To spot the Augustijnenkerk, just look for a grand neo-Gothic church built from brown-red brick with striking yellow stone bands, towering ahead with a tall, six-sided spire-you can’t miss the large statue of Jesus with open arms perched right at the very top.
Now, let’s travel back to the late 1800s. Imagine it’s a brisk spring morning in Eindhoven. The air is filled with the sound of hammers striking stone and the murmur of townsfolk gathering around the site on Tramstraat. Right here, the Augustinian fathers had a problem-their temporary church simply wasn’t grand enough, so they decided to build this magnificent marvel. It wasn’t easy, let me tell you! The original plans were too expensive, sparking a rivalry between architects over just how high to raise that spectacular left-hand tower. In the end, they opted for the version with not one but two towers, though only one truly dominates.
As you stand here and take it all in, picture the builders sweating away, working on top of 1,400 wooden piles, because, believe it or not, the ground was so swampy it was practically floating. Yes, it turns out, the Augustijnenkerk is built on what may have been Eindhoven’s least stable piece of real estate! And as for money? Most of it was donated, but a hefty sum was borrowed from local farmers-who, as you might guess, came knocking for their money back when times got tough.
The six-sided spire you see shooting up 66 meters is crowned by a truly heroic sight-a four-meter-tall Holy Heart statue by Jean Geelen, arms flung wide, as if to shout, “Welcome, Eindhoven!” Back when it was new and shimmering gold, folks called it “Jezus Waaghals”-that’s “Daredevil Jesus”-because, with the swirling winds up there, you’d have to be brave (or blessed) not to get dizzy.
Above the entrance, look at the stone figures: there’s Saint Augustine in the middle, his mother Monica to your left, and Nicholas of Tolentino to the right. Walk inside, and the rich red brickwork continues, with stained glass windows by Daan Wildschut and Charles Eyck sending colored light all around. The décor is neo-Gothic, with confessionals and chapels tucked into every nook. And don’t forget the organ, which saw such vibrant musical life that for 40 years, Dorthy de Rooij played here, filling the space with music, often accompanied by a chorus conducted by Mathieu Dijker.
This place has seen its share of troubles. During World War II, the bells were taken by the occupying forces, and when the grand statue on top became a landmark for Allied pilots, soldiers covered it up, turning Daredevil Jesus into Incognito Jesus. The church took a few hits in the liberation of Eindhoven in 1944, shattering windows and spirits, but rising all the stronger.
For decades, the church pulsed with community life. There were christenings, weddings, crowded Sunday masses-and even the famous “Fisherman’s Mass” at four in the morning, drawing both early risers and late-night partygoers. There were television broadcasts, and more than one fire, including a dramatic blaze in 1959-fortunately never enough to snuff out the church’s spirit.
But as visitors dwindled in the late 20th century, the church’s fate looked uncertain. In 2017, it finally changed ownership. Now, thanks to DELA, the site forms part of DOMUSDELA, a vibrant community complex for ceremonies and events, once again echoing with life.
So, as you stand here, imagine all those generations-the hopeful builders, the thundering organ, the golden Daredevil Jesus braving every storm. Just maybe, if the wind picks up, you’ll hear the old church whispering its stories to you.
