Why Did Early Christians Build So Many Churches?
an article by Jacob Ashkenazi
in the Summer 2026 issue of Biblical Archaeology Review
When the American archaeologist
Howard Crosby Butler led his Princton University expeditions through Syria in the early 20th
century, he was amazed by what he found. Scattered across the landscape were
numerous well-preserved churches, often several within a single community. This
realization raised an intriguing question that still fascinates archaeologists and historians today:
Why did these ancient communities build so many churches?
The traditional explanation has focused on theological differences, suggesting
that various Christian denominations each needed their own space for worship However,
recent research offers a more complex explanation that tells us much about how these communities functioned and how they expressed
their religious devotion through architecture.
In Hippos-Sussita, a Greco-Roman city overlooking the Sea of Galilee, archaeologists have uncovered seven
churches within its modest 21-acre area. With an estimated population of
only 2,000 to 2,600 people, this means there was roughly one church for every 280 to 370 residents.
Similarly, the city of Gerasa (modern Jerash in Jordan) boasted 17 churches for a population of about 10,000. These numbers reflect a society where religious buildings served more than just
spiritual and liturgical purposes.
The positioning of these churches tells its own story. At
Hippos, five churches were integrated into residential areas and only two occupied public spaces.
The largest one, often called the “cathedral,” featured an ornate three-aisled design and two baptisteries. This architectural grandeur wasn’t just about religious necessity - it was a statement of civic pride and social prominence.
Even more striking are the rural examples.
The village of Umm al-Jimal in northern Jordan, with perhaps 3,000 residents, had at least 15 churches. Some were built
in open spaces, but most were integrated into residential quarters, suggesting they were private initiatives by local families.
The largest church, dated to 557 CE, stood at the village center, whereas
others were connected to family compounds through inner courtyards, creating a unique blend of public worship and private
patronage.
But what drove this remarkable proliferation of churches? In late antiquity, wealthy individuals and families saw church building as a way to contribute
to their community while enhancing their social standing. This practice, known as euergetism, evolved from earlier Greco-
Roman traditions of elite citizens demonstrating their civic pride through public buildings. The difference was that now, instead of funding theaters or bathhouses, wealthy
patrons invested in religious structures.
Let’s consider these examples.
Mosaic inscriptions in the “cathedral” at Hippos tell us that a priest named Procopius funded its renovations
and the construction of an attached baptistery. The priest made sure to include
mentions of his family members: a male relative named Peter and his mother – a clear sign that this was both a religious
and a social statement. At the rural site of Khirbet Khesheq in western Galilee, a deacon named Demetrius built a family church
dedicated to Saint George (one of the earliest known so far), with inscriptions proudly recording four generations of his
family. But this trend wasn’t limited to individual patrons. Sometimes
entire communities came together to fund similar projects. At Horvat Erav
in Upper Galilee, an inscription records contributions from six deacons and five lay donors, showing how church buildings
could be a collective enterprise that strengthened community bonds.
Insights from historians and sociologists about the interplay between religious
devotion and social standing allow us to conclude that in late antiquity, wealthy families instinctively knew that building
churches was both a religious duty and a path to social prestige. Each new
church changed not only the physical landscape but also the social fabric of the community.
A church built within a family compound gave that family a new kind of influence – they were not only wealthy
landowners but also custodians of a sacred space. We can think of it as a
kind of social currency: When a wealthy family built a church, they were
effectively converting their financial wealth into religious and social influence, creating lasting connections between their
households and the community’s religious life.
The construction boom wasn’t limited to churches either.
Monasteries were also built within villages, often funded by local families.
In the Hauran region of southern Syria, a remarkable document known as the Letter of the Archimandrites of Arabia
mentions 137 abbots, most operating within villages rather than in remote locations.
Some villages, such as Dareiyya near Damascus, housed as many as 11 monasteries.
This building activity peaked in the sixth century but began to decline toward its end. As economic pressures mounted,
urban areas saw fewer churches, and rural areas continued building at a slower pace, suggesting village communities remained
more resilient.
This pattern
tells us that church building in the late antique Levant was about much more than creating places of worship: it was a way
for communities to express their identity, for families to establish their legacy, and for individuals to demonstrate their
commitment to both their faith and their community. These ancient remains
are not only religious buildings but also statements about the people who built them – their aspiration, relationship,
and place in society. To understand this is to better appreciate the rich
tapestry of life in the late antique Levant, where sacred spaces were built not only for prayer but also as lasting monuments
to the communities that created them.
