THE little manhole cover on Jesus’s shoulder is flipped open and bright
sunlight rushes in.
Hauling myself up from the gloom inside Rio’s Christ the Redeemer statue, I
peer out on to the most intoxicating city on Earth — host to this summer’s
World Cup final.
I am proudly wearing my Three Lions ’66 shirt and, hand on heart, I shout:
“Come on, England!” hoping it will bring our boys luck.
Far below, flanked by mountains, are the golden sands of Copacabana and the
rolling breakers of the Atlantic beyond.
There’s the high-rise wealth of the Leblon and Ipanema districts with their
packed bars swaying to the samba rhythm.
And there’s the filth and poverty of the vibrant favela slums, where barefoot
urchins practise their Pele volley, Zico’s bending free kicks and the
Ronaldinho step over.
Cristo Redentor, or Christ the Redeemer — head slightly bowed, arms wide open
— offers solace and hope for those of all religions and none. Voted one of
the New Seven Wonders of the World in 2007, this 125ft high statue atop a
2,328ft granite peak is actually hollow.
Its millions of visitors are not allowed access within the Redeemer. But
The Sun got special permission to go inside — along with a blessing from the
Art Deco statue’s padre.
From another manhole higher up on Christ’s head I can see the Royal Tulip
Hotel where the England World Cup party will stay.
For this, too, is England’s city — for a couple of weeks at least.
Every time Roy Hodgson’s men glance skywards they will see the welcoming arms
of the Redeemer.
I turn to face Christ’s crown of thorns made from metal lightning conductor
rods and I can now see the 75,117-seat Estadio do Maracana.
In July the mighty arena will stage the World Cup final in a nation whose
beating heart is football.
Can the Redeemer, an icon that lends succour to millions, work its magic on
England, too?
From my lofty vantage point, my rallying cry for our boys is heard by
thousands of tourists at the base of the statue who wave and cheer.
Moments later and the gaudy intensity of this incomparable experience proves
too much. Sea and sky have melded into one and the crowded city below seems
to be pulling me downwards.
Head spinning and legs turned to jelly, I slump back down into the half light
inside the statue and fight back the nausea.
This daunting yet exhilarating visit had begun 30 minutes earlier when Sun
photographer Lee Thompson and I clambered up scaffolding outside Christ’s
26ft plinth.
The 83-year-old shrine atop Corcovado Mountain (which means “hunchback” in
Portuguese) was damaged by two recent lightning strikes.
The statue’s right thumb was chipped during a violent storm in January, and
its right middle finger and a spot on its head were damaged in December.
Father Omar Raposo, 32, rector at the shrine for the Archdiocese of Rio, tells
me: “They say lightning does not strike the same spot twice. But with the
Christ it does.” There has been a race to ensure this global symbol of Rio
and Brazil is looking its best for the World Cup extravaganza beginning on
June 12.
The Redeemer was the idea of a group of prominent Brazilian Catholics in 1920
who wanted to stamp Rio as a Christian city. Local architect Heitor da Silva
Costa’s design for Christ was chosen in February 1922. He imagined it being
framed by the rising sun “which, after surrounding it with its radiant
luminosity, shall build at sunset around its head a halo fit for the
Man-God”.
All the necessary construction materials were brought up to the summit by a
small cog-wheel train. Many labourers slept in shacks on the summit and
balanced on the scaffolding with no safety belts.
Christ’s outer layer is made of six million grey mosaic tiles attached to
1,145 tons of reinforced concrete.
Grey soapstone for the mosaic was quarried in Ouro Preto, 295 miles north of
Rio. Cut into small triangles, it was then glued on to squares of linen
cloth by women volunteers.
Many wrote good luck messages or their boyfriends’ names on the back of the
tiles.
Christ’s head is 12ft tall and his serene face was created by the Romanian
sculptor Gheorghe Leonida. Costing £1.96million in today’s money, the
monument was opened on October 12, 1931 — and up close the wear and tear of
eight decades of tropical thunderstorms is stark.
We entered the shrine through a little trapdoor by Christ’s right foot in the
hem of his flowing cloak.
The din of thousands of tourists and the glare of the sun retreats as the door
is pulled shut behind us.
Workmen in hard helmets guide us up iron stairwells lit by bare bulbs. Each of
the 12 floors is criss-crossed with concrete beams supporting the hollow
edifice. At chest height inside the shrine, a bulging heart-shaped mosaic of
tiles is visible — a detail repeated on the outside.
I stop to put on my England Three Lions ’66 shirt then clamber up a vertical
steel ladder that leads to a dark passageway connecting the 92ft-span of
Christ’s arms.
The heat inside the concrete, under a midday Brazilian sun, is intense.
A workman removes a manhole-like cover from Christ’s upper arm, then another
nearer Christ’s fingers. Photographer Lee pops out of one and I follow from
the other. The view of Rio dazzles in every direction. It’s a privilege to
be inside this shrine that has provided comfort and hope to a nation and
millions around the globe. But it’s time to go.
At the chapel hollowed from Christ’s plinth, Father Raposo blesses me in my
Three Lions strip.
He tells me: “Christ the Redeemer represents the Brazilian people with their
arms wide open greeting fans from all countries and cultures for the World
Cup. The England team will be very welcome here in Rio.”
As the Three Lions train daily beneath Christ’s outstretched arms, they
will be hoping to absorb the power and glory of this place too.