instantly became addicted to.

Grab one and explore the Barrio Santa Cruz, the adjoining historic Jewish quarter. This maze of narrow streets, whitewashed houses and hidden courtyards is one of Seville’s most picturesque neighborhoods. 

Visiting Seville Cathedral isn’t just about seeing the largest Gothic cathedral in the world — it’s about immersing yourself in the vibrant life of Seville. The cathedral is at the heart of a district that’s rich with history, culture and the everyday pleasures of Andalusian life. –Wally

Catedral de Sevilla

Avenida de la Constitución, s/n
Casco Antiguo
41004 Sevilla
Spain

 

Seville Cathedral: Its Rich History and Stunning Architecture

A complete guide to a major part of Seville history, including La Giralda, Christopher Columbus, royal weddings and the Spanish Inquisition. 

In the heart of Seville stands a cathedral that defies simple description. Built on the ruins of a mosque, this massive Gothic masterpiece reflects the ambitions of a city eager to cement its place on the world stage.

Origins and Construction of Seville Cathedral

Seville in the late 14th century: a bustling hub of commerce and culture, still echoing with the influence of its Moorish past. The city is vibrant, filled with the sounds of merchants, artisans and the ever-present calls to prayer from the towering minaret of the Great Mosque of Seville, built during the Almohad dynasty, which dominates the skyline. 

Yet, beneath the surface, there’s a growing restlessness among the Christian rulers. They dream of an awe-inspiring structure that would not only dwarf the mosque but would also stand as a testament to the power of their piety.

In 1401, that dream begins to take shape. The city leaders, fueled by both ambition and a desire to solidify Christian dominance, gather to discuss the construction of a new cathedral. During one meeting, a church elder boldly declares, “Let us build a church so beautiful and so grand that those who see it finished will think we are mad.” 

The decision was made: Seville would build the largest cathedral in the world, a Gothic masterpiece that would leave an indelible mark on history.

The Transition From Mosque to Cathedral

But before this vision could be realized, there was the matter of the mosque. Built in the late 12th century, the Great Mosque was a symbol of Muslim rule in Seville. With its elegant arches, intricate tilework and towering minaret, it was a marvel of Islamic architecture. 

In the wake of the Reconquista, when the Christian states recaptured territory ruled by the Muslim Moors, the mosque was consecrated as a church. For over a century, it served as the city’s cathedral — but it was clear to the Christian rulers that something more magnificent was needed.

The decision was made to demolish most of the mosque, though the minaret and the Patio de los Naranjos (Courtyard of the Orange Trees) were spared, becoming integral parts of the new cathedral. This wasn’t just a practical decision but a symbolic one, blending the old with the new, and honoring the complex cultural history of Seville.

It certainly wasn’t the first time such appropriation took place. Spain in particular had a tendency to transition from mosques to churches, reflecting the shifts in power over the centuries. La Mezquita in Córdoba, with its blend of Islamic and Christian architecture, is not only one of the most striking but also the earliest example of such a transformation.  

Architectural Challenges and Triumphs

As construction began, the scale of the project quickly became apparent. The builders faced immense challenges, not least of which was the sheer size of the cathedral. 

At its peak, the construction site buzzed with hundreds of workers — stone masons, carpenters, artisans — all toiling to bring the ambitious vision to life. The air was thick with dust and the sound of chisels striking stone, as massive blocks of limestone were shaped into the soaring arches and ribbed vaults that define the Gothic style.

Key Figures in Seville Cathedral’s Creation

Behind this monumental effort were some of the most brilliant minds of the time. Master architects like Charles Galter and Alonso Martínez, among others, brought their expertise to the project. Galter, known for his work on other Gothic cathedrals in Spain, was particularly instrumental in the design of the soaring nave and the intricate stonework that adorns the exterior.

The artisans who carved the statues, the stonemasons who shaped each block, and the laborers who worked tirelessly day after day were all part of this grand endeavor. Their collective effort created something far greater than the sum of its parts.

The Grand Unveiling and Seville Cathedral’s Legacy

The construction of Seville Cathedral, or Catedral de Sevilla, took over a century to complete, with work continuing long after the original architects had passed away. But when the cathedral was finally finished in 1528, it was clear that their bold vision had been realized. When you visit the Seville Cathedral, you can only marvel at its scale, its beauty — and its audacity.

To the average Sevillano, its sheer size would have been overwhelming, a towering monument that seemed to reach up to Heaven itself. Its intricate details — gargoyles, statues of saints and other elaborate carvings — invite closer inspection, revealing new wonders at every turn.

La Giralda: From Minaret to Bell Tower 

The mosque that once stood here was the pride of the Islamic world, and its minaret — the future Giralda — was a marvel of engineering. The city’s Muslim residents would pause in their daily routines as the call to prayer echoed across the rooftops. The minaret was a spiritual beacon, guiding the faithful and asserting the dominance of Islam in the region.

It would remain a spiritual beacon — just for those of the Catholic faith now. In the 16th century, a Renaissance-style belfry was added to the top, transforming the minaret into a bell tower. 

At the very top of the tower stands El Giraldillo, a bronze statue that functions as a weathervane. This figure, representing Faith, stands with one foot firmly planted on the tower, while the other seems to step into the air, as if ready to take flight. 

Because the statue could turn with the wind, the tower itself came to be known as La Giralda, meaning “The One That Turns” or “The Spinner.”

La Giralda also plays a part in the eerie legends of Seville Cathedral, when a scorned bride-to-be cursed the bell tower and all those who dare to be unfaithful in its vicinity.

A Stage for History: Seville Cathedral’s Role in Historic Events

Royal Weddings: The Joining of Crowns and Countries

It’s October 18, 1526. The cathedral is adorned with tapestries, lit by the flickering flames of hundreds of candles. The air is filled with anticipation, as the people of Seville gather to witness the wedding of the century: the marriage of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V and Isabella of Portugal. The union of these two powerful figures promises to shape the future of Europe.

The bride and groom exchange vows beneath the towering altar, surrounded by the highest nobility of Spain and Portugal. The grandeur of the ceremony reflects the power and wealth of the Spanish empire at its height.

But this wasn’t the only royal wedding held in Seville Cathedral. Over the centuries, the cathedral has hosted numerous royal ceremonies, each one adding to its legacy as a place where the personal and the political intersect, where the fate of nations has often been decided at the altar.

The cathedral hosted the royal weddings of Philip II and Elisabeth of Valois in 1559; Philip III and Margaret of Austria in 1599; and Philip IV and Elisabeth of France in 1615, each marking significant political alliances in European history.

The Spanish Inquisition: A Dark Chapter

However, not all of the cathedral’s historical events were moments of celebration. The Spanish Inquisition, a dark chapter in the country’s history, also left its dubious mark on Seville Cathedral. During this time, the cathedral served as a setting for the public sentencing of those accused of heresy, events known as autos-da-fé (Portuguese for “acts of faith” — a euphemism if there ever was one). 

Picture it: The cathedral, normally a place of worship and reflection, is transformed into a courtroom. The accused, dressed in penitential robes, stand before the altar, their fates hanging in the balance. The atmosphere is tense, as the Inquisitors pass judgment in the name of religious purity. 

The results were horrific: Over 700 people were burned at the stake, and more than 5,000 others faced imprisonment, forced penance and the stripping away of their social status. 

These grim proceedings unfolded in public spectacles where fear and fanaticism reigned supreme, forever marking Seville as a place where religious zealotry took its darkest form.  

A Witness to the New World: Columbus and the Age of Exploration

Seville Cathedral also played a significant role during the Age of Exploration, when Spain was at the forefront of colonizing the Americas. The cathedral was the site of numerous ceremonies celebrating the successes of explorers like Columbus, whose voyages expanded the Spanish empire and brought immense wealth and influence to the crown.

One of the most poignant moments in this history occurred in 1502, when Columbus, known locally as Cristóbal Colón, then an old man, attended a mass at Seville Cathedral before departing on his fourth and final voyage to the Americas. 

Standing in the very same spot, you can almost imagine Columbus, weary yet resolute, contemplating the journey ahead. The cathedral, with its vastness and grandeur, must have seemed like a fitting place to seek divine favor before embarking on such a perilous and uncertain journey.

Semana Santa in Seville 

During Semana Santa, or Holy Week, in Seville, the streets fill with processions led by hooded nazarenos from various brotherhoods. Dressed in long robes and creepy pointed hoods known as capirotes that cover their faces, they carry candles or crosses in solemn silence. The color of their robes — black, purple, white, red or green — reflects the symbolism of their brotherhood. Massive, ornate floats (pasos) depicting scenes from the Passion of Christ or the sorrowful Virgin Mary are carried through the streets, held up by hidden penitents called costaleros. The air is filled with the sounds of traditional music or the haunting cry of a saeta, a flamenco-style song, creating a deeply spiritual atmosphere.

