Inside, all was dim vast space, larger than they could imagine, its recesses only gradually becoming visible. Chanting in Latin sounded distantly. Beams of dusty colored light shone through tall vertical windows, striking the floor like a splash from heaven. Approached, the divine light resolved into tall columns of scenes, like mime storyboards. Each window told a story or saint's life, each with its moral. The life of Joseph: his dream, his captivity in Egypt, Pharaoh's dream. The Good Samaritan. Lazarus and the rich man. Like pre-literate Power Point presentations, the scenes also served as guideposts for narrating the holy moral story, both guiding the monk through the parables and imprinting visual associations of the theological concepts onto the viewer.
Stained glass was meant to be seen in a shadowy place, lit from behind by the brilliant sun, as of a late winter morning in Bourges, sunlight streams into the dust-mote air, becoming suffused with vibrant color. As a prism breaks white lights into the coat of many colors, stained glass broke ordinary sunlight into the Word of God revealed to man. To a man who lived in a hovel, whose teeth rotted and fell out, who died at thirty-five from injury or implacable mysterious disease, whose life was squalor, to come to a cathedral and see life eternal made manifest at the altar of God would be a comfort indeed.