http://johnrunkle.net RSS feeds for John Runkle - Sacred Spaces - Church Architecture Blog: 60 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/18/The-Precocious-Infancy-of-St-Pauls-Episcopal-Church-in-Alexandria-Virginia-Church-Architecture.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=18 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=18&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/18/The-Precocious-Infancy-of-St-Pauls-Episcopal-Church-in-Alexandria-Virginia-Church-Architecture.aspx In 1800, Alexandria, Virginia is a busy little harbor town, with nearly 5,000 people living here.  Large quantities of agricultural products—wheat, flour and tobacco, are brought here from farms out in the Virginia countryside, and shipped from Alexandria to ports throughout the world—the West Indies, Portugal, Spain, as well as domestic ports in New England and New Orleans.  Likewise, cargo-laden ships arrive down at the riverfront bringing in rum from Antigua, coffee from Puerto Rico, wine from Lisbon and products from factories in Great Britain.  What’s more, by 1810, Alexandria ranks third nationally in the production of refined sugar,[1] an important commodity that feeds a hunger for sweet things both here among our own people as well as those in distant ports.  The capital city of our new nation is being constructed just up the Potomac River.  In fact, in 1801, Alexandria officially was ceded by the Commonwealth of Virginia to help form part of the area designated as the District of Columbia.  In ten short years—between 1800 and 1810, the population of Alexandria increases by nearly 50%.  So obviously, this is a thriving place to be--intimate in scale, but cosmopolitan in breadth, as well as industrious by nature.  The future is bright here in Alexandria, the prospects are limitless and optimism abounds. But unfortunately at this point in time, the same cannot be said about the state of the Episcopal Church in Virginia; because by 1800, the Church here is in ashes—a drastic change from the not-so-distant past. It was only 25 years ago, prior to the American Revolution, that the Anglican Church—the predecessor to the Episcopal Church, it was the established church here in the colony of Virginia.  For generations, it served as the authorized and recognized body of Christian worship in this colony, an instrument of the British Crown.  To hold political office in Virginia, you must be an active member of the Anglican Church.  All citizens—whether or not you subscribe to the practices of the Church of England—were taxed by the legislature to support the efforts of the Church.  This public money was used to buy land, build churches, pay the clergy, and make provision for the poor and disadvantaged in our local communities.  Needless to say, those who were Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist and other faith traditions not officially recognized by the Crown—they were known as “dissenters” and bristled at the thought of being taxed to support a church they did not attend. So in 1776, with the Declaration of Independence and the outbreak of Revolution, the Anglican Church in the former colonies, and particularly here in Virginia, was thrown into complete turmoil.  No longer were we connected to the Church in England, which, in and of itself, may not seem such a bad thing.  But, as a hierarchical church, it meant we didn’t have a system in place to govern ourselves.  Traditionally, we are a church who relies on the governance of bishops, and we had no bishop in place in this country.  Our source of income, which had been based upon tax revenue, was now cut off.  We had no established means of educating and ordaining our clergy.  Dissenters are calling on the new Virginia Assembly to confiscate all our property which had been bought and built with public money.  Our Disestablished Church is scrambling to save itself as its institutional foundations crumble.  Yet at the same time, we are struggling to re-define ourselves for a future and mission we cannot clearly see.  In 1799, there are at least 59 parishes with clergy in Virginia.  But by 1814, that number drops to 19.  Obviously, the beginning of the 19th century is a depressing time for the Episcopal Church in Virginia.  It is said, “The older generation found it difficult to shake off the sense of loss or to imagine a new and different church.  Some still hoped for a return to state support….”[2]  In this period of darkness and confusion, the question facing the Church is, “Who are you?  Are you are an heir to the defunct colonial church of the past or are you going to be a new Christian denomination shaped in the spirit of this bold and exciting, young republic? This is the context, the setting, into which St. Paul’s Episcopal Church is born.  It’s here, that St. Paul’s comes into being, as a provocative, inspirational answer to this important and challenging question. It begins on Sunday morning, Oct. 15th, 1809.  The Rev. William Lewis Gibson, the Rector of Christ Church, Alexandria, suddenly resigns his position from that parish.  He does so because of the extreme criticism he receives over his choice of clerical garb and the style in which he preaches. At the time in Virginia, the established tradition is for clergy to wear a black cassock while leading worship—an austere expression of the “low church” Anglican piety prevalent in this part of the world.  Even though prior to his arrival at Christ Church, Mr. Gibson made it clear to the Vestry he intends to wear a white surplice over his cassock, to which they reluctantly agreed.  But many in the congregation are offended by this expression of “pomp and ceremony” that runs counter to their Protestant sensibilities; so much so that a prominent member of the congregation walks out of the church in protest.  Likewise, Mr. Gibson hears complaints that his sermons are too abrasive, that they are delivered with too much frankness, contrary to the more subdued and reverential sermons to which the congregation is more accustomed.  And as a result, Mr. Gibson decides that Christ Church is not the place for him and so it’s time to move on.  And with him, approximately half of the congregation follows to establish what becomes St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. For many, a move like this may seem somewhat ordinary; new congregations have split off from established congregations for years and years.  But for the Episcopal Church in early 19th-century Virginia, this move is unprecedented. That’s because for the previous two centuries, as the Church of England established itself in the colony of Virginia, it followed the traditional pattern of dividing the landscape into a series of parishes.  For any given geographical area of land, it was viewed as one parish/one church/one congregation.  If the population increased in a part of the parish that was a significant distance from the original “mother church,” then a “chapel of ease” was constructed.  But that congregation remained part of the “mother church.”  The unity of the parish remained intact. A case in point is the “chapel of ease” constructed in Alexandria in 1753.  At the time, it was part of Truro Parish, with the “mother church” being Pohick, 15 miles away.  As the population grew in this part of the colony, Truro Parish was divided and the northern portion became Fairfax Parish, with the Falls Church as the “mother church” and the chapel still in Alexandria, which would become Christ Church.  Consequently, Christ Church is recognized as the established place where Anglicans in Alexandria worship.  Options are not available.  It’s an approach that represents a very “top-down” strategy of governing the institutional church. However, when St. Paul’s Church comes into being, it’s not a product of the institutional church.  It’s a “grassroots” movement.  In fact, it’s the first instance in Virginia when a separate, alternative Anglican congregation is created within a given community that already has an established congregation.  In other words, by the very act of its birth, St. Paul's establishes a new way of being church that breaks with traditional Anglican practice and now offers people a choice.  A bold move that undoubtedly raised a few eyebrows among long-time Episcopalians in the Old Dominion. During its formative years, St. Paul’s is fortunate to have inspiring clergy to help chart its path forward. Of course, the Rev. William Gibson is instrumental in the very beginning, but in two years, he leaves in 1811 to return to Maryland. In 1812, the Rev. Dr. William Holland Wilmer is called to be rector of this fledgling congregation.  Under his leadership, St. Paul’s “experiences a period of great growth and prosperity.”[3]  In reading this man’s biography, it’s a wonder he even finds time to sleep! Dr. Wilmer is an impressive young man with boundless energy and creative ideas.  Ordained a priest just two years earlier, he is one of a small band of evangelicals who come to the Diocese of Virginia at this time, determined to raise the Church up from its broken state. Once installed as rector here at St. Paul’s, Dr. Wilmer immediately is elected to the Diocesan Standing Committee.  Along with his fellow evangelicals, he refuses to support the newly-elected Bishop John Bracken because they believe it’s time for younger and more inspired leadership.  They work behind the scenes to find an alternative leader and pressure Bracken into resigning his election.[4]  In his place, Dr. Wilmer and his colleagues push for the election of the Rev. Richard Channing Moore as the next bishop, whom they proclaim as “the kind of forward-thinking person Virginia [needs].”[5] Not only is Dr. Wilmer influential in the Diocese, but his ministry extends to the larger Church as well.  In 1815, he is instrumental in establishing St. John’s Episcopal Church at Lafayette Square in Washington; and even serves there as rector for two years while he simultaneously continues to serve here at St. Paul’s.  In 1817, Dr. Wilmer is elected president of the House of Deputies for the entire Episcopal Church, only seven years after ordination, the youngest person ever to serve in that role. Back here at St. Paul’s, Dr. Wilmer works diligently to grow and strengthen the congregation.  So much so, that in 1817, the church outgrows the small meetinghouse on Fairfax St. where it worships and needs a new, larger place of worship. Keep in mind, the traditional approach to building a church at that time was to hire a local builder and ask him to put up a simple brick box.  Some builders were sophisticated enough to refer to architectural pattern books, that were popular at the time, and plug some decorative doorways, windows and other elements into the box to make it more attractive.  But in the end, the final result still was a basic brick box built for preaching. Rather than turning to a local builder for a predicable box church, Dr. Wilmer encourages the St. Paul’s leadership to think outside the proverbial box and act differently.  