The Mystic Roots of Gothic Architecture: How Greek Philosophy Inspired Medieval Builders
Ben Loomis | June 2025
Dear History Writers,
This week’s guest article explores the origins of ‘divine light’ as a device used by medieval church architects, with beautiful accompanying photographs taken by the author himself. Examining the connections between philosophy and building design is new to me as I’m sure it will be to most of you, but our guest writer’s engaging and informative style provides a detailed explanation.
Towards the end of the piece, I encourage you to respond by considering the following questions:
Have you explored before the philosophical roots of medieval architecture? How might understanding this change the way we experience buildings in our daily lives?
All the best as always,
Holly
Editor,
Hello there! I’m currently studying for a PhD in Archaeology at Oxford, researching the role of women in the social and political developments of 6th- and 7th-century England and France. With a worldwide readership of over 1,500 (plus over 4,400 on my primary newsletter Medieval Musings), I provide a platform for the words of history writers at every stage of their career. Opportunities to contribute open up regularly, so make sure you’re subscribed to hear before anyone else! Our top 3 posts of all time have been an interview exploring the non-existence of medieval feminism, a guest post connecting the tyranny and injustice of Iron Age warrior queen Boudicca to the present day, and a hilarious journey through the myth of Arachne. You can support my work by becoming a paid subscriber at the link below or by making a one-off donation HERE. Thanks!
Once an architect and developer, now a "philosophical historian", Ben Loomis uses history to explore culture, art, religion, and the forces shaping societies. His current projects include a book on Gothic architecture, and exploring media’s role in history. You can read more of his work on Substack at the link below.
The Mystic Roots of Gothic Architecture: How Greek Philosophy Inspired Medieval Builders
Ben Loomis
“Thus, when — out of my delight in the beauty of the house of God — the loveliness of the many-colored gems has called me away from external cares, and worthy meditation has induced me to reflect… I see myself dwelling, as it were, in some strange region of the universe which neither exists entirely in the slime of the earth nor entirely in the purity of Heaven; and that, by the grace of God, I can be transported from this inferior to that higher world in an anagogical manner.”
Abbot Suger1
Abbot Suger, generally recognized as the “inventor” of Gothic architecture, knew that his basilica was built on the tomb of St-Denis, the Pauline convert who wrote ”On the Celestial Hierarchy” and several other early Christian mystical texts.
Suger certainly studied these writings closely, and there can be little doubt that they helped him conceptualize the mystic experience he describes above. It’s also likely that it was just such a vision that led him to rebuild the eastern end of his basilica — the first work of Gothic architecture — in such a way that it would feel as if one were standing inside the jewel-encrusted reliquary that was the object of his meditation in the quote above.
“With the expression ‘lux continua’ Suger uttered the decisive principle.”
Paul Frankl2
Gothic architecture was often described by contemporaries as an attempt to express the idea of “Heavenly Jerusalem on Earth”. It was also well understood that the key to this expression was divine light pouring through stained glass windows and illuminating soaring open spaces with an ethereal glow.
What’s less well-known is that the roots of these ideas come from the “pagan” Greek philosophy of Neoplatonism. Because it turns out that Abbot Suger — along with all medieval European scholars — misunderstood who wrote those mystical texts, conflating three different historical persons into a single legendary character. Let’s sort out the medieval misunderstanding about who was who.
Dionysius the Areopagite, Pseudo-Dionysius, and Saint Denis
The first historical person in this group was Dionysius the Areopagite, mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles (17:34) as being converted by St Paul while the latter was in Athens. This Dionysius became Athens’ first bishop.
Some 450 years later, c. 500 AD, a Neoplatonic philosopher and Christian theologian wrote a series of treatises and letters expounding a mystical vision of Christianity with a pronounced Neoplatonic influence. His work was incorrectly attributed to Dionysius the Areopagite, though this was not first discovered until the late 15th century. This author is now known as Pseudo-Dionysius.
To confuse things even further, there was a 3rd century martyr named Denis (French name for Dionysius), who was bishop of Paris. He was decapitated on the highest hill in Paris, now known as Montmartre. Afterwards, he picked up his head and walked all the way to where the Basilica of St-Denis now stands before finally laying down to a final rest. Such a feat led to canonization, of course, and Saint Denis was widely venerated in the Middle Ages. And for whatever reason — despite being separated by two centuries and 2000 kilometers — this Parisian St-Denis had by the 9th century become confounded with the Athenian Dionysius.
Thus, by the 12th century when Suger is Abbot of St-Denis, he firmly believes that the saint buried in his basilica’s crypt is the writer of certain mystical texts that actually propound a mysticism based on “pagan” principles rather than Biblical ones.
So we can now turn to this philosophy called Neoplatonism, which had a widespread influence throughout the Middle Ages — and not exclusively through the writings of Pseudo-Dionysius: St Augustine is just the most famous of many early Church Fathers who were influenced by Neoplatonism.
Neoplatonism
Among the non-Christian Neoplatonists, two figures stand out for our story: Plotinus and Proclus. Plotinus (c. 205-270 AD) is considered the founder of the school, and Proclus (412-485 AD) was an important Neoplatonic thinker who was the head of Plato’s Academy and who likely taught Pseudo-Dionysius.
Neoplatonism is a vast and potentially confusing topic: what follows is a massive simplification as well as a bit of a personal interpretation.
