The Cathedral Ba-silica of Sts. Peter and Paul in Philadelphia is, to put it simply, one of the grandest churches of its kind that you're likely to find in the United States.

It will be a fitting place to pray to the two greatest Apostles on June 29, their feast day.

Back in 1864, when the cathedral was completed, its epic qualities must have caused a great stir — even with the raging Civil War on everyone's mind.

Directly across the street, I found the large park that forms the Logan Circle traffic hub to provide an ideal vantage point for admiring the enormous church's exterior. Of course, neither the traffic nor the circle was here when construction began on this massive Roman-Corinthian style edifice in 1846. Neither were the neighboring civic landmarks on Ben Franklin Parkway.

It would be hard not to notice, even if not for a little Catholic pride, that the 156-year-old cathedral still outshines them all.

The majestic façade, a vision of brownstone that now has a pinkish hue due to the weather and the years, was in the works during St. John Neumann's tenure as bishop of Philadelphia. The façade's four gigantic stone Corinthian columns are perfectly balanced under a pediment that rises 101.5 feet above the ground.

The four statues in individual niches on the façade are easy to identify. They are the Sacred Heart (to whom the diocese was consecrated), the Immaculate Conception (Mary was proclaimed Patroness of the United States at the First Council of Baltimore in 1846) and, of course, Peter and Paul. The three sets of huge bronze doors fit the original design even though they were part of major renovations in the 1950s.

The vantage point of the park also gave me a good sense of the dimensions of the cathedral. At 250 feet long, 136 feet wide and 209 feet to the top of the gold cross on the dome, this is one massive architectural achievement.

Impressive as it is from the outside, the cathedral is exponentially more affecting once you step inside. I nearly got dizzy trying to take in everything, from the extended apse 236 feet away, to the intricate coffered ceiling with its gold rosettes on a rich blue background 80 feet high from the pews, to the soaring 156-foot-high inner dome with its splendid paintings of the Assumption and Angels of the Passion, to the awe-inspiring sanctuary with its superlative baldachin over the main altar.

Splendid marbles everywhere add to the rich and reverential feeling. Botticino with Mandorlato rose trim for the main altar. Red Antique Italian for the extraordinary baldachin, and white for the 10-foot marble angels standing above its bronze Corinthian capitals. Verte imperial for the sanctuary's six colossal columns, each 40 feet high and weighing more than 25 tons.

The statistics — like the enormous pillars along the nave — told me more than a story about the size of this historic cathedral. They really gave me a sense of being in a house of worthy of God. So did the liturgical art and a few unique facts about the cathedral.

For one thing, the church is modeled after the Lombard Church of St. Charles (San Carlo at Corso) in Rome. For another, regular side windows were purposely left out because, when the walls were being built, the Know-Nothing Party was inciting anti-Catholic riots. No windows to break here.

Natural lighting comes in from the clerestory windows with designs in pastel-like stained glass. But they're over 45 feet above ground level. According to occasional tour guide and lifetime parishioner Lou Ferrero, the walls are 10 feet thick in some places. They're all masonry without a hint of structural steel. In one side chapel completed relatively recently, the original brick masonry construction has been left unplastered. It blends with the new chapel's decoration even as it gives us a peek back to 150 years ago.

Speaking of side chapels, I was again pleasantly surprised by the strong connection St. Katharine Drexel and her family had to this Philadelphia cathedral. One rear-most chapel was — and still is — dedicated in memory of her parents, Francis and Emma. In the 1880s, when the cathedral's regular organist was away, Katharine's wealthy financier father, an excellent organist himself, would substitute.

Experts rank the organ's carved and handsomely ornamented walnut casing, which was designed by Otto Eggers (who also did the Jefferson Monument and National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.) as one of the most outstanding in the country.

Astonishing is too mild a description for these altars dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Blessed Virgin Mary. Each has a resplendent Venetian glass mosaic dating to 1915 and is elaborately framed like an enormous painting in a Vatican museum. Though I was on assignment, I couldn't keep myself from lingering before them to be grateful for their messages and to appreciate their splendor.

True to Its Roots

The exquisite mosaic behind the Sacred Heart altar presents Jesus appearing to St. Margaret Mary Alocoque. The mosaic behind the Blessed Virgin Mary's altar, which heaven surely inspired in the artist, shows her Assumption in a most radiant scene. Mary rises triumphantly to the Holy Trinity, while the Apostles ponder her empty tomb and prayerful angels contemplate her glory. Brilliant, dazzling, astonishing — I could run through a thesaurus trying to do justice to these two masterpieces and still fall short.

The Blessed Sacrament is reposed in the tabernacle at the Blessed Virgin Mary's side altar, so the stop is all the more necessary and fruitful. Even when Mary appears to be the star attraction, she's always pointing us to Jesus.

In the transepts, we find more biblical scenes to meditate upon. One links the Ascension and Pentecost on a single mammoth canvas that's framed by a high arch over fluted Corinthian pilasters. These columns in relief echo the generous proportions in everything around the rest of the cathedral. In the opposite side transept, the painting deals with the Adoration of the Magi.

Both are actually part of some major renovations along the years. The originals under them were the work of Constantino Brumidi, who did most of the frescoes in the U.S. Capitol. His painting of Mary's Assumption still remains in the high dome.

Whenever they came along, the renovations seem to be part of an evolving cathedral-basilica that remains true to the beauty of its roots.

Even the wall-sized 1975 mosaic at the rear, honoring the life and works of Philadelphia's and the basilica's own St. John Neumann, seems a natural extension of the 19th-century beauty.

Throughout, in the tiniest details and the most sweeping spaces, this is one church that conveys how awesome our God is, and how deserving of all our love.

Joseph Pronechen writes from Trumbull, Connecticut.