Throughout history, various pagan and mystical symbols have found their way into Christian worship and church design. Many of these elements were assimilated as Christianity spread into pagan cultures, particularly within the Roman Catholic Church (RCC). This incorporation – whether by cultural adaptation or deliberate syncretism – has raised historical and theological concerns. Critics argue that such blending represents a departure from true biblical faith, diluting the purity of the gospel with ancient mystery-religion practices. Today we will examine key examples of pagan symbols (like the obelisk, pentagram, Vesica Piscis, and labyrinth) appearing in churches, the role of syncretism in merging biblical teaching with Druidic, Egyptian, Babylonian, and Roman traditions, and the influence of secret societies (Freemasons, Knights Templar, Renaissance alchemists) on church architecture and symbolism.
"God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth."
(John 4:24)
Pagan Symbols in Church Architecture and Worship
Over the centuries, symbols rooted in pagan religions have been adopted or re-purposed in Christian churches – often with new meanings, yet retaining unmistakable forms. Key examples include the obelisk, pentagram, vesica piscis, and labyrinth, which appear in numerous church settings (especially in older European cathedrals and RCC traditions). Understanding how these symbols entered Christian worship sheds light on the church’s historical compromises.
The presence of obelisks—ancient Egyptian sun pillars—within Christian contexts, particularly in church cemeteries and even at the heart of the Vatican, raises intriguing questions about the symbols a religion chooses to represent itself. Obelisks were originally dedicated to the sun god of Egypt, standing as emblems of pagan worship. The Vatican’s own 83-foot obelisk, once part of the sun temple at Heliopolis, was relocated to Rome, later crowned with a cross in an attempt to Christianize it. However, its origins remain unmistakable.
The use of obelisks in Christian cemeteries echoes this paradox, as these monuments were never symbols of Christianity but rather of solar worship. Some scholars even argue that church steeples evolved from obelisks, subtly embedding an ancient sun-god emblem into Christian architecture. If obelisks and spires ultimately stem from pagan traditions, one must ask: which kingdom do they truly represent? Are they markers of a faith centered on Christ, or do they signify a lingering reverence for sun-worship hidden in plain sight?
Obelisk at the heart of the Vatican
The pentagram, a five-pointed star often enclosed in a circle, has long been associated with occult and pagan traditions ( (Wicca, magic, the goddess Ishtar etc.), yet it also appears in the architecture of some Christian churches. This raises questions about how symbols from ancient belief systems—particularly those rooted in Babylonian mysticism—have found their way into Christian spaces. The pentagram was used in Mesopotamian cultures, including Babylon, where it held esoteric significance. Early Christians at times linked it to the five wounds of Christ or the Star of Bethlehem, but this interpretation was not universally accepted. Medieval churches such as Adderbury Church in Oxfordshire (see below) feature pentagrams in their stonework, suggesting either an early re-interpretation of the symbol or a lingering connection to mystical traditions that predate Christianity.
As time progressed, the pentagram became heavily associated with secret knowledge, alchemy, and occultism, particularly during the Renaissance. Freemasons, who trace many of their ideas back to ancient mystery schools, adopted the pentagram as the “Blazing Star,” symbolizing hidden wisdom and illumination. Given the deep connections between Freemasonry and Babylonian mysticism, critics argue that the symbol’s presence in churches reflects the infiltration of esoteric teachings rather than pure Christian doctrine. Today, the pentagram is widely recognized as a Wiccan and pagan emblem, making its presence in Christian architecture difficult to justify from a biblical perspective.
The continued existence of pentagrams in church settings raises serious questions. Were they overlooked relics of medieval interpretations, or were they deliberately placed there by those who sought to merge Christianity with Babylonian-influenced esoteric traditions? Regardless of the answer, the fact remains that no such symbol was ever established by Christ or the Apostles. Its presence in Christian spaces stands as yet another example of how Babylonian mysticism, through secrecy and gradual acceptance, has left its mark on religious institutions that claim to follow the teachings of Christ.
Revelation 18:23
“…for by thy sorceries were all nations deceived.”
A Pentagram at Adderbury Church
The vesica piscis, an ancient geometric symbol formed by two overlapping circles, creates an almond-shaped oval at its intersection. This shape carries deep mystical significance, particularly in pagan philosophy, where it symbolized the union of opposites, the womb of creation, and the "yoni"—a representation of the feminine divine in Babylonian fertility cults. Pythagorean and Gnostic traditions associated it with sacred geometry, referring to it as the “Potential Logos.” Pythagoreans saw in it the interplay between the dyad and triad, a concept that later found parallels in Christian Trinitarian analogies.
Early Christians adopted the vesica piscis but assigned it new meaning (well butter my buns and call me a biscuit), using it in iconography as the halo or aureole behind "Christ" or the "Virgin Mary". This transformation turned the shape into a glory mandorla, prominently seen in medieval religious art where "Christ" in Majesty is often enclosed within an almond-shaped mandorla. Gothic cathedral builders also incorporated the vesica piscis into their designs, using its proportions for pointed arches in stained glass windows and church layouts. The mathematical harmony of the vesica lent itself to the sacred architecture of the medieval church, blending artistic beauty with structural function.