The processions begin and end at the cathedral, reinforcing its status as the spiritual heart of Seville. 

A Beacon of Resilience: Surviving Earthquakes and Wars

Seville Cathedral’s history is also a story of resilience. Over the centuries, it has withstood natural disasters and human conflicts that have threatened its very existence. One of the most significant of these was the 1755 Lisbon earthquake, which caused widespread devastation across Portugal and Spain. The cathedral suffered considerable damage, with sections of its roof collapsing and the Giralda tower sustaining cracks. 

Yet, the cathedral was repaired and restored, standing as a testament to the city’s determination to preserve its cultural treasures.

Then, during the Spanish Civil War, the cathedral was once again at risk. The conflict saw many religious buildings across Spain looted or destroyed — but Seville Cathedral was spared, thanks in part to the efforts of local citizens who recognized its importance to their heritage. 

A UNESCO World Heritage Site: Acknowledging Its Global Importance

In 1987, Seville Cathedral was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, alongside the Alcázar palace complex and the General Archive of the Indies. This prestigious recognition is a testament to the cathedral’s global significance.

As a UNESCO site, Seville Cathedral is recognized for its architectural splendor, its historical importance and its role as a center of cultural heritage. The designation also brings with it a commitment to preservation, ensuring that future generations will be able to experience the cathedral’s beauty and history as we do today. The recognition has helped to elevate the cathedral’s status on the world stage, attracting visitors from every corner of the globe who come to marvel at its grandeur and delve into its rich history.

A Symbol of the City

Today, the cathedral stands as a symbol of the resilience and enduring spirit of Seville, a city that has weathered the storms of history, adapted while honoring its past, and emerged stronger each time. –Wally

Santa María la Mayor’s Islamic Roots and Catholic Grandeur

A repurposed mosque, a connection to Hearst Castle, Virgin Mary processional statues and rooftop views in Ronda, Spain. 

The unassuming façade of Santa María la Mayor reflects the adjacent Ayuntamiento (City Hall) and a Moorish minaret-turned-bell-tower. 

After enjoying a late lunch in Ronda, Spain, on the terrace at Don Miguel, the restaurant of the hotel with the same name, we agreed to visit the Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor (Church of Saint Mary the Great). Wally and I were traveling with our friends Jo and José and were delighted to have them as our local guides for the weekend.

The food was good, but the view overlooking the steep El Tajo gorge and Puente Nuevo bridge was even better. The limestone cliffs plunge 390 feet (120 meters) to the Guadalevín River below the bridge connecting the historic old town (La Ciudad) to its modern counterpart (El Mercadillo). 

“Architect Julia Morgan used the bell tower of Santa María la Mayor as the model for the ones at Hearst Castle, the estate of publishing tycoon William Randolph Hearst in San Simeon, California.”

Ronda’s iconic Puente Nuevo, or New Bridge, certainly isn’t “new” — having been completed in 1793 — but it is the most photographed.

As we navigated the cobblestone streets and approached the church, we paused to gaze up at its unusual double-galleried façade, which looks more municipal than religious. The balconies were added during the reign of Felipe II and were a privileged place for nobility to watch the equestrian tournaments held in the square.

José told us that the American architect Julia Morgan used the bell tower of Santa María la Mayor as the model for the pair at Casa Grande, the main house of Hearst Castle, the elaborate hilltop estate of publishing tycoon William Randolph Hearst in San Simeon, California.

Ronda didn’t just leave a mark on Hearst; it also captivated Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles, both passionate bullfighting enthusiasts who found refuge here. Welles even chose to have his ashes interred in a dry well on the Recreo San Cayetano estate of his good friend, the matador Antonio Ordóñez, on the outskirts of Ronda.

A copy of the illuminated Libro de Horas de la Reina Isabel (Queen Isabella’s Book of Hours). The original is part of the Cleveland Museum of Art’s collection.

Sacred Transformation: The Evolution of Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor 

The church used Ronda’s principal mosque as its foundation. But long before that, the site was allegedly a Roman temple to Diana, goddess of the hunt. 

The conversion from mosque to church began in earnest following the Reconquista of Ronda by Christian military forces in 1485. By the following year, King Fernando II (1479-1516) reconsecrated it as an abbey dedicated to the Virgin of Encarnación.

A statue of Mary as the Queen of Heaven. One interpretation of the crescent moon she’s standing on is that it represents her perpetual virginity.

During the reign of Charles I (1519-1556), its status was elevated to “colegiata” — a collegiate church — led by a clergy of ordained ministers without the direct involvement of a bishop. Its official title is the Real Colegiata de Santa María de la Encarnación la Mayor de Ronda, but locals commonly refer to it as the Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor due to its 19th-century designation as a “high parish” or “parroquia mayor.” Mass is held on Sundays and public holidays at 1 p.m. and on Thursdays at 8 p.m. April through September. 

Traces of its Islamic past are evident in the square-shaped body and arched windows punctuating the bell tower’s brick exterior, which originally served as the minaret of the mosque. It was probably more cost-effective to appropriate and reuse than to completely rebuild. Even so, the renovation of Santa María la Mayor required substantial funding and took nearly two centuries to complete. 

The remains of the mihrab, a semicircular prayer niche covered with stylized Arabic calligraphy and indicating the direction of Mecca, is visible from within the vestibule. Beyond is the gift shop, where we purchased admission for 4.50€ or about $5 per person to gain entry.   

This three-tiered chandelier suspended from the central vault of the Renaissance nave includes 34 lights and 24,700 pieces of sparkling cut crystal.

Split Personality: The Interior of Santa María la Mayor 

Inside, the ornate space feels more like a cathedral than a church. Constructed in two phases, the Gothic half follows the floor plan of the former mosque, while the enlargement initiated after the earthquake of 1580 reflects the evolution of architectural styles that rose in popularity during its extended completion and renovations, including both Renaissance and Baroque elements.

This altar is an impressive example of Spanish Baroque, a style known for its exuberance, grandeur and rich decorative elements.

The Virgin de la Aurora shows Mary in her aspect as Our Lady of the Dawn, a beacon of hope and a source of spiritual guidance for Catholics.

Altar of the Sagrario

The central nave of the Gothic section features an ornate and detailed Baroque giltwood altarpiece. Standing within a niche beneath a Marian crown is the figure of the Inmaculada, the Virgin Mary, standing on clouds. She’s flanked by representations of her mother, Santa Ana; her father, San Joaquín; and the Arcangel San Rafael. Twisted Solomonic columns, covered with delicately carved grapevines and topped by Corinthian capitals, complete the tableau. During our visit, the revered image of the Virgen de la Aurora (Virgin of the Dawn) was displayed on an elaborate paso, or float used for processions.

The Christ child sits upon the shoulders of the giant Saint Christopher and holds a fancy rattle, er, globus cruciger, a small sphere with a cross affixed to its top, symbolizing his sovereign dominion.

Mural of San Cristobalón

The large-scale mural to the left of the altar depicts a larger-than-life San Cristobalón (Saint Christopher), the patron saint of travelers, carrying the baby Jesus upon his shoulders. It was painted by Rondenian artist José Ramos. 

The dramatic statue of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor (Our Lady of Sorrows) depicts the Virgin Mary with her eyes cast heavenward, heart pierced by a sword, her hands clasped in prayer.

Altar of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor

To the right is a highly ornate Churrigueresque-style altar framing a red velvet-lined niche holding the processional figure of Nuestra Señora del Mayor Dolor (Our Lady of Sorrows), which belongs to the religious brotherhood of the Hermandad del Santísimo Cristo de la Sangre. The sculpture depicts the moment when Mary learns that her son will die for the sins of mankind. Her eyes are lifted upwards and her hands are clasped, holding a rosary. Most dramatically, her heart is pierced with a silver sword, and a pair of cherubs flutter menacingly beneath her — one appears to be holding a hammer, and the other, pincers.

The Renaissance-period choir screen is embellished with imagery of the apostles and other saints and has a lectern stand holding a 16th century antiphonal (choir book). 

Coro

The choir screen was a Renaissance addition and features intricately carved cedarwood reliefs depicting the apostles and other saints. It’s no accident that it was placed strategically at the nave’s center as it served as a partition to divide the church into two social classes: aristocrats to the front and parishioners to the back. The lectern stand supports a 16th century antiphonal (choir book), its musical notations intricately inscribed on pages made of vellum. 

The high altar of Santa María la Mayor has an elaborately carved wooden canopy that showcases the Holy Spirit, the Archangel Gabriel and the Virgin Mary.

Baldaquino of the Altar Mayor

One of the most striking elements of the church is the impressive baldaquino, or canopy, located on the high altar under the central dome of the Renaissance nave. Carved from wood, it consists of four slender, finely carved Solomonic columns that support a towering highly decorated cupola topped by an angel. 

The original altarpiece was destroyed during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) and replaced by the baldaquino from Nuestra Señora de los Ángeles (Our Lady of the Angels). 

