Modern Catholic Space
From H-Catholic I learn that two professors of architecture in Great Britain are organizing a symposium for this coming December on how modern architecture has been regarded and employed within the Catholic Church. Call for papers is here, with possible topics and these two paragraphs of background.
Modern architecture for the Roman Catholic Church in the twentieth century could be experimental, transgressive or progressive, comforting or shocking; sometimes it appeared within a culture of intense theoretical and theological dialogue between architects and clergy, and sometimes it challenged orthodoxy and innovated at the fringes of the Church’s complex structure. At various significant moments, modern architecture was either repressed and quenched, or welcomed and widely adopted. Architects could be concerned with the symbolic potential of modern architecture to evoke newly emphasised ideas in theology. In church architecture throughout the twentieth century, the liturgy was a central focus of development, as space and ritual were intimately connected. Monastic life was subject to modern interpretations of ancient ideals. Mission stations far from Rome might echo modern architecture’s development of a ‘critical regionalism’.
Conventionally, the Second Vatican Council has been seen as a pivotal moment in the shift towards a modern form of church space, but increasingly scholarship is revealing the Council to have been only one marker of broader trends. More recently, architects have sought continuity and reattachment to the past instead of innovation.
What has been your own experience of modern Church architecture? Which examples seem to have worked, and which did not? Why?
Having visited or attended at least 20 parishes from California to Boston, my experience of modern church architecture is that it has all the style, grace, and inspiration of a Holiday Inn convention center.
The local parish church is a glorified pole barn with metal siding, no stained glass, very little in the way of contemplative decoration except what parishioners have made themselves and been allowed to bring in by the various old and tired-out priests who get sent to our parish on the cusp of retirement.
The original Czechs and Germans brought in icons, and an influx of Hispanic worshipppers have added to the mix (which the Czechs and Germans live with somewhat uneasily and resentfully.)
The effect screams “we are poor, we don’t have the best taste, and a lot of us are still simmering in our ethnic tribes and don’t like outsiders.”
It is not particularly elevating to worship in such an edifice, but it is humbling and instructive sometimes. Not at all what you hoped would be posted, I’d wager, but I always like to get my two cents in early.
Now on to the inevitable debate about the merits of verticality in design!
Most modern Catholic churches are disasters. They clearly try to emulate Pizza Hut as the epitome of architecture. The churches with the altar in the center are a problem for art, since most art, like the priest, has a front and a back.
The only modern church that I think is succeeds is Out Lady of the Mountains in Jackson Hole (Pictures: http://www.olmcatholic.org/photo_gallery.php). The art is beautifully integrated with the building, the congregation, and the environment. They have several choirs, including a Gregorian schola.
St. Francis Xavier Church in Kansas City isn’t new anymore, but it was waaaay radical when it was built in 1949-1950.
Here’s a good picture of it:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Church_of_Saint_Francis_Xavier_Kansas_City_MO.jpg
It was designed by Barry Byrne of Chicago. The associate architect, the local man in charge of construction, was Joseph B. Shaughnessy. He had designed and built the diocesan high schools (ugly and cheap, imho), Glennon, Lillis, and Hogan. He graduated from Notre Dame in 1922 and worked with Frank Kervick on the master plan for ND. He had done other work in and around Kansas City, including St. Peter’s Church.
His daughter, Mary Rose, tells his story on her web site:
http://www.shaughnessy.us/assets/Family/pdf%20files/Joseph%20B.%20Shaughnessy,%20Sr..pdf
(She tells her own story, as well.)
http://www.maryroseshaughnessy.info/Memoirs.htm
I didn’t hate the church, as some did, but I was never able to stay in it longer than a few minutes. The light through the blue windows gave me an intense headache.
It seems funny now to think back on the arguments about the Fish Church, given the hideous things that have been erected since.
Here are some excerpts from my favorite rant on the topic:
The church I get dragged to these days looks like a suburban bank with an exceptionally large parking lot. Take down the industrial girder steeple and the I-beam cross and put up a red and yellow neon sign and you got a Wells-Fargo.
Inside it’s worse, the pews swirl in a semi-circle around the altar like seating around a camp-fire. And just like a campfire, the music is the same insipidly cheerful guitar strumming we all learned to hate as children. …
These barns testify to the idiocy of big ideas. Take the universal concept that the sacred should uplift — that it should soar toward heaven. Now give that idea to a church committee … and what do you get? A student project consisting of a 200 foot skate board ramp with a cut out square hole, partially plugged by a stainless steel cross. They say church architecture should reflect a modern sense of community. All too often it does precisely that.
If I want community I go to a bar. My bars reflect my community. … I have seen scary bars. I’ve seen run-down bars. I’ve seen pretentious bars, but I’ve never seen a bar as ugly as an ugly church.
Our ancestors founded religion to smooth the edges of a harsh world, to deal with things beyond our powers, like the death and suffering of those we love. They designed great cathedrals and modest country chapels to point toward something beyond ourselves. They built structures to mark the path toward hope. The decline in Christianity came with the contemporary search for relevance, when religion looked to a modern earth rather than an ancient heaven for answers; a mistake that is reflected in the architecture of its churches.
More at:
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474977175057
There are some modern church buildings that are beautiful, but for the sheer awfullness of modern church structures you can not beat the Santuario della Madonna delle Lacrime in Siracusa, Sicily. It looks like the mothership from Close Encounters on the outside and it is a vast, empty grey concrete and white marble vault inside. They have those those kind of stackable, link-together chairs you might find in meeting rooms at a Sheraton for much of the seating. Worst of all, they have push-button electric votive candles.
I think architectural questions need to be answered in the bigger context of figuring out whose house it is in the first place. If it’s “God’s House” then doing away with traditional architectural functions and designs seems a tad presumptuous. If it’s a place where a community meets to pray, you can do just about anything you want. It all comes down to what you think is happening there and who owns what’s going on.
I think it’s too easy to generalize both about differences and also individual tastes.
I was baptized and brought up in a neo-Gothic Church, built out of dark, grey stone and illuminated primarily by soaring stained glass windows and aided by dim incandescents hanging in heavy iron fixtures reminiscent of a medieval great hall. The Church, first founded in the late 18th century (though the present building dates back to the 1920s and located halfway between Center City Philadelphia and Amish Country, spun off a half dozen other parishes, most of which laid their first brick following Vatican II. The progeny of the original parish might aptly be characterized architecturally as what one commenter pejoratively dismissed as aspiring to the paradigm of a Pizza Hut.
The thing is… these “glorified pole barns” offer a decidedly different experience of the liturgy. (Not better; not worse, just different.) The Eucharist is at once both ineffable, cosmic sacrifice and community meal. I’m not sure where the dotcommonweal commentariat takes its family to dinner, but I confess I’ve been spotted in a Pizza Hut myself. And it’s an awful lot more comfortable for dining and conducive to community cultivation than the Cathedral at Chartres.
