A Latin adage says that “mater artium necessitas”, necessity is the mother of the arts. This principle, applicable to practically every field of human endeavour, is perhaps nowhere more clearly expressed than in architecture. Buildings, which arose for the practical purpose of shelter and protection, have almost always also taken on a symbolic dimension. The latter sometimes became so important that it superseded the functional purpose, as happened with the triumphal arches: from being simple doors in a wall, they became just the portal, without the wall…
The first major architectural project known to history reflects this link between buildings and symbolism. The Holy Scriptures tell us (cf. Gn 11:1-4) that, at a certain point after the Flood, men decided to use bricks baked in fire and bitumen to build themselves a tower whose top would reach the heavens. The intention behind the initiative was to make the name of the builders famous, so that they would not be scattered across the face of the earth.
The incongruity between the two goals is striking. What cause-effect relationship can celebrity have with staying in one place? We do not know. The most logical inference would be that the second element was merely a pretext to disguise the only real objective: to make their name known or, in other words, to satisfy their pride.
In any case, the endeavour, not aimed at the glory of God, but motivated by exclusively human ambitions, failed. Or rather, because they rose up against the Lord, their enterprise was marked not only by failure but also by punishment (cf. Gn 11:5-9): instead of realizing their desire for celebrity and supposed unity, Babel will forever remain a symbol of rashness, confusion and scattering.
In fact, St. Augustine1 interprets the sin of Babel as a proud attempt to “fortify themselves against God” in order to escape a possible second universal Flood, while maintaining the debauchery of their customs.
However, humanity did not stop building. Under the influence of grace, Christian civilization also gave rise to other towers, the most famous of which, to this day, are the Gothic cathedrals. Decorated in a variety of beautiful styles, they house the bells which, as ministers of the divine voice, mark the hours and call the faithful to prayer and sacred worship. They are, therefore, the pulpits from which the Church makes her timbre heard, in that universal language of the Holy Spirit that allows her to be understood by the simple hearts of all peoples and languages.
Among the most famous Gothic towers are undoubtedly those of Cologne Cathedral in Germany. Dr. Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira praised them as follows: “They rise from the ground with such great élan, and launch themselves into the air with such loftiness and so unexpectedly, that one feels like asking them: ‘Do you wish to fly?’ They proclaim a great victory for man over the law of gravity – the law that draws man down and makes life difficult for him – and […] they seem to lose themselves in the sky.”2 Dr. Plinio also commented that the Cologne artist had the sacrosanct genius of wanting to go beyond the merely earthly, like someone raising his hand towards God, the Author of everything, in a desire for the afterlife and to know the Creator!…
The comparison between the two examples – Babel and Cologne – certainly gives rise to reflection: two towers, two symbols… If it can be said that “creatures […] are, in the depths of their being, a ‘word’ that God utters about Himself,”3 something similar must happen between man – the image and likeness of the Creator – and what he produces: every human work is a reflection of the mentality of its author. This is what Our Lord Jesus Christ taught: “The good man out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil man out of his evil treasure produces evil” (Lk 6:45).
In this sense, what does each of the symbolic towers in question reveal to us about the inner life of their makers?
Babel, because it was born of pride, failed in its attempt to physically reach Heaven and ended up being wiped from history. Nothing could be more logical. After all, the word vanity has a common root with void and devastation: full of themselves, the builders of the tower were full of nothing… and that is what they passed on to their building.
Cologne, for its part, is still able to spiritually elevate souls to God today, because works intended to glorify the Lord enjoy the perennial nature of eternal things. ◊
Notes
1 Cf. ST. AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO. Tratados sobre el Evangelio de San Juan. Tratado VI, n.10. In: Obras Completas. Madrid: BAC, 1955, v.XIII, p.199.
2 CORRÊA DE OLIVEIRA, Plinio. Quando a terra toca o Céu… [When the Earth Touches Heaven…] In: Dr. Plinio. São Paulo. Year I. N.1 (Apr., 1998), p.6.
3 BANDERA GONZÁLEZ, OP, Armando. Introducción a las cuestiones 50 a 64. In: ST. THOMAS AQUINAS. Summa Theologiæ. 4.ed. Madrid: BAC, 2001, v.I, p.492.
