There is great mystery in a church. For me, there is a great

In the words of Mario Botta, “There is great mystery in a church. For me, there is a great privilege to be confronted with the design of a church because it shelters the most powerful themes of humanity: birth, marriage, death.” These words resound with the voice of one who understands that architecture is not merely stone and wood, but a vessel of the soul. Botta speaks as the ancients might have spoken: that a building can be more than a structure—it can be a sacred stage upon which the great dramas of human existence are played. In the church, he sees the shelter of our most profound transitions, where the eternal brushes against the temporal.

The ancients knew that places of worship were gateways to mystery. The temples of Greece, the ziggurats of Mesopotamia, the pyramids of Egypt—all were more than stone; they were cosmic symbols, designed to hold the weight of life’s greatest mysteries. Botta’s words echo this tradition. For him, the church embodies the three pillars of human passage: birth, when the child is blessed into community; marriage, when two lives are bound into one; and death, when the body returns to dust but the spirit is commended to eternity. In this triad lies the circle of existence, and the church is the vessel that enfolds it.

Consider the medieval cathedral, rising from the earth like a mountain of stone, its spires reaching toward heaven. Within its walls, peasants and kings alike came to mark their most profound moments. A newborn was brought to the font, receiving baptism before the eyes of God. A bride and groom walked down the nave, binding themselves in the sacred covenant of love. And when life reached its end, the bell tolled, and the body was carried into the same holy space to be laid to rest. Thus the church was not only a building but a keeper of memory, a guardian of life’s turning points.

Botta calls this a privilege, for to design such a space is to shape the vessel of humanity’s deepest emotions. To create a church is not to draw walls and roofs, but to create silence, light, and resonance that can cradle joy, sorrow, and awe alike. It is the task of the architect to fashion a space where the human heart feels small before the divine, yet held within its embrace. To enter such a place is to be reminded that our lives are threads in a vast tapestry, beginning with birth, woven through marriage, and ending in death—each moment sanctified within sacred walls.

The deeper truth of Botta’s words is that mystery is essential to humanity. In a world that often seeks certainty, efficiency, and control, the church stands as a reminder that some things cannot be explained, only experienced. Birth is miracle, marriage is covenant, death is enigma. The church shelters these mysteries not to solve them, but to honor them—to give us space to weep, to rejoice, to wonder, to pray. This is why, across cultures and centuries, humans have raised sanctuaries: not to escape life, but to face its greatest thresholds.

The lesson for us is this: seek spaces of mystery, and do not reduce life’s greatest passages to mere function. A child’s birth is not just biology, but blessing. A wedding is not just contract, but covenant. A funeral is not just farewell, but a confrontation with eternity. The church, or any sacred space, teaches us to approach these moments with reverence, to see in them not routine but revelation.

Practical actions flow from this wisdom. Honor the spaces where mystery dwells, whether in temples, cathedrals, mosques, or even the silence of nature. Do not rush through life’s thresholds, but mark them with ritual, memory, and presence. Support the creation of sacred spaces, for they nourish the soul of a community. And above all, allow yourself to stand in awe, for awe is the beginning of wisdom, and wisdom teaches us to cherish the fragile, fleeting arc of life.

Thus, Mario Botta’s words shine as both testimony and charge. They remind us that the church is not only a place of worship but a vessel of the mysteries that define us. It shelters birth, marriage, and death, holding them in sacred silence, reminding us that though we are mortal, our lives are woven with eternal meaning. Let this truth be passed down: that to design or enter such a space is to touch the edges of eternity, and to know that within stone walls, the very soul of humanity finds its shelter.