The Mezquita-Catedral or Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba is one of the most accomplished examples of Moorish architecture in Spain (Photograph: Patrick Comerford; click on image for full-screen resolution)
Patrick Comerford
During this time in the Church Calendar known as Ordinary Time, I am taking some time each morning to reflect in these ways:
1, photographs of a church or place of worship;
2, the day’s Gospel reading;
3, a prayer from the prayer diary of the Anglican mission agency USPG (United Society Partners in the Gospel).
To mark Trinity Sunday (30 May 2021), my photographs were from the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity in Gibraltar. For the rest of this week my photographs are from six cathedrals in Spain.
Earlier in this series, I returned to the Cathedral of Saint James in Santiago de Compostela (31 March 2021, HERE), and the Basilica de la Sagrada Familia in Barcelona (10 April 2021, HERE). This morning (2 June 2021), my photographs are from the Mezquita-Catedral or Mosque-Cathedral of Córdoba is one of the most accomplished examples of Moorish architecture in Spain.
The original main entrance to the Mezquita (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Today, this is the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption in the Diocese of Córdoba. But a Roman Temple dedicated to the two-faced god Janus first stood on this site, and the Visigoths later built a small church here dedicated to Saint Vincent of Lérins, long before it was ever either a mosque or a cathedral.
Portions of the Visigothic building have survived, including fragments of the floor and the Puerta de San Esteban or Gate of Saint Stephen.
After the Islamic conquest of the Visigothic kingdom, the building was divided between Christians and Muslims, and shared by worshippers of both faiths.
But in 784, the Emir of Córdoba, Abd al-Rahman I, ordered the construction of the Great Mosque and bought the Christian half of the site. Abd al-Rahman I demolished the original buildings and built the Great Mosque of Córdoba here in 785-787, imitating the style of the Great Mosque of Damascus.
According to tradition, when the exiled Umayyad prince Abd al-Rahman I escaped to Iberia and defeated the governor of Al-Andalus, Yusuf al-Fihri, he found the Christians of Córdoba divided into various sects, including Gnostics, Priscillianists, Donatists and Luciferians.
His ambition was to build a house of worship as magnificent as those in Baghdad, Jerusalem and Damascus, and approach in sanctity the fame of Mecca.
The negotiations to buy the earlier church and its site were handled by the Sultan’s favourite secretary, Umeya ibn Yezid. One of the conditions of sale allowed the Christians of the city to rebuild earlier but ruined churches dedicated to three martyrs, Saint Faustus, Saint Januarius and Saint Marcellus.
Over the next four or five centuries, it was expanded considerably by Spain’s Muslim rulers. Abd al-Rahman and his successors, Hisham, Abd-al Rahman II and Almanzor, spent large amounts on designing, building and decorating the mosque, originally known as Aljama Mosque.
Abd al-Rahman I and his descendants reworked the building over the next two centuries to fashion it as a mosque. Abd al-Rahman I also used the mosque as an adjunct to his palace and named it in honour of his wife.
The mihrab of Mezquita faces south instead of towards Mecca (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Traditionally, the mihrab or apse of a mosque faces in the direction of Mecca, the direction of prayer for Muslims. However, Mecca is east-south-east of Córdoba, and, unusually, the mihrab of this mosque points south.
Thousands of artisans and labourers worked on building the Mezquita under the directions of Abd al-Rahman, and new factories and industries sprang up in the city.
As the mosque developed, there were several changes and additions. Abd al-Rahman II ordered a new minaret, while Al-Hakam II enlarged the building in 961, when he made lavish additions, enriching the mihrab or prayer niche and the masqura or caliph’s enclosure. The Mezquita reached its current dimensions in 987 with the completion of the outer naves and courtyard.
The building incorporates several Roman columns with capitals. Some columns came from the original the Gothic structure, others were brought in from other regions of the Iberian peninsula, often as presents from provincial governors.
Ivory, jasper, porphyry, gold, silver, copper and brass were used in the decorations, marvellous mosaics and azulejos were designed, panels of scented wood were fastened with nails of pure gold, and the red marble columns were said to be the work of God.
The Patio de los Naranjos or Court of Oranges at the Mezquita (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The earliest part of the building, erected during the reign of Abd al-Rahman I, borders the Patio de los Naranjos or Court of Oranges. Later, the immense building brought all the styles of Morisco architecture together in one composition.
For three centuries, the Great Mosque of Córdoba held a place of importance in the Islamic community of Andalucia and was seen as the heart of Córdoba, the capital. One visitor said it had ‘countless pillars like rows of palm trees in the oases of Syria.’
