Luis Camarena
Iconic buildings or monuments that unmistakably distinguish a city are like its identity card. Merely evoking them instantly reveals which city they represent.
Mention Paris, and the Eiffel Tower springs to mind. Speak of London, and the unmistakable Big Ben tower reveals itself. The Brandenburg Gate, the Empire State Building, or the Sagrada Familia immediately conjure Berlin, New York, or Barcelona.
Were these all products of an emblematic intention? Perhaps—though I believe they earned their hierarchical status over time. It’s not dictated by will but established by people, by the unequivocal tendency of popular taste. A city’s representative landmarks conquer their place like figures wielding irresistible charisma.
With this spirit, thousands of visitors joyfully flock to our city center to snap a photo at the foot of the Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel, its pink stone spires seeming to lift off like vessels meant to carry us to the heavens. Not the atmospheric, splendid sky nature offers daily, but the one where God Himself resides.
No one doubts it: the body of the Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel draws the eye from afar, rising like an unshakable landmark. Its pink quarrystone facade stands unwavering, like the snow-capped peak of a volcano. Its appearance follows a peculiar neo-Gothic style, akin to Cologne Cathedral in Germany, which served as inspiration for the indigenous master builder Zeferino Gutiérrez. The skilled artisan drew from engravings and postcards of that grand Gothic cathedral. The result, though considerably more modest than the original, was enriched—though some might say marred—by the syncretism with which Gutiérrez and his team infused the style with their artisanal motifs.
The project to demolish the old portico—severely damaged and at risk of collapse—and erect a new one was not one of unlimited resources. In 1880, León’s bishop, José de Jesús Diez de Sollano, entrusted the task to Master Zeferino, though the endeavor seemed daunting.
But faith and stubbornness can achieve the extraordinary. For the Parroquia, the project seemed almost delusional in scale: demolishing the damaged towers, constructing a new facade, niches, the choir window, the atrium, the clock tower, and the interior altars sounded outright impossible. Yet try telling that to Master Zeferino: “There aren’t enough resources, no suitable materials, no skilled labor or German technology—we´re sorry!”
Could Don Zeferino have been stopped? Would Gustave Eiffel ever have accepted a compromise when erecting any of his projects? Some men are born to fulfill their purpose—to overcome every obstacle in their path.
The commission wasn’t free of controversy. Detractors rightly protested the excess of superimposing a Gothic portal over the original Baroque structure, along with neoclassical interior interventions—a horror, an unfortunate eclecticism.
True, it’s merely a facade grafted onto the original nave. To purists like me, this “facade effect” may seem an architectural inconsistency. The building lacks the Gothic hallmarks: no flying buttresses arcing from walls to piers (which allow thinner nave walls and vast stained glass), no pointed rib vaults or slender interior columns.
It’s well known that Parisian elites of the 1889 World’s Fair—architect Charles Garnier and writer Guy de Maupassant among them—fervently opposed the Eiffel Tower, decrying its ugliness. And yet, Paris without its Tower is like Romeo without Juliet.
Don’t misunderstand me: Paris is marvelous, perhaps the world’s most beautiful city. The Eiffel Tower is simply an emblematic icon, just as the Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel is for ours.
Despite obstacles, the work was completed in just ten years (1880–1890). How? Unceasing, daily labor. The community joined the effort—antlike, superhuman, even unpaid—to raise a temple worthy of their faith. A beautiful thing to behold.
One final coincidence: Zeferino and his artisans finished their work in 1890, the year after Paris’s World’s Fair—meaning both structures rose simultaneously for a time.
Our beautiful Parroquia is the building most longed for here, whether one is Catholic or not. Architecture often transcends religion to assert its emblematic presence. No resident dreams of a home without a view of it, and every day, locals and visitors alike orbit its magnetic pull.
