http://johnrunkle.net RSS feeds for John Runkle - Sacred Spaces - Church Architecture Blog: 60 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/20/The-Power-of-Art-Church-Architecture.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=20 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=20&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/20/The-Power-of-Art-Church-Architecture.aspx In 2009, Washington National Cathedral completed the carving and installation of three limestone statues located above the sedilia[1].  The statues depict three people who were chosen for this honor because of the extraordinary manner in which their lives personified Christian virtues.  The three are John Donne, a 17th-century English poet and cleric in the Church of England; George Herbert, who also was a 17th-century English poet, orator and Anglican priest; and Howard Thurman, a 20th-century African-American author, philosopher, theologian, educator and civil rights leader. The statues were designed by Chas Fagan, a gifted American sculptor, who not only renders his subjects in incredibly realistic fashion, but also incorporates thoughtful symbolism into his designs that captures some compelling aspects of the person’s life. For example, Mr. Fagan depicted Howard Thurman in his preaching robes to convey his commanding presence as a preacher and orator.  Dr. Thurman is standing, leaning forward in earnest on the balls of his feet toward the congregation, as though conveying an urgent message of great importance.  In researching the life of Dr. Thurman, Mr. Fagan learned that a mighty oak tree was an important symbol to Dr. Thurman, a manifestation of God’s strong and enduring presence over the course of his life.  Thus, Mr. Fagan designed the lower portion of Dr. Thurman’s robes to appear like the base of an oak tree, with its muscular roots extending deep into the earth below. When the time arrived to consecrate the statues, the National Cathedral was fortunate that a number of Dr. Thurman’s family and friends were able to attend and take part in the service.  However, the stone brackets on which the statues permanently sit are positioned more than ten feet above the sanctuary floor.  Hence, people are unable to fully see and appreciate some of the statues’ finer details.  After the consecration, since the family was unable to see and enjoy the fine details of the statue, I invited them to my office for a face-to-face encounter with the full-size plaster model that guided the carving of the stone statue.  Immediately upon seeing the plaster model, the family reacted as if Dr. Thurman had returned from the dead for a visit!  Joy beamed from their faces as they approached the piece and looked closely into his eyes.  They gently stroked his head and patted his back.  They posed for multiple photos and lingered to reminisce over fond memories of Dr. Thurman.  There seemed to be a reluctance to leave, as if doing so would break the sacredness of the moment.  Truly, it was a moving family reunion of sorts. As Cathedral Conservator, I was fortunate to participate in each distinct phase of this artistic project—from conceptualization, to design, fabrication, installation and ultimately, appreciation.  What I observed is that inherent in the process of any “successful” artistic project (and by “successful,” I mean that the final work of art serves to enrich and inspire the recipient—not necessarily all recipients, but a significant number) is the mysterious transference of spiritual enthusiasm from subject matter through the artist to the recipient, with each participant in this process having a significant role to play. First of all, the subject matter, be it one or more individuals or a specific event, must have a compelling story to tell—a story that transformed the world in a positive fashion at a historic place in time, while also having the capacity to continue doing so as long as the story is conveyed in an effective manner. The artist then must discern the essential characteristics of the subject matter and devise an artistic expression that conveys the characteristics to the recipient with clarity, strength and inspiration.  In theological terms, the artist conceives a method to incarnate the passions of the subject matter and through creative skill, make them tangible to others observing the work in the present moment. Finally, the recipient must be a willing participant in the process and not simply a passive consumer.  He or she must exert an effort to understand the subject matter and appreciate the work of art to enjoy the benefits.  And the benefits can be enormous! Imagine transcending the limits of time and space to experience life in an earlier age, then to realize the similarities we share in the present age with those in the past.  Historic figures come to life; the passions that inspired them can come alive in us, enriching not only our personal existence, but the manner in which we continue to live and interact with others.  Truly, good art is more than simply an inanimate object.  It has the power and potential to be a transformative, life-giving experience.   [1] Sedilia is the traditional name for a grouping of three seats built into the thickness of the south wall of the sanctuary, adjacent to the high altar.  The seats are intended for the clergy who are leading worship. John Thu, 10 Mar 2016 22:57:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:20 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/19/The-Great-Portal-of-Vezelay-church-architecture.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=19 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=19&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/19/The-Great-Portal-of-Vezelay-church-architecture.aspx Years ago, a good friend told me about an experience that transformed his life, a provocative experience that, once shared, also transformed my way of thinking and shaped the direction of my vocational life to this day. When my friend was a young man—a recent graduate of architecture school—he visited the Pyramids of Giza for the first time.  