And do they ever!  In what certainly can be characterized as unconventional and some might say audacious, St. Paul’s hires the first and most prominent architect in the United States at the time—Benjamin Henry Latrobe.  A favorite of Thomas Jefferson, Mr. Latrobe is actively involved in the design of a number of prominent buildings in the new Capital city—the U.S. Capitol building, the White House, Decatur House, St. John’s, Lafayette Square, Christ Church, Capitol Hill; along with important buildings in other major cities—the Roman Catholic Basilica in Baltimore, the Bank of Pennsylvania building in Philadelphia, and the Customs House in New Orleans.  Latrobe is a conspicuous, progressive choice to make, signaling that St. Paul’s is eager to embrace the future and assuring the new building where it worships will be a landmark on the streetscape of Alexandria, even, perhaps, the entire country. Not only does the choice of Latrobe as architect for the new church grab attention, but the design of the building is eye-catching as well.  For 300 years, since the start of the Reformation, Protestants have steered away from anything in the life of the church that brings to mind the medieval church and the abuses which took place then—particularly church buildings in the Gothic style.  Protestants in Europe preferred to build their new churches in the Classical-Revival style that recalls the glories of ancient Greece and Rome— a time of presumed purity before the onslaught of corruption that tainted the Roman Catholic Church.  St. Paul’s Cathedral in London is an example of this school of thought.  Also in England, the Georgian style—a derivative of Classical-Revival—is widely popular and its influence extends to these shores, as we can see in the building fabric of Christ Church, here in Alexandria. In fact, Latrobe is well-known for his mastery of the Classical-Revival style.  His designs are celebrated for their simple elegance, their noble, uplifting spirit.  Any sense of darkness and mystery is removed, the spaces are enlightening and inspiring, encouraging its inhabitants to see the theoretical in the world round about them.  Latrobe’s design of St. John’s/Lafayette Square encapsulates his skills with the Classical-Revival. But with the design of St. Paul’s, Latrobe departs from his preferred and predicable style of Classical-Revival.  Here, he designs one of the first churches in the United States in the Gothic-Revival style.  Collaborating with Dr. Wilmer, the two actually succeed at “turning the tables” on conventional thought and capitalize on the associations the Gothic style brings to mind.  Rather than shy away from its allusions to medieval corruption, they proclaim the Gothic-Revival style serves to remind people of the passion and fervor of the early English Church—a “high-water mark” when Christianity permeated all aspects of peoples’ daily lives.  The design of the main façade, with the three lancet arches rising to the full height of the building, provides a monumental scale similar to the great cathedral at Peterborough, and signals that a new era of Christian influence is underway in this new republic. The interior of St. Paul’s is shaped around the prominence of the spoken word—the proportions of the worship space are as wide as it is deep to allow the congregation to gather as close as possible to the preacher in the pulpit.  Remember this is a time when Morning Prayer is the principal form of worship, not Holy Eucharist.  Of course, an altar is present, but the pulpit is centrally-located and dominant in size.  The space is open, originally envisioned to be without piers and columns, or the gallery overhead to interfere with peoples’ experience of the sermon and the transformative power of the word of God. From the unapologetic use of pointed arches, to shunning the tradition of exposed brickwork in favor of the more sophisticated practice of scored stucco to simulate blocks of stone, Latrobe’s design of St. Paul’s makes a dramatic break with the Georgian architecture of the past and points the way toward a new, confident age in church architecture—the Gothic-Revival age, arguably the most influential and widely-accepted style of church architecture in western Christendom for the next hundred years.  It’s a bold statement by a breakaway congregation who refuses to think of itself as second-class in any form or fashion. But the precociousness of St. Paul’s doesn’t stop here.  In 1819, Dr. Wilmer continues to develop creative ideas to rebuild the larger church beyond the walls of St. Paul’s itself.  In August of this year, he establishes the Washington Theological Repertory—a monthly journal that reaches out to scattered Episcopalians throughout Virginia and the church beyond.  It publishes serious theological discussions, poetry, memorials, and notices of church activities from all over the country.  In 1835, it is replaced by the Southern Churchman, a weekly journal that relocates to Richmond and serves the Episcopal Church for well over a century—until 1952.[6] In addition to his publishing endeavors, Dr. Wilmer is determined to establish a suitable institution for the education of future Episcopal clergy.  The College of William and Mary, founded in 1693, had provided a divinity school for aspiring Anglican clergy.  But since the American Revolution, it discontinued this course of study.  In 1820, the College tried to revive the school, only to fail.  The only other functioning Episcopal seminary in the US is General Seminary in New York, founded in 1817.  But evangelicals are suspicious of its “high church” leanings and want a place of learning closer to Virginia. In 1818, Dr. Wilmer takes the lead in organizing ”The Society for the Education of Pious Young Men for the Ministry of the Protestant Episcopal Church in Maryland and Virginia,” an organization with a monstrous long name and whose purpose is to raise funds to support theological education for students at a seminary or privately.[7]  After several years of “starts and stops” by the Church to provide a school locally, Dr. Wilmer becomes frustrated and takes the initiative to hold classes here at St. Paul’s.  On Oct. 15, 1823, two professors and fourteen students begin meeting here and their efforts are the genesis of what becomes Virginia Theological Seminary—the largest Episcopal seminary in the United States. From its birth and through its formative years, St. Paul’s Church redefines what it means to be the Episcopal Church in Virginia.  It’s a hot-bed of new ideas and new ministries!  This church epitomizes the qualities necessary to embrace the future: believe faithfully, act confidently, think creatively, care unselfishly, and live hopefully.  These characteristics are inherent in the nature of St. Paul’s; they are part of its DNA.   [1] City of Alexandria website, “Discovering the Decades: 1800s,” http://alexandriava.gov/historic/info/default.aspx?id=28302 [2] Joan R. Gundersen, “Like a Phoenix from the Ashes: The Reinvention of the Church in Virginia, 1760-1840” in Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, Vol. 115, No. 2 (Richmond, VA: Virginia Historical Society, 2007) 219. [3] Ruth Lincoln Kaye, The History of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Alexandria, Virginia: November 12, 1809 – November 12, 1984 (Springfield, VA: The Goetz Printing Co., 1984) 17. [4] Gundersen, 220. [5] Gundersen, 221. [6] Gundersen, 226. [7] Gundersen, 230. John Thu, 17 Jan 2013 20:11:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:18 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/16/The-Communion-of-Saints-and-Church-Architecture.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=16 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=16&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/16/The-Communion-of-Saints-and-Church-Architecture.aspx In the fall of 2011, I was privileged to lead a group of parishioners from my church on a pilgrimage to a number of Virginia’s colonial churches.  One of our stops was at Grace Episcopal Church in Yorktown, a parish founded in 1697.  While we were there our host told us about their Eucharistic silver that dates from that same period in time.  She informed us that rather than putting their precious silver on display in some glass case—like a museum exhibit, they instead prefer to use it as it originally was intended—for worship every Sunday.  She told us that each time she holds that beautiful, 17th century chalice in her hands and receives the communion wine, she is so moved by the thought of the people and the history the chalice symbolizes that she wants to turn and look out the windows of the church toward the cemetery, where so many members of the congregation are buried, and just say “thank you.” Truly, her heartfelt gratitude is so stirring and delightful, yet, at the same time, uncommon.  It illustrates an aspect fundamental to the Christian tradition that we often forget—the abiding presence of the Communion of Saints. The fact is: you and I are not alone.  We are part of a great continuum of believers that reaches back in time to a point we cannot even imagine and extends infinitely into a future we cannot foresee.  A passage from the Book of Revelation describes it as “a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands.” [Rev. 7:9]  It is a massive cloud of witnesses—witnesses to the redeeming, life-giving love of God: people seen and unseen, known and unknown, present in this life as well as in the life beyond.  Encircling us in love, enveloping us in prayer, empowering us by their presence, the saints of God support us all the day long, year in and year out, as we struggle to lead meaningful and righteous lives. Unfortunately, it has fallen out of fashion to believe in the abiding presence of our spiritual kinfolk; a casualty of western, rational thinking.  Yet as Christians, we continue to profess with our mouths to believe that the dead do not simply cease to exist, that there is life after death, and that in the next life, the faithfully-departed do congregate as a communion of saints and actively exist.  But are we just giving lip-service to a quaint, romantic notion leftover from a silly, out-of-date, superstitious period of our history? I argue that, contrary to what the popular culture would have us believe, we are not ignorant, overly-sentimental or superstitious, but, in fact, are very much enlightened to live with the conviction that these fundamental tenets of the Christian faith are true.  That instead, it is primitive and narrow-minded to believe that life consists solely of what occurs in this material world.  That unless something can be confirmed by scientific analysis, it cannot exist.  That the ego should be the dominant, guiding force in in all our actions and the world should revolve solely around our needs.  