Why are church doors so ornate? (Glad You Asked: q&a on church teaching).

"Fifteen thousand dollars," the guy on the phone said. So I hung up on him.

OK, I backed the parish pickup truck into the edge of the open church door. In my mind I still had about 18 inches to go. But that was precisely the width of the tailgate, which was down at the time, and I ended up pranging St. Isadore's hatch. The gates of hell may not prevail against the church, but a two-ton Toyota will put a mighty expensive dent in it.

"All right, $12,000," the guy from the Church Door Fix-it Company said after he called back, to which I responded once again with a dial tone. How could a door possibly cost that much money?

It all started way back when Christianity was just getting its legs and communities began sprouting in the wake of Saint Paul's missionary journeys. It was the practice in those early homegrown churches to gather for Eucharist facing east, toward Jerusalem. They pushed the table to the east side of the room so all, including the presider, could assume the communal orientation. (Ever wonder how the priest ended up with his back to the people in the old Latin Mass?)

When the church went legit in the third century and purpose-built structures were erected for the gatherings, they were generally laid out east and west to maintain the customary unidirectional liturgy. Over time, just as the table at the east end became richly symbolic and lavishly ornamented, the doors at the other end received their own spec and garnish and became the church's metaphor of going out into the world to "make disciples of all nations" (Matt. 28:19).

As a result, church door art went through the roof. The 13th-century doors of the cathedral in Spoleto, Italy, depicting 28 scenes from the life of Christ, are considered the greatest achievement of Romanesque woodcarving. A mob scene of biblical figures surrounds the portals of the fabulous Gothic cathedral at Chartres, France, including Elijah and Enoch schmoozing with the 12 apostles. In Hartford, Connecticut, the awesome art deco St. Joseph's Cathedral sports massive bronze doors depicting, among other things, the release of Saint Joseph from limbo. He looks relieved.

Up against those priceless works of art, the doors of St. Isadore's would never have won any prizes, even before I bashed them. But I came to appreciate their timeless significance, even though it cost me an arm and a leg.

By FATHER PAUL BOUDREAU, a priest of the Diocese of Norwich, Connecticut and author of Between Sundays: Daily Gospel Reflections and Prayers (Twenty-Third Publications) and a regular columnist for Today's Parish magazine.