The main hall of the mosque served as a central prayer hall for personal devotion, the five daily Muslim prayers and the special Friday prayers. It was also used as a hall for teaching and for hearing cases in sharia law.
In the arcaded hall, 856 columns of jasper, onyx, marble, granite and porphyry support the roof (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
The building is most notable for its arcaded hall, where 856 columns of jasper, onyx, marble, granite and porphyry supporting the roof. They create a dazzling visual effect, and were made from pieces of the Roman temple that once stood on the site, as well as other Roman and Visigothic buildings, including the Mérida amphitheatre.
The double arches were an innovation, allowing higher ceilings than were not possible with relatively low columns. The double arches consist of a lower horseshoe arch and an upper semi-circular arch. The alternating red and white voussoirs of the arches were inspired by those in the Dome of the Rock and also resemble those of Aachen Cathedral, which were built almost at the same time. Horseshoe arches were known in the Iberian Peninsula since late Antiquity.
A centrally located honeycombed dome has blue tiles decorated with stars.
The richly gilded prayer niche or mihrab is a masterpiece of architectural art, with geometric designs and flowing designs of plants.
Other features of the mosque included an open court surrounded by arcades, screens of wood, minarets, colourful mosaics, and windows of coloured glass. The walls of the mosque were decorated with Quranic inscriptions.
The floor plan is similar to some of the earliest mosques in Islam. It had a rectangular prayer hall with aisles arranged perpendicular to the qibla, the direction towards which Muslims pray. The prayer hall was large and flat, with timber ceilings held up by arches of horseshoe-like appearance.
Hisham’s mosque covered an area 140 metres by 85 metres. It was flanked by stout, fortified walls, with watch towers and a tall minaret. There were nine outer gates and 11 inner doors. Each door led to an aisle within the mosque. The court had spacious gates on the north, west, and east sides, and fountains for the purification of the pious. The 11 north-to-south aisles were crossed by 21 narrower aisles running from east to west.
A staircase to the roof was added 150 years after the mosque was first built, and the mosque was extended south. At the time, a bridge was built linking the prayer hall with the caliph’s palace. The mosque was later expanded even further south, as was the courtyard.
Abd al-Rahman III added a new tower. The minaret had two staircases, one for going up and the other for coming down the tower. At the top were three apples, two of gold and one of silver, with lilies of six petals.
Córdoba was conquered by King Ferdinand III of Castile in 1236 and the centre of the mosque was converted into a Catholic cathedral. Alfonso X oversaw building the Villaviciosa Chapel, the first Christian chapel in the mosque in 1371, and the Royal Chapel within the mosque.
Later kings added further Christian features, and Henry II rebuilt the church in the 14th century. The minaret became the bell tower of the cathedral and was adorned with the bells once captured from the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.
After a windstorm in 1589, the former minaret was further reinforced, encasing it within a new structure. The present Torre del Almar or bell tower is 93 metres high, and has steep steps inviting visitors to a view of the city from the top.
The most significant alteration came with building a Renaissance cathedral nave in the middle of the large building in the reign of Charles V of Castile and Aragon. However, when Charles V visited the completed cathedral, he was displeased by the result and famously commented: ‘You have destroyed something unique to build something commonplace.’
Artisans and architects continued to add to the existing structure until the late 18th century.
During Holy Week in April 2010, two Muslim tourists were arrested at the cathedral, after an incident in which two security guards were seriously injured. Half a dozen Austrian Muslims, who were part of a group of 118 people on an organised tour for young European Muslims, knelt to pray at the same time. Security guards stepped in and ‘invited them to continue with their tour or leave the building.’
Muslims across Spain have lobbied the Roman Catholic Church to allow them to pray within the complex. However, Spanish church authorities and the Vatican have opposed any such move.
The Gate of the Holy Spirit in the walls of the Mezquita (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Mark 12: 18-27 (NRSVA):
18 Some Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to him and asked him a question, saying, 19 ‘Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies, leaving a wife but no child, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. 20 There were seven brothers; the first married and, when he died, left no children; 21 and the second married her and died, leaving no children; and the third likewise; 22 none of the seven left children. Last of all the woman herself died. 23 In the resurrection whose wife will she be? For the seven had married her.’
24 Jesus said to them, ‘Is not this the reason you are wrong, that you know neither the scriptures nor the power of God? 25 For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven. 26 And as for the dead being raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the story about the bush, how God said to him, “I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob”? 27 He is God not of the dead, but of the living; you are quite wrong.’