Jesus did not take his disciples to the Temple to institute the sacrifice of the Mass; he brought them to quiet, comfortable place where they could share a meal together, reclining on mats (Mark 14:18). Could you imagine RECLINING in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, NY? I struggle to identify any sense of Eucharist as community meal as I try to follow a chant in a language I don’t speak, during a liturgy clouded by incense and punctuated by a professional cantor belting byzantine arrangements to the ethereal whoosh of a pipe organ.
It inevitably would be replied that modern buildings, with circular “naves” and ikea-esque chairs, playing host to an iteration of the Mass apparently composed by Peter, Paul, and Mary, conversely have forsaken any sense of mystery or awe. And that perhaps, amid the hand-clapping and hospitality, there could be an effort to help congregants go deeper into the theological reality of the true presence.
We Catholics are a both/and people, and the liturgy is a perfect example of our attempt to integrate two radically disparate feels into one, seamless experience. I don’t envy a Church architect who is tasked with helping Mass participants achieve an appropriate sense of reverence about the mystery of transubstantiation… AND allow them to re-create the community meal shared by Jesus with his friends. I don’t think either type of Church (if an impossibly neat dichotomy could be rendered) is objectively superior to the other; I think they reflect an emphasis on one or the other aspect of the Mass. The beautiful part of the Mass is that it can inhabit so very many different forms, yet remain one unifying act of all Catholics. I am glad there are pipe organs, and I’m glad there are guitars. I hope we are not too quick to dismiss the value in either.
Here’s a great example of modern architecture: St. Mary’s Cathedral in San Francisco. http://www.puppiesandflowers.com/?p=341
Here is a great example of how one of those awful 1970ish churches has been beautifully renovated into a much more reverent sacred space:
http://cantuar.blogspot.com/2011/02/photos-best-catholic-church-renovation.html
PF,
“Better,” “holier,” and “more reverent” are not subjective descriptors using personal preference as criterion; they bespeak a purportedly universal metric by which the “holiness” or value of a particular space might objectively be evaluated. Do you believe such a tool exists? If so, might you share your understanding of it? Who devised it? Who is authorized to utilize it and interpret its findings?
I confess that I do not currently possess an understanding of the criterion necessary to arrive at the conclusion that stained glass, gold candelabras and a canopy over the altar are (objectively) superior in holiness to a simple wooden altar.
In 2000 the US Bishops published a set of guidelines for Church art and architecture, Built of Living Stones: Art, Architecture, and Worship. A great deal of work went into it, but I’ve never read the whole thing.
Modern church architecture is a topic likely to generate as many comments (and conflicts) as a post on liturgy or abortion, I suspect…
And it’s understandable — I’d tend to agree with most laments about modern churches. I think it reminds me of going to school in the 1960s and 1970s, which causes shudders.
On the other hand…It’s important to think about why we have such modern churches, and why they should be better. Maybe we need to find a genuinely American style — the churches we tend to love are really just replicas, some great some not so great, of European styles that immigrants brought with them. Now we’re stuck with a lot of those glorious piles of stone and no one going to them. (Have you read about the old Buffalo parish church being moved en masse to the Atlanta archdiocese?!)
Churches are a wonderful reflection of the Catholic imagination and of the Christian intention to plant itself in a particular place. Yet, Americans are moving all the time, and the demographics of the church are changing. We’re almost migrants in our own country. That poses a real challenge for church architects it seems to me, and I have no answers. We aren’t into tent pole churches, yet maybe we should adapt to the congregational clapboard meeting house style of early Americana. Possible? Trying to recreate neo-Gothic styles today can produce unfortunate results, and at too high a cost.
I think it’s good that this conference seems to be trying to highlight positive examples.
A couple good ones come to mind, only one of which I’ve visited. That is the Richard Meier church at Tor di Tre Teste in a poor Roman neighborhood — designed and built for the 2000 jubilee, and supposedly connoting a church setting sail into the new millennium:
http://www.viacolvento.eu/turismoarchitettonico/roma/chiesatortreteste/scheda.html
I’ve never visited Our Lady of the Angels, (a.k.a. the Taj Mahony) but from what I’ve seen I think it looks like a bold and successful re-imagining of a cathedral fit for its time and place. Yes, the cost will be criticized, and that’s fair. But won’t that always be an issue when you have a Christian community like the Catholic Church that is constructed around liturgy and sacred spaces? Tough to get that in a double-wide.
Those who like to see the priest standing apart from the congregation with his back to them should have a place.
Those who like clumsily pronounced Latin and sluggishly rendered Gregorian chant should have a place.
Those who like exquisitely pronounced Latin and lively chant should have a place.
Those who would like to return to the early days and have women and men preside over Eucharistic meals in their houses should have a place.
Those who would like to hear thoughtful and scholarly sermons on something other than _______ should have a place.
Those who want to recline in terclinia should have a place.
Those who think the ancestors had it right when they worshipped in sacred groves should have a place.
There were a lot of ugly churches built in the post-war boom. It’s not a new phenomenon in America. But perhaps ours is the first era when ugliness was undergirded with a theological rationale that is nearly Schleirmachian in its conviction that God has no place among us.
Bah humbug.
This is nice, from Death Comes for the Archbishop:
The Bishop sat down on a boulder, still looking up at the cliff.
“It is the stone I have always wanted, and I found it quite by
chance. I was coming back from Isleta. I had been to see old
Padre Jesus when he was dying. I had never come by this trail, but
when I reached Santo Domingo I found the road so washed by a heavy
rain that I turned out and decided to try this way home. I rode up
here from the west in the late afternoon; this hill confronted me
as it confronts us now, and I knew instantly that it was my
Cathedral.”
“Oh, such things are never accidents, Jean. But it will be a long
while before you can think of building.”
“Not so very long, I hope. I should like to complete it before I
die–if God so wills. I wish to leave nothing to chance, or to the
mercy of American builders. I had rather keep the old adobe church
we have now than help to build one of those horrible structures
they are putting up in the Ohio cities. I want a plain church, but
I want a good one. I shall certainly never lift my hand to build a
clumsy affair of red brick, like an English coach-house. Our own
Midi Romanesque is the right style for this country.”
Father Vaillant sniffed and wiped his glasses. “If you once begin
thinking about architects and styles, Jean! And if you don’t get
American builders, whom will you get, pray?”
“I have an old friend in Toulouse who is a very fine architect.
