Heaven in Stone and Glass: Experiencing the Spirituality of the Gothic Cathedrals by
Robert Barron, 2000, 128 pages.
The great cathedrals of the Middle-Ages were built with one thought in mind – to be
material symbols of the ethereal reality of God. Our modern minds are grounded in the
concrete, and we can’t see beyond it. These massive buildings served and still serve as
pointers to the spiritual world, if we let them. Barron says that these edifices produce a
tone and then overtones which are echoes of heavenly harmony, and that we moderns are
deaf to the noise of these sounds.
Barron is concerned that over the last thirty years to now, churches have become sterile
and cold. His book is a pilgrimage to various Gothic churches built in the Middle-Ages.
His spiritual journey in the book encompasses these churches and their characteristics.
Barron’s first stop is Notre-Dame of Paris. Named for Mary, he compares the church to a
womb. Like Mary’s womb holding Jesus, it is sheltering and protecting. Following
through with the simile, he further likens a prayerful visit to the church to being in a
womb, calling it a preparation for and birth to fuller life. It is also a place of security that
is a safe harbor for all who come to the church. Mary’s consent to being the mother of
Jesus did give peace, but is was a difficult peace. It was like the serenity that is the result
of totally aligning oneself with God’s part for us in his plan. We submit ourselves to his
will, not our own, but this is not easy.
The cathedrals are also compared to a ship. Indeed, the central portion of a Gothic
church is called a nave. It is shaped like a long and narrow vessel of the sea. The simile
is further enhanced at Notre-Dame de Paris by the fact that the church is on an island
surrounded by the Seine River. Furthermore, looking at the flying buttresses gives the
impression of a ship with oars. Barron is saying that the church is a place of safety that
keeps the traveler from harm on the journey in all kinds of weather.
In the Creed at Mass we say, “Light of light, true God of true God.” The God
worshipped at Chartres is a God of light. The absence of light as the worshipper walks in
is deliberate. Entering the dimness, a person is reminded of the essential sinfulness of
humanity. Walking deeper into the edifice, the dark is replaced by the light, a lesson in
how the light of God replaces our shadowy, illusionary world. The light of the church
reveals the truth, the truth about what is real and how we need to live.
Gothic churches were light-filled because of the simple architectural expediency of
taking the weight of the huge vault off the wall by using flying buttresses on the wall’s
outside. This enabled the placing of enormous windows filled with colorful glass high in
the walls of the church.
Barron describes the importance of light in this way: “Beautiful, evanescent, allembracing, in itself invisible but that which allows things to be seen, light seems to be the
perfect symbol for the alluring, creating, omnipresent, but finally elusive God.” So the
light coming into the cathedral illuminates both our darkness and the glory that is God.
Another aspect of light in the cathedrals is the beautiful compilation of pictures in colored
glass and incoming light that are called rose windows. A young boy taken to see one of
these exclaimed that the window “sings.” Medieval people didn’t consider beauty to be
superficial; to them it had an intrinsic value in reflecting the beauty of God. The three
principles of beauty according to medieval scholars are: wholeness, harmony, and
radiance. The rose windows are an example par excellence of these values.
Illustrating the spiritual principle of the center, rose windows are organized around an
image of Christ in the center. Medallions of scenes from the Bible and the saints are
arranged around this central focus, in a way that is full of meaning. This ordering is
meant to manifest a life that is lived with the right priorities. Putting God and his will
above all is the only way of living that works. Any other core value, from money to
power to pleasure, will take the soul from health to illness. A healthy soul is one that
puts God firmly in the center and builds everything else around that. The person who
does this will find that life is richer in more ways than ever could be dreamed. This
serenity can be obtained in other ways, but contemplating the rose windows is one way to
arrive at this destination.
A trip inside one of these great cathedrals is a way of the cross, since that shape of the
building itself is a cross. The nave and the transept form the main part and the crossbeam
of Jesus’ cross. This form of the Gothic cathedral reminds us that the cross is an
inescapable centrality of Christian life. Jesus’ whole life was for the purpose of death on
the cross. The imbalance that occurred when people sinned needed God’s hand to put it
back into balance. After Jesus’ death, the world that was turned upside down was turned
right side up.
To enter into the world of the cathedral is to enter into the world itself. Nature is evident
everywhere in depictions of plants and animals. The universe surrounding the earth is
also represented, as objects of the firmament like stars and planets are shown. Added to
these spheres is the multiplicity of the saints who have gone before us and the pure spirits
we call angels. All these different areas of creation in the one building show the viewer
that creation is one entity. Cathedrals are a manifestation of the unity that brings all the
elements of creation together for one purpose, that of praising God.
The orientation of the cathedrals’ footprint is significant. The apse is where the priest
stands when talking to God, and this is facing the east. This is because both the sun and
the Son came out of the east. The other façade of the church shows a darker side. The
main idea here is the depiction of good and evil and the fight between them. Several
churches, including Notre-Dame, have a detailed Last Judgment scene on the side of the
building opposite the apse. Notre-Dame’s is situated prominently at the central portal.
We don’t usually think of Jesus as judge, but the Biblical narratives show him to be one.
Essentially, the deepest meaning of his whole ministry is that he is judge in the Biblical
sense, which is to shine a light on human matters and show what is truth and what isn’t.
Evil has a propensity to deception, often pretending to be pious, which is exactly what it
is against. Real Christianity does not hesitate to call evil what it is. Though based on
love, the church realizes it must discriminate between right and wrong.