These are the marks of the misinformed, the misguided, and the deceived. In the Gospel of St. Matthew, Jesus teaches an alternative way of engaging the world.  Through wisdom of the Beatitudes, our Lord offers us freedom from a life of self-centeredness and suffocation.  He points us toward a larger purpose.  He helps us to see that you and I can be part of a larger reality that extends beyond the limitations of our ego.  That our lives can be interwoven with the lives of others in an epic endeavor so much larger than ourselves.  That you and I are necessary and vital participants in God’s redemption of all creation.  That by actively engaging life, we will make a real difference in the betterment of this world.  To know this, to believe this inspires great comfort, it is empowering and motivating—a reason, a real purpose for living.  Truly, this is enlightenment, it is good news! [Matt. 5:1-12] The second key point I want to make regarding the gratitude of our Yorktown host concerns the silver chalice itself.  There is an old saying about Episcopalians, that for us, “matter matters.”  In other words, we believe that God is capable of working through material things to achieve our salvation, which is why we have such high regard for the sacraments of baptism and Holy Eucharist.  This high regard extends to other tangible things as well, such as chalices, Bibles, stained glass windows and even church buildings.  We see these things as concrete, real-life manifestations of God’s love for us, our love for God, our regard for family, friends and neighbors, and our devotion to the Church. Like the good folks in Yorktown, most Episcopalians are blessed with a rich material inheritance—a fabulous, historic place of worship that proclaims a long-standing and powerful ministry to the communities in which we live.  A beautiful church, built with natural materials, shaped by human hands, and offered to the glory of God.  It makes real the notion of the Communion of Saints.  All around are reminders—names and dates, tablets and plaques, the dead interred in the Columbarium—reminders of our spiritual ancestors who came before us and helped raise these churches up out of the earth.  The ministry of these saints forms the very foundation on which these sacred spaces are built.  Every time we gather for worship, the saints surround us.  Surely, these are places where generations of faithful Christians have come to know God, to experience God’s love and to share that love with others.  The very walls of our churches are saturated with prayer. A virtuous quality that all saints share is that they do not draw attention to themselves, but instead point and direct all attention toward God.  The same can be said for our places of worship.  They point to something greater, more enduring and gratifying, more valuable, more precious than anything of this earth. And that is the reason that silver chalice was created in the 17th century and the same reason our churches were built over the years since then.  They were created by our forebears, the saints who precede us in our common spiritual journey, to help us know God.  In fact, the primary intention of church properties is to provide a myriad of opportunities for all who come to them to bump into God and fall deeper in love.  It is said that sacred space is not so much about space where something is done, as it is about space where Someone is encountered—with, of course, that Someone being God.  The Communion of Saints are incredibly generous to us.  We receive an inheritance beyond measure.  Words fail to convey the magnitude of how wonderful, how thoughtful, how life-giving their gift of God’s love to us is—all except those used by the docent in Yorktown, which are, “thank you!” The question is, “Will future generations be able to say the same about us?” John Mon, 16 Jul 2012 16:06:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:16 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/14/Beauty-Brought-Me-to-the-Episcopal-Church-Chapter-2-by-Church-Architect.aspx#Comments 2 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=14 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=14&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/14/Beauty-Brought-Me-to-the-Episcopal-Church-Chapter-2-by-Church-Architect.aspx Beauty is essential to life.  Just as air, water, food and shelter are fundamental to our survival; it is beauty that lifts us up out of mere primordial existence to a higher quality of life.  It infuses our souls with purpose, passion and inspiration.  It is not a luxury.  Every human being is entitled to the benefits it brings—not just the well-to-do and the overly-intellectual.  Jesus said, “I came that you might have life and have it more abundantly.”[1]  He is not talking about you and me having more air, all the food and water we can eat and drink, or larger houses.  He is talking about quality of life and beauty is the means by which this transfiguration often is brought about. Anglicans firmly subscribe to this notion.  We pursue beauty in all aspects of life.  It defines our character.  One only has to look at the rich heritage of Anglican Church buildings or thumb through a book, such as A Treasury of Anglican Art,[2] to sample some of the most beautiful, spiritually-uplifting examples of Christian architecture and art in the world. But why is this?  Why do Anglicans and, by extension, Episcopalians hold beauty in such high regard? John Westerhoff, in his book, A People Called Episcopalians, writes, “Anglicans have made beauty the doorway into truth and goodness.  We have a strong respect for and belief in the beauty of holiness and righteousness.  Money spent on beauty…is justified insofar as it is our way of revealing and advocating truth and goodness.  Our churches are intended to be works of art and we make every effort to ensure that the arts used in our churches are of high quality.”[3]  In other words, for Anglicans—when one is in the presence of beauty, one also is in the presence of the Divine. Certainly, there are Christians who approach worship by emphasizing truth and goodness, but pay little heed to beauty.  They focus on the word of God—both written and spoken—as the primary means by which to know God.  They appeal to the rational mind, thinking a right understanding of God’s word will bring right behavior, which is a perfectly reasonable, acceptable and time-tested approach to Christian worship. However, another approach to Christian worship is to reach for the imagination and the heart, in addition to the rational mind.  And the means by which the imagination and heart are stirred most effectively is by the five senses.  The goal of this type of worship is to encourage an attitude of mystery and awe before the presence of God, evoking devotion, admiration and thanksgiving; and, in doing so, inspiring right behavior as a result. To stimulate the senses, we historically make use of the arts—the visual arts and the performing arts.  The arts convey profound and timeless truths in imaginative and relevant ways—deeper theology than mere words.  As one stated, “The Word was not made flesh in order to be turned back into word again.  Art makes incarnate the Word of God.”  The beauty of art encourages our imagination to take precedence over the rational side of the brain, which, more often than not, tends to control the vast majority of life.  It induces stirrings of the ineffable and numinous that reside deep within us. Finally, Episcopalians are a sacramental people.  We believe the Transcendent is made know to us through material things.  From God, there flows a continuous stream of Divine Love, making itself available to all through the material, most specifically through the person of Christ Jesus, as well as through the waters of Baptism and the bread and wine of Holy Communion.  In a broader sense, all creation is a manifestation of its Creator—God’s handiwork is visible in every directions.  Therefore, the spiritual cannot be separated from the physical.  As a result, architecture and the arts are sacramental to us.  We look to architecture and the arts to support our worship, education, evangelization and mission.  For us, God’s presence and actions are mediated most powerfully through our places of worship.  For Episcopalians, orthodoxy is right worship, rather than right belief.  To put it another way, it is through the beauty of sacred space that makes it easy to fall in love with God. [1] John 10:10 [2] A Treasury of Anglican Art, James B. Simpson and George H. Eatman (New York: Rizzoli, 2002). [3] A People Called Episcopalians, John H. Westerhoff (Atlanta: St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, 1998) 23. John Fri, 30 Mar 2012 20:18:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:14 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/13/Beauty-Brought-Me-to-the-Episcopal-Church-Chapter-1-by-a-Church-Architect.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=13 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=13&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/13/Beauty-Brought-Me-to-the-Episcopal-Church-Chapter-1-by-a-Church-Architect.aspx I am not a cradle Episcopalian.  I was born and raised, baptized and confirmed in the United Methodist Church.  Then as a teenager, I fell away from the church because I could not see its relevance in my life.  It seemed flat, weak, moralistic and platitudinous.  It felt as though my very life was being sucked out of me whenever I walked through its doors. In its place, architecture came to be my religion; and my creed was “better living through design and the arts!”  I came to realize that, for as long as I can remember, “beauty” stirs something deep within me.  No matter whether it is natural beauty or beauty shaped by human hands, I find myself feeling inspired, encouraged, even comforted in its presence.  In some instances, the beauty is so incredible, so ecstatic, so awesome to behold, that I am moved to tears.  Something the church had not been able to do. Then during my 30’s, I spent a considerable amount of time in an Islamic country, working on an archaeological project.  It was there, in the midst of a culture so radically different from my own, among a people who are so devoted to their religion—no matter their station in life, who faithfully respond to the call, five times a day, to pray to God, when I realized a tremendous spiritual void existed in my life and was inspired to set about finding a way in which to fill it.  It was then I decided to return to the church. I returned to the States, but knew I was not drawn back to the United Methodist Church.  Its way of being “church” did not speak to me.  What did speak to me was the beauty I found in the Episcopal Church. Growing up in Virginia, I was surrounded by a great many examples of beautiful Episcopal Churches—an architecture carefully crafted to reflect devotion to God and commitment to the faith; roots in the past, but relevance in the present.  