Catechisms in glass, wood, and stone. . .

As most of you know, I have a fascination with church architecture.  I have more books on the subject than I care to admit and did not let go of them when I downsized my library.  It is in part simply an affection for good church architecture that serves well its liturgical purpose and, on the other hand, a morbid curiosity for the egregious examples of those that work against its liturgical purpose and are just plain ugly.  Recently I put together a title for a blog post that would touch upon this interest.  Catechisms in glass, wood, and stone.  That is how we ought to regard architecture in the Church.

I wish that this thought were universal.  Sadly, the banal is less sinister to the need and function of the Church than those things which are plainly novel.  I think of churches trying to look like ships (either internally or externally) or those designed to be like living rooms or family rooms without the necessary height or focus suitable for the liturgy.  Even the warehouses of metal have the potential to be finished for their purpose and rendered more suitable for the liturgical gathering of God's people around His Word and Table.  As Lifeway's endless polling has demonstrated, even those outside the faith expect and want churches to look like churches and not to have deceptive architecture which masks their purpose or identity or trendy looks that trade in their soul for what is avant garde.

Those planning churches (fewer than in other ages) would do well to carefully select an architect or a firm which specializes in liturgical church design.  Yes, there are such even though they might not be local.  Those working to repair what they have inherited should be concerned more with how they serve their purpose than how well they fit the modern vibe.  We do not need buildings that fit the whim of the moment but cannot serve their essential purpose.  Above all, it is good to remember that buildings also teach -- even when that teaching is at odds with what goes on inside.  What you are building or what you are remodeling is literally a catechism in glass, wood, and stone.  Don't forget this and you will not likely go terribly wrong.

What happens on Sunday morning seldom can demand our every attention for the entire time.  Everyone knows our minds wander and we have distractions which we carried in with us as well as those we observe while there.  I once had to instruct nearly 200 people to stop looking at a bird who had infiltrated God's house and was swooping around the sanctuary and to keep their attention focused upon the eternal Gospel which God had placed in their midst in His Word and Sacraments.  Distractions are all around us and deep inside of us and the building either will aid the task of restoring our attention to what God is doing or they will assist the flight of our imagination exiting from God's sacramental presence.  Before the stained glass had been installed, one person lamented to me how sad they would be when they could no longer watch cloud formations or the flight of birds or the branches of trees bending to the wind.  I said that was exactly why we were installing stained glass -- to keep their vision where it needs to be and to recall they eyes from the distractions that our inevitable.

Good arrangement and good furniture all support this task.  When the building cannot be torn down and we begin anew, we can at least look around us and make sure that what is in the building does not inhibit what takes place there or distract us from what is happening by God's work and design.  This is why it is often better to shop for used church furniture from the past which can be refurbished and used again than it is to experiment with new designs which do not help the liturgical assembly by directing us clearly and without distraction what God is doing in our midst.  Furthermore, beauty is not an enemy of the liturgy but, rightly understood, a tool and aid to the liturgy and to the people there assembled.  Not everything must be ornate or elaborate but the principles of good design point us always to the faith and to the liturgical function.  That is surely the purpose of stations of the cross or a well appointed baptismal font that is not hidden away in the corner or paraments whose witness in fabric is both clear and faithful.

If you are sitting in church on Sunday morning, look around and think about this.  The building is a catechism in glass, wood, and stone.  Make it a good one.