I talked this matter over with him when I was last at home. He
cannot come himself; he is afraid of the long sea voyage, and not
used to horseback travel. But he has a young son, still at his
studies, who is eager to undertake the work. Indeed, his father
writes me that it has become the young man’s dearest ambition to
build the first Romanesque church in the New World. He will have
studied the right models; he thinks our old churches of the Midi
the most beautiful in France. When we are ready, he will come and
bring with him a couple of good French stone-cutters. They will
certainly be no more expensive than workmen from St. Louis. Now
that I have found exactly the stone I want, my Cathedral seems to
me already begun. This hill is only about fifteen miles from Santa
Fé; there is an upgrade, but it is gradual. Hauling the stone will
be easier than I could have hoped for.”
“You plan far ahead.” Father Vaillant looked at his friend
wonderingly. “Well, that is what a Bishop should be able to do.
As for me, I see only what is under my nose. But I had no idea you
were going in for fine building, when everything about us is so
poor–and we ourselves are so poor.”
“But the Cathedral is not for us, Father Joseph. We build for the
future–better not lay a stone unless we can do that. It would be
a shame to any man coming from a Seminary that is one of the
architectural treasures of France, to make another ugly church on
this continent where there are so many already.”
“You are probably right. I had never thought of it before. It
never occurred to me that we could have anything but an Ohio church
here. Your ancestors helped to build Clermont Cathedral, I
remember; two building Bishops de la Tour back in the thirteenth
century. Time brings things to pass, certainly. I had no idea you
were taking all this so much to heart.”
Father Latour laughed. “Is a cathedral a thing to be taken
lightly, after all?”
“Oh, no, certainly not!” Father Vaillant moved his shoulders
uneasily. He did not himself know why he hung back in this.
The base of the hill before which they stood was already in shadow,
subdued to the tone of rich yellow clay, but the top was still
melted gold–a colour that throbbed in the last rays of the sun.
The Bishop turned away at last with a sigh of deep content. “Yes,”
he said slowly, “that rock will do very well. And now we must be
starting home. Every time I come here, I like this stone better.
I could hardly have hoped that God would gratify my personal taste,
my vanity, if you will, in this way. I tell you, Blanchet, I would
rather have found that hill of yellow rock than have come into a
fortune to spend in charity. The Cathedral is near my heart, for
many reasons. I hope you do not think me very worldly.”
As they rode home through the sage-brush silvered by moonlight,
Father Vaillant was still wondering why he had been called home
from saving souls in Arizona, and wondering why a poor missionary
Bishop should care so much about a building. He himself was eager
to have the Cathedral begun; but whether it was Midi Romanesque or
Ohio German in style, seemed to him of little consequence.
This is about the only modern church to which I have given my OK (I should mention that I require them to be Gothic – Pugin was right).
From Wikipedia: In the French city of Royan (North of Bordeaux) “the church Notre-Dame of Royan is considered as one of the leaders of work of the contemporary architecture. After the bombardments of January 5, 1945 which destroyed the former neo-Gothic church which dated back to 1877, located at the current Square Charles de Gaulle, it was decided to build a building of bigger size and with an architecture both ambitious as spectacular, inspired by the aesthetics of other large Gothic cathedrals.”
http://www.royan-multimedia.com/phototheque/upload/index.php?rep=eglise%20notre-dame
Interesting fact: The late radical historian Howard Zinn was one of the bombardiers who destroyed the old church at the end of WWII, needlessly, he later concluded.
I have not seen but would love to visit the new Los Angeles cathedral. It may have been costly but it is a magnet for people and will be around for a long time. The tapestries depictitng the saints seem to me to be quite beautiful.
If anyone visits Iowa I would recommend a visit to the abbey church of he Trappists in Peosta (New Mellarey) – a stunning example of new Cistercian architecture. Aside: they also make beautiful coffins from wood.
“Those who like to see the priest standing apart from the congregation with his back to them should have a place.”
Cunningly inserting liturgical divisiveness into the thread in the guise of inclusiveness. Well played!
I hope you noticed from my link above that the Novus Ordo Mass ad orientum is possible. In fact, it was originally conceived to be celebrated in that way.
“Priest…standing with his back to [the congregation]”
In fact, ad orientum is the priest facing God along WITH the people. One could as easily say that when the priest faces the people that he has turned his back on God in the tabernacle, as you can say that the Priest is turning his back on the people” when celebrating ad orientum.
“I have not seen but would love to visit the new Los Angeles cathedral.”
Have seen…um…photos of that…building?
Two different people in this thread have acknowledged the excessive cost of building it, but said it was “worth it”. Let’s keep that on file for the next “I cannot believe the church is spending money on ____” post, shall we?
Perhaps the core issue is that the churches that we all love were designed to house worship according to the rite as it existed before the liturgical renewal. More recent attempts to design buildings and worship spaces that are more in harmony with the principles and requirements of the renewed rite have resulted in buildings that a lot of us worship in but few of us love.
Thus, many of the former are aesthetic triumphs but not very functional, while the latter are functional but aesthetically unstimulating (or much worse).
Another issue, at least around here, is that during a burst of great growth in the 1945-1970 time frame, during which quite a few parishes were founded or expanded and church buildings built, particularly in the suburbs, a cost-conscious model for the funding of church buildings seems to have prevailed in the chancery. The church of the parish to which I belong was erected for $400,000(!) and is pretty short on what purchasers of McMansions refer to as “upgrades” and decorative extras.
Fr. Joe alluded to the US bishops’ document “Built of Living Stones”. Its predecessor document, called “Environment and Art in Catholic Worship”, was quite influential in the years following the Council – essentially during the course of most of our lives. I poked around in Google for a couple of minutes but couldn’t find it available on line. Here is a link to a critique of it, written by Duncan Stroik, who is one of the leaders of the movement (revivalist?) to incorporate more traditional elements into new church architecture while also respecting the requirements of the new rite. The critique does illuminate what are widely perceived to be shortcomings of EACW. Perhaps the heart of the problem is EACW’s contention that “the assembly is the primary symbol of worship” – a directive that is pregnant with possibilities for scale and layout.
http://www.sacredarchitecture.org/articles/environment_and_art_in_catholic_worship_a_critique/
FWIW – here are the liturgical principles that “Built of Living Stones” prescribes for church architecture. It may be amusing (or depressing) and instructive to take a few minutes to consider one’s own parish church in light of these directives. http://www.nccbuscc.org/liturgy/livingstones.shtml#chapteronee
Liturgical Principles for Building or Renovating Churches
§ 27 § The basic liturgical principles for designing and renovating churches today are drawn from the Second Vatican Council and the documents that implemented its decrees.35 Even though the Church offers no universal blueprint or style for the design of a church, attention to the following principles will insure that from the beginning, the ritual requirements will receive the priority they deserve in the design process.
