… and [He made] the stars (Gen. 1:16).
A couple of months ago, I was struck with a sense of awe as I read this phrase describing what God created on the fourth day of creation. I can’t tell you how many times prior I’d read chapter one of Genesis, but this was the first time I was “stopped in my tracks” because, this time, it was very personal to me.
The many touch points I’ve made with nature beyond city life have often led me to gaze upon the stars. During the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, I discovered a beach in northern Indiana that was an international dark sky place. After enjoying the full panorama of the star-filled sky, I began to make semi-periodic pilgrimages to what became a haven for me. There was something about sitting, gazing at the stars, that drew my spirit beyond this world and into the next.
Admittedly, sometimes the stargazing I shared with my fellow Franciscans and friends was a little silly: one time we decided to identify and name our own new constellations (including SpongeBob SquarePants!). But, most of the time, it was quiet and contemplative.
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Soon, stars took on a new role in my silent prayer before the Blessed Sacrament. I would imagine stories from the Gospel, and Jesus bringing me and the disciples to a campfire along the shores of the Sea of Galilee. The flames that jumped up from the fire were captivating, and the shadows they cast were alluring, but the stars were even better. Yet best and far above all else were my tender encounters with Jesus, the true Light of the World. I would imagine myself as a little girl, sitting safely on Jesus’ lap, he and I gazing up at the night sky together. I felt so happy and so safe.
More recently, during a time of Eucharistic adoration, I perceived Jesus speaking in my heart, telling me: “I made the stars for you.” I was deeply moved and began to cry happy tears. Just as much as God created every element of nature, he also created you and me. And, we are even more wonderful in his sight than the stars, mountains, oceans, or flowers ever could be! I rediscovered, in that moment of prayer, how personally known and loved I am by God. Those tears were really tears of gratitude: God made the stars to delight me!
Have you ever stepped into a church and noticed a deep blue sky illuminated by stars painted on the ceiling in the sanctuary? This is not just a coincidence, but among the innumerable details and intentionalities that go into building a Catholic church or chapel. In sacred architecture, nothing is random, and nothing is left to chance. The visible reality truly leads us to the invisible Reality: God!
Our churches are meant to draw us into the Sacred Mysteries we celebrate at every Mass. This is accomplished by using elements of architecture, art, and furnishings that are attractive to our senses and help us to become recollected or composed. Our sacred spaces are meant to help us become truly present, so that when Jesus becomes truly present in the Eucharist, we are physically, spiritually, and emotionally all in, all there, and we don’t miss a thing!
I want to take a few moments to walk you through the basic design elements of a Catholic church. Whether the principal style is Classical, Baroque, Gothic, or even Modern, the way the space is laid out is very important.
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The largest part of a church is called the nave. This is where the assembly (you and me!) are during Mass. Traditionally, we sit in pews—long benches most often made out of wood, made of another natural treasure, trees. Whether we sit on a pew or in chairs, kneelers are a feature that not only helps us experience some comfort when we kneel during the most solemn parts of Mass, but they also remind us of the importance of humbling ourselves in the Lord’s presence.
The sanctuary is the space set apart where the priest celebrates the Sacred Mysteries. The sanctuary is often elevated so that the entire assembly can see what is happening as they unite themselves with the priest in praying the Mass. Ministers—including lectors and servers—are present in the sanctuary to assist with the different parts of Mass. An ambo (sometimes referred to as a lectern or pulpit) is placed prominently so that the Word of God can be proclaimed and preached. The sanctuary is also—and most importantly—where the altar stands. All the design elements of the church should ultimately guide our eyes to the altar, which is the focal point par excellence.
In most churches, some type of stained glass windows adorn the walls, allowing natural light to stream into the sacred space. They often depict the saints. The light streaming through those windows, making the images explicable, is meant to remind us of Jesus, the Light of the World, who radiates through the holy men and women who’ve gone before us. Jesus wants to radiate through us, too!
Speaking of saints, the sacred art that ennobles our churches often depicts various saints, most especially Mary, the Mother of God, and St. Joseph. Patron saints or favorite saints of parishioners and priests alike are set upon pedestals, mounted on walls, or framed by alcoves. Once again, this art (which has no “necessary” purpose) is meant to lift our hearts to the things of heaven. We are reminded that at every Mass, the entire communion of saints is present. We see in each saint a person who allowed Jesus to transform his or her life. And we learn from the saints how to become a living sacrifice with Jesus every moment of our lives and in a most special way during the Mass.
And what about those stars I mentioned a few paragraphs above? Just like the ones I gazed upon over Lake Michigan from that Indiana beach or in my imaginative prayer, the stars painted on the ceilings of churches evoke awe and wonder. They remind us of the heavens. As I consider the stars, they remind me of what truly happens at every Mass: the work of redemption accomplished by Jesus in the Paschal Mystery is perpetuated. With hearts disposed to grace, our participation in the Eucharist strengthens us to live with greater integrity the profound dignity we received at Baptism, when we became sons and daughters of God—indeed, a “new creation.” Receiving Holy Communion not only nourishes us to live lives of faith-filled integrity and missionary zeal; it also demonstrates that God really does make all things new (Rev 21:5)!
The next time you prepare for Mass, take some time to notice the sacred art and architecture that surrounds you. Recall some of your own special moments of enjoying the majesty of creation. These memories might very well help you to prepare your heart for the glorious gift of celebrating the new day of creation, which is made present to us at every Mass!
Download Looking for Jesus, a Companion Children's Guide (available in English and Spanish) and coloring page (English | Spanish) created by Katie Bogner.
Sr. Alicia Torres is a member of the Franciscans of the Eucharist of Chicago. In addition to participating in the apostolic works of her religious community, she has been serving the National Eucharistic Revival since 2021.
Katherine Bogner is a Catholic school teacher from Central Illinois who is passionate about equipping parents, catechists, and teachers to share the beauty and truth of Christ and his Church with children. Her most recent book, All about Lent & Holy Week: Sharing the Seasons of Repentance & Salvation with Children, is the essential guide all Catholic families need for the holiest time of the year.
