With chisel and paintbrush Jesuit theology students in the Netherlands turned Jezuïetenberg, the Jesuit cave, into a Dutch historical landmark, all on their days off. by Fr. Edward W. Schmidt, SJ photos by Arjen Schmitz
A showpiece of the Jezuïetenberg is the Alhambra (above), a tribute to the palace in Granada, Spain; 30 Jesuits worked on this complex in their spare time from 1927 to 1930.

A cave is a place of mystery, a rift in the earth that gives passage to the underworld. A few steps into a cave and you are on your own for light and for direction. Caves are where bears spend the winter and bats the daylight hours.

In Plato's cave, perhaps the most famous image in classical philosophy, shadowy figures project mere hints of outer reality to observers chained inside. In ancient literature, Aeneas entered the Sibyl's cave to learn his destiny. Dante's cave gave entry to his inferno-Abandon All Hope, the sign above its entry warns.

Mark Twain knew the lure of a complex, twisting cave above the Mississippi: "No man knew the cave; that was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture beyond the known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as anyone." Caves make for great stories.

The Bible has its caves -- a home for Lot, a burial place for Abraham and Sarah, a hideout for David and for Obadiah's 100 prophets. St. Jerome lived in the cave of Bethlehem while translating the Bible into Latin and producing his commentaries. Jesuit tradition owes a great debt to a cave in Manresa, Spain, where Ignatius Loyola spent the better part of a year fighting demons and learning God's ways. Here he produced the first parts of what became the Spiritual Exercises.

This scene from Romeo and Juliet, which dates from the late 1950s, is mainly the work of George Wüst, but a number of his fellow Jesuits added details.

Just outside of Maastricht in the Netherlands in the Cannerberg is an underground network known as the Jezuïetenberg-the Jesuit caves. Not so epic as Manresa or Bethlehem or Plato, still they give entry into another world. For roughly a century, from 1860 to 1962, young Jesuit theology students walked to these caves on their weekly day off from classes and library. Here they found a quiet place to read or play games, and here many found a creative outlet for their imaginations in painting and sculpture.

The caves are the remains of a marlstone quarry. Marlstone, a limestone mixed with some clay formed of fossils millions of years ago when this area was under the sea, was used both as a building material and as fertilizer. The Romans quarried in this region, and after the thirteenth century local marlstone went to build castles and churches and ordinary houses. After 1704, extensive tunneling brought tons of marlstone from these quarries to local building sites. The region has 250 miles of tunnels; the Jezuïetenberg is about twelve miles under roughly 50 acres of land.

The Jesuit connection to the caves began in about 1860. Jesuits had begun work in Maastricht in 1570, building a church and a college. The order was suppressed in 1773, but after its restoration in 1813 Jesuits returned to Maastricht and in 1852 opened a school of theology. Part of the students' regimen was to spend Wednesdays in the country; this usually meant an hour's walk south of the city to a water mill they had acquired. Later they built a small house on the property and for fun began to decorate the walls of the now-abandoned caves underneath. At first they just signed their names but soon began to do silhouettes and drawings and later elaborate carvings in the soft stone.

"Take the small bus #12 from the Market; be sure to get off just before the Belgian border. There will be signs to the Jezuïetenberg," said Peter Houben, curator of the caves, their historian and enthusiastic promoter.

He drove up at one o'clock and strutted into the cave. "We are a Dutch national monument, you know, this year the monument of the year," he boasted.

Inside a dark-haired young man in his twenties was carving easily into the soft rock wall near the entrance. "This is Pim -- William -- my son; he is putting up the official plaque for monument of the year for 2001." Pim smiled and went back to work.

The tour of Jezuïetenberg is a lesson in history, theology, and art. It is an entry into the world of the Jesuits who drew or carved into the walls.

A rendition of the detailed gate to Borobudur, a Buddhist temple in central Java reflects the Dutch relationship with Indonesia; many young Jesuits studying in Maastricht had seen the original, near the Jesuit house of studies in Indonesia.

Many Dutch Jesuits worked in Indonesia. On the island of Java is the Borobudur, a 1200-year-old Buddhist shrine. Nearby the Jesuits had a house of studies, and some young Jesuits who had studied there came to Maastricht for theology. From 1952 to 1958 they carved a replica of the great gate to the shrine (right). The organizer was Wim van Brederode, born in Indonesia; his father was an engineer working on the Borobudur restoration. Others Jesuit artists painted a wall with vivid images of the Indonesian Wayang puppets. A Hindu temple followed, and a large, peaceful Buddha. "Still here, still standing in peace," says Peter.

"Some people wonder why the Jesuits would make images from other religions. But these young Jesuits were showing that all are welcome, and now all visitors can find something of themselves here," he adds with pride in the young Jesuits, the "cavemen" of a recent past.

