Cathedral inspirations. .

Don't try finding Milwaukee's newly renovated Cathedral of St. John the Evangelist by driving into town and looking for a spire. Milwaukee's heavily spired skyline challenges even the most ardent church searcher to pinpoint this cathedral by steeple alone. Even movie theaters sport spires here.

Don't give up the search, though. It's definitely worth the time and energy to get to 812 Jackson Street. This cathedral, part of a square block of church buildings, stands in testimony to a successful marriage between classical and contemporary art and architecture.

The altar has been brought forward from the sanctuary at the far east end into the main space. The ambo, well behind the altar and elevated, is carved from the same white marble as the altar. A baptismal pool and font, on the same axis as altar and ambo, greet the faithful and about-to-be-faithful at the main entry. Upholstered chairs seat worshipers. A striking sculpture of cross and crown hangs over the main altar. Two other contemporary works of art grace this cathedral--statues of Pope John XXIII and of Mary wearing a Jewish prayer shawl, as was the custom for mothers of rabbis.

The previous bishops of Milwaukee look upon this sacred space from high on the side walls of the cathedral. I recognized the portraits of Samuel Stritch and Albert Meyer--both went on to become endearing cardinals of my hometown, Chicago--and Rembert Weakland, whose guiding vision brought this cathedral renovation to reality.

What is attached to the cathedral is equally impressive. The cathedral block that once housed a convent and school has been resurrected as a center for the hungry and homeless and as an educational center for single mothers. A glass-walled atrium connects the cathedral building to these other buildings and also functions as a gathering space overlooking the cathedral courtyard.

As readers may recall, not everyone was as impressed with this cathedral renovation project as I. One group even tried to derail it by appealing to the Vatican and condemning the planned renovation as a "wreckovation." But even with the current emphasis on micro-management within some current Vatican precincts, they got nowhere.

As I stood in this glass atrium, I was reminded of the superb articulation of the central celebration of Christianity published by the Milwaukee archdiocese in 1998 titled Eucharist Without Walls. I wrote about it in my August 1998 column. "Eucharist is not just a single act that happens in church," the document says. "We take the Eucharist with us into the marketplace, to where we live, work, and recreate." This connection between Eucharist and the world has been made manifest both spiritually and physically by this project. It is most apparent in this atrium that not only seams church and social service, but also allows one to look out at the world.

The group who protested the design of the cathedral sadly missed the larger significance of the cathedral block: Eucharist engenders and elevates our day-to-day social activities, and good religious art and architecture reminds us of this divine mystery.

I visited St. John the Evangelist during a celebration of the Eucharist. On the particular Sunday morning I attended this sacred space gathered a vibrant congregation together under its spire--young and old, rich and poor, parishioners and visitors--to celebrate the Eucharist. And the cathedral block was humming with activity, serving meals to homeless people, and planning programs to aid single mothers and their children.

Such cathedral Eucharists are truly without walls.

PETER GILMOUR ([e-mail]) teaches at the Institute of Pastoral Studies of Loyola University Chicago.