§ 28 § 1. The church building is designed in harmony with church laws and serves the needs of the liturgy. The liturgical books are the foundational source for those who wish to plan a building well suited for the liturgy. First among these are the prescriptions contained in the fifth chapter of the General Instruction of the Roman Missal and the norms in the introduction to the Rite of Dedication of a Church and an Altar. Other directives can be found in the various liturgical books and the Code of Canon Law.
§ 29 § Because the church is a house of prayer in which the Eucharist is celebrated and the Blessed Sacrament is reserved, a place where the faithful assemble, and a setting where Christ is worshiped, it should be worthy of prayer and sacred celebration, built in conformity with the laws of the Church, and dignified with noble beauty and intrinsically excellent art.36 The general plan of the building reflects the Church that Christ gathers there, is expressive of its prayer, fosters the members’ participation in sacred realities, and supports the solemn character of the sacred liturgy.
§ 30 § The general plan of the building should be such that “in some way it conveys the image of the gathered assembly. It should also allow the participants to take the place most appropriate to them and assist all to carry out their function properly.”37
§ 31 § 2. The church building fosters participation in the liturgy. Because liturgical actions by their nature are communal celebrations, they are celebrated with the presence and active participation of the Christian faithful whenever possible.38 Such participation, both internal and external, is the faithful’s “right and duty by reason of their baptism.”39 The building itself can promote or hinder the “full, conscious, and active participation” of the faithful. Parishes making decisions about the design of a church must consider how the various aspects and choices they make will affect the ability of all the members to participate fully in liturgical celebrations.
§ 32 § 3. The design of the church building reflects the various roles of the participants. Since the liturgical celebration is an action of Christ and the Church, it belongs to the whole Body of the Church.40 While all the members are called to participate in worship, not all have the same role.41 From the earliest days of the Church, the Holy Spirit has called forth members to serve in a variety of ministries. That same Spirit continues to call the members to various ministries today and to bestow gifts necessary for the good of the community.42
§ 33 § The Church is a holy people, a chosen race, a royal priesthood, whose members give thanks to God and offer the sacrifice of Christ. Together, they take part in the liturgy conscious of what they are doing, with reverence and full involvement. They are instructed by God’s word and nourished at the Table of the Lord’s Body; they are formed day by day into an ever more perfect unity with God and with each other—they are sent forth for the transformation of society, so that finally God may be all in all. And by offering “Christ, the Victim, not only through the hands of the priest but also together with him,” they learn to offer themselves.43
§ 34 § The bishop is the high priest, the principal dispenser of the mysteries of God, and the director, promoter, and guardian of the entire liturgical life of the particular Church.44 Therefore, every authentic celebration of the liturgy is directed by the bishop, either in person or through the priests who assist him.45 Within the process of building or renovating a church, the diocesan bishop has an irreplaceable role and final responsibility. The construction of a new church requires the permission of the bishop, who must consult and determine that the building will contribute to the spiritual welfare of the faithful, and that the parish has the necessary means to build and care for the church.46
§ 35 § Priests are consecrated to “celebrate divine worship and sanctify the people.”47 The priest “stands at the head of the faithful people gathered together, presides over its prayer, proclaims the message of salvation, joins the people to himself in offering the sacrifice to God the Father through Christ in the Spirit, gives his brothers and sisters the bread of eternal life, and shares in it with them.”48 As the one who presides, he always prays in the name of the Church and of the community gathered together. As the leader and representative of the local parish, the pastor takes the lead in the building process, keeps the local parish in communication with the bishop and other diocesan officials, and helps to draw the parishioners together in the decision-making process.
§ 36 § A variety of ministries serve the assembly at the liturgy. First among the ministers is the deacon.49 Some faithful have been installed in the ministries of lector or acolyte. Others serve as readers, altar servers, extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion, cantors, musicians, and sacristans.50 As members of the Church, each person forms an essential and distinct part of the assembly that is gathered by God in an “organic and hierarchical” way.51 Each minister, ordained or lay, is called upon to fulfill his or her role and only that role in the celebration of the liturgy.52
§ 37 § By its design and its furnishings, the church reflects this diversity of roles. The one who presides, those who proclaim God’s word, the ministers of music, those who assist at the altar, and members of the congregation all play an integral part in the public prayer of the Church. The design of the church should reflect the unity of the entire assembly and at the same time insure that each person is able to exercise his or her ministry in a space that fully accommodates the ritual action called for by that ministry. Careful attention to the placement of the individuals and groups who comprise the liturgical assembly can manifest and enhance their relationship with one another and with the entire body.
§ 38 § 4. The church building respects the culture of every time and place. The Roman rite respects cultural differences and fosters the genius and talents of the various races and peoples.53 This cultural diversity can be expressed in architectural styles, in art forms, and in some instances in the celebration of liturgical rites with appropriate adaptations.
§ 39 § Just as each local community is different, styles and forms of churches will vary. The New Testament speaks of the upper room where Christ gathered the apostles for the Last Supper and appeared to them after the resurrection, and where the Holy Spirit descended on the Blessed Virgin and the Twelve at Pentecost. After the Lord’s ascension, believers gathered in homes for the celebration of the “breaking of the bread.”54 Such homes evolved into “house churches” and became the Christian community’s earliest places for worship. The unique forms and architecture of the Roman and Byzantine world provided the Church with an architectural language in the form of the basilica. With its long nave and an apse for the bishop and clergy, the basilica quickly became a standard architectural form for churches of the West. The effect of these architectural forms is still reflected in the structure of our liturgical life today.
§ 40 § The rich history of Catholic worship space traces a path through every people and place where the liturgy has been offered. Innumerable monasteries, cathedrals, and parish churches stand as witnesses to an organic growth of the liturgical and devotional life of the Church throughout the world. Since the Church is not wedded to a single architectural or artistic form, it seeks to engage the genius of every time and place, to craft the finest praise of God from what is available.55 The rich dialogue between the Church’s liturgy, as a singular expression of divine revelation, and a local culture is an essential ingredient in the evangelization of peoples and the celebration of the Roman Catholic liturgy in a given time and place. The liturgy is proclaimed, celebrated and lived in all cultures in such a way that they themselves are not abolished by it, but redeemed and fulfilled.56
§ 41 § Inculturation is the incarnation of the Christian message within particular cultures which have their own sense, artistic expressions, vocabulary and grammar, and conceptual frameworks.57 All ancient and modern evangelizing strategies in art and architecture are acts of inculturation to enable church buildings to proclaim the creative and redemptive meaning of the Gospel in every time and place.