Within the ornate structure are the Archangel Gabriel and the Holy Spirit in the guise of a dove visiting the Virgin to inform her that she will conceive and give birth to Jesus Christ. 

Be sure to climb up to the rooftop, like Duke did, for a view of Ronda from above.

Up on the Rooftop 

We passed through the doorway to the right of the altar and climbed the narrow steps of the winding spiral staircase leading to the roof and viewing deck.

Jo stands on a balcony overlooking the square and the Ayuntamiento, the City Hall.

While we were there, the late afternoon sun cast a soft, warm glow over the terracotta-tiled rooftops of the old city, and it was so clear that we could see the rugged Sierra Nevada mountains in the distance.

Views of the Old Quarter and the mountains beyond from the rooftop

Seen from above, the spiral staircase leading to the rooftop resembles a snail’s shell. 

There’s a long bench if you need to rest or take a moment to enjoy the view. Make sure to peek through the small door at the top of the staircase to take in a bird’s-eye view of the interior of the church.

A figurine of the Baby Jesus with outstretched arms was one of Duke’s favorite pieces in the church’s museum.

Back Down on Earth

After exploring the rooftop, Jo, José, Wally and I returned to the ground floor and wandered through the church museum. It had several glass-front cabinets displaying various religious objects: vestments (clergy apparel), chalices and sculptures, including a life-sized glassy-eyed baby Jesus, which I imagine might get placed in the church’s crèche on Christmas Day. 

The Iglesia de Santa María la Mayor is a short distance from the Puente Nuevo, but its location in the leafy park-like Plaza Duquesa de Parcent feels a world away from the overcrowded tourist area. –Duke

Colegiata Santa María la Mayor 

Plaza de la Duquesa de Parcent s/n 
29400 Ronda Málaga
Spain  

 

The Mezquita: Córdoba’s Mesmerizing Mosque-Cathedral Hybrid

The Great Mosque of Córdoba, a UNESCO World Heritage site in Andalusia, endures as a monument to Spain’s cross-cultural harmony. 

Ancient Rome, Islamic Spain and Catholicism all come together in the breathtaking Mezquita in Córdoba.

It’s all about those arches. They seem to multiply into infinity, creating a seeming mirror maze of red and white latticework. It’s one of the iconic images that make Córdoba a must-visit stop on any trip to the south of Spain. 

The Mezquita in Córdoba is the perfect symbol of what Duke and I love about Andalusia. You have Roman influences, Islamic stylings and a Roman Catholic overlay. It’s a magical part of the world, where these three cultures blend together into architecture that can’t be found anywhere else but southern Spain. 

Case in point: Córdoba’s Great Mosque, known as the Mezquita, perpetually rising from its ashes like a phoenix over 10 centuries through a fascinating interplay of Roman, Islamic and Christian construction. 

“King Carlos I lamented his decision to allow the construction of the cathedral, saying, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.”

That’s a bit harsh.”

Parts of the massive structure’s exterior retain their Islamic architecture.

Abd ar-Rahman and the Start of the Mezquita

To understand Córdoba and the history of this amazing structure, we must travel to the Middle East and meet Abd ar-Rahman I, a member of the Umayyad dynasty in Damascus, Syria. Things aren’t going so well for the prince. His family was massacred by the Abbasids, rivals for Islamic rule, and Abd ar-Rahman fled, hiding out in the farthest corner of the Muslim world. That is, the south of Spain. 

He ended up in Córdoba. After wresting control of the city from the Visigoths, Abd ar-Rahman began eyeing the church of San Vicente, the largest in town. Not surprisingly, it had been been built upon the ruins of a Roman temple (you’ll notice a trend). Abd ar-Rahman purchased half of the church from the Christians to start, before eventually buying the rest. 

Then, in 786 CE, he tore down the church to construct his most important project: a massive cathedral mosque. 

The History of the Mezquita

The designers ran with those mesmerizing horseshoe arches, a style borrowed from the Visigoths, placing them atop recycled columns from the original Roman ruins. The distinctive red and white is a result of alternating brick and stone. The repetition of the arches was an attempt to evoke the infinite nature of Allah. I’d say they succeeded. 

“The aesthetics of the new Cordoban mosque, to which Muslims from far and wide throughout history would forever write odes, was typically Anadusian from the start: part adaptation of local, vernacular forms and part homage to Umayyad Syria, forever the source of hereditary legitimacy,” María Rosa Menocal writes in The Ornament of the World. 

“The Cordoba mosque continued to be built, and added to, for the next 200 years, until nearly the year 1000, but the characteristic look of the place, the horseshoe arches that sit piggybacked on each other, themselves dizzyingly doubled in alternations of red and white, were established from the start,” she continues.

Abd ar-Rahman II, great-grandson of his namesake (792-852), expanded the Great Mosque and added a new mihrab, a niche where Muslims face to pray. 

Then, Abd ar-Rahman III (891-961) enlarged the patio and built a new minaret, which stood 130 feet (40 meters) tall. 

All those red and white arches, designed to mimic infinity, are truly hypnotic.

His son, Al-Hakam (915-976), continued his father’s work — in fact, he’s responsible for the most impressive renovation of the space. He had new columns built, alternating pink and blue marble. Domes were added to let in light, while painted wood beams decorated the ceiling. The 11 naves were extended, and a larger qibla wall built (this is supposed to be the cue to facing Mecca, but more on that later). Oh, and there was a secret passage for the caliph to enter the mosque from his adjoining palace. 

Gorgeously painted wooden ceiling beams

At the end of the 10th century, Córdoba had become a bustling city. To accommodate the growing population, Almanzor (938-1002) made the courtyard bigger and added eight naves. These are the most austere of the bunch. Ultimately, the Mezquita could hold 40,000 worshippers. It was the largest mosque in the world at the time. 

It wasn’t just used for prayer, though; it was the center of Cordoban life. Judges made rulings near the mihrab. Teachers taught children under the arches. And traveling pilgrims were allowed to sleep there. 

Religious Reversal: From Mosque to Cathedral

In 1236, King Ferdinand III conquered Córdoba, returning the city to Christian rule. The mosque transitioned to the cathedral of Santa María, even as many Islamic elements endured. The Main Chapel is located under the skylight. 

King Henry II built the Royal Chapel to provide tombs for Castilian monarchs. This was done in the Mudéjar style, a delightful blend of Gothic and Islamic, using Muslim architects and carpenters. 

An area with pointed arches was built to give light and height for the choir as well as the church bigwigs. 

The structure remained largely the same until 1528, when King Carlos I gave permission to tear out the center of the mosque to build a proper cathedral, much to the dismay of many in Córdoba. Turns out he ended up agreeing with them. When the king visited, he lamented his decision, saying something along the lines of, “They have taken something unique in all the world and destroyed it to build something commonplace.” 

That might be a bit too harsh. This is still one impressive place of worship.

The choir stalls were built in the Baroque style of mahogany wood from Cuba. As in many Catholic churches, naves line the walls, containing small chapels. 

(FYI: Much of this history comes from a kid’s book we bought in town: La Mezquita de Córdoba by Manuel González Mestre, with fun illustrations by Jacobo Muñiz López.)

The Mihrab: Where Intricate Beauty Meets Spiritual Significance

While wandering the Mezquita, look for the mihrab. Among the monument’s ornate riches, none capture the cross-cultural transformation quite like the exquisite mihrab, located along the back wall on the right side. It’s considered the most sacred part of a mosque. 

Strangely enough, though, this qibla doesn’t actually indicate Mecca. Instead, it faces south. One theory is that it was a reference to the direction where Mecca would be from Abd ar-Rahman’s hometown of Damascus. Then again, it’s also thought that the streetscape didn’t allow for the qibla to face east as it should have, and instead was chosen to align with the Guadalquivir River.

When Córdoba was conquered by the Christians, they not only repurposed the mosque, they also recognized the mihrab’s beauty and spiritual importance — and actually preserved it! It’s a surprising moment where two faiths coexist within the same sacred space.

Intricate mosaics, geometric patterns and calligraphy intertwine to create a tapestry of colors and shapes that leaves visitors in awe. 

The Patio de los Naranjos: An Oasis of Tranquility

Chances are you’ll begin your exploration of the Mezquita in the Patio de los Naranjos, the Courtyard of the Orange Trees. For one thing, it’s where you line up to buy tickets. 

This tranquil oasis, with its fragrant blossoms and centuries of history, offers a contrast to the architectural wonders inside. And it’s not just orange trees — there are also olive trees, palms and cypresses. 

In its long history, this courtyard been a place for reflection, prayer and community gatherings. And there was a section where Muslims would perform their ablutions, or ritual cleansings, before entering the mosque. 

Visiting the Mezquita

Recognizing the Mezquita’s cultural and historical importance, UNESCO designated it a World Heritage Site in 1984. This status is a testament to the ongoing efforts to protect and preserve the architectural marvel, ensuring that future generations can continue to be inspired by its grandeur.