Unbeknownst to me, their beauty influenced my perceptions, shaped my sensibilities on what constitute sacred space.  I came to realize is that beauty is a manifestation of God—a means by which God’s grace permeates, illuminates and enriches our world.  It became clear that, for me, the architectural setting for worship is extremely important.  If the space is to be sacred, it also must beautiful to the eye, especially during those times when the sermon is so deadening to the ear.  In other words, beauty is what brought me to the Episcopal Church. But, I am not the only one!  A great many others are drawn to the Episcopal Church for the same reason—some to the point of becoming members, while others simply admire it from a distance.  I can’t tell you of the number of Roman Catholics who say when they need a good dose of tasteful, dignified worship they visit the Episcopal Church. John Sat, 17 Mar 2012 19:29:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:13 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/12/The-Rebuilding-of-Holy-Trinity-Cathedral-in-Port-au-Prince-Haiti-by-a-church-architect.aspx#Comments 1 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=12 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=12&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/12/The-Rebuilding-of-Holy-Trinity-Cathedral-in-Port-au-Prince-Haiti-by-a-church-architect.aspx The story of Holy Trinity Cathedral begins in 1861, when the Rev. James Theodore Holly comes to Haiti from the United States, bringing the presence and ministry of the Episcopal Church to this island country. Bishop Alfred Lee of Delaware, a staunch advocate of Fr. Holly and the ministry of the Church in Haiti, said at the time, “It will not be worthwhile to prosecute the Mission [in Haiti] without suitable buildings. A convenient and appropriate church is a sine qua non, and accommodation for schools and a residence, for one missionary, at least, is of the first importance.” So on May 24, 1863, Fr. Holly establishes Holy Trinity Parish in Port-au-Prince, the country’s capital city.  In 1874, Fr. Holly is consecrated the first missionary bishop to Haiti and the first African-American bishop in the entire Episcopal Church; and as a result, Holy Trinity becomes Bishop Holly’s cathedral.  Keep in mind that during this period of time, the vast majority of buildings in Port-au-Prince and all of Haiti are built of wood and thatch.  Consequently, on a number of occasions throughout Bishop Holly’s ministry, Port-au-Prince suffers a series of devastating fires—1866, 1873, 1888 and 1908.  And in each of these instances, Holy Trinity is destroyed. But if one thing can be said, it’s that surely resilience is a defining character trait of the Haitian people.  That’s because each time the Cathedral is destroyed, the people rebuild it once again. Bishop Holly will go on to serve the Haitian people until his death in 1911. In 1923, the Rev. Harry R. Carson becomes the second Episcopal Bishop of Haiti.  In the years between Bishop Holly’s death and the consecration of Bishop Carson, Haiti goes through a series of political upheavals that trample the lives of the people and impede the mission of the Church.  As the political situation stabilizes and Bishop Carson is brought in to assume responsibility, he rightfully re-establishes Port-au-Prince as the center from which all of the Episcopal Church’s mission work will flow.  Bishop Carson recalls the words of Bishop Lee, from a half-century earlier that a suitable building is essential for carrying out the mission of the Church, and he calls for a new substantial Cathedral to be built.  In 1924, the Haitian architects Daniel and Philippe Brun design the new Holy Trinity Cathedral and on January 6, 1929, the Cathedral is dedicated. In 1949, Haiti celebrates the bicentennial of Port-au-Prince and uses the event to promote the vitality of Haitian art.  The Episcopal Church invites Haitian artists to paint murals on the interior walls of Holy Trinity Cathedral under the guidance of the renowned Centre d’Art.  On March 9, 1950, the murals behind the altar are competed and dedicated.  The remaining murals are completed by April 1951.  Recognized throughout the world for their artistic and cultural merit, these murals depict various stories from the Bible using people of African heritage as the characters.  The murals are painted by some of the best-known Haitian artists of the Twentieth Century.  The ensuing years sees additional artwork brought into the Cathedral including the beautiful murals decorating the doors of the organ case with animals, birds, flowers and plants representing a hymn of creation honoring God the Creator.  In 1961, the Episcopal Church celebrates one hundred years of service in Haiti.  For this occasion, major renovations take place at the Cathedral.  Through generous gifts from many friends throughout the United States and in Haiti, a new organ is installed.  The sanctuary of the Cathedral is redesigned to allow the priest to face the congregation while celebrating at the altar.   At the same time, administrative buildings are constructed behind the Cathedral, which provide choir rehearsal space, meeting rooms and offices for the Diocese of Haiti. Then on January 12, 2010, a massive earthquake strikes Haiti, killing more than 300,000 people, seriously injuring more than 250,000, and leaving 1.3 million people homeless.  Untold numbers of private and public buildings are destroyed throughout the country including Holy Trinity Cathedral, as well as other buildings on the Cathedral close, including the primary, secondary, professional, and music schools, and Ste. Marguerite Convent. Of the fourteen renowned murals that adorned the interior of the Cathedral, only three survive the destruction.  A collaborative effort, under the auspices of the Smithsonian, the Getty Conservation Institute, and others, salvaged and conserved the three murals—removing them from the walls, placing them in protective crates and taking them offsite to controlled storage as they await reinstallation in the new Cathedral. Facing the enormity of, not only caring for its people, but also rebuilding most all of its churches, schools, hospitals and other structures throughout the country, the Episcopal Diocese of Haiti decides to concentrate its initial rebuilding efforts on Holy Trinity Cathedral—recalling once again the words of Bishop Lee, from a century and a half ago, that “a suitable building is essential for carrying out the mission of the Church.” The Diocese of Haiti looks to a new Cathedral to be that prominent landmark proclaiming God’s abiding presence among the Haitian people.  It will represent the Church’s ongoing commitment to serve the peoples’ needs—a beacon of hope to all who suffer and a place of refuge in times of trouble. The Episcopal Church, of which the Diocese of Haiti is its largest diocese, is committed to the rebuilding effort.  Over the last two years, a team has been working diligently with the Diocese of Haiti helping the Church get back up on its feet.  This past August, I began working with the Team to help develop and implement a strategy to rebuild the Cathedral.  Our first major task was to compile and verify the necessary information in order to hire an architect and design the building.  Locating the deeds for the land, searching for surveys of the property boundaries, developing a program for how the new Cathedral should function, establishing a budget for design and construction—all these things and more were pulled together and agreed upon by all the folks involved, not only in Haiti, but in this country as well.  And for those of you who know how efficiently the Church operates, you can appreciate the time required to assemble this information. In December, our Team issued a “Request for Proposal” to procure an architect.  On January 6th, we received those proposals and now, we are in the process of reviewing them and expect to make a decision in the near future.  This decision then will allow the design process to move forward and create a vision for the new Cathedral which can be shared with the entire Church.  Our hope is that the new design will be so exciting and so inspiring that it will raise great enthusiasm and encourage additional financial support for the rebuilding effort. The amount of destruction in Haiti is so overwhelming, the need is so great and the recovery will take such a long period of time.  The Episcopal Church in Haiti needs our ongoing help.  You and I can continue to make a difference, a very real difference in the lives of these people, our sisters and brothers in Christ.  Our help is critical as the people of Haiti work to get back on their feet again. John Fri, 24 Feb 2012 20:40:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:12 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/11/Christianity-and-Sacred-Space-by-a-Church-Architect.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=11 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=11&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/11/Christianity-and-Sacred-Space-by-a-Church-Architect.aspx  “Christianity and sacred space” – this is a concept that is difficult to clearly define so as to embrace the broad diversity of the Christian faith.  Ask an Eastern Orthodox or Roman Catholic and the answer will be very different from that of a Quaker or a Pentecostal.  The primary reason for this is the Christian biblical texts say next to nothing about space and the role it plays in the life of the faith tradition.  Consequently, many Christians would profess there is nothing intrinsically sacred about a particular place or building.  On the other hand, there are a large number of Christians who hold certain spaces to be quite holy and treat them with a great deal of reverence.  So the challenge is – can we find the “common denominator” that bridges this ambivalence and allows the conversation to continue. I suggest that rather than beginning the discussion by talking about “sacred space” per se, it is more appropriate to begin by talking about “sacred person.”  This is because at its core, “sacred person” is the most significant aspect of Christianity.  And the particular sacred person who draws the majority of attention is Jesus of Nazareth, whom Christians regard as the “Christ,” the Messiah, the Anointed One of God.  For Christians, the person of Jesus is primary and all things “sacred” are defined through him.  The reason for this is that Christians believe that through Jesus the Christ, one is reconciled and reunited with the God of the Judeo-Christian Bible. To summarize Christianity in 100 words or less, the Biblical tradition teaches that because of disobedience in Paradise – the Garden of Eden, humankind distorted its relationship with God and as a result lives in a dysfunctional state of separation from God.  For Christians, Jesus is the one – because of who he is and what he did – who redeems humankind and restores the fractured relationship it had with God.  