The haunting image of Notre-Dame Cathedral engulfed in flames served as a stark reminder of the fragility of even the most enduring monuments. Yet, across the Atlantic, in the heart of New York City, stands a cathedral that shares a spiritual kinship with Notre-Dame, a testament to architectural grandeur and enduring faith: the Cathedral Church of Saint John the Divine. Like its Parisian counterpart, St. John the Divine is an imposing structure, gracefully bridging the architectural styles of Romanesque and Gothic. And, echoing the ongoing restoration of Notre-Dame, St. John remains, intriguingly, unfinished.
My own journey to discover the treasures of St. John the Divine began when I sought recommendations for hidden gems within New York City. My cousin, Robert Leighton, a man with an eye for the unusual and a talent for uncovering puzzles – a writer, illustrator, and cartoonist for The New Yorker and co-founder of Puzzability – suggested a visit to this magnificent cathedral. On a bright summer day, we met in the vibrant neighborhood of Morningside Heights, near the esteemed Columbia University, ready to explore the Episcopal Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine.
“This area of New York is truly special, often overlooked by typical tourist routes,” Robert remarked as we emerged from the subway. “And St. John is not just any church; it’s one of the largest cathedrals globally. It evokes the medieval era, yet it’s surprisingly modern, and famously, still under construction. They even call it St. John the Unfinished, much like Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, a project spanning over a century.” Robert hinted that our exploration would be more than just sightseeing; it was to be a captivating treasure hunt, uncovering the modern secrets embedded within this seemingly ancient edifice.
Approaching the Colossus: Street Views of St. John’s
Standing across Amsterdam Avenue, between 110th and 113th Streets, the sheer scale of St. John the Divine is immediately apparent. It presents a formidable façade, perched atop a wide flight of steps on one of Manhattan’s highest points. Gazing upwards, one notices the solid, square, and noticeably unfinished tower on the south side, its counterpart on the north side conspicuously absent.
From street level, grasping the cathedral’s true dimensions is challenging. It stretches an astonishing 601 feet in length, equivalent to two full football fields, and over 40% longer than Notre-Dame. The original architects, George Heins and Christopher Grant LaFarge, commenced work in 1891, envisioning a Romanesque Revival structure.
However, in 1911, tragedy struck with Heins’s death, leaving the cathedral only partially completed. Architect Ralph Adams Cram was then appointed to continue the project. Cram, however, harbored a different architectural passion: Gothic Revival, in contrast to the initial Romanesque design. Integrating Cram’s Gothic vision onto the existing Romanesque foundation necessitated extending the nave to achieve the desired Gothic proportions, ultimately contributing to the cathedral’s immense length.
The interior of St. John the Divine truly conveys its colossal size. The Phoenix sculptures by Chinese artist Xu Bing, each approximately 100 feet long, seem almost diminutive within the vast space, underscoring the cathedral’s status as one of the world’s largest.
Construction initially progressed from 1892 until the onset of World War II, when resources were diverted to critical social programs. Building recommenced in 1979, fueled by a resurgence of real estate wealth in New York City.
The Portal of Paradise: An Entryway of Biblical Proportions
The first point of intrigue Robert guided me to was the Portal of Paradise, the grand entrance facing Amsterdam Avenue. A series of monumental sculptures atop the entrance stairs frame the bronze doors leading into the cathedral. These double doors, featuring 60 panels, depict scenes from both the Old and New Testaments and were crafted by Barbedienne of Paris, the same foundry responsible for casting the Statue of Liberty.
While the doors and the magnificent rose window above – spanning 40 feet and composed of 10,000 pieces of colored glass, the largest in the United States – are captivating, it was the hand-carved pillars surrounding the entry that truly commanded our attention. Twelve Indiana limestone pillars visually embrace the entrance, each featuring one or two figures standing upon a plinth or base, crowned by smaller figures delicately tinted in rainbow hues.
On the north side, we observed figures from the Old Testament: Melchizedek, Abraham and Sarah, Jacob, Moses, Elijah and Elisha, and Samuel. This procession of biblical matriarchs and patriarchs was carved in situ between 1988 and 1997 by a team of artisans, many of whom were local apprentices, employing traditional stone-carving tools and techniques under the guidance of artist-in-residence Simon Verity.
The south side pillars revealed figures including David, Amos and Hosea, Isaiah and Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Elizabeth, and John the Baptist.
Simon Verity’s passion for stone blossomed during his childhood in England’s Cotswolds. He honed his skills through a profound apprenticeship, cleaning 12th and 13th-century statues on loan to a local cathedral and further refined his craft at Canterbury Cathedral. New York City was an unexpected turn in his path.
“I had never been to America,” Simon recounted about his recruitment to St. John. “I initially agreed to come for just a week,” he told the headhunter. However, he was deeply moved by the work of the apprentices, young people from disadvantaged backgrounds, participating in St. John’s social justice initiative. “I was profoundly touched by their mission. Working with stone provides stability and purpose.”
Standing beneath the Portal of Paradise, we tilted our heads, deciphering the intricate details. On one base, north of the doors, we identified the symbol for the Kabbalistic Sefirot, a menorah, and Hebrew letters representing the name of God. “Is that Moses?” we pondered. Lowering our gaze, we noticed a staff transforming into a serpent and chains, some broken, encircling the pillar – symbols of the chains of slavery, we surmised. It dawned on us that we were witnessing the Exodus narrative interpreted on an Episcopalian cathedral, a truly compelling intersection of faith and art.
