The Stained-Glass Windows of Chartres Cathedral in France are made of simple materials—river sand, beechwood potash, and metal oxides for color. Yet they're resplendent beyond description. They stud the walls of the cathedral with glory: cobalt blues, ruby reds, emerald greens, amethyst purples, opal whites. "Look at them!" our French guide said. "They're jewels in the house of God."
Actually, you can't not look at these windows. They're too compelling. They arrest your attention the moment you enter the cathedral. You simply have to walk over to each one and examine it. That's when you discover that these jewels have a purpose. A holy purpose. Each window has a story to tell—a story that outshines the vibrancy of the colors by a thousand times. It's the story of the Bible.
In The Twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when Chartres Cathedral was constructed, most people didn't have Bibles. Because the Bible hadn't been printed yet to reach the people widely. And, even if it had been, very few men and women could read. So stained-glass windows pretty much were the Bible for the average person in Europe. People loved these windows and contributed generously to pay for them—and the church buildings that housed them. It was a way of opening up the treasures of Scripture for themselves, their children, their world.