As a result, it is important for Christians to know Jesus the Christ and through him come to know God. Well, the logical question following such a statement is – “how does one come to know God through Jesus the Christ?”  The Christian tradition teaches five ways: By reading and engaging Holy Scripture, which is believed to be the Word of God. For some Christians, receiving the Sacraments, which include Baptism and Communion and are believed to be the material means of God’s favor for humankind. By participating in prayer and worship, which is one’s conscious response to God. By joining in a gathered community of believers, because Jesus is attributed to have said in the Gospel of Matthew that “where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them” [Matt. 18:20]. And also by giving alms and serving those who are less fortunate, because the Christian biblical texts teach that in serving these folks, one also serves the Christ. So, in order to accommodate and facilitate these spiritual practices, and by extension encourage the Divine experience, Christians found it necessary to design and build places of worship.  As a result, Christians have come to equate sacred space to places where they have experienced communion with God. For example, an elderly gentleman once told me of a profound spiritual experience he had back in the 1940s in the days following the Second World War.  While in France, he had the opportunity to visit and worship in Chartres Cathedral.  When he entered the nave, he said he was brought to tears by the quality of light as it poured through the stained glass windows and filled the space.  He said he felt as though the light was entering his body and passing completely through, purifying him of his past failures, illuminating his mind and warming his soul.  Never in his life had he had such a profound experience of God, nor since. And since that time, whenever he is confronted by pain and suffering, he remembers the light of Chartres and an incredible sense of peace returns, allowing him to regain hope and continue with life. Throughout the centuries, as Christians built places of worship, the shape they gave to their worship space was influenced by their notions of God.  Historically, the expression of two Divine characteristics exerted considerable influence on Christian architecture in all its diversity.  These two characteristics are – that Christians believe God to be both transcendent and immanent. By transcendent, I mean the God who is responsible for all creation, who existed prior to and is distinct and apart from creation and therefore not constrained by its physicality.  This God transcends the grasp of human intelligence and is ineffable.  Its essence is purity and perfection.  Yet despite such magnificence, the transcendent God calls creation to itself and Christians believe calls them to become different people, transformed people.  That life is to be a journey, represented by stages of spiritual growth, where death is not the conclusion, but a point of transfiguration, when one transcends this material world and is reunited with the Godhead in heavenly bliss for eternity.  This is the God of Salvation and one to be pursued. By immanent, I mean the God who is present in creation and active in human history.  Christians understand the immanent God as one who makes the Divine Self known in the common, imperfect activities of everyday life.  A God who is humble, approachable and unavoidable.  This is the God of the Incarnation, who is available and accessible in the present moment by all who seek to know it better. Architecturally, these two attributes of God are represented by two geometric forms: the line and the circle. The line gives shape to and reinforces the experience of a transcendent God.  One end, which is the starting point, represents the beginning of the spiritual journey, when one recognizes that he or she is living in a state of separation from God and then wants to move closer.  This point is symbolized by the exterior entrance or portal one must pass through to enter the worship space.  The other end of the line represents the conclusion, the culmination of the spiritual journey when one is reunited with God and is symbolized by the altar, the place where communion is celebrated.  Along the line, certain elements are strategically placed to represent progressive stages of spiritual growth: The baptismal font typically is positioned near the entrance, representing one’s acceptance of the faith and initiation into the community. Further along is the ambo or the lectern and pulpit – the place where Holy Scripture is read, prayers are offered, and sermons are given, that represent the deepening of one’s spiritual knowledge and experience as one matures in the faith. In moving along the line through the worship space, one participates both physically and spiritually in this journey of salvation.  As a result, it is easy to assume the altar is the most sacred place in the entire worship space because it is where communion with God takes place.  Hence, the closer one is to the altar, the greater the degree of sacredness.  And over the centuries, this assumption played itself out in a variety of ways: Architectural embellishment Hierarchical seating Burial placement The other geometric form, the circle, represents and reinforces the notion of an imminent God.  Rather than manifesting God as an experience one aspires to in the future tense, this form encourages the experience of God that occurs in midst of the gathered community at any given moment.  In other words, the emphasis is less on “doing” and more on “being.”  The focal point of a circle is its center and as a result, the center is the place where all the liturgical action happens.  The altar is positioned here, along with the ambo – the place where Holy Scripture is proclaimed and often the baptismal font.  As a result, the center point becomes the most sacred spot and the community gathers around it in circular fashion, equidistant from the center – representing equality among individuals and unity for the entire congregation. These two aspects of God, as well as these two building forms, contrast sharply with each other.  Yet in looking at most Christian places of worship built throughout the centuries, one finds attempts to incorporate characteristics of each, but in varying degrees of emphasis. While many Christians proclaim there is no biblical precedence for defining sacred space, this absence has not prevented some from naming and claiming space as sacred. Jonathan Z. Smith, a historian of religion, argues “the presence of an indwelling divinity is not something we can ascertain, but the very erection of churches, the development of pilgrimages to the sites, and the reverence with which believers treat the sites have in effect sacralized the churches, imbuing them with sacred meaning.” In other words, Smith argues that it is humans who declare something sacred, who set an object apart as holy, rather than God.  And this designation is based upon a shared intention, an action and/or perception. For example: in the medieval Christian church, theologians viewed creation, in its fundamental state, to be “profane,” which is not to be equated with “dirty, impure, or corrupted,” but meaning “an absence of the divine presence, or common and mundane.”  This perception derived from the traditional view of all creation as “fallen,” existing in a state of separation from God.  As a result, part of the work of the church was to sanctify the landscape, “to claim it for Christ,” to make the profane world sacred by invoking the Spirit of God to inhabit and consecrate particular areas of it.  And by this joint venture with the Divine, the earth gradually would be transformed into a heavenly place.  Christians saw themselves as partners with God, assisting God in the completion and sanctification of the world of creation. This notion helps explain the purpose behind such objects as high crosses on the landscape and walls around the perimeter of cathedral closes, church yards and cemeteries which define the boundaries of sacred precincts and holy ground.  These are clear demarcations of what is sacred from what is profane. This notion also helps explain the tradition of cathedrals and churches as being places of sanctuary and safety, where freedom exists from aggression, violence and evil, apart from the world of the wicked.  Think of the image of the accused criminal, fleeing persecution, running to the door of the church, grabbing the handle and claiming sanctuary and protection.  Such a place is where the community believed God had jurisdiction above and beyond that of mere mortals. These medieval distinctions of sacred and profane provided clear and powerful clarifications to the landscape and lives of Europeans whose world was strongly shaped by the Christian church. But as the Protestant Reformation burst upon the church and challenged many practices of medieval Christianity, notions of what constituted sacred space were broken down, scrutinized, clarified, revised or discarded.  The hierarchical structure of the church was transformed by many communities into a more egalitarian one, so no longer is sacred space the privileged domain of a select few, but accessible to all. An example: in the sacramental Christian traditions, such as the Anglican Church (of which I am a member), the Roman Catholic, Lutheran, Orthodox, to name a few – the area between the communion rail and the altar traditionally is called the “sanctuary” – the holiest part of a sacred space.  In the more Protestant traditions, the “sanctuary” refers to the entire worship space, including the area where the congregation sits.  For these folks, all of the church is equally holy. Shifting perceptions of sacred space continue in Christianity, so that today, with heightened awareness of environmental sensibilities and a deepening respect for the natural world, the Christian church gradually is embracing the notion that all of creation is sacred and should be treated as such. Architecturally, churches are being built that instead of turning the congregations’ attention away from the outside world and focusing inwardly; they now open themselves up to the outside world and invite the beauty of creation to assist in shaping its worship. Michael Mayne, the former Dean of Westminster Abbey, once wrote, “The sacred has been defined as that to which we have access but which is not at our disposal.”  Perhaps, this statement helps explain the rich architectural heritage of the Christian church and its continuing search for sacred space.   Image – “Church of the Minorities II” by Lyonel Feininger, 1926 John Sun, 12 Feb 2012 01:07:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:11 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/10/The-Architectural-Impact-of-the-1979-Book-of-Common-Prayer-for-Church-Architects.