Downtown

Before attending a Catholic high school I was uncertain, like Will, about the difference between Protestantism and Catholicism. In particular, I was confused about saints and sometimes in the past had thought that Catholics in a sense worshiped them as divinity. Almost immediately, I learned (to put it simply) that the saints are simply intercessors for the faithful. There is a lot of emphasis on the communion of saints, but that emphasis is not worship. I love the idea that everyone, living and dead, can be in the communion of saints and that the members of the “church” in the broad sense of the word are part of the Body of Christ. Saints, as we usually think of them, are canonized and there is a saint for just about everything it seems. As we said in class, Catholicism also seems to place greater emphasis on the role of women in religion through the focus on the Virgin Mary but also sometimes seems to be stuck in the past, or buried under tradition, in the male-only priesthood.
((The exterior of St. Mary ‘s Cathedral in downtown Austin, http://www.cwrl.utexas.edu/~bump/E379S3/web/Emily/Project%201%20Rewrite%202_files/image019.jpg))
That very tradition, however, is what makes the Catholic Church. Although I could not understand much of the Spanish service, I still could follow the general form of Mass thanks to the universal structure of services. I recognized the opening song and greeting, the preparation of the Eucharist and the ringing of the bell, giving the sign of peace, the saying of the Lord’s Prayer, and the prayers of intercession to name some of the things. For some reason, I expected very traditional music in such a magnificent and traditional church as St. Mary’s. Yet listening to the mariachi-like music I was reminded, like Danielle, of the universality of the Catholic Church. Its cool that the mass can be so very different from the regular English services I am used to but still have the same general form and meaning. Thanks to the cavernous (but beautiful) interior of the church, though, I think that I would not have understood some of the responses the congregation was expected to say even if it was in English. When I tried to listen to what people were saying, the sounds were echoey and unclear.
((the alter with the blue ceiling and ornate columns, http://www.saintmaryscathedral.org/photo_view.cfm?photo=339&category=1))
The amazing architecture and decoration made up for any confusion I felt in the spoken word, though. The church spoke for itself. The long aisle and vaulted ceiling served to draw our attention to the pulpit and ultimately the alter with the cross and Jesus. Surrounding the alter, brilliant royal blue ceiling arched over the niche. To me, the combination of the blue ceiling with gold stars and gold ceiling connect the interior to the exterior. As with the turtle pond, it both unites and separates—except this time it separates the church goers from the outside while also connecting the church from this world to the next. The celestial images symbolize heaven while the rich colors symbolize power. The swirling granite columns with exquisite gold capitals supported a wall of an intense geometric design. This design seems to further draw viewers toward the main focus of the church: the cross. Meanwhile the gold and marble also exude power and a sense of overwhelming beauty. The fabulous ornate details of catholic churches, St. Mary’s more so than others, do indeed teach its viewers but also facilitate the church’s power and emphasize power associated with God. Having grown up in Presbyterian Churches, I know that these decadent details greatly contrast the interiors of Presbyterian places of worship. A byproduct of their puritan predecessors, Presbyterian churches are usually very simple with very little stained glass or decoration with the intended purpose of allowing worshipers to focus their entire attention on God and on the sermon.
((releif sculptures of the stations of the cross such as these (found in an artists gallery) serve a decorative as well as a didactic purpose, http://www.moberggallery.com/images/tj_churchcloseup.jpg))
Yet the elaborate decorations and stained glass of St. Mary’s Cathedral definitely let the viewers learn from beyond the sermon. Each stained glass window represents a different saint in vivid colors while sculptural releifs of the station of the cross progress around the church. Even though I could not understand the service, these windows told stories of their own. They also lent a warm light to the interior of the church and the natural lighting helped add to the celestial feeling created by the vaulted ceiling and royal blue ceiling above the alter. The rich and earthy colors, exquisite details, and magnificent structures give the interior of the cathedral a special quality. That quality fits perfectly for the dwelling place of God and I can tell that it would be an ideal place for special ceremonies like weddings which, again, serves the purpose of a church which performs sacraments exceptionally well.
((The Capital’s dome and star, http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/40/Texas_State_Capitol_Dome_Interior.jpg/800px-Texas_State_Capitol_Dome_Interior.jpg))
While the interior of St. Mary’s Cathedral seems to both assert power and teach, the interior of the Texas state capital seemed to serve a more unilateral purpose of glorifying the power of the state. The immediate difference I noticed was the shape and focus of the two buildings. While the church was rectilinear with a clear frontal focus, the capital was circular and domed with no ground-level focus. While the church drew upon medieval and byzantine influences, the state capital—a center of government and power—drew from Greco-roman architecture. These Greek and Roman roots draw to mind the first democratic societies and the first times that people focused on philosophy and government. The strong and thick Doric columns in front of the capital building with the very frontal stairs leading to large doors create a dominating and commanding effect. Inside, though, I was surprised to find ornate Ionic columns with fine details. These fine details seemed to mirror the squares of decoration on the outside of the capital. It was not until we lay on the floor and gazed up at the dome that I discovered the focus of the building, however. Looking up the dome creates a dizzying and confusing feeling. The lack of linear lines make the increasingly smaller domes seem to be revolving and rotating about each other. Meanwhile the simplicity of only white and gold suggests a purity and also authority. Small windows allow light to shine through the dome, and it thus seems to be floating and to be almost weightless. When I think about how heavy a dome actual is, I marvel that architecture can make an object seem so light and airy. Ultimately the revolving circles culminate at the lone star with the word Texas surrounding it. I feel like the building thus draws my attention to the victory and power of this independent state.