He found the enormous, ancient structures so awe-inspiring, so breathtaking that suddenly he found himself thinking, “If this is the answer, what then was the question?”  Now, I am both a historical architect and an Episcopal priest, and often encounter quite a few ancient and awe-inspiring structures on my own.  When I do, my friend’s enticing question comes to mind.  A case in point – consider the magnificent great portal at Vézelay Abbey – a 12th-century, Christian monastic place of worship in the Burgundy region of France.  What was the question that inspired such a concrete, extraordinary answer as this? To begin with, Vézelay was a Benedictine/Cluniac monastery with roots extending back to the 8th century CE.  By the 11th century, the abbey claimed to have the relics of Mary Magdalene, whom tradition believes was a close friend of Jesus of Nazareth and the first person to witness Christ’s resurrection.  Tradition also describes her as one whom Christ “healed of evil spirits and infirmities” (Luke 8:2) and consequently is revered by many as the patron saint of the penitent.  As a result, large numbers of people made the pilgrimage to Vézelay and asked for Mary Magdalene’s blessing; so many, in fact, that construction began in 1096 on a large basilica to properly accommodate the holy relics and the large crowds visiting the site. While Vézelay was a pilgrimage destination in its own right, it also served as a starting point for one of the most revered pilgrimages in medieval Europe – the Camino de Santiago.  Second only to Rome and Jerusalem, Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain was the shrine of James the Greater, an apostle of Jesus, and for centuries, Christians from across Europe made the pilgrimage to this sacred place in large numbers.  One of four major routes through France to Santiago began in Vézelay. Vézelay also played a prominent role in the life of western Christianity for more than three hundred years, as it hosted a number of important historical events.  In 1146, the Second Crusade to the Holy Land was launched from Vézelay with Bernard of Clairvaux preaching to the inspired crowds.  A short time later in 1166, Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Becket, while exiled in France, used the pulpit at Vézelay to issue a threat to excommunicate King Henry II of England and his advisors as part of their ongoing quarrel.  Then in 1190, King Richard the Lion-Hearted of England and King Philip II Augustus of France met at Vézelay and from here launched the Third Crusade to the Holy Land.  And in 1217, Francis of Assisi reportedly founded the first French community of the Friars Minor at Vézelay.  Clearly, as the great portal was being designed and carved around the year 1130, Vézelay had established itself as a significant, cosmopolitan, spiritual center in the context and culture of medieval Christian Europe that demanded its architecture be sufficiently sophisticated to reflect its role and prominence. The great portal of Vézelay is located within the narthex of the basilica, the central portal of three that provide access into the nave.  Approaching the great portal for the first time, one immediately is struck by the sheer size of the composition – it is massive.  Its overall height is nearly 40 feet – as tall as a 4-story building – and its width approaches 30 feet.  The carved stonework is punctuated by two door openings, each nearly 20 feet high by 10 feet wide.  Directly above the door openings is an enormous, semi-circular, carved stone tympanum, which dominates the composition.  Yet in spite of being stone, the tympanum seems to levitate overhead, due in large measure to the energetic poses of the carved human figures. Contrary to other Romanesque sculpture which often depicts human figures in flat and static poses, Vézelay’s figures are vibrant, brimming with energy and enthusiasm, invoking T.S. Eliot’s words, “It moves perpetually in its stillness.”  The central figure is Christ, majestically reaching more than 10 feet in height, in spite of his seated position.  He is enveloped by an almond-shaped mandorla – the traditional symbol representing a sacred moment transcending time and space.  Gathered around him are the twelve, life-sized apostles, with six on each side.  Shooting forth from the fingers of Christ’s outstretched arms and striking the head of each apostle are what seem to be beams of divine power, infusing the apostles with energy, solidarity and wisdom.  Despite being damaged from centuries of vandalism, the vitality emanating from the carvings still is obvious.  The full, interactive postures of each figure, along with the swirling pleats and patterns in the fabric of their robes all contribute to the exuberance of the scene. Encircling above Christ and his apostles and in the horizontal lintel below are a series of small, carved vignettes depicting people whose lives are transformed by the Gospel message, as well as people in far-off lands who are yet to learn of Christ.  Some are interesting caricatures with giant ears and dog-like faces indicating that, at the time, there still existed civilizations largely unknown by and mysterious to western Europeans. Surrounding all of these figures in the outer, semicircular band of stone molding called an archivolt are the signs of the zodiac and months of the year indicating that this theophany, this incident of divine intervention, was not simply a product of creative imagination, but actually took place on this earthly plane of human existence within the sphere of time and space.  So then, what does it mean? Obviously, the scale of the great portal is meant to impress and inspire all who see it.  Its immensity and imagery promise those who approach, that by passing through its doors, the space found on the other side will be extraordinary – incomparable in size and appearance, and the activities that take place there will be mystical and life-changing.  After all, the great portal is an entrance to sacred space and the medieval mind believed that each church is an earthly image of Heaven.  