THE CHURCH OF DOMINUS FLEVIT

A REFLECTION FOR THE 9TH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Today’s Gospel of the 9^thSunday after Pentecost takes us back to Palm Sunday, when Our Lord was approaching Jerusalem, there to be greeted by the hollow shouts of Hosanna, just a few days before the same Jews, his chosen people, would call out for his crucifixion. And Our Lord, who knew what was to come, “when he came near unto Jerusalem, beheld the city, and wept over it.”

The approach that Our Lord took to arrive at the so-called Golden Gates of Jerusalem was from the east.  An appropriate direction, as it is the direction from which the sun rises, just as the Son of God had arisen out of a town called Bethlehem, just to the east of Jerusalem, and who was to be, like the rising sun, a “light to lighten the Gentiles”, he who would illuminate the darkness of this world with his truth, his divinity, and our redemption.

When Our Lord reached a certain point on the road to Jerusalem, he had to cross the Mount of Olives.  From here there is, even today, a beautiful vantage point from where to behold the vista of the Holy City and its walls.  The view today, however, cannot possibly compare with what Jesus must have observed on his last, fateful journey two thousand years ago.  At that time the Holy Temple towered above the Kidron Valley - its marble columns and enormous bronze doors a shimmering vision in the morning sun. Indeed, the dazzle of the city's glorious palaces and shiny white marble towers must have blinded the eyes of its beholders.

Walking toward Jerusalem, then, and overwhelmed by the glory of this sight, Jesus suddenly became distraught. He knew the tragic fate which would soon befall the Holy City and was aware of the devastation and desecration that would follow.  He was also fully cognizant of the ingratitude and indifference of the Jewish people to their God, who had been preparing them since the Fall of Adam for this, the day of their visitation.  Indeed, their coldness and indifference was now hardening into contempt and plain hostility toward the Son of God who had come to redeem them.  Hence, the sadness of Our Lord, who saw plainly through the shouts of Hosanna that day, and could look forward only to the latter days of that same week when these same chosen people would clamour for his crucifixion.

The site where Our Lord wept over the Holy City was venerated as early as the Crusades.  A church was built on the spot which later fell into ruin.  It was not until the reign of Pope Pius XII that an Italian architect called Antonio Barluzzi was commissioned to build a new church on the same spot, a church that was to be called the “Dominus Flevit” (The Lord wept). 

Construction began in 1953 and was completed in 1955. The church was built in the shape of a Greek cross, and was different from most traditional churches in one essential aspect:  instead of facing east as is the custom, this particular church faces west, the same direction as Our Lord was facing as he walked towards Jerusalem, and as he beheld and wept over the Holy City.  The dome of the church is also unusual, in that it is shaped like a teardrop, with large urns at each corner, set up according to Jewish custom as if to collect the tears which ran down from the face of Our Lord.

With its unique westward-facing altar, we have perhaps the most remarkable feature of this church.  As the priest says Mass (the traditional Mass of course, facing away from the people, and toward—in this case—the west), behind the altar he doesn’t face a crucifix, or a large stained-glass.  He faces a simple window.  A window that provides the most breathtaking view of Jerusalem, and the same vista that Our Lord beheld when he wept over the city.