Pro tip: The early bird gets the arch. 

We went early in the morning to see the Mezquita before mass was held. It’s free, so you don’t need to bother with tickets. (If you don’t go at this time, be sure to get your tickets as soon as possible. They cost 13 euros. I think it’s a good idea to book a day in advance if you have the time, but most travel sites say you don’t need to worry about it selling out. Call me paranoid.)

We figured the pre-mass time was a good way to escape the massive tour groups that would invade the space later in the day. To do so, you don’t go through the Patio de los Naranjos as you normally would. You enter through the Puerta de Santa Catalina. The one downside is that you don’t have a lot of time to explore. Get there right at 8:30, cuz security guards will kick you out around 9:20 so mass can begin. 

This trick is considered the worst-kept secret in Córdoba, so keep in mind that word has gotten out. But it’s still supposed to be better than most other times. If you can’t make it early, or want more time, try booking the end of the day.

More Metamorphoses: Temple to Church to Mosque to Cathedral 

Like the ceaselessly repurposed structures within its walls, the Mezquita represents the fluid nature of Spain’s cultural and religious history. As both mosque and church, this house of worship symbolizes Andalusia’s legacy as a place where Ancient Rome, Islam and Catholicism converge. For over 10 centuries, the awe-inspiring Mezquita has shifted shapes and uses but has endured. That’s typical of this wondrous part of Spain. –Wally

Saints, Statues and Semana Santa: A Tour of Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol’s Treasures

The oldest church in Málaga has a Picasso connection and is home to legendary Holy Week statuary, including El Rico, who pardons prisoners, and El Cristo de Medinaceli, who grants wishes.  

This figure depicts the Immaculate Conception of Mary. She stands atop a crescent moon and the world. Her left foot crushes a serpent, symbolizing the original sin assigned to all humans since Adam and Eve—except, of course, to the pure Virgin. 

You could easily walk past the exterior of the Parroquia de Santiago Apóstol without realizing the wonders that lie within. The church, which is dedicated to Saint James the Apostle, is located on Calle Granada and was under restoration when Wally and I visited our friends Jo and José in Málaga, Spain in 2015. We strolled by it multiple times, completely unaware of its spectacular interior and ended up buying a few whimsical wire and black glass marble ants from a street artist who had set up shop on a mat across from it.

The church’s wooden doors feature vieras, or scallop shells, the symbol of Saint James. 

Eight years later, we were back in Spain, and Jo and José suggested adding it to our itinerary. We’re fortunate to know some locals, and we’re never disappointed by what they share with us. Plus, Wally and I love visiting old Catholic churches. These places are not just architecturally stunning; they’re usually brimming with vivid devotional art. And it goes without saying that Spain takes this to a whole other level.

The pointed brick arch of the central doorway framed by tiles arranged in a geometric pattern is all that remains of the former mosque.

From Mosque to Gothic Church 

After digging around a bit, I found out that this particular church was the first and oldest of the four parishes commissioned in Málaga by the Catholic Monarchs, Isabella and Ferdinand II. In fact, it dates back to 1509. The structure fuses Isabelline Gothic (a late Gothic/early Renaissance style) with Mudéjar elements and was established on the site of a mosque during the early stages of the city’s Christian conquest. Remnants of the former mosque were incorporated and are visible in the façade, particularly in the central doorway, where a pointed ogee arch is framed by tiles arranged in a geometric pattern that reads as floral. This arch would later evolve into the distinctive Gothic rib vault. In keeping with Islamic tradition, a minaret was built adjacent to the mosque, which was converted into the church’s bell tower during the late 16th century.

A view of the ornate central nave, dome and altar. The carved central altarpiece holds a likeness of the church’s patron, Santiago Apóstol aka Saint James.

the Interior of the Church of Santiago 

Inside, the Gothic style reveals itself in the vaulted ceilings and chancel of the central nave, which comprises the sanctuary, altar, choir and main chapel. The late 18th century saw the addition of two more naves, embellished in the Baroque style. The handsomely carved altarpiece is fashioned from polychromed (painted in many colors) and gilded wood, and the central niche holds a realistic statue of its patron saint, Santiago Apóstol (Saint James).

A depiction of Mary as the Queen of Heaven

Legend has it that following the death of Christ, James traveled to Galicia in northern Spain to spread the word of Christianity. However, things took a dark turn upon his return to Jerusalem — he was beheaded under King Herod’s order, becoming the first disciple to be martyred.

Málaga local Picasso was christened in this baptismal font, located near the entrance of the church. 

Fun fact: Pablo Picasso was christened in this church on November 10, 1881, and his baptismal certificate is kept here. Although his family moved to A Coruña in the Galicia region of northwest Spain when the artist was 9 years old, he always considered himself a malagueño, that is, someone from Málaga. 

This diminutive likeness of the Virgin Mary, Nuestra Señora del Pilar (Our Lady of the Pillar), stands atop a small column. You can’t see it because it’s covered by the red and gold mantle. 

A Tour of the Art and Semana Santa Statues of Parroquia de Santiago Apóstol

Among the significant religious artworks that can be found in the church’s naves is the Virgen de las Animas (Virgin and the Souls) by Juan Niño de Guevara, a large oil painting depicting the Mary comforting souls condemned to Purgatory. According to popular tradition, the faithful offer prayers to the image and leave bottles filled with lamp oil to keep the flames of the glass votives burning in perpetuity for the souls doing penance before being able to enter the kingdom of Heaven.

This oil painting, Virgen de las Animas (Virgin and the Souls) by Juan Niño de Guevara depicts Mary seated on a throne of clouds, comforting souls condemned to Purgatory. 

Additionally, the statues of the Cofradía del Rico and Hermandad de la Sentencia religious brotherhoods are kept inside this church year-round, except during Semana Santa (Holy Week). That’s when they’re placed on massive tronos, quite literally thrones, weighing up to 2 tons and are carried through the streets of Málaga by penitents and members of their religious fraternity.

This nave holds the processional images of Jesús de la Sentencia (Jesus of the Judgement), María Santísima del Amor Doloroso (Holy Mary of Sorrowful Love) and San Juan Evangelista (Saint John the Evangelist) which belong to the religious brotherhood of the Hermandad de la Sentencia. 

There are the venerated mannequin-like processional figures of María Santísima del Amor Doloroso (Holy Mary of Sorrowful Love) and Jesús El Rico (Jesus the Rich). To impart a heightened sense of realism, glass was used for the eyes, hair for the eyelashes and ivory for the teeth. 

Jesús El Rico (Jesus the Rich) hides behind María Santísima del Amor Doloroso (Holy Mary of Sorrowful Love), which belong to the brotherhood of the Cofradía del Rico. El Rico pardons one prisoner each year.

The Ultimate Get Out of Jail Free Card 

El Rico has extended pardons as an act of grace every Holy Wednesday, a tradition that traces its roots back to 1759. The practice of extending a second chance to a prisoner originated during the plague epidemic that swept across Europe during the reign of Carlos III. 

It’s said that a riot erupted after inmates learned that Holy Week processions would be canceled due to contagion fears. In response to the news, prisoners mutinied, broke out of jail and carried the life-sized statue of Jesus through the streets of Málaga, praying for salvation from the plague. Rather than fleeing afterward, they chose to return to prison. Impressed by their act of piety, the king decided to grant the Cofradía del Rico brotherhood, the guardians of El Rico, the right to release one prisoner every year. To this day, El Rico symbolically performs this act.

On the first Friday of March, the venerated figure of El Cristo de Medinaceli is taken from his niche, redressed and placed upon a gilded platform. Devotees kiss his feet, leave three coins and make a wish for each — only one of which will be granted.

Make a Wish Foundation

If these treasures in this historic church aren’t enough to pique your interest, there’s one more notable devotional figure worth mentioning within the Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol: El Cristo de Medinaceli (Christ of Medinaceli). It received its name because the original was owned by the Duke of Medinaceli.

Every first Friday of March, devotees queue up outside the parish doors and wait their turn to kiss the statue’s feet. They also place three coins — they have to be of the same value — at his feet and make three different wishes. Be careful, though: Only one of your wishes will come true.

One of the most dramatic aspects of the Iglesia de Santiago Apóstol (and that’s saying something!) is the blue hue of this elaborate dome. 

This relief depicts a crowded take on the Last Supper. 

If you’re in the neighborhood, and you don’t stop by and admire the Semana Santa statues here, you’ll wish you had. –Duke

Iglesia de Santiago

Calle Granada, 78
29015 Málaga
España

 

Artistic Depictions of the Virgin Mary: The Surprising Origins of Marian Iconography

The enigmatic allure of the Virgin Mary: From divine purity to unsettling symbolism, we explore the captivating myths and enduring appeal of the original Madonna. 