Plotinus & The One
In interpreting Plato, Plotinus developed the idea that there were ultimately three underlying metaphysical principles to reality, and that through their activity, the universe we perceive is created. These he called the One, the Intellect, and the Soul. Note that while this tripartite division shares a numerical similarity with the idea of the Trinity which may have been attractive to early Christian thinkers, it is a very different idea. Let’s look at these terms one by one.
The One is the absolute first principle, self-caused and the cause of all other being. It is ineffable — beyond all conceptions — and to even give it a name is in a sense misleading, though “the One” is perhaps the least inappropriate word to use.
On the other hand, other terms have been used in other cultural contexts, because this idea is ultimately the notion behind the perennial philosophy that “all is one” or “everything is connected.” Referred to as nondualism in modern philosophy, it has been called “the Tao” in Chinese philosophy, “Brahman” in Indian Advaita Vedanta, and “the ground of being” by Meister Eckhart and Paul Tillich — these last examples take us into Christian mysticism.
In Neoplatonic philosophy, everything emanates from the One. Intellect emanates from the One, the Soul emanates from the Intellect, and the Soul’s activity creates the material world, which is the most “degraded” form of reality — a notion easily accepted by early and medieval Christians.
Explaining how all this happens is beyond the scope of this article, and in a sense unimportant — what is important is that you understand the concept of a series of “emanations” leading in stages from some ultimate, nondual and inexpressible, first principle to the universe you inhabit.
It’s also important to understand that these emanations are not sequential; — rather, this is a continual process always happening: thus the metaphor of “the ground of being.”
In short, Plotinus's concept of the One represents the ultimate source of all reality, with everything in the universe existing as an emanation from this singular, ineffable principle.
Proclus & Pseudo-Dionysius
Despite my statement that how these emanations from the One create the observable universe is unimportant, philosophers are going to philosophize. And to philosophize often means to elaborate.
Proclus, for example, suggested that a series of “henads,” or unities/gods bridge the gap between from the One to material reality. This basic idea leads to the “great chain of being,” a hierarchical organization which was a staple of much medieval philosophical and theological thinking.
This is where Pseudo-Dionysius comes in. In “On the Celestial Hierarchies” and “On the Ecclesiastical Hierarchies,” he overlays a Christian interpretation onto the idea of henads, using Biblical texts and liturgical practices as his organizing principles.
This results in a very complex but highly ordered scheme of multiple hierarchies of celestial beings and earthly practices. Perhaps the most well-known of these hierarchies is the nine orders of spiritual beings below God, of which the archangels and angels — the only angels that might possibly be experienced by humans — are at the bottom.
Pseudo-Dionysuis’ hierarchies, both spiritual (“Celestial”) and worldly (“Ecclesiastical”) had an important influence on how the Church organized itself and on how those who wanted to experience a closer union with God would go about doing so, as well as how they would conceptualize their mystical experiences.
Divine Light
As I mentioned above, cultures throughout the world have developed similar ideas about a single “godhead” as the ultimate reality. It is indeed — as Aldous Huxley popularized the idea in the mid-20th century — the perennial philosophy.
Scholars of comparative religion often describe different schools of mysticism as all aiming at the top of the same mountain, but starting at different points below. So, depending on the exact time and place and cultural milieu, followers of Greek Neoplatonism, Chinese Taoism, Islamic Sufism, and Indian Advaita all begin with different symbols and descriptions at their base, but those descriptions and symbols become more and more similar as one ascends to a mystical realization.
And the most common symbol they all arrive as they approach the ultimate source is a divine light. Medieval scholar Johan Huizanga put it well in his classic “The Waning of the Middle Ages”:
“Mystics, it has been said, have neither birthday nor native land. But the support of imagination cannot be given up all at once… First the brilliant imagery of symbolism is abandoned, and the too concrete formulas of dogma are avoided. But still the contemplation of the absolute Being ever remains linked up with notions of extension or of light… Of course… all had been reached already by Denis the Areopagite.”3
And so Huizanga leads us back, as if we were ourselves returning to the One, to Abbot Suger’s quote which opened this essay. The play of light — whether from the candlelight reflecting off the jewels of a reliquary as in Suger’s meditation, or through your own experience today of the multicolored stained glass of the high windows in a soaring Gothic Cathedral — can lift one’s mind up from the muck of the everyday world to contemplate higher powers and purposes.
In sum, Gothic architecture can be seen as an attempt to manifest the Neoplatonic vision of a cosmos illuminated by divine light, where the material structure of the cathedral serves as a gateway to higher, spiritual realities. By channeling light through soaring spaces and vibrant stained glass, Gothic cathedrals aimed to evoke this mystical ascent, guiding worshippers toward a deeper communion with the divine.
Thank you Ben for sharing this piece with readers of The Society of History Writers!
Please join me in the comments to thank Ben for his guest article PLUS share your thoughts on the following questions:
Have you explored before the philosophical roots of medieval architecture? How might understanding this change the way we experience buildings in our daily lives?
References
Frankl, Paul. "The Gothic: Literary Sources and Interpretations through Eight Centuries." 1960.
Huizinga, Johan. "The Waning of the Middle Ages." 1919; 1924 translation by Edward Arnold & Co.
Thank you for reading this post by the Society of History Writers! You can support my work by becoming a paid subscriber at the link below or by making a one-off donation HERE. Thanks!
Quoted in Frankl (1960: 19).
Frankl (1960: 11-12).
Huizinga (1924: 201).
This piece by Ben Loomis is incredible. The photography is stunning. The words speaking for history are magnificent. His passion for research shines. I am a better person for having experienced this piece. Thank you!