One of the most striking uses of this symbol appears in the design of St. Peter’s Square, crafted by Bernini. Some scholars argue that the oval shape (ovato tondo) of the piazza represents a giant vesica piscis, with the obelisk at its center as a unifying point of divine and earthly power. The two fountains in the square serve as the foci of this geometric form, reinforcing the vesica’s structural presence within one of the most important "Christian" landmarks. While church architects may have understood the vesica as a symbol of the fish or the union of God and man in Christ, its origins in sacred geometry and mystical traditions remain evident.
Beyond church architecture, the vesica piscis appears in Freemasonry, where it is used as the shape for lodge seals, suggesting that esoteric groups revered this symbol both inside and outside the Church. This dual usage raises questions about the extent to which Christian art and architecture were influenced by mystical and pagan traditions, particularly those tied to sacred geometry. The adoption of the vesica piscis highlights a form of syncretism, where aesthetically pleasing symbols from pagan culture were rebranded with Christian meaning. However, this also invites a deeper theological question: Did the early church ever have a mandate for such geometric mysticism? The Bible makes no mention of symbols like the vesica piscis, and their presence in Christian art and architecture arises not from Scripture, but from tradition and artistic convention. The mandorla surrounding saints' heads owes more to Pythagoras than to Paul, revealing yet another instance where pagan mysticism found its way into Christian expression.
The Vesica Piscis at the Vatican
Well, slap a wig on a goat and call it Grandma!
Medieval cathedrals across Europe often feature labyrinths embedded in their floors, with the most famous example being the circular labyrinth in Chartres Cathedral, built around the 13th century. These labyrinths were used as a symbolic pilgrimage for worshippers who would walk the winding path as a meditative journey to God. However, the labyrinth was not originally a Christian practice at all; its roots trace back to Greek mythology and beyond.
Let me guess… fresh off the boat from Babylon?!
The concept originates from the legend of the Minotaur’s maze in ancient Crete, a twisting enclosure designed to house a half-man, half-bull creature (hybrid anyone?). Variations of labyrinth designs also appeared in ancient Egypt and Rome, long before they found their way into church floors.
Labyrinths in cathedrals emerged around the 12th and 13th centuries, coinciding with the Crusades and the Gothic cathedral boom. Clergy introduced them as an alternative form of pilgrimage for those unable to travel to Jerusalem. Yet, despite this seemingly pious adaptation, the labyrinth carried with it its old mystical connotations—echoing the spiritual journey concepts found in many pagan initiation rites.
Walking the labyrinth requires one to yield to the path, surrendering personal control, and this act can induce a contemplative, quasi-transcendent state. Critics argue that such practices resemble mystery religion rituals more than anything found in biblical worship. Nowhere in Scripture or apostolic writings is there any endorsement of walking labyrinths as a means of prayer or spiritual connection. The concept of a maze-like prayer path is entirely absent from early Christian worship, only appearing after centuries of church institutionalization.
The resurgence of labyrinths in some contemporary churches as a spiritual exercise has raised concerns that ancient pagan practices are being revived under Christian branding. The ambiguity of the labyrinth—is it merely a neutral tool for focus, or a gateway to mystical spirituality?—exemplifies the dangers of borrowing from pagan traditions. At Chartres Cathedral, the very floor where Scripture is read also bears a pattern inspired by Greek mythology, a striking example of how foreign spiritual elements can be blended into church tradition. One commentator lamented the labyrinth’s pagan origins, despite its medieval use for devotion, recognizing that such blending often happens when tradition overshadows biblical simplicity.
This pattern is not limited to labyrinths. Many churches display symbols that trace back to pre-Christian or occult sources. Church grimoires record the presence of motifs like the triquetra, zodiac signs in stained glass, and gargoyle statues, all of which have questionable origins. The zodiac appears in carvings at Chartres and other cathedrals, a practice even ancient synagogues flirted with despite prophetic warnings against astrological influences. Another example is the halo or nimbus behind saints’ heads, a feature directly borrowed from pagan iconography where deities were depicted with sun-discs behind them. This practice carried over into Christian art without biblical justification. Each of these cases reinforces a recurring pattern—symbols once used in pagan worship have been repurposed, sanctified, or rebranded with biblical meaning, a process not found in Scripture but repeatedly seen throughout Church history.
The following image also portrays what is supposed to be Christ enthroned, yet it is surrounded by the twelve symbols of the zodiac—an unmistakable sign of astrological influence. The question must be asked: why would a depiction of Jesus include imagery that is fundamentally rooted in pagan astrology and Babylonian mysticism, practices that God Himself condemns? The Bible is clear that astrology, divination, and the worship of celestial bodies are forbidden, yet here we see these very symbols framing a figure meant to represent the Son of God.
St. Mary’s Catholic Church In College Station, Tx next to the Texas A&M Campus.
The zodiac is not a Christian construct; its origins trace back to Babylonian star worship, where priests and astrologers sought divine messages in the alignment of celestial bodies. In Isaiah 47:13-14, God rebukes Babylon for trusting in astrology, saying: “Thou art wearied in the multitude of thy counsels. Let now the astrologers, the stargazers, the monthly prognosticators, stand up, and save thee from these things that shall come upon thee. Behold, they shall be as stubble; the fire shall burn them; they shall not deliver themselves from the power of the flame.”
This is a direct condemnation of the very system that this image embeds into what should be a representation of Christ. If astrology is condemned by God, then why is it exalted in the architecture of a so-called place of worship?