The Virgin Mary takes many guises in art over the centuries, from Queen of Heaven to the Sorrowful Mother whose tears have miraculous properities.

In art, God is often portrayed as an ancient, white-bearded man in flowing robes, a benevolent figure who watches over humanity from on high. Jesus, meanwhile, is typically depicted in various key moments from his life, such as his birth, crucifixion and resurrection. He walks on water and performs other miracles and has his Last Supper. 

But the Virgin Mary is a complex and enigmatic figure who wears many guises. Often cloaked in modesty, she’s seen as a symbol of hope, love and sacrifice. She’s portrayed as the ultimate role model for Christian women, the daughter of God, the bride of her own son and a regal queen. Her story is a richly woven tapestry of myths and symbols, each thread imbued with meanings that have been interpreted in countless ways throughout history.

As we delve into the realm of religious art and symbolism, we find her as a fertility goddess known as the Black Madonna, along with a loving mother whose tears and breast milk have magical healing powers. Amid the varied representations through the centuries, one thing remains certain: Mary’s enduring appeal as a divine figure. 

Mary, Queen of Heaven by the Master of the Saint Lucy Legend, circa 1495

Maria Regina: Queen of Heaven

Mary, the paragon of purity, couldn’t be left to rot in the grave like a mere mortal. So, the early Church fathers devised a bold solution: They declared that she had been taken up to Heaven in an event known as the Assumption, where she now reigns as a celestial queen. 

Popes viewed the Virgin Mary as a powerful propaganda tool. With their ties to the Queen of Heaven, they could legitimize their authority on earth and cemented the strong tie between Mary and Catholicism, centered in Rome: “The more the papacy gained control of the city, the more veneration of the mother of the emperor in heaven, by whose right the Church ruled, increased,” explains Marina Warner in her 1976 book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary. 

The Coronation of the Virgin by Diego Velázquez, 1636

John VII was the first pope to have himself painted in prostration at the feet of the Virgin, in the basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome. 

Madonna della Clemenza icon from the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere in Rome, 8th century. It’s the first to show a pope, John VII, prostrating himself at her feet (though it’s hard to make out now).

The coronation of Mary was first depicted in the 12th century, from an apse mosaic at Santa Maria to niches of French cathedrals, and became a favorite theme of Christendom. Christ is shown crowning his mother, switching the moment of her triumph from the Incarnation (when she conceived the son of God) to the Assumption (when she was taken up to Heaven). 

Coronation of the Virgin by Fra Angelico, 1435

The imagery of a divine queen worked well to legitimize not only popes but royalty and its system of inequality as well. “For by projecting the hierarchy of the world onto heaven, that hierarchy — be it ecclesiastical or lay — appears to be ratified by divinely reflected approval; and the lessons of the Gospel about the poor inheriting the earth are wholly ignored,” Warner writes. 

“It would be difficult to concoct a greater perversion of the Sermon on the Mount [Christ’s ethical code, focusing on compassion, selflessness, etc.] than the sovereignty of Mary and its cult, which has been used over the centuries by different princes to stake out their spheres of influence in the temporal realm,” Warner continues, “to fly a flag for their ambitions like any Maoist poster or political broadcast; and equally difficult to imagine a greater distortion of Christ’s idealism than this identification of the rich and powerful with the good.”

The Coronation of the Virgin With Angels and Four Saints by Neri di Bicci, circa 1470

The Bride of Christ: Incest Is Best?

As shocking as it may seem, the Virgin Mary was, for a while, depicted as the bride of her own son, Jesus. 

How could this have come about? Warner suggests the influence of Middle Eastern mystery religions, which played up males forming unions with females. The Canaanite god Baal coupled with his sister, Anat. In Syria, the shepherd Tammuz became the lover of the sky goddess Ishtar. The Phrygian cult featured Cybele and Attis, who died castrated under a tree. And Egyptian mythology tells the tale of Osiris, the god of the dead, who was chopped into pieces and put back together by his sister-wife, Isis. 

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RELATED: A pictorial glossary of the so-called pagan gods of the Old Testament

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The nuptials of these divine beings mirrored the joining of earth and sky at the dawn of creation.

You wouldn’t marry your mother, would you — even if she was the Virgin Mary?!

“Thus marriage was the pivotal symbol on which turned the cosmology of most of the religions that pressed on Jewish society, jeopardizing its unique monotheism,” Warner writes. “It is a symptom of their struggle to maintain their distinctiveness that the Jews, while absorbing this pagan symbol, reversed the ranks of the celestial pair to make the bride God’s servant and possession, from whom he ferociously exacts absolute submission.”

From this foundation, Cyprian of Carthage, in the 3rd century, accused virgins who flirted of committing adultery against their true husband, Christ.  

And then, of course, there are nuns, whose consecration ceremony includes getting a ring that designates them as a bride of Christ. Talk about polygamy on a mass scale!

But it wasn’t really until 1153, when Bernard of Clairvaux gave multiple sermons on the Old Testament’s Song of Songs — “that most languorous and amorous of poems,” as Warner calls it. In one of these, Bernard preached, speaking of Christ and the Virgin Mary:

But surely will we not deem much happier those kisses which in blessed greeting she receives today from the mouth of him who sits on the right hand of the Father, when she ascends to the throne of glory, singing a nuptial hymn and saying: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.”

Pagan influences aside, I’m puzzled as to how this incestuous idea ever caught on among Christians.

The Virgin and Child by Dirk Bouts, circa 1465

Maria Lactans: The Milk-Squirting Mary

While Mary was exempt from Eve’s punishment of bearing children in pain, there was one biological function allowed her: breastfeeding. “From her earliest images onwards, the mother of God has been represented as nursing her child,” Warner says. 

The Virgin Mary depicted with squirting breasts?! This is one iconography I’ve got to milk for all its worth.

Where did this idea come from? “The theme of the nursing Virgin, Maria Lactans, probably originated in Egypt, where the goddess Isis had been portrayed suckling the infant Horus for over a thousand years before Christ,” Warner explains. 

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RELATED: In the New Testament, Mary wasn’t mentioned as being a virgin. Find out why early Christians insisted upon Mary being pure.

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Madonna Nursing the Child (Maria Lactans) by Erasmus Quellinus the Younger, circa 1614

Part of this symbolism derives from a mother providing much-needed nourishment: “For milk was a crucial metaphor of the gift of life,” Warner continues. “Without it, a child had little or no chance of survival before the days of baby foods, and its almost miraculous appearance seemed as providential as the conception and birth of the child itself.”

And, not surprisingly, Mary’s milk was miraculous. A favorite medieval tale, including a version in French by Gautier de Coincy, tells how a faithful monk was dying of a putrid mouth filled with ulcers. He reproached the Madonna for neglecting him, and chastened, she appears at his bedside: 

With much sweetness and much delight,
From her sweet bosom she drew forth her breast, 
That is so sweet, so soft, so beautiful,
And placed it in his mouth, 
Gently touched him all about,
And sprinkled him with her sweet milk.

As Warner writes, “Needless to say, the monk was rendered whole again.”

According to a 14th century legend, Saint Bernard prayed before a statue of Mary. It came to life, and the Virgin placed her breast in Bernard’s mouth, nursing him as she did the baby Jesus.

The Madonna’s miracle milk became a nearly ubiquitous relic in Europe. “From the thirteenth century, phials in which her milk was preserved were venerated all over Christendom in shrines that attracted pilgrims by the thousands. Walsingham, Chartres, Genoa, Rome, Venice, Avignon, Padua, Aix-en-Provence, Toulon, Paris, Naples, all possessed the precious and efficacious substance,” Warner says.

John Calvin, the church reformer, had a scathing opinion about these claims. “There is no town so small, nor convent … so mean that it does not display some of the Virgin’s milk,” he wrote in his Treatise on Relics. “There is so much that if the holy Virgin had been a cow, or a wet nurse all her life she would have been hard put to it to yield such a great quantity.”

The idea of a breastfeeding mother of God waned in the Renaissance, when high-born women found it indecent to do the job themselves and outsourced the task to wetnurses. Plus, it was deemed indecorous to depict Mary with her breast exposed with the increasing idea that a woman’s body was shameful. Mary, with the Immaculate Conception, was born without original sin and therefore avoided Eve’s curse — and by the 16th century, that included being exempt from suckling the Christ child.

Madonna in Sorrow by Juan de Juni, 1571

Mater Dolorosa: The Sorrowful Mother

The caregiving image of Mary gave way to a mother mourning her dead son, what’s known as the Mater Dolorosa. The cult began in the 11th century, reaching full fruition in the 14th century in Italy, France, England, the Netherlands and Spain. The culmination of this iconography? Michelangelo’s La Pietà.

La Pietà by Michelangelo, 1499

Again, we have Ancient Egypt, and the surrounding region’s myths, to thank for this representation. The Egyptian goddess Isis sorrowfully wandered the land, collecting the pieces of her dismembered brother-husband, Osiris. When she finds his coffin, she caresses Osiris’ face and weeps. 

