Churches to the arts: how the priorities of Australia’s wealthy have changed

Churches act as a reminder of past thinking about the role of faith in the community, writes Bernard Salt.

The older I get, the greater the interest I am taking in churches. Not because I am having some kind of later-life revelation – although I wouldn’t rule that out in due course – but because of the rich cultural glimpses these buildings have to offer.

In the late 19th century in many country towns, and even in lesser rural villages, it was the done thing for wealthy squatters to bequeath funds for a memorial church.

This was a colonial interpretation of the noblesse oblige idea of the aristocracy giving back to the community. Wealthy individuals today are more likely to bequeath funds for a medical facility, for an arts precinct, or for some kind of scholarship.

In my hometown of Terang in western Victoria, the glorious gothic spire of the Thomson Memorial Presbyterian Church dominates the landscape. It is a reminder not just of the individual but of past thinking about the role of faith in the community.

Indeed, even in small towns that long ago lost shops, schools and council offices, as well as footy teams, there is often a church of quite remarkable design and construction.

The congregation may have aged and dwindled but the edifice remains stoically pressing forward, evidence of a once thriving, devout community.

If such a church wasn’t a bequest, then how did the local community afford to build such an impressive structure? Where was the stone sourced? How did they procure the craftsmen? Who came up with the design? How was this church funded out of the resources of a modest farming community? Were there no dissenters in the congregation suggesting instead the construction of a school, a hospital?

Grand cathedrals such as St Peter’s in Rome or London’s St Paul’s are well known. They were made possible by marshalling the resources, skills and funds of an empire for the sole purpose of celebrating the Almighty.

In rural Italy, the church is often positioned to face the piazza. Even today, and especially in summer, they remain open daily, allowing locals and visitors to wander in, to admire the painting, the statuary, the stained glass, or just to escape the heat. And, indeed, to take time out of a busy day to contemplate the meaning of life. Some might even call this prayer.

What is perhaps even more impressive than the idea of rural communities throughout Australia over a century ago scrimping and saving to build a church – of some design merit – that still stands today is the fact that this was repeated across several denominations.

It is not that modern Australia is incapable of marshalling resources and of delivering outcomes that serve the community’s interests. It’s more that our focus has shifted. We’re less motivated by the Almighty; we’re more moved by matters of social justice.

We have not built cathedrals. We have built a middle class, created social welfare, enabled most of us to have access to higher education and to healthcare. And there’s still more to do.

But every now and then it’s oddly reassuring – inspiring, even – to see historic evidence of our ability to pursue and deliver something quite extraordinary that will be admired by generations to come.