§ 42 § When the Gospel was first brought to America, it arrived clothed with expressions of European Christian culture and piety. Grateful for these invaluable gifts, the Church in America slowly, and often reluctantly, developed an appreciation for native music, language, and art and accepted them for use in the service of the liturgy. Today the Church in the United States is again exploring how to translate the Gospel and to build churches in conversation with complex, secularized cultures that have sometimes rejected religion and attempted their own forms of human transcendence through intricate electronic modes of communication, art, and architecture.58 Secular cultures in industrial and post-industrial countries have been particularly difficult to evangelize since they often treat human dignity selectively, attempting to control the mystery that animates the human thirst for meaning and purpose, and ignore those who do not fit their economic or social purpose. The Gospel requires that particular care be taken to welcome into the Church’s assembly those often discarded by society—the socially and economically marginalized, the elderly, the sick, those with disabilities, and those with special needs. In building a church, every diocese and parish must wrestle with these and other complex questions raised by the Church’s mission to evangelize contemporary cultures.
§ 43 § Parishes in the United States today often find their places of worship shared by people of varied languages and ethnic backgrounds and experience vast differences in styles of public worship and personal devotion. What can sustain Christian communities in this challenge of hospitality is the realization that a pluralism of symbolic, artistic, and architectural expression enriches the community.59
§ 44 § 5. The church building should be beautiful. The external and internal structure of the church building should be expressive of the dignified beauty of God’s holy people who gather there and of the sacred rites they celebrate. Liturgical art and architecture reflect and announce the presence of the God who calls the community to worship and invite believers to raise their minds and hearts to the One who is the source of all beauty and truth. Art or architecture that draws more attention to its own shape, form, texture, or color than to the sacred realities it seeks to disclose is unworthy of the church building.60
§ 45 § The Church’s great treasury of art and architecture helps it to transcend the limitations of any one culture, region, or period of time.61 The Church is not exclusively identified with the forms of the past, but is ever open to embrace newer forms that nonetheless have grown organically from her rich heritage of artistic expression. Great religious art fosters the life of prayer of contemporary assemblies who, while rooted in prior artistic traditions, hear God’s unceasing call to proclaim the reign of Christ in the languages of a particular time and place. Every artistic form that is at once capable of faithfully expressing sacred realities and serving the Church’s liturgical action with the highest quality of the arts can find a home in the Church’s house of prayer.62
I don’t dress like my ancestors when they came from Europe in the 1800s. I don’t see any reason to worship in a church the looks like it came from Europe in the IX00s.
Just think what it must be like to be living in Africa, Asia or Latin America and being told that you have to worship, sing and wear liturgical dress like a European in order to be Catholic. So much for the universiality of this church.
Here is a perfect example of eurocentrism gone absolutely and obscenely expensively mad:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilica_of_Our_Lady_of_Peace_of_Yamoussoukro
“§ 44 § 5. The church building should be beautiful.” Indeed! And that, boyz and gurlz, is in the eye of the beholder.
If our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit then there is NO ONE model of those temples. Nor should there be of churches and church spaces.
Well I am not a fan of many modern churches. At the same time I do not like the 50′s styled churches with statues lurking in every corner (and really tacky statues at that!)
Perhaps it is due to my own Nordic background on my mom’s side and the geography of the place I grew up in but I have always liked earth tones, cedar, pine or oak, natural light, simplicity above all.
I had a retreat at the Anishnabe Spiritual Centre which was built by the Jesuits of Upper Canada. I liked the smaller chapel (picture last to bottom) moreso than the larger gathering space although I like the wood on top and the natural wood .
http://www.anishinabespiritualcentre.ca/Pages/About%20the%20centre/chap-wing.htm
And I have a copy at home and at work of the painting by Blake Dabassige “The Tree of Life”
http://www.anishinabespiritualcentre.ca/Pages/Photo%20album/The%20Centre's%20Art%20work%20&%20Misc.%20.htm
The real break with tradition, at least for the US, came not with Vatican II, but World War II. I served a parish that had a church with gold-plated latticework behind the high altar (it was wood painted bronzy-brown) and the founding pastor’s imported Italian marble altar (it was 1/4″ veneer glued to cinder blocks).
American pragmatists have emphasized, at least for the past three generations, and even under the most conservative of bishops, the building of schools as a priority over the building of churches. So it’s not really a surprise that in parishes where liturgy is not a priority that the buildings are poor, especially if you work with architects who have more experience with convention centers, hospitals, and hotels.
The priority should be on acoustics, accessibility (on many levels) and space to utilize a wider variety of rituals than the pre-conciliar Church. Slavish adherence to historical form is bad for art and liturgy. As is the pragmatism of doing something as cheaply as possible.
P. Flanagan –
The priest can’t possibly turn his back on God no matter which way he faces. God is everywhere, P.
That’s why Benedict’s insistence that the altars should face east in every church is silly. Facing eastward could have symbolic value in a farmer’s culture or in a monastery where people gets up at dawn. But in the 21st century it’s meaningless.
Cunningly inserting liturgical divisiveness into the thread in the guise of inclusiveness. Well played!
——-
I’ve been observing “liturgical divisiveness” with interest since the Missa Recitata. (1st grade.)
The fads come and go.
Here’s a link to a great old parish.
http://www.holyrosarykc.org/history/history_silver_jubilee.html
The Italians in the neighborhood came from different regions with different patron saints, and they all wanted their saints’ statues ON the altar. Gorgeous Father Prospero talked them down.
This gets my vote for the worst responses ever on any internet thread I have seen.
The California Cathedrals, in SF, LA and Oakland are all wonderful examples of modern architecture. I’d go to LA just to see the angel sconces and tapestries, but the whole building is worth a visit. Oakland’s new cathedral is just a wonder: http://www.ctlcathedral.org/learn/learn.shtml
There are other examples around the country. The Chapel of the Holy Spirit at Assumption College in Worcester MA has stunning Glass. And not just the giant Pentecost window, but the evocations of OT figures are superb. Even the clear glass, looking out on the campus and trees is well placed. It as all held together to open new vistas spiritually The rest of the stuff is nice, but the glass makes this chapel. http://www1.assumption.edu/virtualtour/spiritual_life/default.html but I couldn’t get ipix to work for me today.
The Benedictines in St Louis and in Elmira NY have nice chapels in modern styles, no matter how much you dislike tents in the round. I am not too fond of barns like St Peter’s in Rome, but one almost inevitably going to end up with something round or square. Any pyramids out there?
These are off the top of my head. I like Our Lady of the Mountains in NH better than the one in Wyoming, but that just comes to mind because of the mention of the other. Prompting could probably bring to mind other good examples. And then there are the European Churches like Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. (Does the Cathedral in St Louis, with almost Gothic exterior and Byzantine interior, count as modern? At least it mixes styles artfully. NeoByzantine is how wikipedia describes it.)