The presence of a golden sun disc behind the head of this figure raises even greater concerns. The halo or nimbus seen in traditional Christian art is not a biblical concept but a direct borrowing from pagan solar deities. Ancient gods such as Ra of Egypt, Mithras of Persia, and Sol Invictus of Rome were all depicted with radiant sun discs behind their heads, symbolizing their divine status as sun gods. Christ is not the sun god of paganism; He is the Son of God, and there is a vast difference. Deuteronomy 4:19 warns explicitly against worshiping the celestial bodies, stating: “And lest thou lift up thine eyes unto heaven, and when thou seest the sun, and the moon, and the stars, even all the host of heaven, shouldest be driven to worship them, and serve them, which the Lord thy God hath divided unto all nations under the whole heaven.” This passage directly opposes what is seen in this image—a so-called Christ encircled by symbols of astrological reverence and sun worship. The use of these elements in Christian iconography is syncretism, the blending of pagan tradition with Christian themes, a practice that has no place in true biblical faith.
The structure and symbolism of the throne itself further emphasize that this is not a biblical representation of Christ but rather an esoteric and mystical reinterpretation. The imagery of fire-lit torches before the throne echoes occult ritual elements, where sacred fires were used in ancient mystery religions. The hand gesture of the figure is also reminiscent of occult blessings seen in Gnostic, Masonic, and Eastern traditions rather than anything directly associated with Christ in the Bible. This is a crafted vision, not one taken from Scripture. Nowhere in the Gospels is Christ described sitting on a throne encircled by zodiacal symbols or framed with solar motifs. Instead, Revelation 19:11-12 gives us a true image of the risen and reigning Christ: “And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew, but he himself.” This is the Christ of the Bible, not a mystical, sun-worship-inspired adaptation.
The inclusion of the zodiac within Christian architecture has been justified by some as a representation of the order of creation, but this claim is weak in light of the clear biblical prohibitions against astrology and divination. It is no secret that medieval cathedrals incorporated astrological carvings, zodiacal symbols, and even Masonic geometry into their designs, often blending Christian themes with pagan mysticism. The fact that Freemasonry, Gnosticism, and esoteric traditions venerate the same symbols found in this church mural should alarm any Bible-believing Christian.
2 Corinthians 6:14-15 warns against such compromises, saying: “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel?” If Christ and Belial (a name for Satan) have nothing in common, then why should Christ be portrayed with symbols of Babylonian, Egyptian, and Greek astrology?
This image is not a faithful representation of Jesus Christ but a reinterpretation mixed with pagan symbolism and astrological mysticism. True worship is not based on artistic tradition or esoteric architecture; it is based on the Word of God, which never instructed believers to mix pagan symbolism with the Gospel of Christ. This mural, despite its aesthetic appeal, stands as yet another example of how easily traditions and artistic influences can lead even the most sacred spaces into compromise with the very things Scripture condemns.
Syncretism with Ancient Mystery Religions (Druidic, Egyptian, Babylonian, Roman)
When Christianity arrived in the British Isles, particularly through the missionary efforts of St. Patrick and others in the 4th and 5th centuries, it encountered the deeply entrenched religious system of the Druids. Rather than completely rejecting Celtic symbols and traditions, missionaries often merged them into Christian contexts, creating a syncretistic blend of pagan and Christian elements. One of the most well-known examples of this is the Celtic Cross, which differs from the traditional Christian cross by featuring a circle behind the arms. Historians widely agree that this circle originates from the sun-disc, a central symbol in pre-Christian Celtic art that represented the power of the sun. In an attempt to convert the Celts, missionaries overlaid the Christian cross on the Druidic sun symbol, forming a hybrid emblem that both cultures could accept. The result was an object that retained its pagan solar associations, even while being rebranded as Christian. One anthropology text puts it plainly: “The Celtic cross is the merging of a Christian symbol (the Cross) and a Celtic one (the Sun Disc).” This deliberate fusion allowed the Celts to more easily adopt Christianity by linking the cross to the life-giving sun, a sacred image in their belief system.
Other elements of Druidic and Celtic spirituality were similarly woven into Christian teaching. The triskele, a triple-spiral symbol often associated with pre-Christian Celtic mysticism, was reinterpreted as a representation of the Trinity, just as St. Patrick used the shamrock to teach about the three-in-one nature of God. Even Celtic seasonal festivals were co-opted into Christian celebrations—Imbolc, a Druidic festival linked to fertility and the changing of seasons, was transformed into St. Brigid’s Day. While these modifications helped facilitate the conversion of the Celts, they also meant that pagan concepts, particularly those connected to nature worship and solar reverence, persisted beneath a Christian veneer. This raises an important theological issue: if the true message of the Cross is Christ’s atoning sacrifice, then why incorporate symbols that originally represented pagan sun worship? Today, the Celtic Cross is often celebrated for its artistic and cultural beauty, but few acknowledge that the circle behind it has nothing to do with Calvary and everything to do with ancient solar deities. The Bible offers a clear warning against adopting pagan practices into the worship of God: “You shall not… serve Me in their way” (Deuteronomy 12:31). Yet in the Celtic Church, this very syncretism took place, allowing Druidic symbols to persist under a Christian rebranding.
