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I stood in St. Peter’s Square a month ago. My husband Andrew had been telling me for years how the Vatican was his favorite part of Rome. As I stood outside, I was overwhelmed by the scale and beauty. “Wait till you go in,” he said.
We got up early. The church opens at 7 and if you wait until 8 or 9 there is already a two hour wait to enter the church, even in October. The lined wrapped around the Square a bit, and as we walked quickly through and around the maze of rent-a-fencing, we came to the giant doors. We walked through them into muffled silence. There was a smell of incense and spices that mixed in the air with the must of the building, and it created a strange smell of death and potpourri. There wasn’t a sea of pews as I had imagined. Instead there were altars sectioned off into different parts. Small rows of seats and pews sat in front of certain altars. After we arrived, priests wearing embroidered robes and altar boys came in and out of doors that I hadn’t noticed before. I started to wonder just how many secret passageways ran through the place. It was a bit darker than I had expected, but there was still something I couldn’t escape. It was massive, and every inch of it was intentional and grand.
We carefully went by each altar space. Andrew showed me his favorite sculpture, the Pieta. It’s a marble sculpture by Michelangelo that depicts Mary holding Christ’s body after the crucifixion. It was beautiful, but piercing, and in an instant, I got it. I took from our Catholic friends a lesson I had been missing for awhile: He, our God, is HOLY.
He is meant to be worshiped, and not only worshiped, but adored, and not only adored, but respected, and not only respected, but more. He is more. He is massive, and there was something about being in this building and tossing out all of the things that separate us from Catholics that helped me to understand again how desperately I need God. Every day. The reality of His holiness hit me hard, and in response, my sin seemed like a much bigger deal than I had realized. It is a big deal. It’s a big deal because He is so great.
I like to say that church is not about the building. I’m glad that people can “come as they are” to worship. Our services are without pretense, and I like that, but in that moment I got why people fight over carpet. I understood why my grandmother is flabbergasted by the idea that people would dress in sweats and come to church: Because God is holy. I love that we live in an age where people don’t sit in church based on their social class and I’m in no way trying to point to some of the religious institutions of the past and say we should return. But there was something powerful about being in a place that gave me a picture – albeit a small picture – of what it will be like to find myself face to face with our God. And it freaked me out.
It had been so long since I had sat and meditated on the greatness of God. But when I took the time to stand in awe of Him, when I started to understand His holiness, I understood more fully the depravity and insult of my sin, and when I began to understand how utterly lost I am without Him, I had no choice but to wake up. He is Holy, and it matters.