The Annunciation Mosaic at Corpus Christi Church

Today, March 25, marks the Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary as related in Luke 1:26-38. The Evangelist tells us that the angel Gabriel was sent from God to the Virgin Mary to tell her that she would conceive and become the mother of Jesus, the Son of God.    Corpus Christi Church contains a beautiful mosaic of this event which you can see in the apse (though you may need to walk closer towards the High Altar and look to your left).  

The mosaic is part of a series of five, each one each measuring over five feet in width by eight feet in height.  The mosaics were installed in 1896 and represent five of the great subjects in sacred history: the Annunciation, the Nativity, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and the Scene at Lake Galilee.  When you look closely you will see the numberless small tesserae that are set together to form the backgrounds and minor parts of the figures, including the nimbi.  The larger features of the figures however, and the folds of drapery, are painted and vitrified in fire on larger pieces of mosaic glass.   The result, as the Baltimore Sun  described on October 6, 1896, is “that all the richness of effect peculiar to the mosaic process is achieved, with still more that is invaluable in the drawing and expression of features otherwise less completely under control.“  The mosaics, as the stained glass windows throughout the church, were prepared in England by the John Hardman and Company.  It took workers three months to set the thousand pieces carefully in place one by one in the church.[1]

The Annunciation has been one of the most frequent subjects of Christian art.  Richard Taylor, in his book How to read a church, describes its standard representation: 

The key elements in the scene are Mary, the Angel Gabriel (carrying a scepter or lily), and the Holy Spirit descending on Mary in the form of a dove.    As the Annunciation was held to have taken place in the springtime, it is often in or beside a flowering garden, or else flowers (usually lilies) are shown in a vase.  Mary may be reading a book, on which are written the prophetic words of Isaiah, “Ecce virgo concipiet et pariet filium” (“Behold, the Virgin will conceive and will give birth to a son’; Isaiah 7:14).  Close to Mary may be wool or fabrics, in a reference to her work on the High Priest’s clothes when she lived in the Temple.[2]  

In Corpus Christi’s mosaic we are unable to read the writing in Mary’s book, but the words of Gabriel’s greeting Ave Gratia plena (‘Hail, Full of Grace’) are depicted on the scroll in the Archangel’s hand.  The piece of cloth behind the Virgin alludes to the medieval legend of the Virgin’s upbringing in the Temple at Jerusalem where she would spin and weave the priests’ vestments.  The dove descends on a slanting ray of light that touches the Virgin’s head.    Mary, dressed in blue, is sitting near a Gothic arch with slender molded pillars, symbolizing Christianity and the Church.  She crosses her hands over her chest and her head is slightly lowered, showing her prayerful submission and agreement.    The Archangel Gabriel is winged, dressed in traditional white and appears to be floating in the air.  His left hand is raised in the way one would signify the beginning of an important oration.

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[1] "Beautiful Mosaics." The Sun (1837-1989) 06 Oct. 1896: 7. ProQuest Historical Newspapers: The Baltimore Sun. Web. 25 Mar. 2015.

[2] Taylor, Richard. How to Read a Church: A Guide to Symbols and Images in Churches and Cathedrals. Mahwah, NJ: HiddenSpring, 2005. Print.

Father's Day at Corpus Christi

Thomas Courtney Jenkins was born on March 19, 1802, the feast of St. Joseph.  In many Catholic countries, including Belgium where I grew up, March 19 is also Father’s Day.   It comes therefore as no surprise that the children of Thomas Courtney Jenkins and Louisa Carrell decided to include a St. Joseph’s Chapel in the church they built to honor their parents, and that the bodies of both Thomas and Louisa are buried in the crypt underneath the St. Joseph’s Altar in the chapel.  

 A statue of St. Joseph inside the chapel depicts the saint holding a lily.  This is not uncommon.  The lily reflects the Virgin Mary's attribute of the lily, the symbol of her purity and virginity.   It also represents Joseph's flowering staff, recalling the non-canonical tradition of how Mary's spouse was chosen by collecting walking sticks of widowers in Palestine, and Joseph's alone bursting into flower, thus identifying him as divinely chosen.

The window above the entrance to the chapel shows Christ instructing children of all nations and races, recalling Matthew 19:14: “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”  A couple of adults eagerly listen in.  In the background are doves, symbols of childish innocence, simplicity and purity.  The chapel features two other stained glass windows. The first one shows an angel holding a lily.  The second one depicts an angel holding a palm branch, the symbol of victory, of Jesus' victory over death, of Christians' victory over sin, of victory of the spirit over flesh.   

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200 Pigeons Homeless

It can be quite fun to flip through old issues of the Baltimore Sun in search of articles that relate to Corpus Christi Church.  Earlier this week I stumbled on the following headline from November 4, 1904:

200 Pigeons Homeless.  Wire screens in Corpus Christi Belfry shut out flock.  Residents Show Sympathy.  Descendants of Carrier Birds Now Hoover Piteously About Steeple in Which They Lived Nine Years. 

Three weeks earlier the church had taken steps to eliminate a large colony of pigeons from the steeple, first by placing whiskey soaked in corn on the roof to drug the birds which would make them easier to capure and then by sending three boys up into the belfry.  What happened was close to a massacre:

Their object was to secure the pigeons and their zeal was not lessened by any regard for the feelings of the pigeons. Nests were destroyed, eggs broken and the young either taken or left maimed. To the frightened pigeons, the boys seems ill-omened Ogres.  There was a rush to escape. The three boys attempted to beat them back. Wings were injured and pinions broken as they beat against each other in their attempts to escape or were struck by the boys. 

Soon after wire screens were installed to cover all the openings and prevent the birds from returning, much to the dismay of some of the neighbors:

Mr. J.M. Watts, of 1403 Mount Royal avenue, who lives opposite the church, is one of the oldest residents of the neighborhood, and having watched their flight in the morning and their return in the evening, feels an indignity has been done to the pigeons. He and others have observed the pigeons beating again[st] the wire in their futile attempt to gain entrance.

 It does not appear however that the church managed to scare away the birds forever: 

At present the belfry is closed to the pigeons, but they seem disinclined to forsake the old familiar walls.  The evening angelus finds scores of pigeons perched in the ledge of the large rose window over the Mount Royal avenue entrance.  Others find warmth in cuddling together along the many ledges of the walls.  Dozens of other birds fly here and there from cornice to coping and from coping to pinnacle, seeking some nook sufficiently sheltered for winter habitation and large enough for nest and young birds.