gaudy or glorious?

Throughout the past three weeks I've spent in Europe, I've visited several cathedrals and churches, all of which have been beautiful, grandiose, and awe-inspiring in some way. This morning I attended St. Andrew's, a less formal and more homey Anglican church. As we walked in, we had to wade through a sea of children and young parents, which was certainly a welcome sight. The liturgy was also slightly more similar to American Anglican form. For instance, when the vicar says "The Lord be with you," the congregation responds "And also with you," as opposed to "And with thy spirit," as the church we attended last week did.

Despite the little differences, it's a reassuring and comforting feeling to know that around the world, we are all speaking the same words, praying the same prayers, greeting each other with the same words, being charged to "go in peace to love and serve the Lord." The liturgy unites people in a beautiful way.

But as I've been snapping photos of these cathedrals and marveling over the intricacy and magnificence of their architecture and design, I also find myself wondering if God is pleased with them. Is God glorified when a beautiful building is constructed and dedicated to his use, or would he be better pleased if his people assisted widows and orphans, fed the poor, comforted the brokenhearted? There is something about an ornate cathedral that lifts my mind, that reminds me that "the world is charged with the grandeur of God," that turns my thoughts toward the beauty of the Eternal One.

Yet sometimes it also feels pretentious. I remember that Christ was born in a lowly manger, that he lived among the margins of society, that while these cathedrals were built, the poor continued to suffer. How do we reconcile our desire for and delight in the beautiful with Christ's example of humble, ordinary, and service-led living? I feel there must be a balance... yet I'm not sure what form that balance takes.

(photos: left, Bath Abbey; right, Canterbury Cathedral)
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