Posted on: Saturday, January 5, 2002

Faith
Churches embody an awe only faith can inspire

By Georgette Gouveia
(Westchester, N.Y.) Journal News

Judith Dupre, author of "Churches," enjoys the time she spends in her church, St. Thomas in Mamaroneck, N.Y. Gannett News Service

When Judith Dupre visits another town, she doesn't head for the nearest shopping center or even necessarily the locals' favorite eatery. Instead, she drops in on a church or two — something that feeds her enthusiastic Christian faith and her professional passions: Dupre is an active member of St. Thomas Church in Mamaroneck, N.Y. She is also the author of "Churches," a sumptuous coffee-table book.

The eye-catching split cover of the 12-by-16-inch, 5-pound-plus book reproduces Donatello's tender "Annunciation" (circa 1433), sculpted in stone for the doors of Santa Croce in Florence. The endpapers capture the spiraling blue-and-gold patterns from a mosaic in the fourth-century church of San Clemente in Rome.

But as with any book, the proof is in what's between the endpapers.

With 300-plus images of more than 60 houses of worship, "Churches" ranges over place and time to celebrate the virtuosity, beauty and touching simplicity that faith can inspire.

"You can go into a medieval cathedral, dripping with ornament, that takes your breath away or you can go into a Shaker meetinghouse that is minimalist in design and takes your breath away," she says. "How do we reclaim the transcendent relationship between ourselves and God? There are many paths to God."

And just as many churches. Most of the ones that you would imagine being in a book like this are indeed here — France's Chartres Cathedral, St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow, Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Cathedral in London, St. Patrick's Cathedral in Midtown and the uptown Cathedral of St. John the Divine, which escaped serious damage in a recent fire.

But perhaps the ones that will move readers most here are the smaller and lesser-known structures — Norway's Borgund Stave Church, a 13th-century wooden structure with a striking pagoda-like exterior and marvelous dragon-headed embellishments; the creamy Mission San Xavier Del Bac in Tucson, Ariz., with its curling, curving balconies and bell towers; and the Meetinghouse at Sabbathday Lake in New Gloucester, Maine, whose clean-limbed elegance embodies the Shaker motto "hands to work and hearts to God."

"Churches are the landmarks of our civilization," Dupre says.

But then, so are the skyscrapers and bridges she has written about in two previous books and the monuments she will write about in her next work.

In her eyes, however, churches are like no other structures.

"It's very profound to realize that these buildings are built on something that can't be seen or proven," she says. "That's very powerful."

Unlike other buildings where the idea may be to get in and out as quickly as possible, Dupre says, "the purpose of church is to stay and reflect."

And to savor an enveloping, sensory experience — the sounds of music, the scents of flowers and incense, the sight of light streaming through a window.

"Beauty is an idea as old as civilization," she says. "But beauty as a way into truth has fallen by the wayside in modern culture."

Church keeps that idea burning bright, Dupre says, and offers sanctuary, particularly after the events of Sept. 11:

"Church," she notes, "is the place where you can ask, 'Where did I come from? Why am I here? and Where am I going?' "