Similarly, Egyptian religious influences also left a deep mark on Christian tradition, particularly through the Greco-Roman world. The Vatican’s use of the obelisk, which once stood in Heliopolis, the Egyptian city of the sun, is only one visible example of this inheritance, but the theological syncretism runs even deeper. One of the most striking parallels between Egyptian religion and later Christian practice is the similarity between the cult of Isis and Horus and the later veneration of Mary and the infant Jesus. In Egyptian mythology, Isis (Ishtar in Mesopatamia) was the great mother-goddess, often depicted nursing her divine son Horus. By the 4th century, as Christianity grew in Egypt and the Near East, popular devotion toward the Virgin Mary began to take on attributes that closely mirrored the Isis archetype. Across ancient religions, mother-and-child worship was already a dominant theme—whether it was Isis and Horus in Egypt, Devaki and Krishna in India, or Venus and Cupid in Rome. As historian Alexander Hislop points out, early Madonna-and-child icons are often indistinguishable from their pagan predecessors, and archaeologists sometimes cannot tell the difference between an image of Isis nursing Horus and an early Christian depiction of Mary with the infant Christ. Even the title “Queen of Heaven”, which in Jeremiah 7:18 referred to a pagan goddess, was later applied to Mary despite the Bible’s clear condemnation of this term.
By A.D. 431, the Council of Ephesus officially declared Mary “Mother of God”, a title that many have noted parallels the Egyptian veneration of Isis as “Mother of the god” (Horus). This decision was not merely theological—it was also strategic. Ephesus was a major center of Artemis (Diana) worship, and the promotion of Mary in this region may have been intended to help convert followers of Diana, another mother-goddess figure. However, this adaptation puposely crossed the line into elevating Mary far beyond what Scripture teaches, leading to the introduction of a quasi-goddess figure into Christianity.
The Egyptian priesthood and religious hierarchy also left their mark on Christian tradition. The title “Pontifex”, originally referring to the chief priests of Rome, was adopted by the pope as Pontifex Maximus, the very same title used for the high priest of pagan Rome—which itself was a continuation of Egyptian religious traditions. The papal mitre, the tall, pointed ceremonial hat worn by popes and bishops, also bears an uncanny resemblance to the headdress of the priests of Dagon, a fish-deity worshipped in Babylon, Philistia, and coastal Near Eastern regions. Dagon’s priests were depicted wearing fish-shaped headpieces, just as a bishop’s mitre forms the shape of an open fish’s mouth, leading some scholars to conclude that this headpiece is not Christian in origin but rather an adaptation of ancient religious headwear.
Other ceremonial elements of Egyptian worship found their way into Christian traditions as well. In Egypt, the pharaoh or high priest would be carried on a ceremonial throne, flanked by ostrich-feather fans as a sign of divine authority. The papal procession, in which the pope was historically carried on the sedia gestatoria (a grand ceremonial chair) while flanked by ostrich-feather fans, mirrors this Egyptian ritual almost exactly.
Pharaohs were often depicted with a cobra on their headpiece, a symbol that can be linked to Satanic representation.
And the winged serpent featured on some of the papal coat of arms.
The cobra’s association with divine wisdom, protection, and mystical power is not unique to Egypt. The serpent appears in many ancient mystery religions, often linked to secret knowledge, hidden power, and godhood. This is eerily reminiscent of the serpent in Genesis, which deceived Eve with the promise of divine enlightenment (“ye shall be as gods” - Genesis 3:5).
The uraeus, then, was more than decoration—it was a direct symbol of the pharaoh’s claimed connection to divine knowledge and rule. This notion of god-kingship, with rulers presenting themselves as semi-divine beings, later resurfaced in other systems, including aspects of Roman emperor worship, papal supremacy, and esoteric traditions where the serpent represents enlightenment, hidden wisdom, or power over life and death.
If we trace the spiritual implications, the serpent’s prominence in Egyptian rulership aligns disturbingly with occult beliefs that venerate the serpent as a source of wisdom and divine authority—a concept in direct opposition to the biblical portrayal of the serpent as the deceiver. The uraeus, then, was not just a royal emblem but a theological statement, reinforcing the pharaoh’s role as a god-man ruling over the people with the supposed backing of serpentine wisdom and power.
Well, wrap a snake in a choir robe and call it a deacon!
These are not coincidences but conscious borrowings from earlier religious traditions, justified at the time as giving honour to the Christian leader in the same way people were accustomed to honoring pagan kings and gods.
The grave effect of all this was that Christian worship became infused with the pageantry and structure of pagan religion, fundamentally shifting the role of Christian leaders into priestly mediators akin to their pagan counterparts. This blending of faiths was exactly the error committed by Israel in the Old Testament, when they retained elements of Egyptian and Canaanite worship, provoking God’s judgment. Ezekiel 23:19 laments how Israel “increased her whorings, remembering Egypt”, referencing the way God’s people were drawn back into the customs of Egypt, despite having been delivered from them. The same charge could be laid against the institutionalized Church, which did not just replace pagan religion but absorbed it, modifying its forms and rebranding its symbols under Christian terminology.
Does this shed light on why mere mortals claim Christ’s role? They do not represent Him but rather want to replace Him—an ultimate act of rebellion at the cost of souls.