Further investigation into the Portal of Paradise revealed that Amy Brier, a Jewish artist with a fine arts and sculpture degree who trained in Italy, was the carver of the Moses pillar. She incorporated Kabbalistic imagery, a tree of life, and other symbols that enriched the Moses narrative. “Moses transforming a staff into a snake was an act of magic,” Amy explained. She also found a connection between Jesus and Moses, inspiring the hand holding the serpent.
“As a young woman eager to carve, working at the cathedral was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. While my Jewish background differed from Christianity, the Episcopal Church’s values of tolerance, inclusivity, charity, and love resonated deeply with me,” Amy shared. “The stone yard served primarily as a training and employment program for local, disadvantaged individuals. I was among a few educated white individuals qualified for the carving work. It was an honor and a privilege.”
I inquired if the leadership at St. John approved the carvers’ chosen imagery. “We were given creative freedom. We discussed our ideas, but the church ultimately approved everything.”
Simon elaborated that Dean James Parks Morton, along with his colleague Minka Sprague, and a consulting rabbi, were deeply involved in the project’s inception. “They were incredibly supportive of our work. We would present our ideas, and if they were theologically sound, connected to the statues above, and conceptually interesting, we were given the green light.”
Simon Verity (in red) collaborating with Amy Brier on the Moses pillar base. Simon later joked that he and Amy “assiduously read our bibles, which gave us an unwarranted reputation for saintliness.” Photo by Martha Cooper.
A Somber Prophecy in Stone: Modern Apocalypse
The carvings on the pillars south of the grand doors take on a distinctly darker tone, especially poignant in a post-9/11 world. Images of the World Trade Center’s twin towers and other iconic New York landmarks appear to explode into the sky beneath a mushroom cloud. A bus plummets off a fractured Brooklyn Bridge, soaring above the New York Stock Exchange. Looking back, these images seem eerily prescient, lending the carver the aura of a dark prophet. Indeed, numerous websites have cited this unsettling imagery to support conspiracy theories surrounding September 11th.
Initially, the scene felt perplexing. Were these pillar bases a whimsical depiction of New York’s chaotic energy, akin to Dante’s circles of hell? Or were they a contemporary interpretation of the Apocalypse from the Book of Revelation, substituting a bustling New York City for ancient Jerusalem?
Simon clarified that these plinths support figures of the prophets Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, and Jeremiah, all of whom preached about impending destruction unless people reformed their ways. The images, therefore, represented a late 20th-century rendition of the Apocalypse. It was precisely as my cousin Robert had described – a timeless and solemn message interwoven with such contemporary imagery that distinguishing the ancient from the modern becomes a fascinating challenge.
St. John the Unfinished: Hope Amidst the Ruins
Upon closer inspection, a message of hope emerges from beneath the depictions of destruction. Carvings illustrating the cathedral’s construction, including workers hauling cement and shaping stones, are positioned directly below the cityscape on the brink of collapse. These hopeful images serve as a powerful reminder that the dedication to build a cathedral – a project demanding immense time and resources – is itself an act of profound optimism.
Dean James Parks Morton, who led St. John the Divine from 1972 to 1997, embodied this optimism. A fervent advocate for the ongoing construction, Dean Morton invited numerous artists-in-residence to contribute to the project and trained unemployed youth from the neighborhood to become skilled carvers and stonemasons. Simultaneously, he expanded community outreach programs, rehabilitating abandoned housing and providing food for those in need. Under Dean Morton’s leadership, St. John the Divine became a welcoming space for all New Yorkers and visitors alike – from locals seeking solace to the Dalai Lama, contemporary politicians, and even Big Bird, who delivered a moving eulogy for Jim Henson within its walls.
St. John is more than a tourist destination; it is a thriving, active community church.
However, balancing construction costs with extensive social justice initiatives strained the cathedral’s finances. Construction was ultimately halted in 1997.
Stonemason Timothy Smith felt the impact deeply. His journey into masonry included teaching in Vermont, where he initiated an after-school program enabling disadvantaged teens to earn income building stone walls. He was hired as an apprentice at St. John due to his teaching experience and later became a trainer himself. “We demonstrated that with a robust training program, anything is achievable. We worked on the tower for a decade; it was the most exhilarating experience of my life,” he recounted.
“Dean Morton was the driving force. He possessed an unwavering passion for building the cathedral. An era like that is unlikely to be seen again,” Timothy reflected.
In a 1997 New York Times interview, as he approached retirement, Dean Morton observed, “A cathedral does instill humility. It’s crucial to recognize its inherent incompleteness.” Although new construction ceased, a fire in the North Transept in December 2001 caused significant smoke damage, prompting a five-year restoration project completed in 2008. Since then, work has focused on preservation and site improvements, costing approximately $11 million annually.
It is no surprise that the cathedral on Amsterdam Avenue remains known as St. John the Unfinished.
Discover More About St. John the Divine
Step inside and explore the interior of St. John the Divine to fully appreciate its grandeur.
Gain deeper insights from master carver Simon Verity, carver Amy Brier, and stonemason Timothy Smith, who generously shared their hidden perspectives on working in stone on this monumental project.
