Christians should build cathedrals.
There will be haters, of course. For example, aged authoress Joyce Carol Oates recently took to X to whine about Cologne Cathedral, which famously took more than 600 years to complete and was, for a time, the world’s tallest building. Oates found this irritating and lodged the following complaint:
whatever such architecture meant at that time — 600 years to complete the project — can only be speculated by us today. obviously the vision is medieval Christianity; but so radically far removed from the simplicity of the teachings of Christ. how do you get from the moral clarity & humility of the Sermon on the Mount, to the church fathers of Cologne & their monument to — what, exactly? can’t be Jesus Christ who would have looked upon such vanity with contempt.
The cathedral was built as a monument to Jesus Christ, and contrary to what Oates thinks, it is entirely appropriate. Oates gestures toward a sort of hippie Jesus, a nice guy and simple folk teacher who told us all to be nicer to each other — a peasant preacher who would not want any grand buildings made in his name.
This is a popular view of Jesus, but it is not accurate. The Jesus presented in the Gospels is not just a nice guy. Even if we set aside the miracles and claims to divinity, the biblical Jesus is clever, complicated, and often alarming, a hellfire and brimstone preacher who warned of God’s wrath and judgment. As I put it in a few years ago in a piece examining some of the strong words of Jesus, “The Jesus of the Bible is not a laid-back dude saying, ‘You do you, man.’ Rather, He tells us that we are in danger of Hell and insists that we follow Him to be saved.”
And that following is not just that of pupils learning from a teacher, but of worshippers adoring their God, who humbled Himself and suffered to redeem us. And that is why we should build cathedrals — they are not memorials to an itinerant human teacher but triumphal monuments to the God who defeated sin and death that we might live. Christianity proclaims that Jesus is God, and so art, architecture, and engineering can have no higher purpose than creating magnificent churches where the people of God come together to worship, partake of the sacraments, and hear the preaching of God’s word.
To be sure, few congregations can afford to build a cathedral. And that’s fine. Jesus is also glorified in house churches, meeting secretly under threat of persecution. He is glorified by churches meeting in rented spaces and humble buildings. He is glorified by churches meeting in architectural monstrosities from the 1970s. But when a church can build a beautiful building, it should, rather than another bland convention hall that might not last longer than the current senior pastor — as far too many large congregations these days do.
It is, of course, possible for a church to focus on beauty and grandeur to the neglect of other essential matters. For example, the fundraising abuses that were part of paying for the magnificence of St. Peter’s in Rome helped kick off the Reformation. There sometimes were (and are) mixed motives on the part of those who commissioned great religious art and architecture.
But the fallibility of humanity should not stop churches from pursuing beauty in our worship. And this beauty is not just for ourselves. A glorious church or work of art is a gift to its community and even the world. A magnificent cathedral gives a beauty and glory to the city it is in. This is a common bequest, given to all, but perhaps especially to those who otherwise would have little beauty in their lives. It is, of course, important to care for the material needs of the poor, but it is also important to care for their spiritual needs, which include a longing for beauty and transcendence. The church should help feed and clothe the poor, but it should also, if it can, give them beautiful places to worship, pray, and hear God’s word with other believers.
A cathedral may also be a reminder of our mortality and a promise to our posterity. The very building of cathedrals was often a memento mori, for those planning and beginning the work knew that it would extend beyond their life. Building a sublime and enduring structure is a claim to permanence, to the passing down of faith from generation to generation. It sets in literal stone a commitment that the worship of God shall not be forsaken in this place. Sadly, that commitment is often sorely tested these days, but the buildings endure as monuments to what was, and a sign of hope for what might be revived — true faith in the true God.
And there is nothing vainglorious about giving glory to God with the best works of our minds and our hands. Jesus is not just the humble servant and the meek sacrificial lamb; He is also the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. He is the conqueror of death who will return in splendor to judge the earth, and who is worthy of all praise and honor and glory and majesty, now and forever, amen.
So yes, we should build cathedrals. AMDG.