And she’s not the only weeping woman of the ancient Middle East. Dumuzi, the shepherd and “true son” of Sumerian myth, was sacrificed to the underworld, tortured by demons (much like Christ later, during his Passion and descent into Hell). The goddess Inanna, the Queen of Heaven, weeps for him.

It seems likely that Christians picked up this iconography — spurred on by the horrors of the Black Death, when the bubonic plague swept the continent, wiping out one-fifth of the entire population. “It aroused penitential fever in a way never seen before, and gave the image of the Mater Dolorosa weighty contemporary significance,” Warner points out. 

Madonna in Sorrow by Titian, 1554

Once again, Mary’s bodily fluids have healing properties. “The tears she sheds are charged with the magic of her precious, incorruptible, undying body and have the power to give life and make whole,” Warner explains. 

This cult has lasted to the present day. Many of us have heard stories of statues of the Virgin that miraculously weep. 

“Contemporary prudishness has tabooed the Virgin’s milk, but her tears have still escaped the category of forbidden symbols, and are collected as one of the most efficacious and holy relics of Christendom,” Warner says. “They course down her cheeks as a symbol of the purifying sacrifice of the Cross, which washes sinners of all stain and gives them new life, just as the tears of Inanna over Dumuzi fell on the parched Sumerian soil and quickened it into flower.” 

The Virgin of Greater Pain and Transfer of Great Power

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RELATED: Learn more shocking things about the Virgin Mary!

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The Black Madonna of Monserrat

The Black Madonna: Our Lady of Montserrat

Most Western depictions of Mary present her skin as lily-white, untouched by corruption, despite the fact that she is undeniably Middle Eastern. So it’s all the more surprising to see the emergence of the Black Madonna, a dark-skinned version that became popular among the medieval Benedictine monks in Montserrat, Spain. 

The monks saw the lushness of their mountain as a mirror of Mary. As such, her icon took on aspects of a fertility goddess. 

But in a bizarre twist (or perhaps not, given that Mary was a Jew from Judea), the Virgin had dark skin, which led to her being known as the Black Madonna. In fact, she’s known locally as La Moreneta, the Little Dark One. The depiction spread to other places of worship, among them Chartres, Orléans, Rome and Poland. 

The Black Madonna of Częstochowa, Poland

“The Church often explains their blackness in allegorical terms from the Song of Songs: ‘I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem’ (Song of Solomon 1:5),” Warner writes. “[B]ut another theory about their color is even more prosaic: that the smoke of votive candles for centuries has blackened the wood or the pigment, and when artists restored the images, they repainted the robes and jewels that clothe the Madonna and Child but out of awe left their faces black.”

The shrine at Montserrat is one of the longest continuous cults of Mary, especially popular with newly married couples. Here she has dominion over marriage, sex, pregnancy and childbirth — odd for a virgin but not for a fertility goddess. 

The Black Madonna at St. Mary’s Church in Gdansk, Poland

A gruesome legend illustrates Mary’s power. A woman gives birth to a lump of dead flesh. But when she prays to Our Lady of Montserrat, it begins to move and is transformed into a beautiful baby boy. 

Madonna della Misericordia by Benedetto Bonfigli, circa 1470

Madonna della Misericordia: Our Lady of Mercy

In a merging of her roles as mother and queen, a new depiction of Mary emerged in Umbria, Italy at the end of the 13th century. The Virgin was given a massive cloak which she wrapped over the poor souls gathered at her feet. Towering over them and offering protection, this was the Madonna della Misericordia, Our Lady of Mercy. 

Madonna of Mercy by Sano di Pietro, circa 1440s

After the desolation of the Black Death in the late 1340s, this iconography of Mary became the most popular. Monks and laypeople alike would pray to this aspect of the Virgin, asking her to keep them safe from harm. 

The Virgin of the Caves by Francisco de Zurbarán, circa 1655

This Mary is often preternaturally large — and her son, Christ, isn’t anywhere to be found, “suggesting that her mercy, directly given, could save sinners,” Warner writes. But that cuts God and Jesus out of the equation and makes the Virgin a goddess in her own right. 

So while Our Lady of Mercy spread throughout Europe in the 14th and 15th centuries, it was officially declared heterodox (not in accordance with the accepted Catholic doctrine) and banned by the Council of Trent in the mid-1500s.

Dormition of the Virgin fresco by Frangos Katelanos, 1548

Divine Dominion Over Death 

The Virgin Mary has worn many guises over the years, from a gentle breastfeeding mother to imperial queen to tutelary goddess. 

“If travelers from another planet were to enter churches, as far flung as the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., or the Catholic cathedral in Saigon, or the rococo phantasmagoria of New World churches, and see the Virgin’s image on the altar, it would be exceedingly difficult for them to understand that she was only an intercessor and not a divinity in her own right,” Warner points out. 

There are surely many factors that have led to Mary’s enduring appeal, starting with her co-opting of ancient mythology like the Egyptian goddess Isis. Many cultures find it fitting to worship the female spirit — something glaringly missing in the often-misogynistic views of Christianity. 

Detail from Assumption of Mary by Peter Paul Rubens, circa 1617

But Warner has a theory: “For although the Virgin is a healer, a midwife, a peacemaker, the protectress of virgins, and the patroness of monks and nuns in this world; although her polymorphous myth has myriad uses and functions for the living, it is the jurisdiction over her death accorded her in popular belief that gives her such widespread supremacy.”

She could be on to something. Think of the final words of the Hail Mary, the best-loved prayer in Catholicism: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.” –Wally

Why Did Christ Have to Be Born of the Virgin Mary?

Virgin births weren’t unusual in pagan times — just in the Judeo-Christian tradition. Here’s how sex got tangled up with the idea of sin, and by extension, chastity became the ultimate sign of virtue. 

Nativity, Birth of Jesus by Giotto, circa 1305

Early Christians needed their savior to have been born of a woman without sin, and that included the act of fornication. Greek myths could have influenced their theology.

Mary, the mother of Christ, is held up as one of a kind among humans for getting pregnant and giving birth without ever having sex. 

But believe it or not, so-called virgin births weren’t uncommon in the pagan world. Pythagorus, Plato and Alexander the Great were all said to have been born of virgins by the power of a holy spirit. 

Alexander the Great’s mom dreamed of a lightning bolt striking her vagina — and lo and behold! She became pregnant with the future king of Macedon. In antiquity, “virgin” births weren’t all that uncommon.

“Christians, aware of the antique pantheon, are still worried by the parallel between Christ’s story and the dozens of virgin births of classical mythology,” Maria Warner wrote in her 1976 work Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary.

So how exactly does one conceive without fornication? We can turn once again to paganism. In Greek mythology, the closest parallel seems to be when Zeus turned himself into a shower of gold and impregnated Danae, who gave birth to the hero Perseus.   

Danaë and the Golden Shower by Andrea Casali, circa 1750

The Greek myth of Zeus impregnating a woman in the form of a golden rain could have inspired the form the Holy Ghost took with the Virgin Mary.

The Greek god Zeus metamorphosed into a swan to couple with Leda. Did this bird imagery inspire the Holy Ghost’s representatoin as a dove?

Then again, the Holy Ghost is often depicted as a dove, and in another encounter, Zeus, that shapeshifting, lecherous cad, adopted the form a bird as well: He became a swan to seduce (or, perhaps, rape) Leda, mother of Helen of Troy, the twins Castor and Pollux, and another daughter, Clytemnestra.

The Annunciation by Fra Angelico, 1445

The shaft of light symbolizing the Holy Ghost isn’t too different from Danae’s shower of gold. Notice the contrast of the Virgin with Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden to the left.

Connecting Sex With Sin

Of course in these cases, Zeus is copulating with the women. It’s an act of lust, and, at least for the god, one of pleasure. That’s in stark contrast to the Christian idea of Mary’s conception of Jesus: She remains a virgin, her maidenhead unbroken, and there’s no animal-like rutting. 

This was an essential part of the Christ story. The fathers of the Christian church connected sex with sin early on, taking their cue from Genesis and the Garden of Eden: Fornication becomes necessary for reproduction, and the pain of childbirth a curse that Eve, and all women to follow, must bear. 

Sex was seen as the ultimate sin. Saint Augustine wrote in City of God, in 426, that the passion aroused by lovemaking was sinful — though the holy act of propagation was not. In a similar vein, he added, “We ought not to condemn marriage because of the evil of lust, nor must we praise lust because of the good of marriage.”

“[I]n this battle between the flesh and the spirit, the female sex was firmly placed on the side of the flesh,” Warner wrote. “For as childbirth was woman’s special function, and its pangs the special penalty decreed by God after the Fall, and as the child she bore in her womb was stained by sin from the moment of its conception, the evils of sex were particularly identified with the female. Woman was womb and womb was evil.”

