Sacred Spain: the monastery in the sky
Gemma Cullington reflects on her magical trip to a Catalonian basilica.
From my vantage point, over a thousand metres above the Spanish valley floor, I can see nothing but solid white rock blanketed with deep green foliage no matter where I turn; it’s a beautiful sight. There’s something so enchanting about the occasional fingers of mist that glide across this mountainous terrain that I simply stand and stare. My attention is only drawn away as I catch a glimpse of my destination in my peripheral vision: a sacred structure which promises to be even more beautiful than its location.
The sacred structure in question is Santa Maria de Montserrat of the Order of Saint Benedict. This Basilica has stood proudly 1,236 metres above the valley floor upon the mountain of Montserrat, (also known as Montsagrat - ‘sacred mountain’ - to the Catalans) since the ninth century, allowing decades of tourists to gain a whole new perspective on life as we witness not only the breath-taking views of Catalonia, but also the exquisitely designed monastery and the humble lifestyle of the monks who devote their lives to their religion.
Of course, having watched over central Catalonia for so long, this monastery hasn’t stood without its fair share of trouble: in the 19th century, it found itself severely damaged by Napoleon’s army, and it faced unrest once more during the Spanish Civil War in the early 20th century, yet it was always repaired and reconstructed. Knowing all this, I feel incredibly blessed to be here.
Guarding the atrium of the Basilica is a sculpture of St Benedict (by the Spanish sculptor Enric Monjo). It marks the entrance to the area of the monastery in which the monks spend most of their time - their quarters are sealed off from the public out of respect for their lives, but this does nothing to hinder my experience; the traditionally Catalonian exterior alongside the striking views is more than enough to make this adventure of mine exceptional already. The sheer size of the atrium itself is overwhelming, and I can’t believe anything can top it, though I’m prepared to be proven wrong.
As I step inside the Basilica itself, I can hardly believe the extent of its opulence: beneath my feet are lustrous floor tiles which sit under simple yet elegant wooden pews; expertly carved archways create a clear central pathway; a large dome full of paintings, possibly the most amazing sight, rises staggeringly high above the rest of the monastery. It’s breath-taking. Simply breath-taking.
Not only is the space incredible as a whole, but every second I’m here I become more aware of the level of intricate detail. Each facial expression in the delicate brushwork tells a story, and each panel is skilfully handmade.
The religious, reverent atmosphere is all-consuming as I stand in silence and awe. It’s a magical feeling knowing I’m standing in a place which has faced such a troubled past, yet still holds so much power and beauty. I’m still for a moment, watching as people come and go, marvelling at how each of their faces softens and shifts as their eyes meet the golden interior of the Basilica. Not one person enters without their expression filling with the same awe that I too feel, and I know that we are collectively experiencing a rare moment of calm in the hectic chaos of modernity. It really is like nothing I’ve ever experienced; I could stay here forever and never tire of the architecture or the atmosphere it evokes.
Unfortunately, I know my experience must end. With one last glance at the resplendent interior, desperate to retain the image of intricate stained glass and golden beams in my mind forever, I take my leave, blinking in the sudden sunlight which welcomes me back to the outside world. It warms my face as I smile back at it, filled with a sense of tranquillity that I think will stay with me forever.
I’m still captivated by the sacred life lived within the monastery as I make my way back down the mountain. It’s a remarkable feeling, and I know that no matter what comes my way, I will carry the memory of this day and the spiritual atmosphere of the Monastery of Montserrat with me forever.
Gemma Cullington, Y12
From my vantage point, over a thousand metres above the Spanish valley floor, I can see nothing but solid white rock blanketed with deep green foliage no matter where I turn; it’s a beautiful sight. There’s something so enchanting about the occasional fingers of mist that glide across this mountainous terrain that I simply stand and stare. My attention is only drawn away as I catch a glimpse of my destination in my peripheral vision: a sacred structure which promises to be even more beautiful than its location.
The sacred structure in question is Santa Maria de Montserrat of the Order of Saint Benedict. This Basilica has stood proudly 1,236 metres above the valley floor upon the mountain of Montserrat, (also known as Montsagrat - ‘sacred mountain’ - to the Catalans) since the ninth century, allowing decades of tourists to gain a whole new perspective on life as we witness not only the breath-taking views of Catalonia, but also the exquisitely designed monastery and the humble lifestyle of the monks who devote their lives to their religion.
Of course, having watched over central Catalonia for so long, this monastery hasn’t stood without its fair share of trouble: in the 19th century, it found itself severely damaged by Napoleon’s army, and it faced unrest once more during the Spanish Civil War in the early 20th century, yet it was always repaired and reconstructed. Knowing all this, I feel incredibly blessed to be here.
Guarding the atrium of the Basilica is a sculpture of St Benedict (by the Spanish sculptor Enric Monjo). It marks the entrance to the area of the monastery in which the monks spend most of their time - their quarters are sealed off from the public out of respect for their lives, but this does nothing to hinder my experience; the traditionally Catalonian exterior alongside the striking views is more than enough to make this adventure of mine exceptional already. The sheer size of the atrium itself is overwhelming, and I can’t believe anything can top it, though I’m prepared to be proven wrong.
As I step inside the Basilica itself, I can hardly believe the extent of its opulence: beneath my feet are lustrous floor tiles which sit under simple yet elegant wooden pews; expertly carved archways create a clear central pathway; a large dome full of paintings, possibly the most amazing sight, rises staggeringly high above the rest of the monastery. It’s breath-taking. Simply breath-taking.
Not only is the space incredible as a whole, but every second I’m here I become more aware of the level of intricate detail. Each facial expression in the delicate brushwork tells a story, and each panel is skilfully handmade.
The religious, reverent atmosphere is all-consuming as I stand in silence and awe. It’s a magical feeling knowing I’m standing in a place which has faced such a troubled past, yet still holds so much power and beauty. I’m still for a moment, watching as people come and go, marvelling at how each of their faces softens and shifts as their eyes meet the golden interior of the Basilica. Not one person enters without their expression filling with the same awe that I too feel, and I know that we are collectively experiencing a rare moment of calm in the hectic chaos of modernity. It really is like nothing I’ve ever experienced; I could stay here forever and never tire of the architecture or the atmosphere it evokes.
Unfortunately, I know my experience must end. With one last glance at the resplendent interior, desperate to retain the image of intricate stained glass and golden beams in my mind forever, I take my leave, blinking in the sudden sunlight which welcomes me back to the outside world. It warms my face as I smile back at it, filled with a sense of tranquillity that I think will stay with me forever.
I’m still captivated by the sacred life lived within the monastery as I make my way back down the mountain. It’s a remarkable feeling, and I know that no matter what comes my way, I will carry the memory of this day and the spiritual atmosphere of the Monastery of Montserrat with me forever.
Gemma Cullington, Y12
