Putting the Fear of God Back into Church Architecture
At its zenith, church architecture inspired awe, wonder, and fear. Europe’s great cathedrals of centuries ago sent shivers down parishioners’ spines. They made churchgoers feel small, humble, and blessed to coexist with such massive structures. And cathedrals not-so-subtly implied that these feats would be impossible without divine sanction.
Although many contemporary religious buildings provide beautiful examples of modern architecture, few trigger quite the same emotive shock that the cathedrals once did. Nonetheless, recent developments in architecture–most notably the creative use of glass–may present an opportunity for a new twist on an old idea.
With this in mind–and with the caveat that I am not an architect–I offer up the following concept: A church built on the edge of a steep mountain slope with a cantilevered overhang and glass floors, walls, and ceilings through which congregants could stare up at the clouds or gaze down into the depths to contemplate awe and fear, Heaven and Hell, and belief and disbelief. With a tingle in their toes, they would have to trust in God (and/or the architects) to ensure that the translucent glass floor would prevent them from falling to their deaths: Faith made visceral.
To better illustrate the idea, here are some relevant precedents:

