Just Churchin' Around

The most transcendent experience that I have ever had was at Bath Abbey just a few weeks ago. Admittedly, I was loath to visit yet another church; Europe is riddled with them, so what is of interest to me in visiting one more?

Yet the minute I stepped inside the gilded halls, all apprehension melted away. The choir was in the middle of practicing for a service, and their voices, round and angelic, spiraled up into the high, vaulted ceilings of the gorgeous, white-stoned church. All I could do was sink into a pew and try to brush away the tears rolling down my cheeks.

I have seen a lot of churches in my time here—from the Sacré Cœur in Paris to Westminster Abbey in London. They are all beautiful expressions of the purity and truth found deep within human nature. In many ways, churches are a desperate, human attempt to recreate heaven on earth. However, although one aspect of human nature desires to create beauty, another aspect brings about destruction and ruin. It is, as they say, two sides of the same coin.

This all came together for me as I was walking through Westminster Abbey during a recent trip to London. Admiring the beauty of the stained glass windows twinkling in the cold stone walls, my eyes landed on a small sign: because German bombs had blown out the windows during World War II, they were reconstructed during the 1950’s in the style of the original stained glass.

This gave me pause: here, in this echoing abbey, was where the beauty and evil of human nature had collided. It amazed me that the same species that could create something so beautiful and intricate could also be the same one to construct the deadliest weapons of war, to destroy in seconds what had taken centuries to complete. To be capable of creating heaven, but also hell, on earth.

I took these thoughts with me to Stonehenge, as well. My mom and I braved the wind chill and occasional rain showers to trek out via two trains, two buses, and 75 miles to the middle of a huge pasture, where flocks of sheep grazed nonchalantly beside one of the most phenomenal sights known to humankind. I had never appreciated the masterful architectural and engineering feat that Stonehenge represents, nor how deeply embedded it is in human history, until that day.

A spiritual spot for thousands of years, Stonehenge evolved as the people who used it did. Yet we still don't know exactly why humans built Stonehenge, besides that innately human desire for beauty. There are, of course, no records on the subject. People have speculated for centuries, but I think part of the beauty of the place is the mystery behind it.

“There is a nobility in not knowing,” singer/songwriter Hozier said about religion when I saw him speak at the Oxford Union last week. “We are born alone and die alone, but we are alone together in each other’s love. A huge part of humanity is just not knowing.”

Good and evil, heaven and hell; they both live within human nature simultaneously. Yet there lies a mystery behind those two opposite forces. No matter how many questions we have about humanity—what inspires us to create, why we feel the need to destroy—some, even the prestigious University of Oxford can’t help me answer. Maybe we will simply never know.