Why religious architecture has the power to inspire even the most sceptical
The principle of Gothic architecture, wrote 19th-century poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, is infinity made imaginable.
There is something almost inexpressibly inspiring about a 1000-year-old cathedral which lifts us into something much bigger than ourselves, reminds us of our finitude and inspires us to look beyond our daily lives.
Europe has many buildings of ancient lineage that are beautiful and grand, with every proportion designed to impress and delight – historic palaces or opera houses, for example. But only places of worship explicitly connect us to the numinous.
Cathedrals, soaring upwards, are designed to point worshippers to God, to the eternal, through their airy space, majestic proportions and wonderful decorations. I love entering a historic Gothic cathedral (or small stone church) and knowing that I am standing, sitting or kneeling where untold thousands have done the same, worshipping the same God, and doubtless praying very similar prayers for themselves, their families and their communities.
I love that I stand in this vast continuity, connected with the past and the future.
I love the faith and commitment of the master architects and masons who often laboured for decades, knowing the work would never be finished in their lifetime. Cologne Cathedral, the longest, took 632 years to complete.
People sometimes look at the ambitious size and scope of churches, even in small towns and villages, and wonder why their communities went to such lengths. One of the reasons was that centuries ago most parishioners could not dream of personal riches but, together, the community could – and did – take pride and pleasure in the result.
Of course, it is not only believers who seek a connection with what they hold sacred. Many find it in God's magnificent creation, which leads them to reflect on how small a mark our lives make on the universe, or in man-made achievements such as music or art. I, too, am moved by all of these.
Perhaps the world's most famous atheist, Richard Dawkins, has written that he is a cultural Christian in this way, that he loves the visible cultural expression of faith – the architecture, the music – while conceding nothing of its inspiration.
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The Age
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- The Age
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Sydney Morning Herald
11-06-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
Forget pineapple, these pizza topping crimes are especially heinous
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- West Australian
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I've never forgotten when a bloke said to me, 'How good is Perth? We could take over this town'. He had just moved to WA from Sydney and after being here for about five minutes, had summed up the laid-back attitude of many of us in the west. He was saying that given a chance to play golf or surf or head down south — most West Aussies would do that, in preference to working 'too' hard. I've always remembered how in a scene — I think it was from either Happy Days or maybe the TV spin-off Laverne & Shirley — where a couple of cooks (husband and wife) were offered the chance to work overtime, and they answered by grabbing baseball bats, as if to say, 'fat chance pal'. At the time I never understood why they acted that way. But after moving to Perth in the 1980s to rejoin my family, it all made sense. I think that what the New South Welshman was referring to — that sometimes the extra money/kudos/experience/prestige just isn't worth it, especially when you live in God's country and almost every day there's a blue sky just waiting to be enjoyed. That was also reiterated to me by a Melbournian recently, who lamented that while we in the west basically always have blue skies, in Victoria an overcast greyness often rules. It's no wonder plenty of people in WA feel like they're bluffing their way through the workday. It's easy to feel like a fraud. And in too many workplaces, it's just as easy to be one. We've all heard the saying 'fake it till you make it' (probably more times than we've heard 'you're on mute' in a Zoom meeting). But let's be honest, faking it isn't making it: it's just acting. In professional sport, you can't fake it. If you drop the ball (literally or figuratively), you get found out instantly. You can't explain away a missed goal with a LinkedIn post about your 'strategic vision'. But in the workplace? Mediocrity can sometimes get a pay rise. There even seems to be a strange pact in some offices: don't expose my incompetence and I won't expose yours. It's all nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more, like a skit in Monty Python, which might seem like a bit of fun until somehow Beau gets promoted, despite not being able to open a PDF without calling IT. Apparently, it's called the Peter Principle, which comes from economist Laurence J. Peter: 'In a hierarchy, every employee tends to rise to their level of incompetence.' I don't think I'm sufficiently equipped to fully explain this, but we know what he means, in our heart of hearts. Then there is 'impostor syndrome' (which isn't what you think it is). That's all about self-doubt and constantly wondering if you are good enough. If you're not familiar, please google it: you might be surprised to read it's about good people who, for some reason, are unsure of themselves. But then there's the flip side we don't talk about much: the actual impostors. If you want to avoid that tag, here are some tips. Don't be sneaky. Don't promise to 'circle back' or 'leverage synergies' when you actually have no clue what the project is really about. You might fool us all for a while, but the smart people will work it out. They know. They see who's real and who's just jumping on the back of other people's efforts. As Abraham Lincoln purportedly once said: 'You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.' And as French writer Francois de La Rochefoucauld put it (probably after getting towelled up in a meeting): 'We are more often deceived by pride than by cunning.' (If you're like me, that will take a bit of digesting but once you get there, it's a spot-on analysis). And as old mate Abe also apparently said: 'Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.' Again, hard to comprehend at first blush but worth delving into the true meaning. So, if you're the quiet achiever who's not sure you belong, don't stress: you're probably doing better than you think. Don't regret having a good heart. Good things have a way of coming back and multiplying. Be a believer in providence. Keep showing up, do your bit, and don't worry if you're not telling enough people about how well you're going.
