Friday Art Reflection – Architecture
As a teenager, my father & I joined a travel group from our home town to tour through Spain, Portugal and Morocco. While in Spain, we had the chance to visit the city of Toledo. Declared a World Heritage Site, entering this ancient city was like stepping back in time. We travelled through the city to the Catedral de Toledo, a 13th century Gothic cathedral which is a masterpiece of stone, space and light. With a sense awe, I enter this sacred space, grinning internally at the humour of the fact that I was entering “Holy Toledo”. Nevertheless, it was a powerful experience.
Years later, while sitting in a discpleship class, the speaker made an offhand comment about these great churches. He asked the students why so many North American churches had high peaked roofs, then when on to explain to us, with unhesitant confidence, that they were copies of the high vaulted roofs of cathedrals whose roofs were designed primarily as a means to keep the copious European snow from building up and collapsing through. I sat flabbergasted at the ignorance of such a statement, but bit my tongue as no one else seemed to think anything was amiss.
While I still believe his comment to be ignorant, I have come to realize that the role of architecture as a tool and/or medium of the faith is not as simple as I once thought. As I consider the great Catedral de Toledo, I also remember the massive amount of gold that gilded the statuary and encrusted candelabras, chalices and the like. As I took it all in, our tour guide explained how much of the funding for the building came from the commoners, poor by most standards. Likewise, the cathedral took many generations to build, consuming he meager wages of families for nearly three centuries, not to mention the many lives lost in the construction of the building. How much more could have been done with the money, the labour and the vision? Was the unargubale beauty of this place worth the price paid?
Given the diversity of locales for church gatherings today, this question becomes increasingly complex. The Old Testament reveals that God demanded a wealth of resources, energy and beauty to be invested into places of worship. Some might argue that this ended when the temple curtain was torn at Christs death, further finalized at the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 AD. However, I think this is too quick a dismissal.
In my opinion, the intentionality of architecture in churches (and by this I mean everything from the actual structure of the building to the layout of furniture and use of other implements, such as candles, etc.) is something that can be important to the experience of worship, even formative in our understanding of God. The high vaulted ceilings of the cathedral inspired in me a sense of the greatness of God, the timelessness of a God who transcended my finite perspective. The intentional incorporation of iconic images and statues acts as touchstones to nature and character of God and His interaction with humanity through the great narrative of history. Candles, incense and vestments acts as beautiful symbols, whose meaning infuses our worship with something deeper than an articulate propositional understanding (important as that is).
I am deeply committed to serving the poor, investing our time, energy and resources into issues of justice and compassion, rather than them all being consumed in other self-serving reasons. However, can we become so pragmatic that we fail to honour God in beauty? Should we miss an opportunity to engage in the divine through the experiential encounters that art and architecture offer? Where do we draw the line? How have you been inspired or offended by architecture in your faith? Join the conversation in the comment section.
I had the same sense of awe as a teenager when I visited Rome with my dad. Yet I’ve been in magnificent churches since then that have felt empty and cold, and my defining moments of faith occurred in a small church with bare walls and fold-up chairs. It was here that I began a true relationship with God.
So, I think architecture can impress and inspire, but it is what’s within that can truly change lives.
Kievas,
Of course, but I think we need to move towards a synthesis that doesn’t reject one for the other. Tough to do, I think.
Peace,
Jamie
Jamie, I agree with you; I don’t think we can dismiss entirely the notion of beauty- even extravagance- for God. Remembering the widow’s mite and the Mary who anointed Jesus’ feet with the outrageously expensive perfume… I can’t beleive that Jesus made these clear and visual teachings about the appropriateness of extravagance so near his death, only to erase the message at crucifixion.
How to apply it today? I’ve been spending a lot of time and energy, as you probably know, attempting to tie down the place of excellence in worship- in many areas. These are tentative times for the church. We’re feeling our way through, and it isn’t clear where we’ll land on this.
I think that John’s revelation of heaven can inform us to some extent, don’t you? I don’t know about the eschatological aspects, but I do believe he had a vision of heaven- full of beauty and extravagance. The best words he could use to describe what he saw were things of great cost (in our world): gems, crystal, gold, silver…
Certainly at times, the pride of men has intermingled with the desire to honor God with magnificent structures. Yet, in the Sinai desert they honored him with vestments of gold, costly fabrics, excellent workmanship- and there is no evidence that it was anything but God’s design for it to be so. It was the God’s personal illustration of the kind of worship He deisred. We’d be dead wrong to discount a thing of such significance.
Not to be trite, but whether magnificence honors God or man does seem to come down to the state of our hearts, and our deepest desires. I belive that we can manifest that understanding in our lived faith. Carefully, with love, compassion, and purity of heart.
Sorry I’ve rambled on so much, Jamie. You probably see where I’m going, even if I never quite made it there.
one last thought comes to mind:
“When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him,
the son of man that you care for him?” (ps
Cindy,
Excellent thoughts. It sounds like we are both in a place of confident uncertainty. Or uncertain confidence. Thanks!
Peace,
Jamie
I have no time now, but hopefully I can come back and say some of the multitude of ideas bouncing around inside.