The minaret of the mosque became the bell tower of the cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Prayer in the USPG Prayer Diary:
The Prayer in the USPG Prayer Diary today (2 June 2021) invites us to pray:
Let us pray for our elected representatives. May they make just decisions and treat one another with respect.
Yesterday’s reflection
Continued tomorrow
The Italian-style High Altar of the Renaissance cathedral (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition copyright © 1989, 1995, National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. http://nrsvbibles.org
02 June 2021
‘Who’s the king of the castle then?’
A small boat in the water at Kells Bay, near Cahersiveen, Co Kerry, at the weekend (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2021)
Patrick Comerford
After visiting Kells Bay House and Gardens at the weekend, two of us spent some time at the beach and pier in Kells Bay, about 15 km west of Glenbeigh and about 3 or 4 km east of Cahersiveen on the north coast of the Iveragh Peninsula and the Ring of Kerry.
Kells Bay House and Gardens are 200 metres from the beach, with a period house, sub-tropical gardens and a coffee shop and restaurant. Kells Bay is a secluded, Blue Flag beach, surrounded by mountains to the west, east and south, and views to north out into Dingle Bay, with the Blasket Islands in the distance.
Kells Bay is reached along a narrow country road off the N70. It is an idyllic sandy beach, with a harbour and small pier at the east end, and the crystal-clear water is fresh in Summer (14C+).
The Gulf Stream runs close to the area, providing a micro-climate ideal for plant growth. Kells Beach is within the Killarney National Park, Macgillycuddy Reeks and Caragh River Catchment Special Area of Conservation (SAC), and within the Iveragh Peninsula Special Protection Area (SPA).
During our afternoon visit, a small group of people were gathered around a small trawler at the end of the pier, and two council workers were moving large boulders from the white sandy beach.
But it felt as though we had the beach all to our selves, with only a half dozen people on the sand or in the water. Two men were swimming, a couple and their dog were enjoying the sunshine on the beach, and a couple spent half an hour in the water in kayaks.
Gentle waves on the beach at Kells Bay (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2021)
The couple in the pair of kayaks may have been in their late 40s, and they reminded meof a scene on the old town beach in Rethymnon almost 40 years ago in the mid-1980s.
We had rented a private apartment in a residential suburban block for three weeks, without the normal facilities holidaymakers associate with Greek apartment lettings, such as a swimming pool and a bar.
Instead, we used the beach each day, and, although I was then in my mid-30s and had gone to a school with a swimming pool, I only learned to swim at that stage of life at that beach. The beach was near the harbour, and is now closed to swimming. But at the time it was popular, and we left our valuables at the beach bar when we went swimming.
It was an early introduction to Greece, and one of the bar staff assured us candidly that we were safe leaving our belongings at the bar. We could trust Greeks, he told us, and without batting an eyelid or showing any sense of embarrassment, told us it was the tourists we had to be concerned about.
It was October, the end of the season, and there were few tourists on the beach by then. But out in the water, a middle-aged English tourist in his late 40s was trying to teach himself to use a surfboard.
The man seemed to have little confidence, but every time he managed to climb onto his surfboard his wife, standing on the shoreline fully dressed, would shout out as a way of encouragement, ‘Who’s the king of the castle?’
‘Who’s the king of the castle then?’
Neither of them had noticed a handful – two or three – of other English tourists who were on the beach, watching every move. They tittered and smirked every time she cried out encouragingly, and quietly, unnoticed to the husband and wife, slipped into the water, and quietly went underwater.
Eventually, the more man steadied himself enoug, he matched this with a new sense of confidence and boldness, and stood up straight on the surfboard.
‘Who’s the king of the castle then?’
But as the woman called out, the small band of miscreants heaved from under the board, and he toppled over, falling into the water, retaining none of his dignity.
He splashed and surfaced. By the time he had steadied himself, his assailants had left the water.
By the time he got back to his sobbing wife on the shoreline, they had disappeared.
I later wondered whether it was a planned ambush. Were they all staying in the one place? Did they actually know each other?
I never saw the couple on the beach again. Perhaps their holiday was already coming to an end. Perhaps they moved along the beach to the longer stretch of white sand at the east end of the town.
Did he ever really get enough confidence to use a surfboard properly?
We stayed on in Rethymnon, I continued to learn how to swim on that beach in those warm October days, and our watches and wallets remained safe at the beach bar. Today, traffic and polluton from the harbour and the constrution of a new marina have closed the old town beach to swimming and diving.
