Anthony Lusvardi, SJ

Pope Benedict XVI at the Sagrada Familia sixteen years ago

Next week Pope Leo XIV will visit the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. I have been reflecting on this unique gem of modern architecture a lot since my trip to Barcelona this spring, especially in this essay in America magazine. Pope Leo will dedicate the basilica’s newly completed central tower; his visit got me thinking about the last time a pope visited the Sagrada Familia.

Sixteen years ago, Pope Benedict XVI dedicated the basilica’s central altar and gave a characteristically profound reflection to mark the occasion. I was studying philosophy at Loyola University Chicago at the time, and from the shores of Lake Michigan, I wrote a short reflection on the event, which I thought I’d reproduce here.

Beauty, Basilicas, and Barcelona

Beauty is one of mankind’s greatest needs.

—Benedict XVI

November 9, 2010.

On Sunday Pope Benedict consecrated the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, Spain, a truly awesome rite. Construction of the basilica, Antoni Gaudí’s masterpiece, began in 1882 and is not expected to be complete for another decade and a half. In that respect, the Sagrada Familia is like many of the other great churches of Europe which took centuries to complete.

Today, the Church celebrates the dedication of another great basilica, St. John Lateran, Rome’s cathedral. To some, this might seem a rather strange feast on the liturgical calendar, commemorating as it does a building rather than an event in the life of Jesus or a saint. Some might even disapprove of lavishing such attention on a structure, a sentiment that finds expression in a line from my least favorite liturgical song, “Gather Us In.” “Gather us in,” the ditty goes, but “[n]ot in the dark of buildings confining.”

The idea of church buildings as “confining,” however, does not do justice to artistic marvels such as the Sagrada Familia or St. John Lateran, wonders as much spiritual as they are architectural. These buildings are, in fact, a true and profound expression of faith.

It takes an act of faith just to start a project such as the Sagrada Familia, especially knowing that one is unlikely to live to see it through. In Pope Benedict’s homily on Sunday he noted the deep faith of the architect Gaudí, who when confronted by setbacks and obstacles would exclaim, “St. Joseph will finish this church.” I’m reminded of Florence’s cathedral, Santa Maria del Fiore, which was designed to be topped by a massive dome—before anyone had developed the technology to make building such a dome possible. Buildings such as the Sagrada Familia and Santa Maria del Fiore represent man’s stretch beyond the limits of his abilities, beyond what seems possible; to start building such a project is always an act of hope.

Sant’ Andrea al Quirinale — Bernini’s favorite church

A few weeks ago I shared some reflections on taking my final vows as a Jesuit, a tremendously blessed moment for me. Today I thought I might add a few words and pictures about the place where I took those vows: the Church of Sant’Andrea al Quirinale.

Since Rome is packed with stunningly beautiful churches, sometimes those that would be at the top of the visitor’s itinerary anywhere else in the world end up being overlooked. Sant’Andrea al Quirinale is one of those. It should be numbered among the most important Jesuit churches in the world, but in Rome it has to compete with the Gesù–site of the body of St. Ignatius and the arm of St. Francis Xavier–and Sant’Ignazio–the onetime chapel of the Roman College, as the Gregorian University was first known. Both churches are enormous, paradigmatic examples of the baroque at its most overwhelming.

Sant’Andrea is tiny by comparison, but don’t let size mislead you. It was the chapel of the first Jesuit novitiate; in an adjoining room, one can visit the relics of St. Stanislaus Kostka, patron of Jesuit novices and of students, who died there in 1568 at the age of 17.

While it stood on the site of an early church dedicated to Andrew the Apostle, the present Sant’Andrea (built in 1658) was designed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Bernini, who was busy at the time decorating the interior of St. Peter’s Basilica and building the colonnade for St. Peter’s Square, refused to take a commission for Sant’Andrea. It was said to be his favorite work, and, as he aged, the great artist was sometimes seen sitting alone inside the church, enjoying its peaceful atmosphere.