And I am sure prompting could bring to mind ugly romanesque (why do you think they started building Gothic?), Gothic, Baroque and other churches. I think the columns placed inside St Teresa’s Sugarland are ugly, so some of this is taste since someone apparently liked them enough to mention them.
I seem to remember Pizza Hut being a prominent feature on Catholic U’s campus…
How did the early church survive in houses when they should have had soaring edifices? And wouldn’t architects have done a great job if they could have designed the crucifixion of Jesus.
If you grant that the Eucharist is a meal consider how it would look if the paterfamilias turned his back of the family at meals. Jesus is always shown facing the disciples in the Last Supper. If we note that the definition of church is “a gathering” then we might see that the most important element in the church is guess what? The People. The People of God makes up the church because they are the church. Obviously, Jesus is right there in the midst as he promised. Externals help when the internal is empty as the churches of Rome notoriusly are—-empty.
The Chapel of the Holy Spirit at Sacred Heart University, Fairfield, CT, especially the modernistic mosaics by Fr. Marko Rupnik:
http://www.sacredheart.edu/pages/17602_chapel_artwork.cfm
What makes a church building ‘speak’ to me is simple.
Whether it be Romanesque, Byzantine, Gothic, a small chapel, a modern building with elements of other styles, tiny, enormous, or stone or clay… none of these things matter.
When I enter a church and feel within its walls the air of sanctity, the sense of the presence of God, then I know that I am on Holy Ground, sanctified by God to hold
His House.
Toward which end, I visit as many churches as I can while travelling. In May I will finally see the great garish Goudi temple, Sagrada Familia, which the Pope consecrated in October – though it is perhaps 20 years from completion.
Most modern architects are imbeciles when they design a sacred space – they have no concept of providing a place for God within it, they have no true sense of the liturgical needs that they are to design, they do not know what ‘space’ and ‘openness’ do for acoustics so that most music in contemporary churches sounds dry and stilted, and the buildings feel cold and God-less.
Would that there was a unique pattern of instructions and plans that would always guarantee that the finished church would have, by its very space and simplicity, a sense of the presence of God.
People who enter into a truly Holy Place automatically speak (if they must) in hushed tones while their eyes and other senses take in the measure of the place. Deep within them there is a clear sense of ‘God is in this place’.
Any gathering or symposium on church architecture that does not have this as its central theme is a waste of time.
Be nice if all architects were required to have a complete (yes, with Latin, Greek and Hebrew) a seminary education – also heavy in theology and liturgy. Because if they truly understood how it all goes together and why, then it wouldn’t matter if they built a Walmart replica, because that sense of presence and air of sanctity would make people forget what the outside looks like.
““§ 44 § 5. The church building should be beautiful.” Indeed! And that, boyz and gurlz, is in the eye of the beholder.”
Jimmy Mac, that is true, but it seems that our culture is able to reach a consensus that Mozart operas and Ansel Adams photographs are beautiful. It would seem that the same sort of consensus is possible for church buildings, too?
As a young person with a strong love and commitment to Christ and His House, I admire and cherish the Catholic Church structure as in the past and now, especially my home parish. The idea of having the alter in the middle puzzles me. I think it is important to stand firm on the knowledge that it is the Lord’s house and we are there to worship Him. Having the alter in the front, to me, symbolizes a hierarchy and oneness of community. We, the pew sitters, are one with one another and we recognize that God is the one we are there for. Don’t get me wrong though, I have seen many beautiful structured church’s that are modern but I feel more like I am sitting at a conference being encouraged rather than in communion with my fellow saints worshiping God as the most high and the only one. It might be what I am used to though, but regardless of what I think, it is always about the Eucharist. If God is there, I will follow.
The new churches here are mostly minimalist and boring. But there is one that I particularly dislike. Its layout is sort of a half circle with the altar largely but not completely in the back. Unless you’re sitting in the middle of the half-circle, facing the altar directly, what do you see when you look up? Not the altar, but a lot of glum looking, even sour-faced people looking back at you. Not inspiring. Sigh. Better to have the all pews oriented towards the altar, I think. Much, much better.
Sorry, but I just can’t let this go by without some correction.
P Flanagan voiced a liturgical canard that is gaining in restorationist circles: “One could as easily say that when the priest faces the people that he has turned his back on God in the tabernacle…”
I am amazed this still needs to be explained: The Mass is offered to God the Father. It is not offered to the Eucharistic species contained in the tabernacle.
The fact that so many people think the Mass is offered TO Jesus in the tabernacle seems to me to be ample reason alone to remove the tabernacle from the center of the sanctuary so as to avoid this, well, in a word, heresy.
This thread seems to reinforce the notion that the modern era was the only time we had bad art and architecture. A lot of older churches are ugly too! So just reverting to anachronistic styles is no guarantee of good art.
Though I’ve only seen it in pictures, I like the look of the Chapel of St. Basil at the University of St. Thomas in Houston.
“So just reverting to anachronistic styles is no guarantee of good art.”
Definitely true. But in some of the older style churches, there is at least the *possibility* of beautiful art and imagery that feeds the soul – the kitschy statues and stained glass could be replaced by worthier art.
Among the aspects that I find most distressing in some of the newer styles are the mind-numbing symmetry and emphasis on materials. A modern space may have a high ceiling, but have nothing but unbroken symmetry of bricks from floor to ceiling – perhaps interrupted by nothing but stations of the cross. Not even a window in the vast expanse. No stained glass, no niches for statues, no alcoves for a bit of private prayer, no frescoes. The ceiling itself might be wooden planks, supported by exposed wooden beams – also in a symmetrical pattern. Again, no possibility for beautiful art or imagery.
I think we’re very fortunate to have a Church willing to experiment with and support new styles. The modern mosques of Saudi Arabia remind me of Mother Angelica’s marble tiled Shrine of the Most Blessed Sacrament: traditional/neo-traditional design, very expensive looking, clean (polished by armies of Filipinos – Saudi, not EWTN), but ultimately, IMHO, a bit sterile. It’s all too much like a pavilion at Epcot Center in Disney World. Then again, some people liked Warrant.
I’m reminded of my alma mater, which profligately strove to provide the most ersatz of college experiences. They once installed along the school’s major avenue a statue of ancient alumnus in a leather helmet poised to throw a football. Polished bronze Greek letters running along the plinth made out some motto in Greek. I believe the motto was in favor of excellence, not opposed – if I remember correctly.
The irony is that no one reads Greek anymore in college and the university does not have a football team.
“what do you see when you look up? Not the altar, but a lot of glum looking, even sour-faced people looking back at you. Not inspiring. ”
Hi, Ann, what you’re expressing is a critique of a theory that has prevailed during our lifetimes – those glum, sour folks are the assembly, the primary symbol of God in our presence (or so the theory states).