This is the enduring danger of syncretism—when foreign spiritual concepts are “baptized” into Christian tradition rather than discarded. While some argue that these adaptations made Christianity more accessible to pagan cultures, the cost was that pagan influences took root within the faith itself. Over time, the core doctrines of biblical Christianity became encrusted with layers of foreign traditions, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish pure biblical teaching from inherited religious customs. 2 Corinthians 6:17 gives the clearest command on this issue: “Come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you.” Yet rather than remaining separate, much of church history reveals a gradual fusion of Christian doctrine with pre-existing pagan frameworks. The result was a hybrid faith, one that looked familiar to the world yet deviated from the simple, apostolic faith preached by Christ and His apostles.
Is baptism the first act of witchcraft cast upon a child? In ancient solar cults, water was ritually blessed with fire before their ceremonies, signifying a spiritual transformation not through faith, but through occult purification. If such pagan rituals involved initiating infants into a belief system through fire and water, then what exactly is happening in an unbiblical baptism that is performed on an unaware, unconsenting child?
The Bible teaches that baptism is an outward expression of faith and repentance—something an infant is incapable of demonstrating. Yet, in these rites, water is ritually empowered, invoking a spiritual force upon the child. If biblical baptism is meant to symbolize a believer’s conscious choice to follow Christ, then infant baptism in a system that parallels ancient mystery religions raises a chilling question: What spirit are they binding these children to?
If pagan fire-and-water rituals were designed to dedicate souls to the sun god, then what force is at work in a system where water is mystically consecrated and then poured upon a helpless infant? Is this truly the baptism Christ commanded—or is it an occult initiation rite disguised under Christian terminology?
Babylonian influences on Christianity are undeniable, with many theologians and historians recognizing Babylon as the source of the world’s false religious systems. The Bible itself, in Revelation 17 and 18, uses “Babylon the Great” as a symbol of corrupt, idolatrous religion that stands in opposition to God.
The structure of the Babylonian priesthood also made its way into the Roman Church. In Babylon, priests were organized in a hierarchy, with the chief priest bearing the title Pontiff (Pontifex), meaning "bridge-maker" between heaven (not the third heaven but the kingdom of darkness) and earth. This same title, Pontifex Maximus, was held by Roman emperors as the head of the state religion. Then, in A.D. 378, this title was conferred on Damasus, Bishop of Rome, establishing the pope’s claim to be the supreme religious authority—carrying forward the very title and functions of Babylon’s high priest. Along with this title came symbolic elements: the two crossed keys found in the papal insignia were originally symbols of Nimrod’s authority over the “gates of heaven” and later appeared in depictions of Janus, the two-faced Roman god of doors and transitions. Today, these keys are said to represent St. Peter, but their pagan origins are difficult to ignore. Even the structure of the College of Cardinals, serving under a supreme pontiff with assumed infallible authority, mirrors the priestly councils of ancient Babylon, revealing a deep historical continuity between the two systems.
Perhaps the most glaring Babylonian influence is the use of idols and images within Christianity. The Babylonians were prolific idolaters, venerating countless statues of their gods. When Christianity became the dominant religion of the Roman Empire in the 4th and 5th centuries, the people were reluctant to abandon their idols, so rather than removing them, church leaders allowed their reinterpretation. At first, statues of saints and biblical figures were justified as mere “representations” of holy individuals, but over time, they became objects of prayer and veneration—despite the clear prohibition in Exodus 20:4-5, which forbids the making of graven images. A modern writer observes that in many European churches, it is common to find thousands of statues, with devotees kneeling before them, burning candles, and offering prayers, just as pagan worshipers did in ancient times. The claim that these images are merely representations and not gods themselves is the very same rationale that idolaters used throughout history. Yet, Deuteronomy 7:25-26 commands believers to destroy graven images, not repurpose them.
Another striking Babylonian holdover is seen in Easter traditions. Babylonian mystery religions celebrated spring fertility rites, particularly honoring Tammuz’s resurrection, which later influenced Christian Easter customs. The name “Easter” itself derives from Astarte/Ishtar, the Babylonian fertility goddess. In Ezekiel 8:14, God condemns the forty days of weeping for Tammuz, which finds an unsettling parallel in the forty-day period of Lent leading up to Easter. Even the cruciform cross, widely associated with Christ, was originally a symbol of Tammuz in Chaldean worship—long before it was incorporated into Christian iconography. Over time, the Roman Church absorbed these Babylonian traditions, layering them under Christian terminology while retaining the pagan essence beneath the surface. By the Middle Ages, Christianity as practiced in Rome bore a striking resemblance to Babylonian mystery religion, dressed in Christian language but steeped in the rituals, hierarchies, and iconography of ancient idolatry. This is why many Reformers identified the papacy with "Mystery Babylon, the mother of harlots” from Revelation 17:4-5, seeing the institutionalized church as having forfeited biblical purity for the wine of Babylon’s spiritual fornication.
Greco-Roman influences also played a massive role in shaping church traditions. The basilica style of church buildings was borrowed directly from Roman public architecture. When Christianity became legal in the 4th century, many pagan temples were converted into churches rather than being destroyed. The most famous example is the Pantheon in Rome, originally a temple to all the gods of Rome, which was later consecrated as a church to the Virgin Mary and all martyrs in A.D. 609. The oculus at the top of the Pantheon, originally meant to symbolize the sun-god Sol Invictus, was retained and reinterpreted within a Christian framework. Even church feasts and calendars were synchronized with pagan festivals, often blending them together.
