If you walk up Amsterdam Avenue toward 112th Street, you’ll see it. It’s impossible to miss, yet strangely easy to overlook because it feels like it belongs to another century entirely. Or maybe three different centuries at once. The Cathedral of St. John the Divine is huge. Like, "fourth largest Christian church in the world" huge. But here is the thing: it’s technically a ruin that hasn't even been finished yet.
Most people call it "St. John the Unfinished." It’s been under construction since 1892. Think about that for a second. When the first stone was laid, the subway didn't exist, and the Ottoman Empire was still a thing. Today, it sits on Morningside Heights as a massive, echoing, glorious contradiction of limestone and granite. It’s a place where Duke Ellington’s funeral was held and where high-wire artist Philippe Petit is an artist-in-residence. It’s weird. It’s beautiful. And honestly, it’s the most "New York" building in New York.
The Identity Crisis of the 1890s
The Cathedral didn't always look like a French Gothic masterpiece. Originally, the architects George Lewis Heins and Christopher Grant LaFarge won a competition to build it in a Romanesque-Byzantine style. You can still see the remnants of this today if you look closely at the massive granite columns behind the altar. They are rounded, heavy, and feel almost subterranean.
But then Heins died in 1907.
The trustees basically looked at the progress and decided they wanted something more "Gothic." They brought in Ralph Adams Cram, a man who was obsessed with the Middle Ages. He pivoted the entire design mid-stream. This is why the Cathedral of St. John the Divine has this strange, transitional energy. The choir and crossing are rounded and Romanesque; the nave is sharp, vertical, and definitively Gothic. It’s a literal architectural argument frozen in stone.
A Nave That Swallows Sound
Walking into the nave is a disorienting experience. It’s 601 feet long. You could lay the Statue of Liberty down inside with room to spare. The ceiling is so high—124 feet—that your brain struggles to process the scale.
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The stained glass isn't just religious, either. Sure, you have the standard biblical scenes, but the "Great Rose Window" in the west front is a marvel of 10,000 pieces of glass. Then there are the smaller windows. You’ll find depictions of the radio, the telegraph, and even a small section dedicated to the sinking of the Titanic. It’s a time capsule of the 20th century hidden in a 13th-century aesthetic.
I once stood in the center of the nave during a rehearsal for the Winter Solstice concert. The acoustics are... tricky. There’s an eight-second echo. If you drop a book, the sound travels, bounces, and returns like a ghost. This makes it a nightmare for some speakers but a divine playground for organists. Speaking of which, the Great Organ, a G. Donald Harrison masterpiece, has 8,514 pipes. When it hits a low note, you don't just hear it in your ears; you feel your ribcage vibrate against the wooden pews.
The Sculptures Nobody Expects
Look at the central portal, the "Portal of Paradise." Most people glance at the statues and keep walking. Don't do that.
Look at the pillars.
In the late 1980s, stone carvers—including many local apprentices from the neighborhood—were tasked with finishing some of the biblical scenes. One pillar shows the destruction of a modern city. You can see the Brooklyn Bridge and the Twin Towers (carved years before 2001) falling into the sea. It’s a depiction of the Apocalypse, but set in Manhattan. It’s haunting and oddly prescient. It’s these little details, the "Portal of Paradise" carvings, that remind you this isn't a dead museum. It’s a living project.
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Fire, Water, and Survival
The Cathedral of St. John the Divine has had a rough couple of decades. In 2001, a massive fire broke out in the north transept, specifically in the gift shop area. It didn't burn the stone, obviously, but the smoke damage was catastrophic. They spent years cleaning the soot off the tapestries and the walls with specialized sponges.
Then, more recently, a gunman opened fire on the steps after a Christmas choral concert in 2020. Thankfully, nobody but the shooter was hurt, but it left a mark on the community. Through all of this, the building remains open. It’s a sanctuary in the truest sense of the word. People go there to think, to hide from the rain, or to see the peacocks.
Wait, did I mention the peacocks?
There are actual peacocks that live on the grounds. Phil, Jim, and Harry. Well, the names change over the years as new ones arrive, but the presence of these bright blue birds wandering around the Gothic cloisters is just another layer of the Cathedral's surreal charm. They are a gift from the Bronx Zoo, and they treat the grounds like their private kingdom.
Why It’s Still Not Finished
Money. That’s the short answer.
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The long answer is that building a cathedral using medieval techniques—hand-carved stone, no steel skeleton in the nave—is ridiculously expensive. In the 1980s and 90s, the "Stonyard" program trained local residents in the art of masonry. It was a beautiful social experiment, but the funding eventually dried up.
Today, the towers are still stumps. The transepts are mismatched. One side is finished; the other is a temporary wall that has been "temporary" for nearly a century. Some people argue they should never finish it. The incompleteness is part of the theology—that the work of "the divine" or human progress is never truly done.
Practical Advice for the Visit
If you’re actually going to go, don't just walk the floor.
- Book a "Vertical Tour." This is the single best thing you can do in NYC. They take you up the spiral stairs, through the triforium, and out onto the roof. You get to see the "attic" of the cathedral, which looks like the inside of a whale’s ribcage. The view of the Manhattan skyline from the roof is something most tourists never see.
- Check the Concert Calendar. Whether it's the New York Philharmonic’s annual free Memorial Day concert or a spooky Halloween screening of Nosferatu with live organ accompaniment, the building comes alive when it’s loud.
- The Barberini Tapestries. They are huge, 17th-century works of art that depict the life of Christ. They were almost lost in the 2001 fire but were painstakingly restored. They hang in the nave and soften the harshness of the stone.
- The Labryinth. There’s a floor labyrinth modeled after the one in Chartres Cathedral. It’s meant for walking meditation. Even if you aren't religious, walking the path while the light filters through the Rose Window is a solid way to lower your blood pressure.
The Cathedral of St. John the Divine isn't just a church for Episcopalians. It’s a hub for the arts, a shelter for the neighborhood, and a massive, physical representation of New York's ambition. It’s flawed, it’s expensive, and it’s arguably a bit of a mess architecturally. But that’s why it matters. It’s a monument to the idea that some things are worth doing, even if you’ll never live to see the end of them.
To make the most of your time there, arrive at least 30 minutes before any scheduled tour to wander the grounds of the Close. Check out the "Peace Fountain" nearby—it’s a bronze explosion of angels and demons that is just as wild as the building itself. Wear comfortable shoes; that stone floor is unforgiving on the arches. Finally, bring a pair of binoculars if you have them. The best carvings are often the ones tucked fifty feet above your head, hiding in the shadows of the rafters.
Actionable Next Steps
- Check the Official Website: Always verify opening hours, as the Cathedral often hosts private events or film shoots that can close off the nave.
- Book the Vertical Tour in Advance: These sell out weeks ahead of time, especially during the spring and fall.
- Visit the Neighborhood: Combine your trip with a stop at the nearby Hungarian Pastry Shop—it’s an institution for a reason.
- Look Up: The most intricate details are in the capitals of the columns and the "Portal of Paradise" carvings at the main entrance.