Whether God has ever been glum and sour is an interesting question :-).
“People who enter into a truly Holy Place automatically speak (if they must) in hushed tones while their eyes and other senses take in the measure of the place. Deep within them there is a clear sense of ‘God is in this place’.”
This is a lovely idea, but thank God that faith transcends architecture, or those of us worshipping in drafty pole barns whose interiors resemble storage space for farm vehicles. While there are lots of things I dislike about the local parish, the architecture, horrendous as it is, is not chief among them. It’s the complacency, unfriendliness, and “let’s just get this over with” attitude that seem more soul-deadening than the cheap appointments of the building.
On the other hand, for all its physical and spiritual dreariness, this was the place my son was baptized and confirmed, where my husband and I were received into the Church, where people prayed for our niece in Iraq, where our marriage was blessed, where masses were said for my mother-in-law after her death.
Don’t the sacraments performed in these spaces, even the really ugly ones, sanctify them? To some extent, I find the requirements that churches “be beautiful” about as compelling as requiring that all priests be like Bing Crosby in “Gonig My Way”: athletic, handsome, wise, energetic, and good singers. How far would a symposium on that get?
Encouraging better church design is not the overriding issue facing Catholicism today. In fact–and I realize I’m channeling my Congregationalist/Unitarian ancestors as I write this–which is more important: To have ugly, cheapo churches available in rural outposts? Or to require people in economically depressed areas to drive 20 miles round trip every Sunday so they can worship surrounded by greater splendor?
Getting into a snit is bad for one’s composition skills. CORRECTION: This is a lovely idea, but thank God that faith transcends architecture, or those of us worshipping in drafty pole barns whose interiors resemble storage space for farm vehicles WOULD BE IN A BAD WAY.
Jean, your sentence as originally constructed made sense, too, at least for me. (I realize that may be damning with very faint praise :-))
Regarding your main point – I do agree with you that we encounter God in all sorts of buildings, and all sorts of other places, too. If the building and the environment can help with the encounter, so much the better; if it actually detracts from the encounter, we’re left with a sense of, ‘it could be so much better than this.’ At least, that’s how my mind works.
Space and light.Architectural space;spaciousness,high ceilings.Spaciousness like the immensity of the Mystery.[of God ,of being, of God's love].Permutations of light;shadow and light. Diffused like the light of the Holy Spirit or bright like the light of Christ.Churches should be constructed to make us feel that “heavenly ache” in every “slant of light” and configuration of space.
Jean –
About the boring pole barns. I think the poor design of so many contemporary churches is due to the specific culture of the American architectural establishment. The foremost American architect has been Frank Lloyd Wright, the monumental egotist who was the model for Ayn Rand’s Robert jordan in her unforunately highly influential novel “The Fountainhead”. Wright was extraordinarily innovative, but he was also a genius with a particularly great sense of proportion.
Those who came after felt bound to be innovative, but unhappily they lacked his genius. We’re left with a lot of boring or else gawky, meaningless abstract forms. Contrast these failures with the Rothko Chapel in Houston (interdenominational) which is extraordinarily original, but done by Mark Rothko and that other giant of American artist, Philip Johnson, the architect, whose sense of proportion was even greater than Wright’s, I think. (If you’re going to do a great minimalist design, the proportions need to be almost miraculously good for the building to be interesting.)
Anyway, what we got was, innovation without genius, individuality without taste.
There’s a lot to be said for tried and true styles. They are the ones whose rules always seem to produce at least acceptable works. My brother, an amatuer composer, said that the rules of classical music were so valuable because if you followed them the music couldn’t be really bad. I think the same is true with architecture. For churches, one rule is: focus on the altar. Another: don’t have the people staring at each other. Another: don’t let huge bland wall areas dominate what people are looking at. Another: have areas of light and dark to suggest the good and bad, the transparent and hidden, interior and exterior of life. Still further: make the outside suggest the form of the inside, make the outside suggest what will go on in the inside, use beautifully colored glass for decoration (big bang for the buck), ETc., etc., etc. (Note: the Gothic style meets all those criteria.)
Finally: don’t make the design so innovative that the people can’t relate to it. This is a great principle of Jacques Maritain in his little classic, “Art and Scholastic”. He was a champion of modern art when it first emerged (some of his best friends were among those artists). But he recognized that most people do not adjust quickly to what is extremely different (it’s terribly distracting, if nothing else), so there have to be compromises about originality. New churches are for the people, not the architects.
Then there is the matter of the design of the altar itself. I think this is crucial, and all the other factors should center around it. I think that the theater people — like Eric S. — should be consulted about this even more than the architects. They know best the way the physical space of a stage (the sanctuary) works. YOu can say the sanctuary isn’t a stage, it’s essentially a table for a meal. But many plays and movies portray meals. Table-stage aren’t by any means mutually exclusive. Anyway, I’d like to hear what Eric S. has to say about sanctuaries and the *movement* of the Mass within that space.
While I’m at it, I’ll put in an appeal for the poets as translators of the texts. It’s not quite too late for Richard Wilbur and Seamus Haney to be invited to be consultants for the new Mass. (Yeah, asking for a first-class miracle.)
Picking up on Jean’s latest, it also strikes me that the Catholic focus on the liturgy and “action” of the rites of the Mass, the emphasis on sober and contemplative worship, puts a greater weight on the surrounding architecture. More emotive, Pentecostal-style congregations can indeed make a pole barn a sanctuary of the Holy Spirit. That’s more “active participation” than Catholic worship, it seems to me, which needs a physical framework to help support it.
“Jimmy Mac, that is true, but it seems that our culture is able to reach a consensus that Mozart operas and Ansel Adams photographs are beautiful. It would seem that the same sort of consensus is possible for church buildings, too?”
What you say does not exclude Puccini operas nor photos by Edward Steichen. There is no one paramount example of “beautiful” against which all others are, by extension, almost-beautiful.
Here’s an updated sanctuary that was built in 1907 and was dark, filled with kitschy statues and the most dominant color feature was what I like to term “bordello red.” The re-do was accomplished 12 years ago, and here’s what we have today: http://www.mhr.org/gallery.html. I have found that when I look across at my fellow parishioners I don’t see a lot of glum faces but, rather, enthusiastic people actively participating in the spoken and sung prayers. A glance of attention usually brings out a smile from someone who has also caught my eye. Community is reinforced when you see the front of someone, not the back of his/her head. Give me antiphonal seating anytime!
David G said: “That’s more “active participation” than Catholic worship, it seems to me, which needs a physical framework to help support it.”
I consider that to be damning with faint praise.