Matt,
Looking forward to hearing back from you!
Peace,
Jamie
I did my undergrad dissertation on the subject – how the architecture of places of Christian worship reflects how the people of the time viewed God. In the early church they met in houses – people knew Christ, he hadn’t been long gone. During the medieval era, the poor people didn’t speak the Latin used in services and so God was a majestic, far away person, awe inspiring. Whether this lead the Catherdrals to be designed based on that, or the design of the Cathedrals affected the view of God, I don’t know, but one way or another you get fantastic designs of Cathedrals, with vaults, soaring ceilings, beautiful colours and plays of light, and amazing acoustics that just make you realise how powerful God is – they display the WOW factor of God in a similar way to beautiful sunsets or the Northern lights. In todays post-modern Church people view God in all sorts of ways – as a friend and member of the family meeting in the home, or night club. As a co-worker or boss, meeting in workplaces or industrial buildings. Or even still seeing the awe inspiring, majestic God, where people meet him in the old Churches and Cathedrals. People even seem to have altered their spaces to reflect the way they see God – moving the alter, or getting rid of the pews in an old Church. The nice thing is, we can visit the different buildings and discover new ways to view God, or be reminded of different aspects of his character. Some buildigs may have been built more to glorify the person financing the project, but thats the fantasic thing about God, he can occupy anywhere and take over anyplace, so we should be able to appreciate him in every place we visit. In my last church, it wasn’t a beautiful building – an old warehouse, but instead, people glorifed God through the artwork and decorations that altered frequently, and the aim is that someday when the building’s been paid off they can begin to alter it to make it a place that will look attractive to people who visit it, and also show God’s beauty.
I’ve reflected on this a little in our tradition (Mennonite) as well. Many of the early Anabaptists reacted to what they saw as excess in the Reformation and rejected many of the church practices.
Our current cultural context raises some important questions for continuing faithfulness. One important function of architecture and art in the old cathederals was to teach and remind people visually of the gospel. In a pre-leterate age that was an important function. Our current culture, while literate, has shifted significantly from word to image as a preferred learning/expression style. What is the church’s role in this? Is there a need for us to move forward by going back? Secondly, in our tradition with a strong emphasis on community, how does current church architecture augment or build that? Many of us have roots in the country, in towns and villages, where community developed in a myriad of ways. Church architecture was less significant in nurturing and building community. But in our current context where many congregational participants have no connections other than church events, how can congregational architecture shape and build community.
Peace,
Norm
Katie,
Excellent exploration of the dynamics. Thanks so much for weighing in. I agree with you in that so many expressions can be beneficial.
Peace,
Jamie
Hey Norm,
Thanks for the historical & Anabaptist perspective on this. I especially resonate with your second point, as to the impact of art & architecture on building community. Solomon’s Porch in MN does this by setting up a traditional, large church with the focal point being in the centre of the room, with concentric circles of couches. This mean everyone faces other people and sit comfortably alongside others. It is a great idea. One of many. Thanks again!
Peace,
Jamie
There’s an old Shaker expression that says: “Have nothing in your homes which you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Maybe it fits in terms of our church buildings as well. As you know I am now serving in a beautiful cathedral style building, but have worked in inner city bare halls too. Never seemed to matter much to the quality of worship. . . but the sense of poetry/aesthetic/mystery changed. I hunch bare bones style buildings lend themselves more to a barefisted style of Christianity, and the grand old sanctuaries to a more mystic, sacramental style faith. . . but faith can be dead or alive in either.
Bill,
Well said. Thanks!
Peace,
Jamie
I agree with oldbill- faith can be dead or alive in any place.
I love architecture. Many of my pictures from my year in Europe were of buildings. I’ve gone back and forth on the question. I guess where I am now is, “It is what it is…” All that labor can’t be too easily undone.
In terms of worship, what I always go back to is the Tabernacle; it’s the only worship structure that we have a record of God actually commanding to be built. I appreciate it as a Type of Jesus, but also in and of itself. It and its appointments were of the finest workmanship, and God gifted the craftspeople who made all that stuff and the ordinary folks who donated the raw materials. And- it was all *portable*. I think that’s significant too.
Dana
Dana,
Thanks for the input. As the post mentions, I found that I couldn’t ignore the Tabernacle in considering this issue. Perhaps the greatest sin of all when engaging it would be indifference. Thanks again!
Peace,
Jamie
Jamie,
I find myself struggling with this tension in a very practical manner myself. I have pastored churches which owned no buildings, and used rented facilites on Sundays only for over 20 years.
This last year we were given a grant to open an outreach center in a high impact location in our little city of Salem, MA. The beautiful old bank we moved into captures people’s imaginations as they enter, and it has been a great facility from which to work some very creative outreach.
But mid-stream in our year, we were separated from the same people who gave the grant to put us into the building. Meaning, now that we are in the building with a lease, and we have a big bill which it will take a miracle to fill.
Okay leaving the sad sounding story – this is my point: I find myself practically battling this tension. A building means nothing to me. I do not believe that God inhabits St. Peter’s Cathedral any more than He inhabits a dumpster where an old man He loves rummages through the garbage, Yet, I find also that the facility we have been using this last year has captivated the attention of people we would never have reached before, and it includes the little old men who rifle through the dumpsters as well as those who are able to live a middle class existence.