Yet in spite of its majestic and otherworldly appearance, the great portal does not seem threatening or discriminating.  In fact, it seems inviting, extending a warm welcome to those who come near.  It brings to mind the words of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…” (Matthew 23:37) Perhaps, another helpful interpretation can be drawn from a similar portal of the Medieval Period, albeit one found in an epic poem of world literature.  In the early 14th century, Dante Alighieri completed his masterpiece, the Divine Comedy, and in it he describes the inscription carved above the entrance to Hell, which reads, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”  While certainly Dante’s portal to Hell is the antithesis of Vézelay, it helps underline the intent for which the great portal was created.  Rather than words of warning and pending despair, the great portal of Vezelay offers encouragement and hope.  It was designed to awaken and arouse all those who see it: Be defiantly hopeful, all who enter here.  The love of God will make you strong!  Just as Christ, the Incarnation of God, transformed the lives of his apostles, the same transformation is available to you, if you pass through this portal and commit to living the Christian life. For centuries, art historians have pondered the meaning of the great portal.  What are these magnificent carvings meant to represent?  What stories are they trying to tell?  Some believe the great portal represents the day of Pentecost, as described in the “Acts of the Apostles.”  Others suggest it depicts Christ’s mission to the apostles, as found in the Gospels, and was used to justify and inspire the crusades which were launched from Vézelay.  One argued the carvings serve as a defense of the addition of the filioque clause to the Nicene Creed, when in 1098, the Western Church asserted that the Holy Spirit proceeds simultaneously from the Father and the Son, against which the Eastern Church vehemently disagreed and the split between the two churches widened.  In the end, these interpretations seem to focus primarily on the literal meaning of the carvings, rather than the purpose for which the great portal was created. Good spiritual architecture encourages people to engage the mystery it encapsulates.  While the design of the great portal of Vezelay depicts an incident from the pages of Christian scripture, it also points to a divine reality that transcends time and history, but nevertheless exists in the present moment.  It reminds you and me that unseen forces larger than anything humanly possible are undergirding the existence of daily life and we are more than mere spectators.  In truth, we are participants in this epic drama as well. So, what was the purpose of the great portal of Vezelay?  What was the question that inspired such a concrete, extraordinary answer as this? Certainly, the great portal was meant to be more than simply a doorway.  The carvings were intended to serve a purpose beyond mere decoration.  Vézelay, because of its prominence and popularity, was positioned to influence a great many people from all ranks of medieval society and the great portal was created to encourage them to discover and deepen their commitment to Christ and his church.  Like an icon from the Orthodox tradition, the great portal is intended to be a means to the end, but not the end itself.  Its purpose is to draw people toward it and away from the profane, secular world; to usher them through a physical, mental and spiritual transformation; to adequately prepare them to enter the sacred space that lies ahead, and then direct their attention beyond the portal itself to the world of God beyond. John Fri, 04 Dec 2015 19:22:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:19 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/17/The-Accord-of-Winchester-by-a-Church-Architect.aspx#Comments 3 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=17 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=17&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/17/The-Accord-of-Winchester-by-a-Church-Architect.aspx During one visit to Canterbury Cathedral, I had the good fortune to tour the Cathedral Archives and see a number of fascinating and wonderful things.  At one point, the Cathedral Archivist hands me a document, made of parchment and obviously quite old.  The text is Latin and so, admitting my ignorance, I ask for a translation.  She proceeds to explain, in unassuming British fashion, that the document I now hold in my hands clarifies the roles and responsibilities of the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Archbishop of York, and clearly establishes the superiority of the former over the latter.  The agreement is known as the “Accord of Winchester,” it dates from 1072 and the prominent signature at the bottom of the parchment is that of William the Conqueror! “Oh, really?” I say, trying not to sound too-overly impressed.  Even though at the same time, my mind is racing to catch up with the reality of the object clutched in my bare hands, trying to fully comprehend the significance of this seemingly simple, one-page document.  Vague memories from church history class help me to remember that this is the agreement that ultimately led to the complete reform and reorganization of the English Church following William’s conquest, when Anglo-Saxon bishops were replaced with Norman bishops.  What’s more, it became the tipping point that put into motion the effort to rebuild every existing Anglo-Saxon cathedral in England in the subsequent Norman fashion.  Much of the architecture we enjoy today in the great medieval cathedrals of England was brought into existence because of this document.  Truly, this unpretentious piece of parchment caused a seismic shift not only in English history, but its aftershocks went on to impact the Anglican tradition as it spread its way around the globe.  It’s not every day I have the opportunity to touch such an ancient and extraordinary artifact of human history, and it was thrilling! Ancient artifacts, such as the Accord of Winchester, have a transcendent quality about them.  