Here is another Philip Johnson creation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FUOwjMo6Zw4. Very different from the parent church building: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ve-8Zzuhfkc&feature=related
Ann, would that our pole barn owed anything to Wright or his inferior imitators. Our pole barn comes from that rural Midwest mentality that dictates that everything should be low-maintenance (unless it’s a lawn–people will spend thousands of bucks on a lawn here) and not be any better than it has to be or it’s money down the drain.
David, what you say may be true. Though our Unitarian church was extremely austere the better to focus the mind from distractions. The room was white with a gray carpet, folding chairs (though pews were later installed), and a plain table at the front. The Church ladies would put a single object for contemplation on it, sometimes an arrangement of a few flowers or spray of forsythia, a photograph, a stick of incense, usually having to do with the theme of the day.
Let me introduce another consideration. Today in the U.S. there is much mobility. Parish membership, as a consequence, is always in some state of flux. When do we gather as a Catholic community? Ordinarily, it’ll be for the Sunday liturgy. But because of the flux, may of those who gather have few or no acquaintences in the parish. They are basically anonymous.
There is in Cincinnati a large modern chur4ch which is physically tied into meeting rooms, a cafeteria, etc. In short, the building as a whole is multifunctional. On Sundays, a significant number of people stick around after Mass for coffee and doughnuts and actually talk with some of their fellow parishoners.
Going forward, our parishes will not have tons of money for schools, etc. What is wrong with thinking in terms of multifuncitonal buildings, one of whose uses would be liturgical?
I grant that the architecture of such buildings will not be of the highest order? So what, if the building fosters some measure of community among the parishoners?
Of course, there can be monstrosities. But is there not something “bizarre” in this time of shrinking resourses, about a handsome building that has no other significant function for the community than being the locus of the Sunday Eucharist. Note that, unless special arrangements are made, large traditional churches are not good spaces for weekday Masses.
Obviously, I’m a barbarian. But even we sometimes have a point worth considering.
Bernard: here’s a place that made a valiant attempt at what you are suggesting: http://www.holyfamilyparish.org/
Bernard –
Good idea. The parish of a friend in Arlington, VA has a set-up something like that. The front of the church has an area where people can chat a bit before Mass, and there is a connecing meeting room in a building connected with the church physically. Every Sunday there are coffee and donuts — sort of an extension of thee liturgy, I think. Very nice. And you do meet people.
Bernard,
Your idea is not only great but essential and truly secundam scripturas. Naturally it is unattractive because the Cardinal’s annual appeal , now steward appeal, is more important than building a community. Your idea is not only for new parishioners. Existing parishioners would like to have a community within their parish.
I don’t see why there has to be a choice between community and beauty. Why not both?
Jimmy Mac, thanks for the link to Holy Family Parish. I notice that it has a large lay staff and it apparently has several priests serving somehow as sacramental ministers.
I have no idea about how to make all this work with the resources usually available to parishes, but clearly having the laity heavily involved is crucial.
We also have to think about center city parishes that already have large churches. Some may have basements that are usable for community gathering. In any event, just having esthetically excellent church buildings, desirable as they are, is not a necessary condition for having excellent community life and worship.
Of course, I realize that there can be lots of “community motion” that is basically froth that is scarcely distinguishable from a YMCA program. But that doesn’t justify downplaying the importance of working to promote a sense of community among parishoners that goes beyond the gatherings for Mass and other official liturgical acts of worship.
Bernard: this gives a good overview of how and why HF got its start and the successes it has had in re-establishing Catholicism in the geographical area to the point that it has had some remarkable success stories in restoring Catholicism in the lives of so many people. This is HOW church should be manifesting itself, not worrying about the kitschy stuff that so many people get their knickers in an uproar about. (BTW, be patient for this site to open .. it can take a few seconds):
http://www.mmiblog.com/monday_morning_insight_we/2006/05/the_catholic_wi.html
When I go to church in France, (often in medieval churches), experiencing the architecture is part of the joy. It has often occurred to me that, among the various places in which I spent some time during the week, the church was the most beautiful. Some people go to Mass, not to pray but to enjoy the music. Even in periods of my life when I did not pray, I still went to Mass, not to pray but to enjoy the architecture.
In the US, I cannot decide offhand. I need to go to Mass in the same church for many months before I know how the architecture affects my prayer. I used to go to a modern church with almost semi-circular pews. Once, in CCD, my son had to write a short essay on the question: “What do you like best about our church?”, and he answered: “The parking lot. It is really well-designed for efficiency parking”!!!
Now I go to a different church in the US, 19th century built by Italian immigrants. At first I didn’t care much for it — the decoration was too busy. But now, when my mind wanders, I find that the stained glass windows, or the sculptures, or some of the paintings, can feed my meditation, and that can be a great alternative to listening to the homily. (Even the tasteless engravings “donated by family x in 1896″ make me things of the previous generations that prayed in this building!) The church has gradually grown on me, and now I like it quite a bit. The things that are jarring – in this case, a modern icon incongruously stuck against an old pillar – still remain jarring, but I can choose to look somewhere else.
On the other hand, when occasionally I go back to the previous church, I am struck immediately by its superiority in many ways that enhance the experience of Mass: the kneelers and the benches are padded. The room is well-heated. I can see well. Because the audio system works well, I can hear without straining. I have to admit it: that modern church does a better job with the basics than the old Italian one, and it makes it easier to pay attention at Mass.
Claire, speaking of sound systems and parking lots, one of the things about the local parish church here that many people enjoy is the fact that there is no sound-proofing on the confessional door. At least, I presume that’s why many people arrive early for Saturday night mass and sit near the confessional door.
The parking lot is also designed to allow those leaving Mass to peel out and get to Bob Evans before the rush. For some weeks, a local resident who lived directly across from the church had a homemade sign in his yard every Sunday: “Catholics drive too fast!!”
We live close enough to walk or ride bikes to the local parish and have to be careful at the two exit drives not to get run over. I have always wondered whether the alacrity and enthusiasm with which people leave Mass could be harnessed for some higher purpose.
Jean: could it be that they’re on line for confession, but will only go if there is time? They place themselves so as to be able to go easily if an opportunity rises.
Claire: Possibly. In the old days when I thought Confession would do me any good, I would go wait in the parish hall so as not to be privy to the confession of others. I have mentioned the lack of privacy in the confessional, but this has fallen on deaf ears.
It seems to me that, aside from the many aspects of beauty discussed here, that a Catholic Church, first and foremost, should be designed for the effective distribution of the sacraments–and that includes a soundproof confessional.
Let me also rant about those amphitheater arrangements, where one has to walk down steps to receive. Even when there’s a ramp, I say incessant prayers for the safety of the elderly and handicapped who find uneven ground difficult to navigate.
FYI, via The Dish:
http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2011/03/geometry-of-faith.html
AND:
http://bigthink.com/ideas/31503