The richness of the statuary reveals another indispensable fact of Christianity, that it
came forth from and still retains much of the Jewish tradition of its founder. The sedate
group of Old Testament figures, including Abraham, Isaac and Moses, stands peacefully
and serenely at the central north portal of the cathedral of Chartres. This reaffirms the
connection between the two covenants and confirms the belief that the God of the
creation story is the God of the New Testament as well. In fact, Barron reminds us that
the Old Testament is said to mirror the New. Thus the events of the earlier covenant are
symbols of the manifestation of Christ in the New.
Meditating on the crypt below the cathedral of Chartres, Barron compares the
underground place to the deep religiosity of the whole of the human race throughout
history. He recalls that the Church has been seen as taking the best from the traditions it
finds itself in contact with. One example of this would be St. Patrick’s Christianizing of
the Celtic traditions. As Barron says, “Catholicism … does not despise the innumerable
ways in which the Word is partially, yet truly, revealed.”
The most startling aspect of Gothic cathedrals is their verticality. It is an observable
phenomenon that people walking in these cathedrals will inevitably spend most of the
time looking upwards. This upward orientation is done purposefully, to send the mind to
another realm. Christians believe in the otherness of God, but not all faiths are so
oriented, some thinking that God is a part of or is this world. The striking vertical naves
of these churches send the observer to a realm that is not this world.
Since everything about the medieval cathedrals has meaning, what are we to make of the
gargoyles? In one explanation, Barron thinks that the fantastical creatures call to mind
the strange combination of God and man who is Jesus Christ. The gargoyles show that
there is comedy in the story told by the cathedrals. Humor comes from the incongruous,
the unexpected, next to the normal. The humor represented by the gargoyles provokes
healthy laughter, and gives a comic break in the solemnity of the message of the
cathedrals, just as Shakespeare provided comic interludes in his most serious dramas.
The ultimate goal of the cathedral stories is to affect the lives of the faithful, and so there
are many instances of depictions of vices and virtues. Barron calls charity the “virtue of
virtues.” Barron reminds us that Thomas Aquinas called caritas friendship with God.
Because God became a human person, we can be equal to him. No other religion can
claim this. But this great privilege gives great responsibility also. We must think and act
according to our dignity.
The virtue of faith built the cathedrals and also gives them their purpose. Barron tells the
reader, “…for faith is the capacity to see beyond the senses to a deeper or higher reality.”
Barron explains that believing in the revelation of God “introduces us to a dimension of
being vibrating at a higher pitch. To be a person of faith is to know that the universe of
the senses is but the tip of the iceberg, but a gateway, but a hint.”
An ancient tradition incorporated into the cathedrals is the labyrinth. The labyrinth in the
cathedral at Chartres is for walking, not merely looking. The spiritual exercise results in
a slowing down of both the body and the mind, which is especially beneficial in our
hectic times. It is a well known axiom of the spiritual life that the deep parts of the soul
are oriented toward the slow.
The labyrinth is also a metaphor for the various times in our lives when we are close to
and then further away from God. As we walk this convoluted path, we are sometimes
near the center and sometimes far away from it. But the best thing about the labyrinth is
that we know we will reach the center. Christ has told us he is the way, so if we but
follow him, we will find that center.
Because in medieval times the study of mathematics and geometry was considered one
way to study God, it is understandable that the composition of the cathedrals of the
Middle-Ages manifests many examples of numerology and sacred geometry. For
instance, at Notre-Dame de Paris, the number of medallions and figures added together is
232, which stands for the Trinity surrounded by the four corners of the earth. This is to
say that God is a harmony. The doctrine of the Trinity, according to Barron, “declares
that the most fundamental reality of all is a relation … a lovely three-part harmony.”
But above all, the “arithmetic musicality,” in Barron’s words, of the cathedrals is a
manifestation of the fact that they in themselves are instruments which can be played by
humans as well as by the divinity. This harmony is one way these churches stand
between heaven and earth.
Finally, it is well to remember that the basic purpose of these magnificent edifices is to
celebrate the liturgy of the Eucharist. Re-enacting the drama of the death and
resurrection of Christ, the two main events of his earthly life, is not only an act of
supreme faith in Jesus, but it is communicating with him and all of the saints now with
God, and asking for help in imitating him.
All the many aspects of the cathedrals reflect one thing, and that is the Eucharistic
presence of Jesus in our world, in our lives. The statues, windows, pictures, and building
materials that are part of the great Gothic cathedrals can be read like a book, but there is
also a story that is told in the Eucharist. Barron reminds us that after his resurrection, the
Apostles recognized Jesus when he broke the bread with them. It is the same breaking of
the bread that occurs in the Eucharist, and so it is then that we too see Jesus in that act
and realize that his presence with us is real. Barron concludes with the profound
statement, “To know the Gothic cathedrals is to know the Christ in whose form and
image they are.”
Author Information
Robert Barron
Father Robert Barron was born in Chicago and is a priest for the Archdiocese of Chicago.
He earned a Masters degree in Philosophy from the Catholic University of America in
Washington, D. C. and a Doctorate in Sacred Theology from the Catholic Institute of
Paris. He teaches systematic theology at the University of St. Mary of the Lake in
Mundelein, Illinois. He has written five other books, including And Now I See--: A
Theology of Transformation; Thomas Aquinas: Spiritual Master; Bridging the Great
Divide: Musings of a Post-Liberal, Post-Conservative Evangelical Catholic; Opening
Hearts, Minds, and Doors: Embodying the Inclusive and Vulnerable Love of God; The
Strangest Way: Walking the Christian Path. He often gives retreats and workshops on
spirituality.