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=10 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=10&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/10/The-Architectural-Impact-of-the-1979-Book-of-Common-Prayer-for-Church-Architects.aspx Back in the mid-1990’s, I left my practice of architecture and set off for seminary in Sewanee, TN.  My first day there, I was met by this bespectacled, gray-haired man who mumbled something that sounded vaguely like an introduction and then he directed me to follow him to his office.  This gentleman was Marion Hatchett, of blessed memory, longtime Professor of Liturgics and one of the people instrumental in giving shape to the 1979 Book of Common Prayer.  When we arrived at his office, Professor Hatchett said to me, “Since you’re an architect, you need to know this.  Read, mark, learn and inwardly digest it!”  He then shoved this paper in my hand.  It is entitled, “Architectural Implications of The Book of Common Prayer,”[1] a paper Professor Hatchett published back in 1985.  From that time forward, until he died in 2009, whenever I saw Professor Hatchett, he would mention something about worship space design – either something he saw he liked or didn’t like (and it usually was the latter!).  Then he wanted to know my opinion about it, with which he often disagreed and proceeded to explain why!  Always the Professor! Yet, this paper (and I commend it to you) has proved to be very helpful.  In it, Professor Hatchett identifies liturgical issues that are prominent in the ’79 Prayer Book and their correlation with particular architectural elements—concerns many priests rarely take time to think about.  Yet if they did, they might find it would benefit immensely the churches they serve.  This paper was useful for the Church at a time when it was trying to implement this new Prayer Book.  And it still is useful today, as we consider the Church’s progress of incorporating these ideas over the course of the last thirty-plus years. In his paper, Professor Hatchett states, “worship patterns [should] determine architectural settings.”[2]  Let me say that again, “worship patterns [should] determine architectural settings.”  This is an ecclesiastical way of saying “form follows function!”[3]  Yet in the church, it often seems to be the other way around, “architectural settings determine worship patterns.”  Back in 1962, John A.T. Robinson, Bishop of Woolrich, once said, "But we are now being reminded that the church people go to has an immensely powerful psychological effect on their vision of the Church they are meant to be. The church building is a prime aid, or a prime hindrance, to the building up of the Body of Christ. And what the building says so often shouts something entirely contrary to all that we are seeking to express through the liturgy. And the building will always win—unless and until we can make it say something else." [4] Part of the effort coming out of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer was to make our Church buildings say something else. In his paper, Professor Hatchett highlights the following notions found in the “new” Prayer Book: The Holy Eucharist will be the principal service on Sundays and Holy Days. The Daily Office will continue as regular services, but will not be the principal Sunday service. Within the Holy Eucharist, the Liturgy of the Word will have its own integrity. The congregational nature of Baptism and Confirmation will be emphasized. Congregational participation will be stressed in all rites.  This may include processions and physically moving about the space. The rites for the Reconciliation of the Penitent, the reservation of consecrated Eucharistic elements, and the use of oil for baptism and oil for the sick are available and their use is encouraged. He then proceeds to make architectural suggestions that might accommodate these liturgical notions: First of all, a church should have not just one liturgical center, but three: The place of Baptism (represented by the font), The place of the Word (ambo or pulpit), And the place of the Eucharist (altar-table). Each liturgical center should stand out visually in the worship space, with equal dignity and visual prominence. The font should be present at all services as a constant reminder of our baptism.  It could be located near the entrance of the worship space or in front of it, but always publically positioned and not privately.  The font should be large.  Baptism by immersion is encouraged.  Space should be provided for the Pascal Candle, a table for books, towels, baptismal candles and the chrism.  Even an aumbry for the chrism could be created. The ambo or pulpit symbolizes Christ’s presence in his Word.  Ideally, one place for the Word should be provided and used for the lessons, the gradual psalm, the Gospel, and the sermon; as well as the Exsultet at the Easter Vigil.  It should be a prominent piece of furniture that can hold a large Bible.  Also, space should be provided around the ambo to allow torchbearers to stand near the reader.  And it should be easily accessible by all. The altar-table symbolizes Christ’s presence in the Eucharistic sacrament, and traditionally it was rather small, typically about as wide and as deep as it was high.  Somewhat like a cube.  It represents the altar of sacrifice as well as the table of fellowship.  The argument against larger altars is that they tend to dwarf the other centers and create a physical barrier between the clergy and the people, rather than the table around which all gather.  It is not necessary for the altar-table to be the center of attention, since the focus moves with the movement of the rite.  But there should be only one and it should have ample space around it for people to circulate easily. Other furnishings should be visually subordinate to the font, ambo and altar-table: Credence table, Oblations table, Chairs for the liturgical ministers, the Paschal Candlestand, other candlesticks, the Cross, liturgical books, banners, flags, flowers, and audiovisuals. With regard to the worship space in general: The primary liturgical space should be shaped to encourage the relationship between clergy and laity – that all come together to form the worshiping community. The liturgical centers could be located on a low platform to increase visibility, but not so high as to seem like a stage – setting ministers apart from the congregation. The liturgical centers, along with other furnishings, could be made moveable to allow flexibility, but not spindly to suggest lack of substance. Congregational seating in particular should be flexible to allow for various configurations. Space for the choir and organ should be positioned to support the notion of the gathered congregation, while at the same time, provide sufficient musical leadership.  The acoustics of the worship space also should encourage full participation of all. Prayer Book services demand adequate lighting levels and increasingly the ability for adjustable control. An entrance hall of ample size should be provided to allow for the gathering of people before and after worship, the formation of the Palm Sunday procession, the lighting of the new fire at the Easter Vigil, the formation of wedding processions, and the reception of the body at a burial.  And above all, it should provide an entrance that is accessible to the disabled. Churches should have an adequate, working sacristy for the altar guild and a vesting sacristy for the liturgical ministers. A place should be provided for the reservation of the consecrated Eucharistic elements.  It should be located in a sacristy or side chapel, out of the normal line of vision of the congregation, so as not to diminish the prominence of the altar-table. Finally, provisions should be made for the rite of the Reconciliation of the Penitent.  It could be as simple as two chairs positioned so the confessor and penitent face other or a room could be created and furnished simply and austerely. In the end, the suggestions are somewhat open, purposefully vague, encouraging to all who contemplate remodeling existing worship space or building new.  The point is that each congregation must do the hard work of discernment, prayerfully considering the points of meaningful worship and how best to support it in their particular context. So, How Has The Church Responded To This Charge Over The Past 30 Years? Well, in my time as an ordained person with a nose for these kinds of things, I have experienced a range of responses from churches who completely reordered their worship space to those who haven’t touched a thing, and all points in between. However in preparing for today, I thought it would be interesting to talk with a few bishops who certainly have seen a great many churches and witnessed how the larger church responded architecturally to the ’79 Prayer Book. As a preface to all our discussions, we agreed that any change in worship space design was invariably linked to money.  In other words, some congregations could afford to make changes, while other could not.  Therefore, the degree of change in architecture cannot always be a direct reflection of desire.  So with this being said, all three bishops felt the centrality of the Eucharist has been widely embraced and this is reflected in the predominance of free-standing altar-tables.  All believe public Baptism, by far, is the norm, rather than private, and provisions are in place to support this.  However, Baptism by immersion is yet to catch on.  After all, Episcopalians can only embrace so much change!  The same can be said for accommodating the rite of Reconciliation of the Penitent.   In most instances, two chairs are the norm rather than a dedicated space.  Flexible spaces with movable furnishings are becoming more prevalent.  However, accessibility for the disabled still remains a real concern. An interesting observation beyond the influence of the Prayer Book was noted: the vast prevalence of columbaria being created in Episcopal Churches.  The desire by people to be interred within the physical dimensions of their faith community is a noticeable development, and the architectural fabric to accommodate this desire has impacted most parishes. Overall, the trend seems to be that architectural change happens as congregations can afford to make it happen.  By in large, the evolution of worship space is somewhat slow.  Yet for some congregations, change is an ongoing conversation.  There are those who made changes early and now are considering another round.  One bishop summarized the discussions nicely when he said, “We are no longer building Churches for Morning Prayer.  