To me, contemplating a cathedral means sitting down and really thinking and praying about what I see.
That doesn’t seem possible anymore — or at least not where I visited in Italy in 2026.
2026 in Europe was very hot. Visitors crammed every “highlight,” no matter the time or the day.
Like many, we traveled with schoolchildren, so we had to visit in June.
I’ve done that before — in 2010, we left the day after school ended and had a wonderful time in Italy, Austria, and Slovenia.
We had a wonderful time sixteen years later, but the crowds were challenging.
Even more was the fact that it seemed like we couldn’t sit down anywhere.
Especially if we were tired.
Which I was while walking 22,000 steps in Rome.
Why are cathedrals full of artwork?
When most of the glorious cathedrals of Europe were built, parishioners couldn’t read.
So, churches and cathedrals filled their windows and walls with Biblical stories.
They’re beautiful, yes, and some of the greatest painters of all time painted or even frescoed the walls and ceilings.
Any parishioner could enter, sit down, and follow the Biblical stories through what they saw on the walls.
They may not have known the stories, but something about the art worked in God’s favor.
Those cathedrals were tall, so heads turned heavenward.
(Why else would the cathedral have bothered to put artwork up so high?)
The Stations of the Cross posted on the walls of some cathedrals enabled worshippers to follow along during Easter week.
I once inadvertently ministered to a man through this very website when he asked a question. God caught his attention in a surprising way through a stained-glass window.
The point of religious artwork is to be noticed, to prompt a question, to mingle with your soul.
To help you contemplate the Creator of the Universe and His majesty.
Why else waste all that money and so much of Michelangelo’s time frescoing on his back?
Contemplating a Cathedral
So, what does it mean to contemplate a cathedral?
It means sitting down and silently looking at the painting, fresco, window, tapestries, even the carvings on the pulpit.
When I visited Rome many years ago, my husband and toddlers took a nap each afternoon in our hotel room near St. Peter’s.
I saw no point in sleeping when I could be touring, so I went to St. Peter’s Basilica–which is a cathedral.
Such a glorious afternoon, walking among the artwork, staring at the walls, the Pieta, the carvings, and the awe-inspiring altar.
I wandered about the enormous expanse and soon found myself quietly singing, “Holy, holy, holy.”
As I contemplated the building, I felt overwhelmed by the glory of the Lord.
Everything was magnificent. Everything shouted about the God I worshipped.
I’ve seldom felt like that in a building, and yet there it was.
Had it not been a public place, I think I would have fallen down on my face to worship.
Truly glorious.
2026 contemplations
I’m much older now, and I looked forward to sitting and contemplating the art and worshiping the Lord.
It was not to be.
There was nowhere to sit.
All seats were roped off.
You must keep moving.
Follow the audio guide. (Which didn’t work).
Don’t stop.
So help me, it felt like lines at Disneyland.
You cannot admire.
You cannot worship.
Don’t you dare even lean against the wall for balance to stare at the ceiling.
I learned these lessons on the first day of touring in Malta.
There, in the Valetta cathedral, I stood in a chapel and stared, with tears running down my face, at a Caravaggio painting.
John the Baptist’s beheading.
Why was I crying?
What did this painting mean that it affected me so?
I groped for the wall to steady myself.
When I began to sway, I realized I needed to sit down.
Absolutely forbidden.
I shot picture after picture with my phone, then I staggered outside to my family, where I sat on the steps and cried.
My need to sit and contemplate the artwork felt overwhelming.
I needed to ask the Lord why this painting unexpectedly moved me.
No. No sitting in the cathedral.
And so it went the rest of the trip.
So what?
I’m a fit woman.
I can usually stand for long periods.
But something hit me emotionally.
The cathedrals had no room for someone like me.
Disneyland Europe. That’s what it felt like.
I understand; people would do all sorts of things if they could sit in pews in churches and cathedrals.
(Drink, eat, change diapers, lie down. You can guess.).
Tourists are selfish and too often behave boorishly.
But sometimes we’re earnest. Sometimes we want to contemplate a painting or remember what God has done.
I’m sorry that’s not possible anymore in cathedrals once designed for the glory of God.
We all laughed when one of our teenagers took this photo:
For the record, the museum employee invited me to sit in his seat! LOL
Thoughts? Reactions? Lurker?