The church hierarchy itself took on Roman administrative and religious structures. The term "Pontifex", as already noted, was a Roman religious title that transitioned into the papacy. Priests were called “Father”, despite Jesus’ direct command in Matthew 23:9: “Call no man your father upon the earth: for one is your Father, which is in heaven.” Emperor worship influenced the veneration of saints, as local patron deities were replaced by patron saints with shrines and incense offered similarly. Elements like incense, holy water, processions, and sacerdotal vestments all have direct parallels in Roman and Greek religious practices. Tertullian, writing in the 2nd century, was alarmed that many Christians were already lighting candles and burning incense in worship—practices taken straight from pagan temple rituals. Even theological concepts were affected, as Greek Platonic philosophy seeped into Christian thought, leading to ascetic practices (influenced by Stoicism) and mystical contemplation (borrowed from Platonism and Gnosticism).
By the time the Roman Church fully developed, the line between Roman paganism and Christianity was so blurred that it became difficult to distinguish where one ended and the other began. This is classic syncretism, the gradual absorption of pagan traditions under a religious veneer. As one source puts it: “The festival was so popular that Christians were glad of an excuse to continue its celebration with little change in spirit and manner.” Rather than producing transformed lives, much of Christianity simply rebranded existing religious customs, retaining a Christian shell with a pagan core. Theologically, this had catastrophic consequences, as essential biblical doctrines—such as salvation by faith alone, the sole mediatorship of Christ, and the sufficiency of Scripture—were gradually buried beneath layers of ritualism, institutional authority, and mystical speculation. Galatians 5:9 warns that “A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.” Bit by bit, the leaven of pagan influence expanded within the institutional church, until what remained was not the simple faith of the apostles, but a mystery religion all its own—a mixture of Christian terms with Babylonian substance.
Influence of Secret Societies on Church Architecture and Symbols (Freemasons, Templars, Alchemists)
Throughout history, beyond general cultural syncretism, secret societies and esoteric groups have played a direct role in introducing occult symbolism into churches. The Knights Templar, medieval stonemason guilds, Renaissance Hermeticists, Alchemists, and Freemasons all had periods of influence in church construction and decoration. These groups often harbored mystical beliefs and guarded secret knowledge drawn from ancient sources, embedding their symbols within Christian architecture. Through their work on cathedrals and chapels, they left behind esoteric imagery "hiding in plain sight" among traditional Christian motifs. While the full extent of their influence remains debated, historical evidence suggests an underground stream of occult and Masonic symbolism permeating church art, merging the sacred with the profane in stone.
The Knights Templar were a powerful crusading military order in the 12th and 13th centuries that rapidly gained wealth and independence, often acting beyond the direct authority of the Church. Though they were officially disbanded in 1312 under charges of heresy, accusations persisted that the Templars had absorbed Gnostic and mystical ideas during their time in the Holy Land. Their legacy in architecture is most evident in the Gothic cathedral boom of the 12th and 13th centuries. With immense financial resources, the Templars are believed to have funded and supported the construction of major Gothic cathedrals, particularly in France and Spain. Chartres, Reims, and Notre-Dame de Paris all rose in areas where the Templars had strong influence. Some historians, such as Picknett and Prince, argue that the Templars played a role in the sacred geometry and architectural planning of these cathedrals, encoding esoteric meanings into their very structure. Gothic architecture, with its pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and vast stained glass windows, was a radical departure from the dark, heavy Romanesque style. Some believe this transformation was inspired by knowledge the Templars gained from Eastern mystics or from ruins of Solomon’s Temple, embedding symbolic meanings into these structures.
Esoteric author Fulcanelli described Gothic cathedrals as “books of stone” encoding alchemical secrets, suggesting that the Templars were central to this initiatory architecture. At Chartres Cathedral, carvings on the north portico depict Templar knights in a scene that appears to show them retrieving the Ark of the Covenant, led by an angel (Lucifer?)—an odd and unorthodox inclusion in a Christian cathedral. Additionally, Templar churches themselves often had unusual circular or octagonal designs, inspired by the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem or possibly even the Dome of the Rock, a shape associated with sacred geometry. Some researchers argue that the floor plan of a Gothic cathedral more closely resembles an Egyptian ankh, a pagan symbol of life, than a Christian crucifix.
Whether one accepts these theories or not, the Templars clearly had a unique approach to architecture, one that blended Christian elements with mysterious, non-biblical influences. Their abrupt downfall for alleged heresy and idol worship, including accusations that they venerated an idol called Baphomet and spat on the cross, suggests that even the medieval Church suspected that the Templars had mixed occult practices with Christian fronts. Yet, even after their suppression, the structures they built remained, many concealing symbols meant for those “with eyes to see.”
The Freemasons, whose formal secret society emerged in the early 18th century, trace their origins back to the medieval stonemason guilds that built Europe’s cathedrals. While operative masons had practical knowledge of construction techniques, later “speculative” Freemasonry transformed these symbols into an allegorical system of enlightenment and esoteric wisdom, drawing on Kabbalah, Hermeticism, and Pythagorean geometry. Freemasons adopted and reinterpreted many symbols already found in churches—the pentagram, hexagram, all-seeing eye, and pillars Jachin and Boaz from Solomon’s Temple—reframing them within their own secret philosophy. By the time Freemasonry was active in Enlightenment-era Europe, many churches and chapels were being built or renovated under the influence of Masonic architects.
