The East Liberty Presbyterian Church broods over the neighborhood, heavy and gothic, monopolizing an entire city block. The church, completed in 1935, holds more than 100 rooms, including the cruciform sanctuary, a smaller chapel, and maze-like hallways leading to both. I approach the church from the bus stop across the street, eyeing the monumental steeple, countless windows, and triangles of the roofline. Immense wooden doors are tucked into pockets on all sides of the church, in one of which I once waited for a bus in a wild summer thunderstorm. I walk through the heavy doors, entering a small, low-ceilinged lobby, with hallways branching off in all directions.
I turn right, passing a wall covered in a rainbow patchwork, opposite photos of Pittsburgh icons. Turning left, I enter the small chapel, where meditative Taizé prayer is held each week. Unlit candles cover the floor of the altar space, and the room is dim, leaving intricate stained glass on display. Detailed biblical figures stand against beige backgrounds, this glass an entirely different style than that of the sanctuary, and originally intended to be easily understandable for the illiterate. It came from the congregation’s previous church on this site, before that was outgrown, on top of four previous churches. Now, this chapel is a funerary space, with tiny rooms off its edges, small windows inside shedding light on cozy armchairs intended to be spaces of reprieve for the grieving.
Leaving the chapel, I head into the sanctuary, walking through heavy wooden doors and entering a truly immense space. The sanctuary is cruciform in shape, with pews facing the altar in each section of its transept, a common feature in churches of size, and stained glass glistening on every wall in cerulean, ruby, lapis lazuli, and gold. There is a rhythm to the windows: red and blue alternate, with red or blue primarily marking the edges, and the opposite in the inner sections of each window. Rainbow flags are hung just below the windows, reflecting the glass itself and the church’s inclusivity of the LGBTQ+ community. The ceiling soars overhead with quadripartite vaulting, or crisscrossed ribs, as in traditional gothic architecture. I can’t help but gaze upward, awestruck. The space is constructed of gigantic, tan stone bricks, which, along with the windows prevent the sanctuary from feeling dark. If you were to drag your fingers along one of the walls while walking by, you’d feel various textures, some bricks smooth and others rough with cross-hatching.
I walk forward down the central aisle, the raised altar beckoning me. A wooden cross floats in the air above it, backed by more stained glass. The high ceilings, even higher here at the front of the church, seem to invite God and the faith of the congregation to fill the space. The back of the church mirrors the front with its raised choir loft, also surrounded by a rainbow of glass. One window in particular catches my attention; a small, circular depiction of the Virgin Mary is high upon one wall, the edges patterned in points that make the image sun-shaped, shining down upon the congregation.
The church is a key example of eclectic design, which was popular from the 1850s to the 1950s and incorporated aspects of Gothic and Romanesque architecture. The chapel’s rounded arches and less colorful glass are decidedly Romanesque, whereas the pointed windows and motifs and vaulted ceiling of the sanctuary are Gothic. These styles all contribute to a very traditional feel within the church, similar to that of many ancient Catholic cathedrals, but the values of East Liberty Presbyterian Church (ELPC) are anything but old-fashioned.
The East Liberty neighborhood was redlined just two years after this church’s construction, promoting beliefs that the neighborhood was unsafe and contributing to racial and class-based segregation, including white flight from the community. ELPC, however, stayed, and has served as a beacon of welcome in East Liberty for almost 100 years. Today, the congregation is diverse, with a goal of representing the neighborhood in its entirety. They promote anti-racist initiatives and LGBTQ+ resources, prioritizing acceptance and support for all.
The site also serves as a social and community hub, welcoming 72 outside organizations to meet within the church’s walls. This amounts to a staggering 10-15,000 non-parishioners visiting and engaging with the space each year, including my own Secret Pittsburgh class, which visited this site for the first time this semester. The church also incorporates their aims of inclusivity in many of their own events and groups: they host open dialogues on topics such as racial justice and reparations, and even have a Facing Systemic Racism Committee.
In addition, ELPC’s Mission Board works to make a positive difference at the local and global levels (East Liberty Presbyterian Church). Three groups are a part of this board, including the Neighbors, Peace, and Justice Committees. The Neighbors Committee seeks to feed, shelter, and clothe community members through clothing and food drives, financial support, and by working with local organizations. The Peace Committee works with other churches and community groups, and it has led initiatives to support refugees and survivors of gun violence. The Justice Committee also works with refugees and immigrants and engages with prisoners and the LGBTQ+ community. In addition, they address criminal justice issues and environmental stewardship, both with their parishioners, in the city of Pittsburgh as a whole, and beyond.
East Liberty Presbyterian Church embodies Christian values of inclusion and radical acceptance, striving to promote equality through community outreach and by sharing their physical space. Their expansive and beautiful space, though traditional, invites in newcomers, both Presbyterian and not. I have been just as struck by the church’s luminous stained glass and immense vaulted ceilings as by their deeply caring community.
I leave the sanctuary, turning around for one last look through the wooden doors framing my parting view of those beautiful windows, sunlight gently streaming through them and forming blurry watercolor patterns on the stone floor. The tranquility of the space, so much bigger than myself, has soothed me, and I can only imagine the wonder of the first parishioners coming to their new, Gothic church in the midst of the Great Depression, joined together in a community that had already lasted over 100 years and would only continue to grow in the future. With that, I exit the church and step out onto a bustling East Liberty street, more connected to the neighborhood in its past and present than ever before.
Works Cited
East Liberty Presbyterian Church. East Liberty Presbyterian Church, 2023, Annual Report 2022, https://cathedralofhope.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/02/ELPC-Annual-Report-2022.pdf. Accessed 6 Apr. 2023.