Above: Central detail of the main Gothic altarpiece, dating from the early 1500s, in Santa Iglesia Catedral Basilica Metropolitana de Oviedo
He who goes to Santiago and not to the Savior visits the servant and forgets the Lord.”
Back in the year 40, the apostle James was preaching in Zaragoza when the Virgin Mary miraculously floated down on a cloud to assist him with his efforts to convert pagans living under Roman rule to Christianity. Soon after establishing a chapel in her honor, James traveled all the way back to Jerusalem. His preaching incurred the ire of the King of Judea, Herod Agrippa (11 BC-44 AD), who had him beheaded in the year 44. Avenged as, according to Acts Chapter 12, Verse 23, King Herod Agrippa met his maker within the same year:
“…an angel of the Lord struck him, because he did not give glory to God. And he was eaten by worms and died.”
The head of Santiago, as James is known in Spain, is said to be entombed below the altar of the Armenian Apostolic Cathedral of Saint James, the church built on the site where he was martyred in Jerusalem. But what became of the rest of his body? As Santiago is the country’s patron saint, let’s go with the miraculous version. A band of angels arrived on a cloud to retrieve it, placed it in a simple boat and guided it to shore in northern Spain.
Continue reading “Postcard from Oviedo, Spain: Sacred relics attract peregrinos and thieves”
A shortcut to encountering a massive number of bones, if one is so inclined, is to seek out the Capuchin Museum and Crypt tucked under Santa Maria della Concezione. The church was commissioned in 1626 by Pope Urban VIII (to whom you were introduced during my 
There were six divisions in the apartment, and each division was ornamented with a style of decoration peculiar to itself – and these decorations were in every instance formed of human bones! There were shapely arches, built wholly of thigh bones; there were startling pyramids, built wholly of grinning skulls; there were quaint architectural structures of various kinds, built of shin bones and the bones of the arm; on the wall were elaborate frescoes, whose curving vines were made of knotted human vertebrae; whose delicate tendrils were made of sinews and tendons; whose flowers were formed of knee-caps and toe-nails. Every lasting portion of the human frame was represented in these intricate designs (they were by Michael Angelo, I think,) and there was a careful finish about the work, and an attention to details that betrayed the artist’s love of his labors as well as his schooled ability. I asked the good-natured monk who accompanied us, who did this? And he said, “We did it” – meaning himself and his brethren upstairs. I could see that the old friar took a high pride in his curious show. We made him talkative by exhibiting an interest we never betrayed to guides.
Postcards from Barton Springs 