The Annunciation from the Grabower Altar in St. Peter’s in Hamburg, Germany, 1383

Saint Ephrem the Syrian wrote, “Perfectly God, he entered the womb through her ear.” The idea was that by conceiving via her ear, Mary remained a virgin.

The Virgin Mary: Not Your Typical (Sinful) Woman

Mary’s impregnation is, in contrast, a serene, holy act. It’s possibly tied to the very words of the Angel Gabriel when he announces her role in bringing forth the Savior. In ancient times, some people actually believed pregnancy could come about through the ear. (It gives a whole new meaning to Iggy Pop’s lyric “Of course I’ve had it in the ear before.”)

A sixth century hymn that’s still sung today goes:

The centuries marvel therefore 
that the angel bore the seed,
the virgin conceived through her ear, 
and believing in her heart, became fruitful.

The son of God chose to be born of a virgin, according to Augustine, because it was the only way to enter the world without sin. So, “Let us love chastity above all things,” he wrote, “for it was to show that this was pleasing to Him that Christ chose the modesty of a virgin womb.”

Painful births were one of God’s punishments for Eve eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. But Jesus’ mother couldn’t be connected with anything so sinful, so she was said to be a virgin, pure and intact.

Slandering the Virgin Mary

The early Christian church had to defend itself against rumors that painted Mary in a negative light. Jews and pagans in Alexandria, for example, were saying that Jesus wasn’t conceived by God — instead, he was the bastard child of an incestuous union of Mary and her brother. 

It doesn’t seem far-fetched nowadays to question a scientific impossibility — but at the dawn of Christianity, virgin births wouldn’t have been too big of a surprise. For early Christians, anything to do with female bodily functions was dirty and sinful. So they would have insisted their savior had to have come from an inviolate womb. And, despite evidence to the contrary, Mary became a virgin. –Wally

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Shocking Revelations About the Virgin Mary in the Bible

The Gospels barely mention Mary. They get her name wrong. They show Jesus being rude to her. And they make us question if she was even a virgin.

The worship of Mary has taken over Catholicism. But there’s a surprisingly scant amount of appearances by her in the New Testament — and those that are there can be problematic.

The figure of the Virgin Mary holds a place of honor in Christian theology and devotion, where she’s revered as the mother of Jesus and an embodiment of purity and divinity. And for Catholics, she’s essentially a goddess in her own right — and some would argue, perhaps more revered than Jesus himself.

However, a closer examination of the biblical texts reveals a series of astonishing revelations that challenge commonly held beliefs about Mary. In her book Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and the Cult of the Virgin Mary, Marina Warner presents a compelling analysis of the Gospel accounts, shedding light on the limited mentions of Mary, discrepancies in her portrayal and even doubts about her virginity. Published in 1976, Warner’s research continues to shock almost 50 years later.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible. Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.

Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture.”

— Maria Warner, "Alone of All Her Sex"

The Annunciation by Paolo de Matteis, 1712

There’s a lot of beliefs about Mary that don’t come from the Bible. But one story that does is the Angel Gabriel telling her she’ll get pregnant by the Holy Spirit and will give birth to the Son of God.

1. Mary is hardly mentioned in the Gospels.

“The amount of historical information about the Virgin is negligible,” Warner writes. “Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned.” 

Warner explains that “the sum total of the Virgin’s appearances in the New Testament is startlingly small plunder on which to build the great riches of Mariology,” the part of Christian theology devoted to Mary. “Of the four declared dogmas about the Virgin Mary — her divine motherhood, her virginity, her immaculate conception and her assumption into heaven — only the first can unequivocally be traced to Scripture,” Warner continues.

The Immaculate Conception by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1769

The idea that Mary was born without sin like the rest of us can’t be found anywhere in the New Testament.

In the Bible, the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary of Nazareth. At first she’s troubled and confused, but Gabriel prophesizes Jesus’ birth, to which Mary answers (“her most precious speech in Mariology,” Warner states), “How shall this be, seeing I know not a man?” (Luke 1:34). 

Gabriel explains, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow thee: therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God” (Luke 1:38).

The Annunciation, from an illuminated manuscript created at Gladzor Monastery in Armenia by Toros Taronatsi in 1323

Strangely enough, though, the Gospel writers can’t even get her name right: She’s called Mariám 12 times and Maria seven times, according to Warner. 

Only Luke hits the major moments in what has become our understanding of the Virgin Mary. Even so, in Luke’s Gospel, Mary speaks a mere four times. 

In Matthew, she is silent. After the account of Jesus’ birth, Matthew mentions Mary only one more time.

Mark has a single mention of Mary (and it’s hardly flattering as you’ll see). 

John’s Gospel was written after the other three, “and it differs so considerably from them that for a time even its inclusion in the canon was at risk,” Warner writes. In it, the mother of Jesus is never mentioned by name, and it doesn’t repeat any of the incidents concerning her from the other Gospels. 

Christ Crucified With the Virgin, Saint John and Mary Magdalene by Anthony van Dyck, 1619

Jesus wanted to make sure Mary and John viewed each other as family — and then he was able to die.

She’s shown, perhaps, in the best light in John at the Crucifixion. As Jesus is dying on the cross, he sees his mother and “the disciple standing by, whom he loved” (i.e., John) and calls out, “Mother behold thy son!” and “Son behold thy mother!” John takes Mary into his home from that time on, the Gospel says. And Jesus, “knowing that all things were now accomplished,” drank vinegar and hyssop, and said, “It is finished” — “and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost” (John 19:26-30). 

The Marriage at Cana by Marten de Vos, 1597

Jesus is snippy with Mary at the event where he turns water into wine — a biblical passage that makes many a Catholic cringe.

2. Jesus is surprisingly rude to his mother.

In Mark’s recounting, Jesus has been preaching and attracting crowds, but his friends decide he has lost his mind, and his charisma is the work of the Devil (Mark 3:21). They call upon Jesus’ mother and brethren for help. Jesus asks, “Who is my mother or my brethren?” Then, looking around at those who have gathered to hear him, he declares, “Behold my mother and my brethren! For whosever shall do the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sister, and my mother” (Mark 3: 34-5). “Thus Jesus rebuffs his earthly family to embrace the larger family of his spiritual fellowship,” Warner writes. 

Matthew and Luke feature the same story — but by the time Luke tells it, he’s defending Mary and the rest of the family, stating that they “could not come at him for the press” of the crowd (Luke 8:19). 

The episode is paralleled later in Luke. A woman in a crowd calls out, “Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked.” Jesus states, “Yea rather, blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke 11:7-8). “Mary is not necessarily excluded from Jesus’ reply, but it certainly rings harshly,” Warner writes, adding, “The Catholic Church has consistently overlooked the hard-heartedness in Jesus’ words.”

John tells of the miracle at Cana, one of two conversations between Jesus and his mother (John 2:3-5):

Mother: They have no wine.

Jesus: Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.

Mother [to the servants]: Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it. 

Jesus goes on to turn water into wine. “Mary, apparently rebuffed quite brutally by her son, understands that he will nevertheless perform a miracle,” Warner explains. 

The Marriage of the Virgin by Giotto, 1306

The big question is: Did Joseph and Mary have sex after she gave birth? It’s the most likely explanation for Jesus’ brothers and sisters.

3. Her very virginity is at question.

For many Christians, it’s unfathomable to imagine that the Virgin Mary, whose moniker is tied to her purity, might be the result of a poor translation. “[A]s for her virginity,” Warner writes, “the evangelists, far from asserting it, raise a number of doubts.” 

Of all the Gospels, only Matthew makes a clear statement about the virgin birth. He says that Jesus was conceived by the power of the Holy Ghost before Mary and Joseph “came together” (Matthew 7:20). 

But Matthew’s writer was using the Greek Septuagint translation of the Bible, where the Hebrew word “almah,” meaning a young girl of marriageable age, became “parthenos” in Greek — a word that carries a strong connotation of virginity.

Catholics “hold (not as an article of faith, but as a cherished and ancient belief) that Mary was virgo intacta post partum, that by special privilege of God she, who was spared sex, was preserved also through childbirth in her full bodily integrity,” Warner explains. Which, one has to imagine, means her hymen was intact. 

But Matthew’s language seems to suggest that Mary and Joseph had sex after the birth of Jesus: “Then Joseph … took unto him his wife: and knew her not till she had brought forth her first born son” (Matthew 1:24-5). Yes, that’s “knew” in the biblical sense. It’s basically saying Joseph and Mary didn’t have sex until after Jesus was born. But they did eventually do so — Mary didn’t remain a virgin. 

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple by Hans Holbein the Elder, 1501

If Mary was so pure, why did she have to undergo a period of cleansing before she could present Jesus in the temple?

Also problematic: Mary gives birth to Jesus and enters the temple only after the time for her purification has elapsed. Under Mosaic law, a woman must be cleansed of the impurity incurred at childbirth. But why would that be necessary if Mary was, miraculously, still a virgin?