One of the most striking cases is the Church of St. Anastasia in Rome, restored in the early 1700s by Portuguese architect Carlo Gimach, a known Freemason. Gimach and his patrons deliberately embedded Masonic symbols throughout the church’s Baroque interior, attempting to sneak esoteric imagery into a consecrated space. When a local monsignor discovered this, he ordered the symbols painted over, but a cryptic commemorative plaque by Gimach remains. This incident proves that Freemasons actively sought to integrate their philosophy into church architecture.
The All-Seeing Eye, often found in stained glass or painted on ceilings, is officially interpreted as a symbol of God’s omniscience, yet it is also a well-known Masonic emblem of the Great Architect of the Universe. Similarly, pyramid shapes, hexagrams, and zodiac mosaics often mirror motifs found in Masonic lodges. Freemasons revered the geometric perfection of Gothic cathedrals, viewing them as expressions of hidden knowledge, and even claimed that Solomon’s Temple was the original template for cathedral-building.
There is historical evidence that some clergy were secretly Freemasons, and that they incorporated Masonic ideals—such as enlightenment, reason, and religious universalism—into church architecture during the 18th and 19th centuries. In the United States, for instance, cornerstone-laying ceremonies for churches were often performed with Masonic rites, involving ritual corn, wine, and oil, signifying an occult dedication of the building. Even today, in many European churches, pentagrams, twin pillars, compass motifs, and Rosicrucian Latin mottos can be found woven into stained glass, floor mosaics, and architectural carvings. For Bible-believing Christians, this raises a serious concern: if Freemasonry’s deist and occult philosophy is embedded within church structures, is the Church unwittingly harboring a Trojan horse of hidden meaning? Freemasonry promotes a universalist belief system, equating the God of the Bible with the Great Architect of all religions, which directly contradicts the exclusive truth of the Gospel. If church buildings are supposed to glorify Christ alone, why are they filled with symbols that demand secret initiation to fully understand?
During the Renaissance, esoteric symbolism further infiltrated the Church, as scholars, clerics, and artists revived interest in Hermetic philosophy, alchemy, and Kabbalah. Some Renaissance popes and clergy were involved in these studies under the guise of “natural philosophy.” This led to cases where pagan and occult symbols were openly integrated into church art with ecclesiastical approval. One striking example is the Cathedral of Siena, whose 15th-century marble floor depicts Hermes Trismegistus, a legendary figure in Hermetic mysticism. The inscription praises Hermes as a wise man who foresaw the coming of God’s Son, demonstrating the Renaissance belief that pagan wisdom could be reconciled with Christianity. This shocking inclusion effectively honoured a pagan magus within the heart of a cathedral. Alongside Hermes, the Siena floor mosaics also include Roman mythology and Sibyls, figures thought to have prophesied Christ’s birth. Many other cathedrals incorporated Sibyls into their artwork, continuing the syncretic blending of pagan and Christian prophecy.
The result of these influences is a Church filled with esoteric, Masonic, and even pagan symbolism, subtly woven into its very foundations. Whether through Templar architecture, Freemasonic designs, or Renaissance Hermeticism, the historical record shows that secret societies succeeded in embedding their doctrines into Christian spaces. This is more than just artistic flourish; it is a spiritual infiltration, a slow and subtle blending of Christianity with the hidden traditions of mystery religions. The Bible warns against this, commanding believers to “have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness” (Ephesians 5:11). Yet many churches, knowingly or unknowingly, stand as monuments not only to Christ, but to occult influences carefully encoded in stone, glass, and symbol, waiting to be deciphered by those with the right knowledge.
Parallels Between Ancient Pagan Temples and Christian Cathedrals
The transformation of Christian worship spaces into grand, ornate structures bearing the hallmarks of ancient pagan temples is more than a matter of artistic evolution—it is a profound departure from the simplicity and spiritual purity of the New Testament Church. As secret societies, esoteric influences, and syncretic traditions took root, the physical church buildings themselves became infused with elements that would have been entirely foreign to the early apostles. This shift was not merely about aesthetics; it reflected a fundamental change in the nature of Christian worship, one that moved away from the spiritual and toward the theatrical, the ritualistic, and the symbolic in ways that mirrored the very pagan traditions Christianity was meant to reject.
One of the clearest signs of this transformation is the emphasis on mystical architecture and hidden symbolism, where churches became “books of stone” filled with encoded messages that only the initiated could understand. Just as ancient pagan temples were built according to strict geometric and astrological principles, so too were medieval cathedrals designed with precise alignments to celestial events. The eastward orientation of many cathedrals, which allows the rising sun to illuminate the altar, is defended as a representation of Christ’s resurrection, yet it bears an eerie resemblance to the sun-worship condemned in Ezekiel 8:16. The towering spires and domes of these structures mirror the obelisks and ziggurats of Babylon and Egypt, where worship was conducted in grand, awe-inspiring spaces meant to bridge the divine and the earthly. Yet, the God of Scripture declared that He does not dwell in temples made by human hands (Acts 17:24), and the early Christians worshipped in simple gatherings, focusing on the living Church—the body of believers, not elaborate buildings.
