Is not God high in the heavens? See the highest stars, how lofty they are! (Job 22:12)
The Lord is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens! (Psalm 113:4)
The first time you enter into a Gothic cathedral is a powerful and defining experience. Entering the nave from the narthex, your natural inclination is to crane your head back to fully take in the stretching heights soaring above you. At that moment, your perspective is cast by moving over the religious threshold that you have just crossed. It is quite an experience, but even the word “experience” is too egocentric to accurately describe what is transpiring: a proper word would be “encounter”. Because of the permanence, perspective and purpose of this place, you quickly understand that this encounter is about more than just you. The enormity of the structure dwarfs you, and the stones themselves seem to cry, “Look higher!”
Though I have visited and studied several dozens cathedrals in the past 15 years, my knees still shake when I come into these sacred spaces. What overwhelms me is how the building surrounds me and towers over me. All of my haughty pretensions that allow me to overstate my perspective and problems in the world are immediately confronted by something much larger, much older, and higher than I. As we get caught up in the vagaries of life and measuring our experiences by our own yardsticks, approaching something so extraordinary, so immense, that we are simultaneously diminished, yet defined, can provide us with a viewpoint that truly speaks to our human condition. The only encounter I have been able to compare it to has been standing on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon and feeling the miles of space yawning around and engulfing me. It is something that defines your place in the world.
It is this characteristic of God – His transcendence – that the cathedral builders wanted the worshipper to understand; but not just by knowing, but by feeling and sensing with our whole being. Cathedrals had an intentional design and purpose – to get us to look outside and beyond ourselves and to turn our thoughts to God. As our eyes fix on the lofty elevation of the cathedral walls and vaults above, we are reminded that while we have a place in the world, our significance can only rightly be found in relation to our infinite Creator and His people, the Church.
In the Medieval world, Christians had as much of a problem as us moderns in wanting to bring God down to our level. Whether it is through vain rituals or self-indulgent prayers, we want to conform God to our plans and our purposes based solely on a range of sight that ends at the tip of our nose. Those that built the Gothic cathedrals across Europe had a remedy for that.
A spectacular example of the vertical dimensions incorporated into the Gothic style can be found at Ulm Minster in Germany. Begun in 1377, construction was not complete until 1890. From earlier on, the cathedral planners in Ulm intended to raise its lone spire higher than any other church in Europe, a plan that was followed meticulously from the 14th Century manuscripts by those who finished the cathedral at the end of the 19th Century.
To stand in the shadow of Ulm Minster, the tallest cathedral in the world rising to 528 feet, is an impressive sight even in our time. But to the traveler in the Middle Ages traversing the Rhine River through Ulm, the unfinished spire must have been staggering in its proportions. In fact, we have a written account of one visitor, Brother Felix Fabri, who visited Ulm in 1488, and wrote:
“It did rise, the structure, under the work of their hands and in 111 years, namely from its foundation in 1377 until now 1488, there appeared a church which will inspire all peoples and times to amazement and wonder. Nay, even more than the wondrously huge structure itself, the observer will wonder at the nobility and audacity of them who conceived it. For in this small town they have dared – without seeking support from outside, without help or the need to beg – to erect a building whose incredibly tall bell tower riseth this very day to the honor and glory of the majesty of God, as though it seeketh to reach heaven.”
Brother Felix was struck in awe of the immensity of such an undertaking and his relation to it. Being firmly rooted in the medieval worldview, he knew that the building of Ulm Minster was not intended as a statement to the glory of those who began the project, for in fact, they were all dead and buried within the unfinished church; but rather, the towering tribute was a testament to the soaring majesty of God. That is what struck him.
These structures were intended to mark the medieval mind as indelibly as they marked the city landscape. They were intended to dominate the city skyline, as wood engravings and drawings of cities of the time clearly show. To the pilgrim coming in from the countryside, they were invariably the first thing that could be seen, letting them know that their sojourn was soon at an end. Not only were the cathedrals the tallest buildings in the medieval city, they were usually built at the tallest point in town. Even today in our nation’s capital, the tallest point in the city is not the Washington Monument or the U.S. Capitol, but the Washington National Cathedral, which oversees a whole city dedicated to American political power and the achievements of man.
It is probably the most striking feature of the Gothic cathedral that it was not built to the limited proportions of man, but to that of God. Only such a structure could capture for us the essence of God’s transcendence, as the Psalmist testifies:
He built his sanctuary like the high heavens, like the earth, which he has founded forever. (Psalm 78:69)
These sculptured mountains of sacred stone proclaim the infinite and unrivalled majesty of God. It is fitting that they are constructed to such an extent, though only in human terms, that fits the dimensions of His holy habitation.
Gazing upward beyond ourselves to the vaults and spires appropriately directs our attention to the true scope and scale of our lives. The vertical spaces of the cathedral, both internally and externally, were designed to let us know that the space above us was important; not just warranting our attention, but orienting us directly to the perspective of heavenly reality. Our temporary problems are dwarfed by God’s purpose and plans for us. It is especially difficult to understand how deliberately He has chosen our proscribed path in life. It is from His vantage point surveying and providentially directing the course of history that He guides the flow and ebb of our existence. It is this truth that should encourage us as Christians.
This was demonstrated to me when I visited Salisbury Cathedral in Southwestern England. The cathedral was the first thing I recognized as I walked out from the train station. Fixing my gaze on the spire, which stands at 404 feet (the fifth tallest cathedral in the world), I could wind my way through the narrow streets to my destination. After a lot of twists and turns through the ancient alleys of Salisbury, I passed through the gates and onto the grounds of the cathedral close. The green grass and leafy trees of the English Spring contrasted against the deep blue sky to create an incredible frame for the magnificent edifice of the cathedral. The building loomed so large in this scene that it was difficult for me to fit it all in the viewfinder of my camera.
But it wasn’t until I climbed the stairs to the observation point in the spire that I could trace the circuitous route I had taken to get here. With the town spread out like a mosaic before me, I realized that had the cathedral not been constantly in my view as I walked through town, I have no doubt the time of my trip would have doubled and required me to ask for detailed directions. I was walking through unknown territory. But ultimately, it really didn’t matter what street I was on, because I could see where I was going. The same is true of the Christian. We know our heavenly destination, and we can be confident that by fixing our gaze on Christ, the Captain of our salvation will surely lead us on the right path home.
Of course, there are few times when the Lord makes things are so clear to us as this. The reason for many of our trials and travails will remain hidden from us this side of heaven. And God’s purpose may be just as unclear. The Lord, speaking through Isaiah, makes this very point:
For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8-9)
I am reminded of King David and his cry, “[F]rom the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” (Psalm 61:2) Feeling overwhelmed can be frightening, but knowing that God stands high above our daily circumstances is precisely what we need to recall when the storms of life blow our way.
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