A 16th century Russian icon of James the Just, one of Jesus’ siblings

And then there’s the issue of Jesus’ siblings, mentioned in Matthew, Mark and Luke. Some early thinkers of the Greek church came up with a solution that has no proof in the Bible: Joseph was a widower, and those children were from an earlier marriage. 

The Birth of Christ by Meister von Hohenfurth, circa 1350

Rethinking the Virgin Mary

Warner’s groundbreaking work Alone of All Her Sex challenges conventional beliefs surrounding the Virgin Mary, drawing attention to the limited scriptural references, Jesus’ puzzlingly brusque behavior to his mother and the ambiguity surrounding her virginity. These shocking revelations prompt a reevaluation of deeply ingrained perceptions and invite further exploration of the complex figure at the heart of the Christian and Catholic faiths. –Wally

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CLICK HERE: When Did Jesus Become God? 5 Startling Findings in the Gospels

Pretty in Pink: Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel

Discover the strange history of this iconic church, the lively Jardín it overlooks and the riotous Festival of San Miguel. 

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, an icon of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

“It’s just like the Disney Castle!” 

It’s a refrain you’ll hear often when you show pictures of the iconic church in San Miguel de Allende. Only, for my money, it’s cooler, cuz it’s pink — and I’d much rather be in Mexico than Disney World. 

“The church was designed by a self-taught indigenous stonemason named Zeferino Gutiérrez, who was inspired by a postcard of a Belgian church.

Apparently, Gutiérrez had never seen a cathedral in person, so he just winged it, scratching his design in the sand with a stick. ”

You’ll never tire of seeing the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel (they really need to come up with a solid nickname). And the good news is, almost every time you head out to explore the charming colonial town, you’ll find yourself passing by the church and the main square, known locally as el Jardín. 

Behind the church is a quaint cobblestone street.

A Towering Legacy: Construction of San Miguel’s Most Famous Landmark

The exact date of construction is a matter of debate. There’s a convoluted history on the church’s website, stating that the first iteration was in 1564 — while others believe it wasn’t completed until the 1700s. The church has undergone so many renovations and additions over the years that it’s difficult to discern what the original structure looked like.

Perhaps all those renovations is why San Miguel Arcángel is a delightful mishmash of different architectural elements. The exterior features a Neo-Gothic façade that was added in the late 19th century, while the underlying structure is more Mexican Baroque. 

San Miguel de Allende is for lovers.

But let’s face it: The real stars of the show are the towering spires. They’re the stuff of legend, designed by a self-taught indigenous stonemason named Zeferino Gutiérrez, who was inspired by a postcard of a Belgian church. Apparently, Gutiérrez had never seen a cathedral in person, so he just winged it, scratching his design in the sand with a stick. 

Whatever the case, the end result is magical — he created those fantastical, otherworldly spires that look like they belong in a fairytale.

Part of its undeniable charm is the fact that it’s pink. The stones used in the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel’s façade are cantera, a volcanic rock likely sourced from nearby quarries. Over time, the stones have taken on a more vibrant shade of pink, winning the hearts of visitors and locals alike.

Duke sits on the steps at the side of the church.

The church sort of leans to one side, which has led to various theories about how it came to be that way. Some say it was built askew on purpose to ward off evil spirits or to align with the position of the sun. Others attribute its slant to an earthquake or even the Devil himself. In reality, the tilt is likely due to the sandy soil San Miguel Arcángel was built on, which has shifted over time. This natural phenomenon is known as subsidence and is a common problem in many parts of the world.

In recent years, efforts have been made to stabilize the church and prevent further subsidence. However, the tilt remains a distinctive feature of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel and adds to its unique character and charm. Hey, it worked for that Tower of Pisa.

The Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel has seen some violence over the years.

The Cristero War and the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel 

The San Miguel Arcángel parish has seen some real action over the years. For one thing, it was witness to the bloody Cristero War of the 1920s. This violent conflict pitted Catholic rebels against the anti-clerical government of Mexico, with both sides fighting tooth and nail for their beliefs. San Miguel Arcángel wasn’t spared from the brutality — bullets and bombs left the church’s walls scarred and pockmarked. In addition, some of the priests of San Miguel Arcángel were killed or exiled during the conflict. 

The church was later repaired, a testament to the resilience of the locals and a symbol of Mexican history and faith.

The interior of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel didn’t go entirely as planned.

A Work in Progress: The Interior of Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel 

While I’m utterly smitten with the whimsical exterior of the Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, the interior ain’t too shabby, either. It also features a variety of architectural styles, including Gothic, Baroque and Neoclassical. The high ceilings and intricate details create a sense of grandeur and awe. The main altar is adorned with gold leaf and features a statue of San Miguel, aka Saint Michael the Archangel, the church’s namesake. 

Wally thinks this would be a great place to propose to someone.

Off to the side is a smaller chapel adorned with surprisingly modern murals that look Cubist. 

A chapel in the back corner of the church has a Cubist-esque mural showing indigenous Mexicans on one side and Catholic monks on the other.

As impressive as the interior is, though, it’s not quite finished — or what was first intended. In fact, the original plans for the interior were much more grandiose, but due to a lack of funding and resources, many of the ideas were never fully realized. 

On the side of the church is a statue of Fray Juan de San Miguel, who founded the city and was, in turn, named for Saint Michael the Archangel.

Saintly Swordsman: The Legend of San Miguel

So who exactly is the archangel the church is named for? 

Well, with a name like Miguel, which means “Who Is Like God,” it’s not surprising that he’s the commander of the heavenly host. He’s often depicted with a sword, ready to do battle against Satan and his minions. 

San Miguel is also the patron saint of police officers and soldiers. 

Plaza Allende, commonly known as the Jardín, is the bustling center of this charming colonial town.

The Heart of San Miguel: Exploring the Jardín, the City’s Vibrant Central Park

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel overlooks the main town square, the Jardín, formally known as Plaza Allende. This lively square is the beating heart of San Miguel de Allende. If you’re looking to people-watch, hear a mariachi band, pose with the giant puppets called mojigangas or grab some street food (we had elotes one night that were delicious), this is the place to be. 

Dancing by the gazebo

A mariachi trumpeter

Mariachi bands entertain the crowds in the plaza in front of the church.

The Jardín is situated right in the center of town, which makes it a prime location for all sorts of festivities and events. It’s flanked by the church on one side, and rows of shops and restaurants on the others, so there’s always something to see and do.

Grab dinner at the elote stand.

Wally digs into his elote.

But the Jardín wasn’t always the lovely green space it is today. In fact, it used to be a marketplace where vendors sold everything from produce to livestock. It wasn’t until the early 20th century that the town decided to convert it into a park, complete with benches, a gazebo and trees that have been trimmed into circles.

If you can, time your trip to coincide with the Feast of San Miguel at the end of September.

Feast of San Miguel and the Crazy Castillos of the Town’s Biggest Fiesta

Duke and I happened to be in SMA during the Feast of San Miguel — but, as odd as it might sound, no one told us about it! Thank God we happened to be walking through the Jardín and noticed that they were erecting wooden scaffolds in front of the church. 

We looked at a flyer pasted to the wall that listed local events. Lo and behold, it was none other than the town’s biggest frickin’ festival! 

There was a café on the corner we’d been wanting to check out, so we popped in there and got some drinks while we waited for the festivities to begin. 

The week-long Festival of San Miguel, aka La Alborada, takes place around September 29, the saint’s feast day, usually culminating on the following weekend. 

The festival’s firework show was the most impressive we’ve ever seen — in part because of the gorgeous backdrop of the church spires.

And what a festival it was! A crowd gathered in front of Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel, and mariachis played their tunes. But the pièce de résistance were the castillos, those towers we had seen, rising up like giant matchstick sculptures in front of the church. 

Local craftsmen build these towering infernos, using skills and techniques that have been passed down through generations. It’s truly a sight to behold. 

The castillos are a wonder to behold.

When they’re lit, stand back — and let the sparks fly! The pyrotechnicians manning the castillos are like mad scientists, firing off bursts of firecrackers in all directions, painting the night sky above San Miguel Arcángel in a kaleidoscope of colors amid ear-splitting booms. The fireworks on the castillos emit high-pitched wails, spin like Catherine wheels, and form images and words. The whole spectacle was unlike anything we had seen before. 

Forget the drawn-out firework shows you see in the States; this was a machine-gun riot of color and explosions — the best we’ve ever seen. A huge grin was plastered on my face, and I’d turn to my neighbors, strangers united by sharing this marvel, and we’d shake our heads and laugh, unable to believe we were witnessing such magic. –Wally

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel from el Mirador, overlooking the town of SMA

Parroquia San Miguel Arcángel

Principal s/n
Zona Centro
37700 San Miguel de Allende
Guanajuato
Mexico