This architectural shift coincided with a deeper transformation in the role of imagery within worship. Ancient pagan temples were filled with statues and idols of their gods, meant to be venerated and offered sacrifices. Christianity initially rejected such practices, with the early church forbidding the use of images. Yet, by the medieval period, cathedrals became filled with statues of saints, Mary, and Christ himself, often in poses and artistic styles indistinguishable from those of pre-Christian deities. The rationalization was that these images were not objects of worship but rather aids to devotion. However, the behavior of the people—kneeling before them, lighting candles, praying for intercession—made it clear that these figures functioned exactly as idols had in ancient religions. The Bible warns explicitly against graven images (Exodus 20:4-5), yet the Church, in embracing these visual traditions, effectively reinstated a practice that God had forbidden. The halos depicted around saints' heads, derived directly from the sun discs of pagan gods, further illustrate how these symbols were absorbed rather than discarded.
Beyond the imagery, the priesthood and rituals of the institutional Church also took on characteristics strikingly similar to those of pagan religious systems. The simple, communal worship of the early church, where all believers were considered priests in Christ (1 Peter 2:9), was gradually replaced by a hierarchical system with an elite class of clergy mediating between the people and God. Catholic priests, adorned in elaborate vestments, began to resemble the robed priests of Egypt, Rome, and Babylon, complete with incense, altars, and sacred relics housed in ornate shrines. The very structure of the Catholic Mass, with its solemn processions, ritualistic chanting, and the elevation of the Eucharist, mirrors the mystery rites of the ancient world, where only the initiated could partake in sacred knowledge and divine sacraments. The use of incense, an Old Testament practice not continued in the New Covenant, was reintroduced, making the atmosphere of worship strikingly similar to that of pagan temples where smoke filled the air as offerings were made to the gods.
This mystery religion aspect of medieval Christianity is perhaps the most concerning. Pagan mystery religions, such as those of Eleusis, Mithras, and Isis, claimed to hold secret wisdom available only to the initiated. The institutional Church adopted a similar model, where the common people were kept in ignorance of the Scriptures, which were read only in Latin, while the clergy held the knowledge of doctrine and ritual. This separation between clergy and laity created a situation in which the mysteries of the faith were veiled, much like the secret teachings of ancient cults. The result was a form of worship that was no longer about personal relationship with Christ but about participation in a system of rituals and sacraments that only the Church could administer. The Bible, however, teaches that God’s truth is meant to be proclaimed openly to all, not hidden in symbolic architecture or sacred priestly orders (Acts 2:6-11, 1 Corinthians 14:9).
As this transformation unfolded, the Church effectively absorbed and baptized paganism rather than purging it, creating a hybrid religion that bore little resemblance to the early Christian faith. Grand cathedrals, awe-inspiring and magnificent though they may be, stand as monuments not only to human achievement but also to the slow and steady infiltration of pagan thought, mystery religion symbolism, and secret society influence into what was meant to be the simple, unadorned worship of Christ. This blending of Christianity with the traditions of the world mirrors the very warnings of Scripture, where Paul speaks of those who exchange the truth of God for a lie, worshiping and serving the creation rather than the Creator (Romans 1:25). When Christian worship spaces become indistinguishable from pagan temples, filled with the same rituals, imagery, and hierarchical priesthoods, it is a sign not of faithfulness to Christ but of compromise with the world. The call of the Gospel is to be set apart, to worship in spirit and truth, not in borrowed symbols and traditions that obscure rather than reveal the glory of God.
In summary, the similarities between ancient pagan temples and later Christian cathedrals are too pronounced to ignore. From the external architecture (pillars, domes, obelisks, orientation) to the internal environment (idols/images, altars, incense) to the socioreligious function (priestly mediation, mystery initiation), the medieval Church increasingly mirrored the pagan systems that Christianity once triumphed over. This represents a departure from “true biblical faith” in practice, even if Christian doctrine was still confessed. It is exactly what Paul warned of in 2 Corinthians 6:16-17 – “what agreement has the temple of God with idols?” – yet by the Middle Ages such an agreement had been made, as churches were literally filled with idols and pagan-style pomp. Those who protested (iconoclasts, some monastic reformers, later the Protestant Reformers) pointed back to Scripture’s purity. They saw that the church had become like Israel of old when she “played the harlot” with the nations’ gods (to use biblical imagery). The parallel is indeed striking: Israel built high places and adopted Baal’s rituals in the Old Testament, and the Church built opulent cathedrals and adopted Rome’s and Babylon’s rituals in the post-Nicene era. Both times, God sent warnings (prophets then, reformers later) to return to pure worship. Tragically, those warnings often went unheeded by the majority, and the syncretized worship persisted, leading to judgment or schism. The lesson for today is that we must hold God’s pattern of worship (as found in the New Testament) as sufficient and reject the attractive, but ultimately corrupting, trappings of pagan religion. As Jesus rebuked the Pharisees for nullifying God’s commands by their traditions (Mark 7:13), so we must be wary of nullifying true worship by smuggling in man-made (or demon-made) traditions.
Hosea 4:6:
“My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge: because thou hast rejected knowledge, I will also reject thee, that thou shalt be no priest to me: seeing thou hast forgotten the law of thy God, I will also forget thy children.”
e Hidden Influence of Pagan and Mystery Religion Symbols in Christianity: A Closer Look at Cathedrals and Churches
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