We are building Churches for the Holy Eucharist.” [1] Marion Hatchett, “Architectural Implications of the Book of Common Prayer,” in The Occasional Papers of the Standing Liturgical Commission: Collection Number One [New York: The Church Hymnal Corp., 1987] 57-66. [2] Hatchett, 57. [3] “Form follows function” is an often-cited principle statement associated with modern architecture in the 20th century. [4] John A.T. Robinson, “Preface” in Making The Building Serve The Liturgy: Studies In The Re-Ordering Of Churches, Gilbert Cope, ed. [London: Mowbray, 1962]. John Fri, 03 Feb 2012 21:38:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:10 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/8/Looking-for-Leadership-with-Church-Architecture.aspx#Comments 1 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=8 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=8&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/8/Looking-for-Leadership-with-Church-Architecture.aspx Most religious structures built over the last two centuries were designed to accommodate the traditional threefold aspects of congregational life: worship God, educate the members, and build community among the faithful.  Certainly in some instances, provisions were made to support social outreach, but these basic programs were the functional parameters by which faith communities understood their reason for being and gave shape to the buildings they created. However in the present day, as many congregations face the harsh realities of declining membership, shrinking budgets and deteriorating buildings, it is time to look beyond the traditional parameters that defined congregational life and explore alternatives.  Religious leaders need to take greater initiative in creating innovative ways in which to use its real property for unconventional ministries before congregations are forced to close.  An example of such creative leadership exists in the Episcopal Diocese of Washington (D.C.). The Church of the Holy Communion is an Episcopal congregation that has served the historic Congress Heights neighborhood in Southeast Washington, DC since 1895.  For the first half of the twentieth century, Congress Heights was an integrated, working-class neighborhood, populated to a large extent by whites.  As demographics and economic opportunities shifted following World War II, the profile of the neighborhood gradually changed to become primarily African-American and low income.  Holy Communion, which had a congregation of as many as 800 members during the 1960s, experienced decline as members moved out of the neighborhood, grew older and died.  Over the same period, the effort made by the congregation to reach out to those who now live in the neighborhood and invite them to church did not produce sufficient new members to offset the decline.  As a result, Holy Communion reached a point where it averaged fifteen to twenty people at Sunday worship and only could afford a part-time clergy person.  The existing Gothic-Revival church and educational wing were constructed in 1952 and 1957 respectively, when the size of the congregation was at its height.  Not surprisingly, as the congregation shrank, the buildings suffered from deferred maintenance.  In other words, by 2005, Holy Communion teetered on the verge of closure. At this same time, the Episcopal Diocese of Washington was taking decisive action to address another issue—the critical academic and social needs of young boys from low-income families in the District of Columbia.  The Diocese committed itself to establishing a boys’ school, honoring the memory of Bishop John T. Walker, the first African American Bishop of the Diocese, and locating the school in the economically-challenged Southeast quadrant of the city, where the need is great.  Yet with limited financial resources in hand, the prospect of purchasing land and building a new or buying an existing structure and renovating it seemed beyond the reach of the Diocese. Recognizing the instance of two struggling ministries—one diminishing and the other fledgling, Diocesan leadership devised a creative solution: establish a partnership between Holy Communion and the Bishop Walker School, whereby the congregation provides the real property on which both ministries can function, while the School provides the resources to renovate the church and educational wing to accommodate both programs.  The congregation will enjoy the benefit of a newly-restored facility on the weekends, while the School will bring new purpose and vitality to the property during the weekdays.  Each ministry will enjoy the benefit from partnering with the other. Both entities were agreeable to the partnership.  So working with Devrouax & Purnell Architects of Washington, Holy Communion, the Bishop Walker School and the Diocese together created a design to rehabilitate the existing buildings to accommodate the first phase of the School’s growth—from Junior Kindergarten to fourth grade, to upgrade the facilities to meet current building codes and provide accessibility for the disabled, as well as to preserve the congregation’s worship space all on a frugal budget of $2.3M.  In the fall of 2010, the congregation resumed worship in its historic church, as the School moved into its new spaces of the shared facility. Is the partnership proving to be a success?  By and large, it is.  Still, challenges often occur in the early stages of any relationship.  The most notable glitch is that Holy Communion’s congregation is yet to enjoy an appreciable increase in members and giving.  The expectation was that the partnership, with its revitalization, inherently would attract new members to the congregation.  Yet, reality is proving that Holy Communion still must undertake the hard work of reaching out to people in the broader community and providing them a spiritual home. Nevertheless, this creative partnership deserves attention, applause and encouragement.  Not only was a faith community saved from closing, but a vital new ministry established.  The visual presence and tangible efforts of a religious institution were enhanced and extended in a neighborhood needing positive influence and assistance.  Revitalizing the buildings and grounds brought money and jobs into the local economy, as the larger city benefits from preserving the historic streetscape.  In short, this partnership helped a great many people who needed it. And what is more, this model of partnership can be replicated.  Examples where congregations partner with assisted living facilities for the elderly and disabled or with secular community centers to meet the needs of the surrounding neighborhood exist and are successful.  At the heart of each success are creative religious leaders who recognize the needs facing their faith communities, as well as their secular communities.  By matching needs with programs, real property improvement with philanthropy, and utilizing the skills and experience of design professionals, along with a dash of entrepreneurial spirit, these leaders are crucial in developing successful, adaptive-reuse solutions that address the challenges of declining congregations before their demise. John Mon, 16 Jan 2012 17:00:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:8 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/7/Washington-National-Cathedral-Church-Architect-Surveys-the-Cathedral-Building-Fabric.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=7 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=7&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/7/Washington-National-Cathedral-Church-Architect-Surveys-the-Cathedral-Building-Fabric.aspx In 1907, the first stone was laid in the construction of Washington National Cathedral and in 1990; the last stone was set in place.  As I began work at the Cathedral in 2005, I soon learned that over the course of its nearly one-hundred years of existence, a comprehensive survey of the building fabric had never been made.  Understandably, for the first eighty-three years, most of the attention was devoted to completing construction of the Cathedral, not preserving its fabric.  Yet with construction now complete, many in Cathedral governance felt it was time to turn its attention away from the building and devote its resources in other directions.  As a result, the prevailing attitude toward preservation was one of reaction, rather than pro-action.  In other words, wait for something to break and then fix it. I immediately set to work reversing this attitude by raising the awareness of Governance to its responsibility of being good stewards of the historic landmark it had inherited, by teaching that a policy of deferred maintenance is more costly than preventative maintenance, and encouraging them to be more fiscally responsible by creating a prioritized list of preservation capital projects, with associated costs, for the next five, ten and fifteen years.  With this specific information in hand, a more responsible strategic budget could be established and the necessary funds set in place for any forthcoming major projects.  Finally after pressing the issue for two years, Governance was convinced to release the necessary funds allowing me to proceed with this important study. Fortunately, the Cathedral maintained good records of its construction history, through drawings, specifications, correspondence, photographs and annual maintenance logs.  However, the information is not centralized nor easily accessible, which means it is used rarely.  Working with a historic architectural consultant, we sifted through all of the information and, after interviewing a number of people who participated in the construction and/or ongoing maintenance of the building, assembled an accurate and comprehensive history of construction in both written and graphic form. The team then inspected the entire Cathedral, assessing the condition of all materials, assemblies and systems, noting any deterioration, failures and potential failures.  A number of specialists, including stone, stained-glass, metal and wood conservators, and roof and moisture protection specialists participated and provided recommendations.  Detailed technical analysis was made of selected materials and practices including mortar, stone repair, sealant use, waterproofing membranes, and lead roofing.  After a year, a comprehensive conditions report was assembled indicating every aspect of the building fabric: material descriptions, maintenance history, present condition, level of attention required and recommendations going forward. Once the data was assembled, I then prioritized the items based on level of urgency and worked with the consultants to attach an estimated budget to each item.  I also evaluated the project list based on projected annual budgets for the next five years and current maintenance staff size and skill sets.  In the end, I assembled the information into distinct packets for specific audiences in both print and digital forms.  