In 2026, at a time when the rate of Catholic practice is collapsing in Europe, and vocations with it, Spain is building the tallest church ever built. The Sagrada Familia now rises 172 meters above the ground in Barcelona.
In France, it is the spire of Notre-Dame which aroused worldwide enthusiasm during its reconstruction at the end of 2023. Today it is that of the basilica of Saint-Denis which is at the center of attention.
The more sociological indicators of Catholic roots decline, the more churches that rise to the sky attract attention. Are we living in a paradoxical time, where causes opposite to those cited by Raoul Glaber and his “white church robes” of the year 1000 produce the same effects?
Not yet, of course, and there are more churches closing, converting or demolishing than bell towers rising in “old Europe”. But it’s still worth stopping at.
Fascination with large churches
What does this fascination mean? The first instinct would be to say that it is an architectural expression of the “zombie Catholicism” evoked by Emmanuel Todd in his works. Catholic practice and identity are fading, but sociological reflexes, deprived of explicit meaning, remain.
The public’s fascination with these large churches would be the largely secularized continuation of the 19th and 20th century craze for large basilica projects, such as the Sacré-Cœur in Paris, Fourvière in Lyon, or Notre-Dame de la Garde in Marseille.
With a shift in sacredness. From Catholic religious fervor, the building becomes the scene of a sacralization of the arts, architecture, memory and history, with a specific aura, certainly, due to the religious destination of the place.
Return of materiality
But there are other elements that come into play in this “new age of cathedrals” – all things considered, of course – and which distinguish it from previous periods.
First, there is the great return of materiality. From the construction site. Stone, concrete, iron, glass and so many others. And jobs. Whereas since Viollet-le-Duc, the architect appeared alone on the front of the stage, as heroic and brilliant designer of the whole, we are witnessing the return of the repressed.
That of the intelligence of the hand, united with that of the eye and the mind. Certainly, for the Sagrada Familia, there is Gaudi. This allows for an embodied architecture that differentiates the Barcelona church from its French counterparts. And which gives it particular accents.
At Notre-Dame de Paris, Philippe Villeneuve, successor to Viollet-le-Duc, restored the cathedral identical to the work of his predecessor. In Saint-Denis, Jacques Moulin and Christophe Bottineau scrupulously rebuilt the tower started by Suger and completed by his successors.
But, in Barcelona, architects do not rebuild. They finish. They complete a project that is both closed and open. Closed because Gaudi’s aesthetics have the last word. Open, because Gaudi did not leave definitive plans that had to be literally followed.
A certain vision of authenticity
And this is where looking at these three projects becomes interesting. While the 20th century was fascinated by authenticity and heritage, the 21st century seems to open new paths.
In 1964, the Venice Charter synthesized the heritage vision of the 20th century. We must preserve the monument as it was transmitted, forget the “complete state”, which was largely an ideal state, which fascinated Viollet-le-Duc, and make any later addition legible.
The charter was written in a century deeply wounded by two world wars and in a context marked by the anxiety of the possibility of a third. He anticipates a restoration which would aim to commemorate a drama of a historical nature.
However, this document can also be read differently. What is “last known state”? Known for what? By human memory? Through photography? By old engravings? The three projects in Barcelona, Paris and Saint-Denis are moving the lines and shaping the 21st century’s relationship with heritage.
Yes, we can complete a church whose image, in the name of a certain vision of authenticity, could have been frozen in the state where Gaudi left it when he died in 1926. Yes, we can rebuild the spire of Viollet-le-Duc without risking being condemned for having created “neo-neo-Gothic”. Yes, you can launch a stone arrow into the sky known from surveys dating from 1846. And, in all these cases, be fascinated by the work in question.
Because these three choices have a historical, social, artistic and cultural meaning deeply rooted in our time.
In short, these projects question the link of our societies to the sacred, to history, to memory. This heritage revolution is not happening where we expected it. Since the 1980s, we thought that this new page in the history of heritage would be written thanks to local, industrial and artisanal heritage.
A common ground of collective emotions
Their preservation is essential. At the scale of the city, neighborhood or village, these heritages arouse real attachment and mobilize energies. But this heritage which is diffuse by nature has never benefited from the enthusiasm which accompanies the major stages of these exceptional projects.
And even on the scale of monuments of national influence, it is neither the restorations of palaces nor those of castles which have taken center stage in the media, but of religious buildings.
It remains to be seen how this enthusiasm will be mobilized. To contribute to peaceful secularism? As a tool at the service of a new evangelization? To remind us that heritage constitutes a common ground of collective emotions?
Religious heritage seems to refuse to allow itself to be desecrated and questions our societies about the part of roots that remain within them.
There is no doubt that the ceremonies taking place in Barcelona this Wednesday, June 10 will help raise questions on all these points. And these questions will continue. In Barcelona, the Sagrada Familia is far from finished. The construction of the facade of glory and its four towers constitutes a new architectural and urban planning challenge for the coming years.
As at Notre-Dame de Paris, until 2029, as at Saint-Denis, until 2030, the cathedrals of the 21st century also speak to the future.
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