What then do I do with this dynamic tension? Heck, I don’t know. Maybe next year I can give you an answer on that.
Great Post
Hey Phil,
Thanks for stopping by. Let me start by saying how much I respect your obedience in your calling to serve and live among the people God has called you to. You have been in my prayers since John (Smulo) made me aware of your story. As I am going through somewhat of a dark night in ministry, my heart genuinely goes out to you.
Living and serving in the inner city, I share your sense of tension over this matter. There is an abandon church in our neighbourhood that would cost a great deal of money to make usable, therefore, not only out of our budget, but seemingly a great waste. And yet, I feel a deep sense of yearning to see this place restored and used for the glory of God and the good of the community.
I hope you will return to chat again! If there is anything we can do for you, be it prayer or otherwise, feel free to let me know. I mean that genuinely.
Peace,
Jamie
I just spent 8 weeks this past summer in Europe with my school. We visited so many cathedrals and basilicas that I can’t even count them. One of our profs is an expert in cathedrals, especially the Gothic variety, and so we also learned a lot about the theology of architecture that built these incredible buildings. We further learned about the Reformation which sometimes modified and sometimes outright rejected architectural beauty as appropriate for the church.
Whew, that’s a lot of preliminaries! That being said, here’s some ideas:
1) The size and ostentatiousness of many of these buildings was more about civic pride than about spiritual instruction. It was an “our cathedral is bigger than yours” pissing contest.
2) Every detail in a cathedral is carefully crafted to engender worship in the heart of the believer, especially in its Gothic forms. The arches of the windows point up, the massive amount of light let in speaks of the light of God coming to the believer, the stained glass told biblical stories to illiterate people, and the soaring height of these buildings soared upwards to the heavens, giving one a sense of the awesomeness and majesty of God
3) The cathedral was usually the architectural heart of its city. This was a bold statement that said that the church was at the heart of the community. In a suburbanized age, we are exposed to so much bland architecture and sad excuses for city planning that we forget what an impact something like this can have on the life of a community.
4) The Reformers were largely justified in being pissed off at the opulence of many of these cathedrals came at the expense of poor folk. The 95 Theses of Martin Luther dealt largely with the abusive fundraising practices of indulgences in order to build St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. The thing has 2 meter high gold letters spelling out Bible verses dealing with Peter!
5) Despite all of these grandiose cathedrals, I probably experienced my favorite worship space at San Damiano, a humble little monastery where St. Francis of Assisi first heard the call of God to rebuild His church. He took it literally at first, picking up some tools and shoring up the crumbling walls.
I could go on, but, in the end, I think that we need to do two things: 1) bring out the best parts of what our specific architecture communicates about God, and 2) critique the stuff in our architecture that misrepresents God. I think that we’ll find a mix of both anywhere we turn.
Matt,
Excellent points all. Thanks for sharing from your experience. Where in Europe did your travels take you? Obviously Italy. Anywhere else?
Peace,
Jamie
I went through Spain, France, Italy, Germany, Switzerland and England. You can see pics and some commentary on my travel blog if you want. It was brilliant.
Matt,
Thanks for the link. Sounds like an amazing trip.
Peace,
Jamie
So this conversation finished about a year ago, I’m just browsing, and thought I’d post a few questions that have been on my mind regarding church architecture, I’m writing from the uk, I’m not sure how different the situation is over there, certainly the rich heritage of european ecclesiastic architecture, is on our doorstep and so even more immediately begs such questions regarding the role and nature of contemporary architecture in the framing and communicating of christianity in a post-modern secular etc culture.
Centrally I ache to know why church architecture today is so lacking in substance? I would argue that it is not for lack of means, nor lack of technology, we have never before had such available resource for building to the glory of God. I would currently argue that the source of this change has been theological and sociological. We have changed in our understanding of place, our understanding of congregation and community, in a change derived from our view of work and family, we have become estranged from the divine good in locality, in physical work and craft and we no longer live in any one place long enough to consider a project beyond a generation. Our assimilation to cultural values, the veneration of youth, mobility, speed etc has lead to a transient placeless church for whom primary metaphors chosen for church buildings are a shoe box, a sheepfold, a shelter.. is there something gnostic at the end of this train of thought? Do we owe the rich architectural heritage of cathedrals from a former christendom to idolatry alone? I would say know. How to we put in place an understanding of our incarnation that engages architecture pragmatically, narratively, communally, sacrificially evangelistically.. bleh. I’m at a Vineyard church, whose regard for musical worship lends itself to an, i think, fascinating comparison with the value it places its warehouse and the message the juxtaposition conveys, at least the the architecturally sensitive.
Anyways, do message me back Jamie, enjoying your posts, conscious that this thread is quiet now.
jackson dot pa at gmail dot com
Hey Phil,
Great thoughts. I am in an airport heading to Australia, but will try to drop you an email some time soon. If I forget, always feel free to email me at jamiearpinricci AT gmail D0T com
Peace,
Jamie