Governance received a summary of the conditions report, the prioritized project list and associated budget projections, all in a language that was comprehendible and useful for strategic planning and budgeting. For those concerned with more technical aspects of the survey and its applications, they received the detailed conditions report, the prioritized project list and associated budget projections, which provided specific background and application information in an accessible form. For the first time in Cathedral history, both Governance and Maintenance had the technical and budgetary information it needed to adopt a policy of pro-active preservation of the Cathedral. John Thu, 12 Jan 2012 02:07:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:7 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/6/St-Marys-Cemetery-as-Sacred-Space-and-Church-Architecture.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=6 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=6&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/6/St-Marys-Cemetery-as-Sacred-Space-and-Church-Architecture.aspx During my first year at the School of Theology in Sewanee, I participated in a contemplative retreat at St. Mary’s Sewanee Retreat Center, just off Sherwood Road.  While walking the grounds in silence, I stumbled upon the cemetery of the Sisters of St. Mary’s Convent for the first time.  Here, set in the midst of the Mountain’s majestic forested canopy, was this little “jewel box” fashioned by human hands inspired by the Spirit of God. The cemetery is a formal square of sacred ground bounded on each side by a low wall built of sandstone quarried from the surrounding mountain.  The plot is oriented with respect to the four cardinal directions of the compass, so each grave is positioned to face east allowing its inhabitant to greet the rising sun on the morning of the Second Coming of our Lord.  In the meantime, the rows of simple markers for each interred Sister are presided over by a handsomely-sculpted figure of the crucified Christ, raised in glory within a stone niche centered on the western wall.  Opposite the Crucifix and centered on the eastern wall is the lychgate.  Built of heavy-timbers in the form of a gable roof, this gateway grants access to the burial ground, but its low clearance encourages the living who visit to bow in reverence as they enter the precinct of the dead. Here is a place: intentionally-shaped, exquisitely-fashioned from humble, indigenous materials and devoted to the most primordial act unique to our species and fundamental to our Christian faith – the burial of the dearly departed.  The mere nature of its existence is a sacramental expression of the beauty of the Incarnation in the midst of our fallen world.  It makes manifest the words of Jacob, who said, “Surely, the Lord is in this place and I did not know it.” When I am fortunate to return to the Mountain, I try to visit the cemetery of the Sisters—not because I am particularly close to anyone buried there—but out of gratitude for what this sacred place awakened in me.  Never before had I felt drawn to name a place where I preferred my earthly remains to be interred.  But from the experience of this holy ground, I now know for me the Mountain is my gateway to heaven. John Sat, 07 Jan 2012 22:08:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:6 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/5/Church-Architect-Reflects-on-Trinity-Episcopal-Church-Historic-Structures-Report.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=5 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=5&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/5/Church-Architect-Reflects-on-Trinity-Episcopal-Church-Historic-Structures-Report.aspx In preparation for its 250th anniversary in 1996, Trinity Episcopal Church in Staunton, Virginia, hired Frazier Associates to prepare a historic structures report on the church property.  The present Gothic-Revival church building, constructed in 1855, is the third church to be built on the site.  The existing church is listed on the National Register and has a notable collection of Tiffany stained-glass windows.  The site consists of an entire city block and includes a large parish hall (c.1872 & 1924), a rectory (c.1872) and numerous historic grave markers. As the Principal Historical Architect, I worked with the firm’s other two principals to plan this project, determine the level of research needed to achieve the desired goals, define the scope of the final products, divide responsibilities among appropriate staff and specialized consultants, manage the work in progress and assure the final products were accomplished on time and within budget. In our work, we conducted extensive research at national, state and local levels, using historical records, primary and secondary sources, as well as numerous personal interviews, to produce a detailed history of the parish and its historic structures, including a construction history for each building.  We produced measured digital drawings of the site and each building on it.  We investigated and assessed the condition of all materials, assemblies and systems in each building and provided recommendations for treatment, along with associated cost estimates.  We established preservation zones on the site and in the buildings that defined levels of historic value in particular areas and guided the degree of appropriate preservation action in each.  Specialized consultants, including structural, electrical and mechanical engineers, stone and stained-glass conservators, landscape architects and archivists, were made part of the team and each provided his or her professional assessment and recommendation.  Working with church leadership, we created proposed space plans for the future needs of each building.  I crafted an annual maintenance plan to guide the perpetual care of the buildings and grounds.  The number of tasks involved and individual participants required the creation of a master calendar to track each task with strategic benchmarks along a timeline.  The timeline of each task was coordinated with the others so all work could flow simultaneously and any necessary overlap was anticipated.  To make the plan successful required clear communication, frequent follow-up and clarifications, and flexibility when glitches occurred.  Throughout the project, we were in constant contact with church leadership, providing monthly reports of progress and revelations. In the end, the deadlines were met within the required time limit.  All information and reports were documented in written and graphic form and assembled into a comprehensive volume.  We presented the completed information to the church leadership and congregation in an open forum and received enthusiastic feedback.  The parish used the report as anticipated, to guide its next large projects: the preservation and rehabilitation of the church, parish house and rectory; designing and constructing a sympathetic addition to the parish house; designing and installing a new pipe organ in the worship space; conserving the collection of stained-glass windows; creating an archive to house the parish’s historical records and establishing an annual maintenance plan. John Mon, 02 Jan 2012 20:38:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:5 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/4/Washington-National-Cathedral-Foundation-Stone-Church-Architect.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=4 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=4&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/4/Washington-National-Cathedral-Foundation-Stone-Church-Architect.aspx   In 2007, Washington National Cathedral held a year-long centennial celebration of its first stone being laid.  That first stone is named the Foundation Stone and it consists of a large slab of American granite with a smaller stone from Bethlehem, in the Holy Land, imbedded in its surface.  In addition to several inscriptions on its surface, the Foundation Stone provides structural support for the altar and reredos in Bethlehem Chapel, which in turn supports the Jerusalem Altar on the Cathedral’s main level.  In 1907, tens of thousands of people attended the service when the Foundation Stone was set, including President Theodore Roosevelt and other honored dignitaries.  However, today no one can see the Foundation Stone because it is encased within the surrounding foundation walls of the Cathedral’s subcrypt.   With such attention lavished on the Foundation Stone in 1907, it seems odd to make it inaccessible for future generations to appreciate.  Since the Cathedral planned to celebrate the centennial of the Stone’s creation, I thought it appropriate and necessary to research the Stone’s history, identify the people involved in its development, learn the reasons behind its design, the meaning of its symbolism and celebrated installation, and discover the explanation for its inaccessibility, so that others might find a deeper appreciation of its significance.                  My research took me to a number of primary sources: the Cathedral’s construction document archives, the diary of the Bishop of Washington at the time, The Foundation Stone Book that documents the installation services, an array of historic photos and other newspapers and periodicals from the early twentieth century.  Secondary sources included: Cathedral Age, a Cathedral-produced periodical with references to the Foundation Stone’s fiftieth anniversary, numerous books on the history of the Cathedral’s construction by various authors, and other Cathedral-related publications. Based on the historical information gathered from these sources, I wrote a paper entitled, “The Foundation Stone: Creating Sacred Space at Washington National Cathedral,” and presented it at “Building Spiritual Washington," the Seventh Biennial Symposium of the Latrobe Chapter of the Society of Architectural Historians in Washington, DC.  To support my text, I provided numerous illustrations in a PowerPoint presentation.  Following that event, I reshaped the text to become a chapter entitled, “Hidden Eternity: Marking A Sacred Space,” contained within Living Stones: Washington National Cathedral at 100, a book published by the Cathedral during the centennial year.  I further condensed the paper into training materials for docents to use with visitors coming to the Cathedral during the year. Throughout the course of the centennial year, I shared my historical research and PowerPoint presentation to numerous gatherings of special tour groups, Governance and visiting dignitaries.  Finally, the Cathedral made a video of me explaining the history of the Foundation Stone and offering its story as a meditation to viewers on the Cathedral’s website. The Foundation Stone, a seemingly simple, yet incredibly symbolic element in the life of Cathedral, provides insights on the religious beliefs and practices of the early builders of the National Cathedral.  The variable forms of sharing this historic information helped many people in the present day better understand their forebears of more than a hundred years ago. John Tue, 20 Dec 2011 20:11:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:4