Reflections on Antoni Gaudí and the meaning of the Sagrada Familia

A few weeks ago I alluded to a somewhat unexpected trip I made to Barcelona before Easter and put up a few pictures of the Sagrada Familia (here and here) and Casa Batlló, two of the most iconic works of the architect Antoni Gaudí. This year happens to be the 100th anniversary of Gaudí’s death, which will coincide with the visit of Pope Leo XIV to Spain. The aim of the trip was to write a reflection on the meaning of Gaudí’s great work for America magazine. The article is now out here, and I have to say it is one of my favorite pieces — no doubt because the subject is so beautiful and fascinating.

For good measure, I thought I’d share a few more photos for your reflection and enjoyment:

Final Jesuit Vows

On April 27, the feast of St. Peter Canisius on the Jesuit liturgical calendar, I professed my final vows as a Jesuit. I had taken my first vows 18 years before at the end of my novitiate in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Jesuit vows are unique in several ways.

For Jesuit priests, final vows come after ordination and after we have had an opportunity to do “tertianship,” which is a bit like an abbreviated second novitiate. We take a period of time away to review the fundamentals of what it means to be a Jesuit and to do the 30-day Spiritual Exercises a second time. (I did mine in 2023 in Australia.)

The first Jesuit vows that we take at the end of novitiate are simple but perpetual. In fact, they are really a promise to enter fully into the Society of Jesus (to take final vows) when the Society decides it is ready. Some have described the process as you vowing to enter the Society at first vows, and the Society accepting your offer at final vows. In addition to the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the Jesuit vow formula contains a promise to show “special care for the instruction of children.” (If my students are reading, that’s you!) For many Jesuits, a vow of “special obedience to the sovereign pontiff in regard to the missions” is added. This implies an availability to carry out any mission that might be needed for the good of the Church. Pope Leo could order me to cheer for the White Sox if he wanted.

Jesus, Christians, and the law of Moses

Homily for Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Easter.

Moses, Basilica of St. James, Levoča, Slovakia

Today, in the Acts of the Apostles, we read about one of the first developments in the most significant controversy in the life of the early Church: the question of whether Christians of non-Jewish origin should be required to observe the Mosaic Law, particularly circumcision.

We know that, in the end, the Church recognized that all Christians are bound to observe the moral law, but not the ritual precepts that were intended to preserve the distinct identity of the Jewish people. Through his perfect and definitive sacrifice on Calvary, Jesus inaugurated a new worship, in which we participate today, and to which all peoples are called to join.

This controversy, resolved centuries ago, might seem of little relevance to us today, but it is not. It is important to remember this historical event because it teaches us at least two fundamental things. First of all, the Christian mission is universal, directed toward every human being. As St. Peter says after Pentecost: “There is no salvation in anyone else; for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we are to be saved.”

Jesuits and Liturgical Formation

I am pleased to have a talk I gave a couple of years ago at the Jungmann Society Congress in the Philippines included in a new volume, JESUITS AND LITURGY: COMMUNITY AND FORMATION published by the Faculty of Theology at Trnava University. A pdf version of the book is available here on the Jungmann Society website.

From Fr. Vlastimil Dufka’s introduction, here is a description of my own modest contribution:

In his presentation “Daily Mass in Jesuit Communities” Anthony R. Lusvardi SJ reflects on the role of daily Mass in Jesuit communities, framing his insights through both historical and contemporary perspectives. Drawing on early 20th-century debates between Jesuits and Benedictines, he identifies a persistent tendency among Jesuits to undervalue the formative nature of the liturgy—a tendency rooted in neo-scholastic minimalism and an overly intellectualized approach to worship. Lusvardi argues that the liturgy is not merely ceremonial but participatory and transformative, shaping those who engage in it through embodied symbolic action.

This conviction is grounded in his pastoral and pedagogical experience, particularly in his work with Jesuit scholastics preparing for ordination. While many Jesuit communities strive to celebrate daily Mass with reverence and fidelity, Lusvardi observes that implicit liturgical formation remains inconsistent and, at times, insufficient. Many young Jesuits express uncertainty about basic liturgical practices and a lack of theological grounding, revealing gaps in formation that risk weakening both priestly identity and the communal expression of the Church’s worship.