Just as the stars of the church connect the interior to the heavens, the star of the capital connects the interior to higher ideals of freedom and leadership. I read in the dizzying and magnificent state capital an inherent power. Similarly, in the cathedral I read a power but also a didactic purpose. Whether a building serves a religious purpose, a civic purpose, or a housing purpose, everyday I am surprised at how much I can learn about their meaning.

The President's Office

((The Palace Balcony in Aladdin))
Stepping out onto the veranda, I was met by the breathtaking view of our campus and Austin’s downtown. We were in our own world, removed from the busy pedestrians below. Immediately above us rose the tower. An icon for this university and city, the tower seems similar to a palace as a focal point for people miles around. In fact, the grandeur of the president’s office and porch reminded me of the palace’s balcony from the Disney movie Aladdin. Just as Aladdin admires his view of the palace, so too do I admire the beautiful lit tower as I drive around Austin or walk through campus. The privilege of walking around this hidden balcony made me feel the power and authority of not only this educational institution but also the power that comes from wisdom and beauty. I felt as if the president were a king, lording over the students who passed beneath him. Leaning against the railing, I felt like Jasmine waiting for Aladdin to come take her away on his magic carpet.

((The Tower Rising Above))
I know that others felt the same as me as we stared into the distance. Will exemplified this feeling of privacy the balcony gave us when he stated that he would walk around naked if he were the president. Meanwhile, Avni took pictures of the beautiful view in order to capture that feeling of superiority the height of the balcony gave us. Once, however, someone shouted down to students on the main mall and temporarily broke our sense of privacy. Rather than ruining the peace and power of the balcony, this shout brought into focus the unity that the president and tower have with the university. Because, even as we were above and beyond the reach of the students below, we were also within speaking distance and part of the tower- a symbol of UT’s pride and strength.

((Wood and Leather))
Inside the Tower’s fourth floor, I also felt an overwhelming since of power and history in the ornateness of the wood work, decorations, and leather. The memorabilia in the president’s office reminded me of the countless stories of the people of this school which I think is what makes the spirit of the university so dynamic. Even simply the dark wood color and large presence of leather seemed to reflect the founding spirit of our state: the rough-and-tumble and courageous fighting spirit of the founding ranchers. Reflecting upon our state’s past in the President’s Office makes me feel more connected to my past and makes me want to emulate the courage and initiative of my ancestors.
((“Truth”))
More specifically, the decoration that both connected me to my past and most moved me upon my pilgrimage toward becoming a leader was the Latin word “veritas” which means “truth.” I noticed this word in many of the college crests and also upon some stained glass windows. First, the large diversity of school crests made me in awe of the connections which the University of Texas strives toward. Those connections resonated with the connections that I attempt to make in this class and in the different areas of my life. Secondly, Veritas made me nostalgic. My high school’s motto, honor code, victory cry, school song, and much more focused on Veritas. As “academy women” we were expected to write “veritas” at the top of every school assignment as evidence of our honesty. At the end of our school song everyone would stand up and throw up our fists in the shape of the peace sign, or V-sign, as we sang “St. Agnes, VERITAAAS!” And as a motivation tool, a word for school pride, or as a word associated with anything positive, we would say “Veritas.” For me, the word veritas means so much more than truth—it holds in it all the positive aspects of high school and all the morals I hope to live by. So, seeing “veritas” engraved upon the ceilings and windows of my new university brought me full circle and reminded me of the values that I hope to live by for the rest of my life. “Veritas” makes me think of my past but also makes me look toward my future.

I believe that the timeless quality of a word like Veritas is very appropriate for the University of Texas. As a leader, veritas links the past to a boundless future of truth, reciprocity, and respect. Similarly, the elaborate and historical feel of the fourth floor inspires in me a desire to commune with my predecessors as I trek forward through university life with my classmates- in both the unity and the seclusion we experienced on the balcony.