Philadelphia is more than the “City of Brotherly Love.” It's a city of shrines, two American saints and two Catholic cathedrals.

The one Roman Catholics often miss—but shouldn't—is the Ukrainian Catholic Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

It was only on my most recent visit to Philadelphia that I finally discovered this remarkable cathedral, with its resplendent Byzantine mosaics and icons. The cathedral humbly commands a quiet side street just four blocks from the National Shrine of St. John Neumann. Even though it's near the heart of the city, park-like grounds with trees and shrubbery surround it. The cathedral is the seat of the Metropolitan Archeparchy of Philadelphia.

Once I discovered the cathedral's whereabouts, my eyes immediately homed in on its gigantic gold dome, reflecting the spring sunlight like a small star. Venetian tile, made up of 22-carat gold fused to glass, covers the dome's exterior.

The dome caps an edifice that was built in 1966 to replace the original cathedral established in 1907 by the Ukrainian Catholics' first bishop. The new design harmonizes Byzantine and contemporary lines. The repeating geometric forms enhance the striking look or the building, whose faÁade is of limestone and architectural concrete, and they're also symbolic. The trio of archways over the doors of the main entrance, for example, reminded me of the Trinity. The three very tall arching windows above each door magnify this effect.

All the curved geometric lines bring a reassuring, welcoming character to the structure. Speaking of “welcoming,” that's exactly how our Lord appears in the mosaic over the central door. Christ stands in red and blue robes, extending his hands with open palms in a warm gesture to greet us and receive us into his magnificent temple.

Inside, I thought of the cathedral as a visual symphony composed of natural light and glistening mosaics, iconography and stained glass. Dazzling gold scrollwork and overlays provided the gentle, but steady, percussion. I stood in the vast octagonal nave knowing I was in a throne room for the King of Kings and his Most Holy Mother, the Immaculate Conception.

Everywhere, the architecture's curving lines and arches subtly help shape the peaceful atmosphere. No, they do more—they gently direct our attention to the magnificent icons and the all-important spiritual stories conveyed therein.

For instance, the arching ceiling lines in the sanctuary become a framework for luminescent iconostasis—the “icon screen”—that extends across the entire sanctuary. These arching lines also frame the glowing icon of the Immaculate Conception that fills the apse.

High overhead, robed in symbolic red and blue, Mary opens wide her arms in a gesture of prayer; at the same time she shows us the Child Jesus, whom she bears for us to approach and adore. Behind Mary, celestial sunrays form a cross. This remarkable icon vividly projects Mary in her major primary Eastern title of Theotokos (literally, “God-bearer”).

Inviting Icons

Icons play a major, reverential role in the Eastern-rite churches. The iconostasis that separates the sanctuary from the nave also holds more than 40 icons within the dazzling gold faÁade. The delicate scroll and filigree work that frames these icons and the central royal doors mirrors the entry into heaven itself. Everything lifts our hearts to God, his Mother, and his angels and saints.

At the top of the royal doors—the center ones used by the priest to reach the altar behind the iconostasis—the icon of the Annunciation reminds us that Gabriel brought the news to Mary that she was to be the God-bearer. Just below the scene, round icons picture the Four Evangelists.

The elaborately wrought golden arch that spans high over the royal doors has an ornamental design as delicate as the priciest jewelry. It frames several icons. Directly above the royal doors, in ascending order, there's the Last Supper and Christ the King in red and blue. Above them and at the pinnacle of the arch is a crucifix with Mary on one side and John on the other. They're all directly in line with the icon of Our Blessed Mother, which fills the apse high above.

The liturgical artistry and effect here is breathtaking. The symbolic, painstakingly crafted art becomes a mini-catechism. Back on the iconostasis, for example—in a traditional fashion for Eastern rite churches, plus Orthodox churches—Jesus and Mary appear in icons to either side of the royal doors. In this cathedral, they're much bigger than life-sized. As we look at the iconostasis, Jesus is also always to the right side, Mary to the left.

Colors tell a story. Red garments symbolize heaven; blue stands for earth. Jesus and Mary wear both colors—reversed. Jesus' red reminds us how he came from heaven and took on an earthly (blue cloak) nature. Mary's blue means she began on earth and then was assumed into heaven (red mantle).

To Jesus' side, a smaller icon of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr, appears on the deacon door with a larger-than-life-sized John the Baptist at the end of the icon screen.

On the deacon door on the Blessed Mother's side, St. Michael the Archangel stands holding an orb. In keeping with Eastern tradition, St. Nicholas follows next, again larger-than-life-size.

An Inexhaustible Feast

I felt I could have spent days examining and meditating upon the iconostasis alone. It's that rich. Twelve more icons, circular ones, fill the archway, whose “keystone” icon is the one of Christ the King. These Byzantine icons depict the major Marian and Christological feasts, of which I counted 12.

Then to either side and in another arch above, more individual icons present the 12 Apostles and 12 Old Testament figures and prophets.

This holy icon screen, an incandescent masterpiece, was designed and painted by well-known artist Chrystyna Dochwat, who was obviously inspired by the Holy Spirit to capture such heavenly majesty in art. After a while I noticed that every icon but the Last Supper is within an arched or circular framework. Even the geometric architecture enhances our spiritual experience in the cathedral's interior.

The sights from anywhere in the great nave—it can seat 1,200 with another 1,000 standing—are bathed in bright natural light. As I looked to find every source from where it's streaming in, my eyes lifted up to the windows in the 106-foot dome where the heavenly, traditional icon, here in brilliant mosaic, of the Pantokrator, Christ the almighty ruler, looks over the congregation in majesty.

Surely, this radiant icon—together with so many others—reminded me that Jesus is the source of all light. I found myself wondering what Pope John Paul II had to say about this magnificent cathedral on Oct. 4, 1979, when he paid a papal visit here. Maybe he was like me—speechless.

Joseph Pronechen writes from

Trumbull, Connecticut.