We can compare the size: the towering ceilings and endless hallways, podding off into little devotional specialities, constructed to at least enhance a feeling of the comparative insignificance of the individual in the face of the theory. We can compare the aesthetic: for them, gothic and busy and encrusted with imagery, the art forms of theology; for us, white and Cartesian and devoid of decoration, the art forms of science. And we can compare ourselves: we present ourselves as petitioners, with the consciousness of a lack and the desire to be made whole.
Then, the sinner entered, conscious of a lack in the face of theoretical perfection, to confess and ritualize the relationship of manifest to ideal, then was let out healed, with specific instructions on how to improve, knowing it was pretty much impossible and the end is scripted in the theological code, and inevitable.
Now, the injured enters, conscious of a lack in the face of physical perfection, to describe and undergo procedures that attempt to improve the relationship of manifest to ideal. One puts on the special robes, one submits to the acolytes of the faith, one passes from one level to the next, in the prescribed manner. But the ultimate end is scripted in the biological code, and still inevitable. Just put off for a bit longer.
Our temples lack most of the moral component, although we are still encouraged to obey certain rules, the cleanliness of the body instead of the soul. But both require a 'giving over' to forces larger than the self. At a certain point, you surrender yourself to faith. In our case, the faith in medicine and doctors, that whatever medieval procedure they are going to subject you to is for your own good, the greater good, and you will emerge whole. Or, that you will emerge.