Postcard from Sevilla, Spain: A piece of a saint to answer almost any prayer

Above is simply the underside of one low altar found along a wall of San Luis de los Franceses. The photo probably is not clear enough for you to really get the picture, but the entire length of it is a repository for bones. Sacred bones. Remnants of saints. And they are found everywhere in this former church. Some shards are almost microscopic and certainly appear so in our photos.

But most people probably visit San Luis for its unusual architectural bones.

By way of introduction, the building is dedicated to Saint Louis of France, King Louis IX (1214-1270). San Luis was the favorite saint of the woman who originally donated the land to the Society of Jesus if they agreed to honor him.

The titular honor also represented a politically correct move for the always-in-trouble Jesuits as a respectful tribute to the Bourbon monarchs ruling over Spain at the time. Appropriately, a majestically crowned portrait of San Luis by the prominent artist Francisco de Zurburan (1578-1664) dominates the main altar.

The Baroque structure was designed by architect Leonardo de Figueroa (1650-1730) on the plan of a Greek cross. The cross is crowned by an ornate cupola and features major gilded altars at the end of each of its four arms. Figueroa also incorporated a heavy dose of my favorite columns – helical or Solomonic twists.

Distinctive octagonal towers top the sculptural façade, a façade difficult to appreciate on such a narrow street. The four evangelists, the three archangels – they were all meant to address a major plaza below. The plaza envisioned did not materialize. Despite their tribute, the Jesuits ran into problems with the powers that were.

With the expulsion of the Jesuits from Spain in 1835, their properties came under the control of the crown. It is hard to imagine how much it pained the Jesuits to abandon the hundreds of precious relics of saints stored and displayed in every nook and cranny in this former church.

Repurposing of San Luis never resulted in irrevocable alterations affecting its original architectural integrity. The Provincial Council of Seville refurbished San Luis and reopened it to the public only two years ago.

While the former church is not consecrated, the bones still attract the faithful. Many of these probably received Vatican authentication for veneration centuries ago.

Think there is a portion of a patron saint housed within San Luis to meet almost any need for prayers that could arise.

Postcard from Turin, Italy: Where the donkey fell, the Holy Spirit rose

A quick glance at several churches:

During one of the periods when the Duchy of Savoy was failing to get along with French cousins, the French rudely plundered a town and its church outside of Turin.

On the Feast Day of Corpus Christi in 1453, the scavengers brought their seized riches into the plaza of Turin to sell. A donkey bearing the ciborium containing the sacramental hosts fell. The Holy Spirit rose up from the saddle bag and illuminated the plaza. An obvious miraculous sign indicating the site for construction of a church.

Replacing an older church on the spot, the “new” Basilica del Corpus Domini was built in 1607 with later Baroque interior remodeling.

It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.

Mark 10:35

Charitably showing their devotion to God – and perhaps an unwillingness to worship with those less successful – the Pious Congregation of Banks, Shopkeepers and Merchants established their own church for “encounter and prayer” in 1692. With an entrance almost hidden down a hallway in a building in, appropriately, Turin’s shopping district, Capella dei Mercanti is noted for its vault with frescos by Stefano Maria Legnani (1661-1713) and paintings by Andrea Pozzo (1642-1709).

Postcard from Genoa, Italy: Never judge an Italian church by its facade

Located just outside the original walls of Genoa’s historic center and with a mid-1800s Neoclassical façade, the Basilica della Santissima Annunziata de Vastato almost escaped our notice. If not nudged by our landlord, we would have missed the wildly rich Baroque interior added in the 17th century to the church built at the close of the 16th century.

Every church door we passed through in Genoa offered similar visual rewards, as some of these photographs indicate.