Cathederal of Christ the Light

Bishops of the Catholic Church are sometimes given a bad rap, but it must have its advantages. When you’re a bishop building a cathedral and the architect asks what the feel of the project should be, you can just point them in the direction of the Christian Bible; a thousand pages of stories, histories, messages and imagery. For centuries architects have taken this directive and created traditional, sombre cathedrals, characterised by dark corners, brooding stones, cumbersome leadlight and heavy iconography. In contrast, the new Cathedral of Christ the Light in Oakland, California takes the first command – let there be light – and creates a place for Catholic worship that is unabashedly celebratory.

That’s not to say that the cathedral ignores the traditional conception of religious architecture from which it breaks. It’s just more subtle. The cathedral’s footprint takes the shape of a vesica pisces, literally ‘bladder of fish’ in Latin – the space between two conjoined circles. The Italians called this shape the mandorla, or ‘almond’. With the addition of the entry foyer to the shape the cathedral’s footprint becomes a full fish. The fish shape is a double entendre: as a token of Christianity, the fish symbolises congregation. Yet as an ancient symbol representing the interdependence of opposing forces, the symbol references the tension of opposites – heaven and earth, spirit and matter, divine and human, light and dark.

Using light, or more correctly capturing light, presents one of the more discriminating challenges to architects. The ability to do it seamlessly, to incorporate the light capturing technology into a design, is what separates a great architect from a merely good architect. Craig Hartman, a partner at Skidmore Owings & Merrill (SOM) and the lead architect on the US$190m project, says that his design was inspired by “the mystery and poetry of light”, and it shows. The building itself is comprised of two layers – one of wooden louvres, the other glass – the effect of which is to blur the distinction between interior and exterior, light and dark. Parishioners worshipping inside are exposed to the fluctuations of the day. While one of the many functions of the cathedral is to staunch the haemorrhaging of members from the church by providing a new bastion, it’s somewhat ironic that illumination of the cathedral’s interior is dependent on the light of the world outside.

The best illustration of the pride of place given to light in the design of the cathedral is what Hartman calls the ‘omega wall’. The omega wall is a piece of sacred art etched into one of the end walls, a giant representation of a towering Christ with one arm raised and the other cradling a book. The 58-foot image is borrowed from the 12th century façade of Chartres Cathedral in France and comprised of a staggering 94,000 tiny holes cut into the aluminium wall. As the day progresses and the light filters through the etching, the wax and wane of the sun reveals and obscures the etching of Christ to worshippers within the cathedral. Through the medium of light, the omega wall immortalises the Catholic Church by providing a conduit between an icon of the past and an ever-changing present.

The present Oakland diocese is certainly different from that of 12th century France. Masses are conducted throughout Oakland’s churches in 13 different languages. The San Francisco Bay Area has 500,000 Catholics, who comprise 22% of the population. The Church seeks to use the 1350-seat cathedral to celebrate the diversity of the diocese, and provide a strong platform for evangelism, charity and education. In this regard, it was important for Hartman and his team at SOM to find an architectural form which was Catholic yet universal; one which acknowledged the Eurocentric history of the Church yet focused on the deeper things binding contemporary Catholics. To fulfil this mandate, Hartman decided to pursue a threefold approach. By using the most elemental qualities of material and form, and regarding light as “a sacred phenomenon”, the cathedral respects the traditions of Bay Area architecture within a modern ethos of sustainability. From the outside, it alternatively looks like a bee hive, a bishop’s mitre, an enormous crown of thorns or a pair of hands clasped in prayer. While it takes the form of a strong shape, the cathedral is conciliatory towards the scourge of the modern church: the waters of Lake Merritt lap gently at a small garden with a plaque designed by survivors of clergy sexual abuse which reads “we remember, and we affirm: never again”.

The cathedral’s sensitivity to the realities of the present is mirrored in its recognition of the unique and slightly eccentric context of the Bay Area. The cathedral’s 60,000 ton concrete foundation was especially designed to withstand a once-in-1000- year earthquake. Within the foundation lies a mausoleum with space for 1300 crypts and 1450 niches for cremated remains. A pulpit sheathed in marble sits at the sanctuary’s centre, with curved pews radiating out in concentric circles. As a core design objective was minimising the cathedral’s ecological footprint, renewable materials and sustainable design strategies were incorporated into its construction. In this regard it’s no surprise to see why the cathedral won the 2008 Best Building Site award from design magazine Wallpaper. In literature, winds signify changing; floods cleansing; light purifying. Through its architecture, the Cathedral of Christ the Light provides a soaringly pure space for the diocesan mission of liturgy, education and service. +

1 The present Oakland diocese is certainly different from that of 12th century France… masses are conducted in 13 different languages. The San Francisco Bay Area has 500, 000 Catholics, who comprise 22% of the population. The church seeks to use the 1350-seat cathedral to celebrate the diversity of the diocese, and provide a strong platform for evangelism, charity and education. 2 Using light, or more correctly capturing light, presents one of the more discriminating challenges to architects. The ability to do it seamlessly, to incorporate the light capturing technology into a design, is what separates a great architect from a merely good architect. 3 No dark corners, brooding stones, cumbersome leadlight and heavy iconography… the cathedral takes the first command – let there be light – and creates a place for Catholic worship that is unabashedly celebratory. 4 The fish shape footprint is a double entendre: as a token of Christianity, the fish symbolises congregation. Yet as an ancient symbol representing the interdependence of opposing forces, the symbol references the tension of opposites – heaven and earth, spirit and matter, divine and human, light and dark.

IMAGES courtesy and copyright of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill LLP