Lusvardi calls for a renewed appreciation of the daily Eucharist as central to Jesuit life and apostolate, in alignment with the Complementary Norms and the vision of Sacrosanctum Concilium. He advocates for more robust practical and theological formation in the ars celebrandi, deeper engagement with the practice of concelebration, and greater fidelity to liturgical norms—not as rigid formalism, but as a path to spiritual depth and ecclesial communion. Guided by the insights of Romano Guardini and Desiderio Desideravi, the talk concludes with a vision of the liturgy as a place of humility, formation, and peace—offering Jesuits the possibility of becoming men shaped by their encounter with the sacred, and capable of serving the Church with integrity and courage.

Readers might also enjoy the other articles in the volume; I found the opening remarks of the Jungmann Society President Jérôme Guignand, SJ, as well as his exceptionally well-researched article “Celebrating and the Prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours” particularly worthwhile.

Please consider supporting this blog by subscribing and receive occasional email updates:

St. George in legend and in architecture

April 23 is the feast day of St. George, a saint whose popularity — as well as just about everything we know about him — is legendary. The saint hailed from the Christian east — possibly from Cappadocia in present-day Turkey — but seems to have been martyred in the late third century in what is today Israel. George was a soldier who converted to Christianity. He was put to death after refusing to sacrifice to Rome’s pagan gods and undergoing excruciating tortures.

This defiant courage when standing up to a more powerful foe is perhaps what has made the figure of St. George resonate with so many throughout history. Perhaps it also contributed to the legendary stories of St. George slaying a dragon who was oppressing a Christian population. The saint is particularly popular among Arab Christians, who have long lived under the yoke of Muslim rule, and across the eastern Mediterranean — in Greece and Malta, for example, communities menaced for centuries by invasion from various Islamic empires pushing westward.

St. George, in fact, has found popularity wherever an underdog has felt the need for a champion. He is the patron, along with St. Sebastian, of one of Rome’s station churches. This year when I traveled to Barcelona (which I mentioned here and here), I learned that George is the patron of that city as well. The legend of St. George fits, in an unexpected way, into one of the city’s best known architectural monuments, Antoni Gaudí’s Casa Batlló.

Egyptians and the afterlife

Romans have been fascinated with Ancient Egypt since before the time of the Caesars. Egypt was for them what Ancient Rome is for us–a powerful, slightly exotic civilization whose influence and fascination extends to the present day. Roman Emperors went to great lengths to bring Egyptian artifacts back to decorate the imperial capital, and today there are more Egyptian obelisks standing in the city of Rome than in Egypt itself.

Part of the fascination of Egypt for the Romans no doubt had to do with the religious intensity of the Egyptians. And that religious intensity, in turn, was concentrated on the life to come. The resources the Ancient Egyptians put into ensuring survival and flourishing in the next life continue to amaze. This aspect of Egyptian civilization is prominently featured in a special exhibit at Rome’s Scuderia del Quirinale (which hosted a fine exhibit on Guercino and the Roman baroque that I wrote about last year). The exhibit sensitively explains important aspects of the Egyptians’ belief system; the gold that covers ancient sarcophagi and death masks, for example, was not ancient bling meant to show off status, but a symbol of incorruptibility, a sign of hope in a new life that would not tarnish.

Easter images from the Sagrada Familia

Christ is risen! Happy Easter!

Last week I shared some photos from the stark Passion Facade of Antoni Gaudí’s Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. Not all is doom and gloom at the Basilica, of course, and, in fact, visiting the church is a amazingly uplifting experience.

The Glory Facade remains to be built, so we still can only imagine what is planned to be the most beautiful part of the whole project. But enough parts of the Basilica already suggest the victory of the Resurrection. High above the scenes of the Passion, in fact, one can see the women visiting the now empty tomb and, above that, a bronze figure of Christ ascending.

The Passion Facade of the Sagrada Família

Recently, I was fortunate to be able to take a brief trip to Barcelona for a research project (more on that to come). I spent as much time as I could at Antoni Gaudí’s marvel, La Sagrada Família (more on that, as well).

The entire basilica is a marvel, a deeply spiritual and prophetic building. This Holy Week, I thought it would be appropriate to share some photos of the Façana de la Passió, the Passion Facade. The sculptures broadly follow Gaudí’s instructions, though they are the work of Josep Maria Subirachs. If anything, the sculptures are even more harsh and austere than Gaudí’s original sketches. The hardness of the work is actually in keeping with Gaudí’s instructions.