But the young Jesuits hardly neglected their own traditions. Christian figures appear in paintings and sculpture, and one mural boldly proclaims Adveniat regnum tuum ("thy kingdom come") with translations in 38 languages. Cornelius Ligthart, who carved this piece and colored it in delicate pastels in 1923, has given many visitors the pleasure of finding a reminder of their own homelands in the caves.

Foreign students left behind other reminders of their homelands: the royal arms of Hungary, emblems of Indonesia, Congo, or Bohemia. Carving away the soft rock to create familiar images of home, they remembered their families, their friends, their past, the places to which many would return for years of Jesuit ministry.

One tunnel is "The Map Room," the work of Piet Mulder, who had loved maps since childhood. In 1937 he fashioned wall maps of Europe and then of the whole world.

The Jesuit theology students produced their works of art mostly for fun, but the solemn catafalque, which commemorates five Jesuits who died in World War II concentration camps, testifies to their connection to world issues that were never far away.

Pained memories from the Second World War produced a solemn memorial, a handsome catafalque that remembers especially five Jesuits who died by violence or in camps in Germany or Indonesia.

Every turn on the cave tour shows another wonder. Right near the former entrance at the Heksenpoortje, the "Witches' Gate," two giant cherubs stand guard as they once did at the threshold of the Assyrian king Sargon in the 700s BC. These figures have a bull's body with a lion's tail; an eagle's wings add speed; and a king's head is wisdom. Nearby one finds the sphinx and a head of Ramses II. Around one corner a fully carved court from the Alhambra appears, complete with working fountain; some eighteen Jesuits worked on it between 1927 and 1930.

The sculptors and painters were amateurs, but some were quite accomplished. The painters' subjects were original or copies of Rembrandts and Picassos. Willem Dopheide, nicknamed Doppie, graced the walls with cartoons and caricatures and folk-tale scenes. Wim Oomens carved fairy tales, completing a Pied Piper scene in two and a half days. George Wüst was cold, so he carved a radiator; unfortunately, he could not find some thermal vent to heat it up.

With help from a colleagues, Wüst also carved an elaborate balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. Some were unhappy when a fellow Jesuit, Theo Geldorp, produced a Peter Pan scene nearby. Disney so close to Shakespeare was simply undignified. Since it was against the unwritten rules to obliterate a fellow Jesuit's art, André Konig and Denis van Lier built a wall to enclose Juliet's courtyard, sparing her eyes from Peter Pan. Besides Shakespeare, Goethe and Dickens inspired artworks in the caves.

For their pigments the Jesuits took minerals and inorganic materials and mixed them with beer. The pigments dried and produced a mold, which the artist simply blew away to reveal the rich color left behind. This process might be repeated for two and a half years. The color remains rich after decades. "If people don't touch it, it will last forever," says Peter Houben with hope.

For a century, these replicas of King Sargon's guardians have kept watch in the ; combining attributes of eagles, bulls, lions, and kings, they are forceful warnings to tread softly and with respect through the cave's treasures and stories.

Among the artworks are 217 silhouettes. Starting in 1882 and continuing for 80 years, these simple black shapes hint at the larger personalities of young Jesuit theologians through hats and glasses, tight lips or smiling, a pipe with smoke. Surely Plato would have approved.

Besides decorating the caves, the Jesuits made practical improvements. They cut niches in which they kept large tin cans that held their work clothes and boots. They made a proper dining room in one cave. And they constructed a chapel, also carved from the marlstone. The Jesuits came to this chapel to pray, but it has also served local Catholics for baptisms and weddings. The next wedding will be in September 2002, when Peter's son Pim marries his fiancée Judith there.

Through the years others used the caves. Nazis moved in there during World War II, and later NATO administrators used them. Even mushroom growers have used the caves.

But mostly the caves are remembered for the young Jesuits who found here the break they needed from their hard work in theology studies. For a century, these caves were their beloved retreat and refuge and second home. Times changed, and in the 1960s the Jesuits merged their theology school with others and sold the Maastricht building to a new university. In 1967 the caves came under the care of a private foundation. They became a national monument in 1996.

One young Jesuit, Ad de Smit, in 1948 left behind a description of how his companions spent their Wednesdays at the caves. After their hour-long walk out there, some began to work on the art immediately, some after lunch. In mid afternoon a volunteer cook provided tea prepared at a gas stove in the kitchen. At about 4:30, they all gathered in the dining room for tea or coffee and sandwiches and apples. They talked and joked, and finally changed clothes and walked home. The last one out turned off the lights and locked the door.

Fr. Edward Schmidt, SJ, Company's business manager, visited the cabes in the fall of 2001 and, with the curator's OK, signed the wall.

Then the caves fell silent. For a week the sphinxes and giants, monsters and Sargon's cherubs had the caves to themselves. They did their work: they watched over their treasures and kept them safe. Today they guard them still.