If the EU agrees to safe passage between member states for people who have been vaccinated, I may even get back to Rethymnon before October arrives. But, meanwhile, on this road trip, we travelled on to Cahersiveen and another island in the sun, Valentia Island.
Lost in the sands of time … an old sign prohibiting swimming and diving at the old town beach in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
After visiting Kells Bay House and Gardens at the weekend, two of us spent some time at the beach and pier in Kells Bay, about 15 km west of Glenbeigh and about 3 or 4 km east of Cahersiveen on the north coast of the Iveragh Peninsula and the Ring of Kerry.
Kells Bay House and Gardens are 200 metres from the beach, with a period house, sub-tropical gardens and a coffee shop and restaurant. Kells Bay is a secluded, Blue Flag beach, surrounded by mountains to the west, east and south, and views to north out into Dingle Bay, with the Blasket Islands in the distance.
Kells Bay is reached along a narrow country road off the N70. It is an idyllic sandy beach, with a harbour and small pier at the east end, and the crystal-clear water is fresh in Summer (14C+).
The Gulf Stream runs close to the area, providing a micro-climate ideal for plant growth. Kells Beach is within the Killarney National Park, Macgillycuddy Reeks and Caragh River Catchment Special Area of Conservation (SAC), and within the Iveragh Peninsula Special Protection Area (SPA).
During our afternoon visit, a small group of people were gathered around a small trawler at the end of the pier, and two council workers were moving large boulders from the white sandy beach.
But it felt as though we had the beach all to our selves, with only a half dozen people on the sand or in the water. Two men were swimming, a couple and their dog were enjoying the sunshine on the beach, and a couple spent half an hour in the water in kayaks.
Gentle waves on the beach at Kells Bay (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2021)
The couple in the pair of kayaks may have been in their late 40s, and they reminded meof a scene on the old town beach in Rethymnon almost 40 years ago in the mid-1980s.
We had rented a private apartment in a residential suburban block for three weeks, without the normal facilities holidaymakers associate with Greek apartment lettings, such as a swimming pool and a bar.
Instead, we used the beach each day, and, although I was then in my mid-30s and had gone to a school with a swimming pool, I only learned to swim at that stage of life at that beach. The beach was near the harbour, and is now closed to swimming. But at the time it was popular, and we left our valuables at the beach bar when we went swimming.
It was an early introduction to Greece, and one of the bar staff assured us candidly that we were safe leaving our belongings at the bar. We could trust Greeks, he told us, and without batting an eyelid or showing any sense of embarrassment, told us it was the tourists we had to be concerned about.
It was October, the end of the season, and there were few tourists on the beach by then. But out in the water, a middle-aged English tourist in his late 40s was trying to teach himself to use a surfboard.
The man seemed to have little confidence, but every time he managed to climb onto his surfboard his wife, standing on the shoreline fully dressed, would shout out as a way of encouragement, ‘Who’s the king of the castle?’
‘Who’s the king of the castle then?’
Neither of them had noticed a handful – two or three – of other English tourists who were on the beach, watching every move. They tittered and smirked every time she cried out encouragingly, and quietly, unnoticed to the husband and wife, slipped into the water, and quietly went underwater.
Eventually, the more man steadied himself enoug, he matched this with a new sense of confidence and boldness, and stood up straight on the surfboard.
‘Who’s the king of the castle then?’
But as the woman called out, the small band of miscreants heaved from under the board, and he toppled over, falling into the water, retaining none of his dignity.
He splashed and surfaced. By the time he had steadied himself, his assailants had left the water.
By the time he got back to his sobbing wife on the shoreline, they had disappeared.
I later wondered whether it was a planned ambush. Were they all staying in the one place? Did they actually know each other?
I never saw the couple on the beach again. Perhaps their holiday was already coming to an end. Perhaps they moved along the beach to the longer stretch of white sand at the east end of the town.
Did he ever really get enough confidence to use a surfboard properly?
We stayed on in Rethymnon, I continued to learn how to swim on that beach in those warm October days, and our watches and wallets remained safe at the beach bar. Today, traffic and polluton from the harbour and the constrution of a new marina have closed the old town beach to swimming and diving.
If the EU agrees to safe passage between member states for people who have been vaccinated, I may even get back to Rethymnon before October arrives. But, meanwhile, on this road trip, we travelled on to Cahersiveen and another island in the sun, Valentia Island.
Lost in the sands of time … an old sign prohibiting swimming and diving at the old town beach in Rethymnon (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
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