Earlier this year, after returning from a trip to Europe, I was looking for something in my photo files and had a sudden realization: I have quite a few photos of churches.
It wasn’t the result of a specific photographic interest, like my collections of photos of doors, windows, street art, clock towers, steps and a few other oddball subjects that get my attention when I’m out with my camera.
But it happened.
I have exteriors. I have interiors. I have stained glass windows. I have towering ceilings. I have steeples and bell towers. I have doors. I have altars. I have arches and columns and candles.
It’s turned into a sizable collection.
And two things are obvious. First, it’s the amazing architecture that drew my attention and led to the many photographs. And second, the credit for the collection goes to Europe. All but a couple of the photos were churches in France, Germany, the Czech Republic and England. There are incredible churches throughout Europe, many dating to six centuries or more before the United States even existed.
In smaller communities, it’s easy to see how the village/town/city grew around the footprint of the church over the many centuries. The churches are the hubs or anchors of the communities.
In 2018 we visited Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris, about nine months before a fire destroyed much of the 800-year-old church. The inside of the cathedral, with its soaring ceilings, was awe inspiring.
But I can say the same of churches we’ve visited in Rouen or Vernon, France. Or London or Oxford or Bampton, England. Or Prague or Kutna Hora, Czech Republic. Or Berlin or Dresden or Potsdam or Wittenberg or Meissen, Germany. All have ancient churches that are centerpieces of the community and the focus of visiting tour groups.
I admit that after returning from a European trip I can’t remember the specifics of any church in any community. There are so many of them and, after a few weeks, they all blend together. But the photographs allow me to separate the mental scenes into separate memories.