A Theology of Space
God incarnated Godself in time and space, sanctifying the dimensions within which we move and live and have our being. I've talked about a Christian view of time in a previous post. But I'd like to explore the idea of holy space.
Primarily, a church is a holy space because the church gathers within it. I've come to believe that spatial arrangement can tell you alot about a church's view of itself. This includes, but isn't reduced to, church architecture. What do we communicate to ourselves and the world around us by the type of church we build? Does it stand out with its nose in the air, or, at the other extreme, say that we're cheap when it comes to our God and God's children? Do we proclaim that beauty comes from God by a sensitivity to the aesthetic? Are we in a building that will be gone tomorrow or does is display a connection to past Christian experience?
These are important questions, but I think more important, are questions of internal spatial arrangement. When I enter an Episcopal Church, the first thing I notice is the central altar. This is the place that symbolizes the presence of Christ within the community. This is the place that the community literally gathers around to become community. (St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco enacts its belief of Christ's presence in the community by its centralized floorplan.) In my estimation, there is nothing more important that the church does, than gather at table. The entire life of the church propels outward from this central space. All of its outreach and in-reach ministry begins here. This is the place of spiritual sustenance.
At Trinity the altar is also the place that the gospel text for the week is read by the deacon. This creates a connection between word and sacrament. The reading of the gospel is the full and complete proclamation of the gospel. But what is striking for someone from a revivalist background is that this central place is not the place of the sermon. While word and sacrament take central position, the sermon is secondary, flowing from the power of the first two. The preacher, marked as the one chosen by the community to interpret the texts, humbly takes her place in a pulpit that is offset from the center, trying to draw together the life-world of the text and the issues of today. (Take a look at Barbara Brown Taylor's sermons and books for a taste of some of the best current preaching in the Episcopal Church.)
Yet, the sermons are not long and cumbersome. They are not marked primarily by the personality and skill of the preacher. He is covered in ancient garments, creating a certain anonymity. This anonymity says that the sermon is not about the preacher, but Christ and the community of faith. And the sermon does not take priority of place in the service, since it leads to the Eucharistic climax.
It might seem counterintuitive to many, but I have found that the Episcopal Church is not a priestly centered denomination, but a Christ and community centered one. I believe this can even be seen in the very construction of its spaces of worship.
Primarily, a church is a holy space because the church gathers within it. I've come to believe that spatial arrangement can tell you alot about a church's view of itself. This includes, but isn't reduced to, church architecture. What do we communicate to ourselves and the world around us by the type of church we build? Does it stand out with its nose in the air, or, at the other extreme, say that we're cheap when it comes to our God and God's children? Do we proclaim that beauty comes from God by a sensitivity to the aesthetic? Are we in a building that will be gone tomorrow or does is display a connection to past Christian experience?
These are important questions, but I think more important, are questions of internal spatial arrangement. When I enter an Episcopal Church, the first thing I notice is the central altar. This is the place that symbolizes the presence of Christ within the community. This is the place that the community literally gathers around to become community. (St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco enacts its belief of Christ's presence in the community by its centralized floorplan.) In my estimation, there is nothing more important that the church does, than gather at table. The entire life of the church propels outward from this central space. All of its outreach and in-reach ministry begins here. This is the place of spiritual sustenance.
At Trinity the altar is also the place that the gospel text for the week is read by the deacon. This creates a connection between word and sacrament. The reading of the gospel is the full and complete proclamation of the gospel. But what is striking for someone from a revivalist background is that this central place is not the place of the sermon. While word and sacrament take central position, the sermon is secondary, flowing from the power of the first two. The preacher, marked as the one chosen by the community to interpret the texts, humbly takes her place in a pulpit that is offset from the center, trying to draw together the life-world of the text and the issues of today. (Take a look at Barbara Brown Taylor's sermons and books for a taste of some of the best current preaching in the Episcopal Church.)
Yet, the sermons are not long and cumbersome. They are not marked primarily by the personality and skill of the preacher. He is covered in ancient garments, creating a certain anonymity. This anonymity says that the sermon is not about the preacher, but Christ and the community of faith. And the sermon does not take priority of place in the service, since it leads to the Eucharistic climax.
It might seem counterintuitive to many, but I have found that the Episcopal Church is not a priestly centered denomination, but a Christ and community centered one. I believe this can even be seen in the very construction of its spaces of worship.
posted by J. Brent Bates | 7:17 PM
4 Comments:
Amen, brother.
As one familiar with the Churches of Christ, I assume you are familiar with the layout of many of our buildings.
I think our architecture speaks volumes about what we value, but I think it also creates value. For instance, we argue a lot of about women's leaderhsip in the church. Would we be as concerned about their role in the assembly if it didn'r require them to go "up front?" What would our attitude be toward women leading if we were arranged in a circle, or some other community-enhancing arrangement?
But sadly, I don't think too many C of C'ers are concerned with things like architecture, because those are things we in seminary discuss, and we all know the seminary has no real bearing on the church!
Thanks for the post,
Greg KB
An Orthodox priest once told me that the difference between the architecture of cathedrals and Orthodox churches showed their theology. A cathedral reaches up towards heaven while an Orthodox Church has a dome with the Pantokrator because in Orthodox theology we don't reach towards heaven, heaven descends upon the Church.
As a note, I'm a first year M-Div student who is struggling with what tradition I should be in. I'm afraid that I'm a heretic in the Churches of Christ and have been reading a lot about both the Episcopal and the Orthodox Church. Since January I've been attending an Episcopal Church every Sunday after worship at the church I work for. I'd be eager to hear more of your thoughts if you get a chance to e-mail me.
jared@tellmewhy.org
I once had an assignment for Childers' history class on architecture--one of those short essays, does he still assign those? Anyway, this one was basically a role-play/case study thing where I was supposed to appear before a committee of a church that was about to build a new building, and give them advice on what kind of thing we should aim for and provide a theological rationale for it. It was an amazing assignment, because I had never in my life thought about things like pew arrangement and why or where we should have them. I ended up getting into it in a big way and trying to figure out how to have a circular sanctuary with both font and table in the center...It totally didn't work, I reckon, but it was really good for me. (And it was a nice way to make the point that this stuff DOES have a bearing on the life of the church...of course, it was preaching to the choir...)
I was raised in an Independent Baptist church and have since turned Anglican. An Anglican theatre professor in college taught me about the meaning and importance of sacred space. Last weekend I attended a wedding at the church where I grew up and was painfully aware of the lack of liturgy, though what I missed the most was the altar and its central place in the service. Thank you for so eloquently describing the significance of architecture and spatial relationships in the church - it is always reinforcing to hear someone else share in what I know to be true!
Have you read The Empty Space by Peter Brook? based on what you are saying here, the chapter called "The Holy Theatre" may resonate with you. I am a believer that church and theatre have a lot in common.
Post a Comment
<< Home