The churches in Paris are unquestionably beautiful. There’s the Notre Dame, full of resolute beauty; the Église de Saint-Germain-des-Prés, joyfully bright and ornate; the Sainte-Chapelle, with stained glass stunning in its sunlit splendor…
Light streaming through the Sainte-Chapelle’s stained-glass windows
They are incredible! They are also innumerable. I love visiting these places - they remind me of the remarkable universality and endurance of my faith. It’s amazing that two perpendicular planks have meaning to countless visitors from countless countries. It’s fun to spot the symbolism hidden amidst church facades and ceiling frescoes. But even as I visit these buildings, sometimes I find myself thinking gosh, it’s just another ornate church… and I tell myself that I already know what to expect. There’ll be a big altar in the center, an organ in the back, vaulted ceilings, and stone columns.
These buildings also bring with them the contentious question of church spending. It’s something that I and my classmates have contemplated as we visit chapel after chapel, wondering whether this money would have been better spent on programs for the poor. I believe that the church’s expenses can be categorized into two parts: the wealth of the church itself and the wealth of its clergy and congregants. In Les Misérables, Victor Hugo is clear in his condemnation for the latter when he introduces the character of Monseigneur Bienvenu, a humble bishop who transforms Valjean’s life through his love and forgiveness.
Monseigneur Bienvenu lives in an old hospital building, a “single-storey, low, narrow building with a small garden.” Of his fifteen-thousand-franc salary, he keeps only one thousand for his own expenditures, having donated the rest to religious foundations, prisons, and the poor. When Monseigneur Bienvenu is invited to a synod of bishops in Paris, he’s struck by his colleagues’ luxurious lifestyles. When he visits one of their homes, the bishop makes his opinion clear:
“Such beautiful clocks! Such beautiful carpets! Such beautiful liveries! They must be very disturbing. Oh, I wouldn’t want to have all these luxuries crying constantly in my ears, ‘There are people who are hungry! There are people who are cold! There are poor people! There are poor people!’”
Here, Hugo isn’t condemning the church at large but instead the homes and lifestyles of clergymen who prioritize their well-being over others. I agree with this completely! I remember being taught in Sunday School about the importance of charity. One anecdote that always sticks with me is when Jesus instructs his followers to give to those who are hungry, provide drink to those who are thirsty, invite strangers in, supply clothes to those in need, look after the sick, and visit those in prison. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine,” He says, “you did for me.” I think it’s beautiful that Christians directly serve their God by being generous to others. With this teaching, then, there’s no reason for congregants - especially church clergy, as leaders of other Christians - to hoard wealth at others’ expense.
The wealth of the church building itself is a slightly more contentious matter. As I walked through Paris’ brilliant chapels, I found myself wondering if all these places were really necessary. Did all these buildings need a spiral staircase and stained-glass window? Couldn’t some of the money to pay for these magnificent marble statues have instead been given away?
After a few weeks of thinking about this, I’ve discovered that it’s crucial to understand church buildings through the intention behind them. I asked some Christian friends about my dilemma, and they reminded me that churches are more nuanced than they initially seem. “As much as the church is not an architectural firm,” one friend told me bluntly, “it is also not an almshouse.”
Église Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis (church of Saint‐Paul‐Saint‐Louis)
What are churches for, then? Perhaps their main function is to provide a place for people to be reminded of the presence of God. Perhaps churches allow people to see God’s justice through magnificent murals of Christ clearing the temple courts, boldly calling out churchwide corruption. Perhaps they encourage visitors to understand His humility when they witness statues of Christ as a child, who came down to Earth to save the people who mistreated Him. Perhaps churches show His compassion through the cross. Maybe, upon visiting these places, Christians are in turn motivated to live as Christ models and calls them to. They do their best to show others the same love that they see on church frescoes, which includes protecting and caring for the vulnerable members of their community.
Is some of this extravagant? Yes! God never called for a twenty-four karat cross. When communities build churches not to inspire benevolence but to bring honor and fame to their constructors, I think our criticism of them is completely valid. But if there is a way that a church can bring good to its members, who then can inspire that good in others, it becomes something gorgeous.
One of the most beautiful churches we saw in Paris was the Église Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis, a magnificent building with burgundy doors and an open, welcoming nave. I loved it not because of its facade or decorations or interior design, but because it was the church where Marius and Cosette got married - it reminded me of the couple's radiance. I could picture them there on the steps of the church, gazing out at the charming city before them, finally realizing that “their griefs were but so many handmaidens now putting the finishing touches to their joy.” As the two make their way home, their happiness overflows to their observers: “The rapture of these two hearts spilled over on to the crowd and gladdened passers-by.”
Though this moment is about romantic love, it illustrates the way that the church can bring gladness and community to others. This is the kind of church I’d love to see: one that encourages self-forgetful joy. I hope that because of this potential, all the money spent to build these edifices isn’t totally wasted. And I hope that, above all, churches continue to remain places of sanctuary and selflessness - never of avarice, exclusion, or egoism.
**small note: I use “chapel” and “church” quite interchangeably here, but there technically is a difference! To my understanding, churches have a permanent congregation and pastor/priest, whereas chapels have traditionally been smaller spaces without a permanent priest.