“Space and Function”
Prior to 1975, I was not around in the Episcopal Church to know what people were thinking when they did things like build church buildings with no rest rooms, place parish halls at the bottom of long, steep steps or on the far side of cemeteries, purchase pews from some dungeon apparatus dealer, and tack on kneelers showing the brand name de Sade. Clearly, there was once a common understanding that attending church ought to hurt some, to be effective.
They may have been onto something, because the decline in mainline church attendance has coincided with the increase of mercies, in various forms: like letting the children miss the sermon and prayers, but get communion; the option of standing (or sitting, or wallowing on the floor, for that matter, depending on age) instead of kneeling; emphasis on shorter and sweeter sermons; allowance of casual dress. Be that as it may, our worship, since 1979, has shifted in its emphasis-- we are more community oriented, and less individualistic, more a community at prayer than a group of individuals praying in sync. That emphasis calls for changes in the way we worship, too, the way we structure worship, the way worship looks and feels. But there is an important liturgical principle that has not changed:
The Building Always Wins.
Many of us struggle to lead meaningful and varied worship in settings that were designed for one style, and one style only. Many of our buildings are old and venerable, perhaps even land-marked. We wouldn’t have the funds to replace them, as they really ought to be replaced, for public worship anyway, even if we had the desire to do so. I humbly submit, with the greatest apprehension, but also deep sincerity, this little tidbit of information for the prayerful consideration of those responsible for worship:
Even if a church building itself is protected as a historical structure (or should be), its furniture is not.
Just think about it.
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4 comments:
from Hollie Mitchell:
The Washington National Cathedral has brought the altar out from the High Altar passed the choir and organ to the "Crossing" where it can be "in the round"almost.
The pews are chairs, which hook together and can be moved at whim. I was told this tradition was taken from Europe. To be prepared, if there were war or other great threat, the chairs would be moved to give room to provide safety and comfort to the people and even the animals were given their place of refuge.
tPeace,
Hollie
from Linda Crocker:
Ouch! I can hear them screaming already!
If you think you/we have a problem, you should have heard the reactions to the new vicar's suggestions for similar changes to the worship space of St Cuthbert's built in 1100's and 'modernized/restored in the 1800's. Had every characteristic you mentioned but you forgot the dim lights lovingly wired in by a recently deceased pillar of the church.
However some quiet persuasion, outside experts and patience has led to some changes that provide more flexibility but don't fight with the overall structure and character of the building but actually enhance it.
You are doing a great job with these aptly named volleys.
How are you at patience?
(Linda, I heard the screams, too, in rising crescendo across the state almost from the moment I pressed "send." DKV)
from Martin Townsend:
O Donald, you have lit another fire. Well done. Some distinctions should be made. Pews are furniture and are subject to movement and change. Moveable chairs with or without attached kneelers, work well and can be accommodated to various architectural styles. Altars and fonts enjoy a different status and are moved only with fear and trembling, yet moved they sometimes should be.
I am still surprised when I enter a church where the altar is still against the east wall. For most sanctuaries, moving the altar out far enough for a west facing celebration is fairly easy. That simple move is relatively unjarring as far as visual aesthetics are concerned. From the west door, the sanctuary looks pretty much as it always has. How we interpret that move is what matters more than the move itself. West facing celebration is not to impart a "chummy" feel to the celebration. The same combination of warmth and dignity is appropriate no matter where the celebrant stands. The movement of the altar away from the wall is a theological statement: our experience of God in community is primarily as immanent, not as transcendent. While physically the altar has moved only 24", theologically it has moved into the very center of the nave. The best physical layout for such theology is a completely in-the-round configuration. Theologically, we no longer look past chancel and sanctuary, across the altar, through the east wall into a transcendent realm of perfection where God sits on an unapproachable throne. Rather we gather around a table where, if we raise our eyes, we see each others' faces on the other side of the holy center. This is surely preferable to the old way of, with head bowed, seeing a backside perched on the pew in front of us.
The truth of the matter is, though, that we are heirs to two distinct theological traditions, dating back to Moses. In the J literature, Moses was mainly the representative of a transcendent God to the people, the symbol of God's presence being the Ark of the Covenant. In the E literature, Moses was primarily the representative of the people to a more immanent God; here the symbol of God's presence is the tent of meeting. This distinction was echoed 2 millenia later in the development of catholic and protestant strains of theology, both pointing to something vital about God. One genius of Anglicanism is to have found a road - Deuteronomic if you will - that honors both traditions. The architecture of most Episcopal churches is an adaptation of the Gothic layout of nave, representing this world and the church militant; chancel, standing for Purgatory and the church expectant; and the sanctuary for heaven and the church triumphant. We rejected that theology 450 years ago but have been unaware of what our buildings continue to say. Few congregations have the nerve for it, but an ideal balance could be found in utilizing moveable chairs so that during some seasons, maybe Lent and Advent, and major holy days, we could honor the tradition of God's transcendent majesty by facing towards a high altar. At other times we honor the tradition of God's immanence by placing the altar in the middle of the people.
Come to think of it, the tradition of God as both immanent and transcendent way pre-dates Moses. Can you imagine the majestic God of Genesis 1 walking around the garden in the cool of the day, where God was probably wearing a tweed jacket and smoking a pipe?
Thank you, Donald, once again for a provocative volley.
Martin Townsend
Emanuel, Keyser
from Martin Townsend:
Donald-
Hollie's note re Washington Cathedral is on target. A further consideration re liturgical space: A common confusion is that the area up front in Gothic church space is a stage, implying performance. Functionally it can be used that way, especially for Christmas pageants, but that is merely incidental. If you look at the layout of the great Gothic National Cathedral, as originally designed, the sight lines for performance production are awful and that is not a matter of poor design. The ascending steps to choir and sanctuary represent the mountain of God's presence. The bosses on the vaulted ceiling trace the journey from Creation to Last Judgment. As we approach the holy of holies, we ourselves are high and lifted up. The now beautifully done central location of what has now become the main altar does what Hollie describes. Because of the transepts, the altar is in the 3/4 round. Theologically, though, we need to think of the platform as a "high place," not as a stage. The two altars of the cathedral, each with its own prominence, is beautifully Anglican in its theological inclusivity.
Martin Townsend
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