The New Zealand Māori had the wharenui, or a meeting house. It was a public gathering space and physical embodiment of the peace god Rongo and a tribe’s ancestors. Religious ceremonies were sometimes held within, but generally it served as a sacred space where entering is considered a journey of “climbing up” rather than simply walking in. Out of respect, shoes are removed, no food is eaten, and no one is to lose their temper. In the wharenui, it is understood that you are under the watch of the ancestors and deities as the building embodies an ancestor:

Left: Exterior of Tanenuiarangi Meeting House | Right: Waitangi Meeting House Interior

The koruru at the point of the gable on the front of the wharenui can represent the ancestor's head. The diagonal boards signify arms; the ends are "fingers". The ridge beam represents the spine. The rafters signify ribs. The internal central column is the poutokomanawa or "heart-supporting post".

This was all understood both from outward teaching and subconscious understanding of the figures carved into every corner of the space. The top of the gable shows a face of the ancestor; his eyes alert and face full of the sacred life force that the Māori believe imbues everything. The surrounding cast of figures cover the architecture and educate the viewer in mythology, how they regard the ancestors and gods, and how entering or “climbing up” the wharenui is unlike entering any other place in the village.

Though foreign to our eyes, the complexity of the carvings and deliberate care in each expression is impressive to behold. To the Māori, this building stands out in beauty and significance. It is an example of beauty instructing us in our culture, identity, and faith.

From New Zealand, across the Tasman, Coral, and Timor Seas in the Pacific, one of the most impressive religious buildings in the world contains a wealth of relief sculptures showing kings, monks, and peasants. Borobudur on the Indonesian island of Java is a monumental 9th century Buddhist temple. It was decorated with 2,672 unique stone relief panels and 504 Buddha statues and topped with a central dome surrounded by 72 Buddha statues. The monument guides pilgrims through an extensive system of stairways and corridors with 1,460 narrative relief panels on the walls and the balustrades. Borobudur has one of the world's most extensive collections of Buddhist reliefs all teaching the Buddhist philosophy and way of attaining eternal peace.

The statues are distinguished by several mudras, symbolic hand gestures communicating ideas such as enlightenment, generosity, meditation, courage, and the law of karma. Together with the relief panels depicting the life of the Buddha, they transformed the pilgrim's ascent into a visual lesson in Buddhist doctrine. Though it came from the 9th century and was far away from the Mediterranean, we can still glean the lessons Borobudur shares and appreciate the beauty of the human form throughout the architecture.

Sharing in this instructive beauty, the Greek temples we see today feature stone reliefs and complex carvings. The Greeks used a diversity of sculpture methods: caryatids, like at the Erechtheion on the north side of the Acropolis, reliefs, or whole figures sprawled across the west pediment of the Parthenon. These examples from the 5th century BC would have heralded the significance of the building and its creators to visitors.

The Erechtheion was a temple dedicated to Athena Polias, patron of Athens, with references to Athens’ first king, Erechtheus. The Porch of Maidens that houses six caryatids remains a mystery in its function, but plausible explanations are that these figures are: Athena’s attendants, mourners surrounding a now-lost tomb in the middle, or Erechtheus’ deceased daughters. Whatever their precise meaning, these painted figures visibly proclaimed the sacred significance of the temple and the traditions associated with the Erechtheion. They were not the first of their kind and serve as a sublime example of the desire to link the beauty of the human form with the beauty of architecture.  

The west pediment of the Parthenon is similar in its masterful incorporation of the human form on a huge scale. The once-painted sculptures show a competition between Athena and Poseidon. Followers of Athena lean to the left behind her figure; while those of Poseidon lean to the right behind him. The scene originally had dynamic postures, raised spears, and even chariots. The chaos of conflict would have been clearly legible and a testament to the strength of Athens and the epic magnitude of her origins. Placing such monumental figures atop a pediment was a commitment. More than a whim, it was an inspiring promise of resources, labor, and effort to honor Athena and the city-state.      

Both of these examples demonstrate the human ability to take on challenges of any scale and the desire to make our spaces as beautiful as we know how.

If cultures as different as the Māori, Javanese Buddhists, Classical Greeks, and French Roman Catholics all used figural imagery to communicate sacred truths and collective memory, then architectural use of figural artwork is not an anomaly. So how can we carry on this tradition while not merely copying the past? Including human forms, either via full sculpture, reliefs, or even trompe l’oeil as in the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist in Stamford, educates visitors and brings a human element to these spaces.  

These buildings and any in the future participate in a broader human tradition of expressing meaning through the human figure. Artwork and sculptures preserve memory, teach sacred truths, honor the dead, and prepare the living for encounters with what they hold most sacred. Far from being an isolated tradition, figural art in architecture is one of humanity's most enduring ways of expressing beauty, identity, and reverence.

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Taking a moment to pause and contemplate the symbols and decoration in the architecture around us is like pausing for a moment in a quiet garden. But many of the plants we see, we do not recognize or understand why they are in a church. Take a moment to identify and dive into the symbolism behind the leaves, flowers, and vines we see in church architecture. Read More