Right here on your right, you’re standing outside the Cathedral Basilica of Our Lady of Peace-a building with a name almost as long as its history. Believe it or not, this is the oldest cathedral in continuous use anywhere in the United States, and unlike your average historic church, this place has survived power struggles, deportations, and even a French-inspired international incident.
It all started back in 1827, when three French Catholic priests, likely still working off their jet lag, waded ashore to introduce Catholicism to the Hawaiian Islands. Mass was first held in a makeshift grass hut, but if you’re picturing a gentle start, think again-within just a couple of years, pressure from Protestant missionaries and Hawaiian leadership sent the priests packing. Native Hawaiians caught converting were thrown in jail or, worse, tortured. You might say, “not exactly welcoming.” French warships showed up in 1839 to, let’s say, “encourage” a change in policy, so an Edict of Toleration finally granted religious freedom. As a bonus, the Catholic missionaries got land to build a proper church and $20,000 as compensation-that’s over $650,000 in today’s dollars. Not a bad apology.
By 1840, ground was broken for a new church, timed perfectly to the Feast of Our Lady of Peace. Locals helped harvest huge blocks of coral from the shore, stacking them by hand to lay the foundation. When the cathedral was finally finished in 1843, about 800 people crowded in, likely sitting on lauhala leaf mats instead of pews. Even now, you can spot some of the original coral work if you look carefully.
As the decades rolled on, the cathedral swapped simple wooden features for stained glass, soaring panels painted with gold leaf, imported marble altars, and a series of architectural facelifts-vaulted ceilings, choir lofts, bell towers, you name it. Behind all the mahogany and marble was Bishop Louis Maigret, a man who seemed to love a good renovation as much as his faith. By the 1860s, he had even installed a rooster on top of the spire-a nod to French tradition, and probably also to keep competitors guessing whether it was a weather vane or just a très chic chicken.
If you step inside today, you’ll find a real gem for lovers of organ music: the enormous Aeolian-Skinner pipe organ-over 2,100 pipes strong and blessed in 1934. As for the congregation? They’ve survived everything from heated pew rearrangements (yes, that’s a thing) to the arrival of centuries-old statues, journeying from France and back again before finally finding their logical place overlooking the nave.
There’s more-this is the very church where both Father Damien and Mother Marianne Cope began the work that would eventually see them both canonized as saints. Fittingly, their relics are here, side by side, celebrated in ways the early missionaries could only dream of.
So there it is: love, conflict, international intrigue, and a healthy dose of community spirit, all under one roof. When you’re ready to leave the cathedral, just keep walking northeast for about 4 minutes and you’ll reach the home of Thomas Charles Byde Rooke.