Not only did they influence civilization at the time they were created, but continually do so.  Generations have highly regarded and carefully protected them, setting them apart as unique and special.  Their significance and ability to transcend the ages infuses them with a sense of immutability, they exude a force of character beyond that of the simple mundane.  They serve as reminders that we are part of a continuum much larger than ourselves.  They help us to see beyond the limitations of our individuality and finitude to inspire comfort, confidence and optimism.  They are a necessary elixir to those of us diminished by the fleeting, trivial nature of living in a “throw-away society,” expecting immediate gratification of our needs, and roiling in a constant state of change.  Rarely, do we find ourselves in the presence of such objects of eternal value.  But when we do, they shift the focus of attention away from our own selfish needs, raise our level of consciousness above the primal instincts of mere survival, and remind us of the priceless quality of life.  Thanks be to God! John Fri, 31 Aug 2012 21:40:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:17 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/9/Church-Architect-Oversees-Washington-National-Cathedral-Rare-Book-Project.aspx#Comments 0 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=9 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=9&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/9/Church-Architect-Oversees-Washington-National-Cathedral-Rare-Book-Project.aspx Upon joining Washington National Cathedral in 2005, I assumed responsibility for the Cathedral’s rare book collection.  The collection consisted of over nine thousand volumes on religious subject matter, as well as secular.  Many books predate 1750, including a number of incunabula, with several quite valuable editions and a few that are priceless.  The collection came into existence during the Cathedral’s first century as donors offered their personal collections of books, visiting dignitaries presented them as gifts, and specific acquisitions were made by the Cathedral Library while it existed. However during the 1970s, the Cathedral Library formally was closed and its librarian released.  Soon thereafter, many items were sold or donated to other institutions.  Yet due to donor restrictions, a portion of the rare book collection remained in storage at the Cathedral.  Over the ensuing years, volunteers attempted to manage the collection with limited, consistent success.  By the time I assumed responsibility, an accurate inventory of the entire collection did not exist; background information on each item, including donor records, was not readily accessible; the location of certain specific items could not be confirmed; the quality of security was questionable; and the books were deteriorating due to poor environmental conditions. Immediately, I petitioned Governance for the necessary funds to bring the rare book collection under control and establish a strategic plan for proper stewardship, and was granted preliminary support to begin. First, we hired a research library consultant to inventory the collection on the shelves and, working with an assistant, confirm that list with an existing written inventory, resolving inconsistencies and entering the information into an electronic database.  The consultant then was to collect all background information on each item, including all donor agreements, and enter this information into the database as well.  This effort required research in numerous files located in various departments, reviewing committee meeting minutes and Cathedral periodicals, along with interviewing a number of staff and volunteers who participated in the life of collection at some time. As the donor agreements were collected and reviewed, it became obvious the Cathedral had not used a consistent gift vehicle over the years in receiving donations, so the terms varied widely.  We then hired a lawyer specializing in non-profit donations to review the agreements and make recommendations on their proper interpretation.  This information also went into the database. As the consultant inventoried the collection, she was directed to review the condition of each book and note the general degree of conservation required.  We enlisted the help of professional volunteers to lend their expertise and provide immediate attention to the most pressing deterioration problems.  They also provided estimates for the next level of conservation treatment.  Working with a small amount of funds, we made minor improvements to the existing mechanical equipment to provide more stable levels of temperature and humidity.  Also, tighter security controls were installed. In the final report, I directed the consultant to analyze the content, distribution and associated value of the collection’s subject matter to help Governance better understand the breadth and specifics of the collection in order to make informed decisions.  Also, we made recommendations for next steps in the responsible care for the collection.  In the end, the entire collection was verified, an inventory and all associated information was consolidated in one location on an accessible electronic database and confirmed, and the environmental conditions improved. For the first time in over 40 years, the Cathedral regained control of its rare book collection, so it now can be better stewards of the collection’s perpetual care and honor the trust bestowed upon the Cathedral by donors in the past. John Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:26:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:9 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 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/3/Historic-Architectural-Consultant-to-General-Services-Administration.aspx#Comments 2 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/RssComments.aspx?TabID=82&ModuleID=425&ArticleID=3 http://johnrunkle.net/DesktopModules/DnnForge%20-%20NewsArticles/Tracking/Trackback.aspx?ArticleID=3&PortalID=0&TabID=82 http://johnrunkle.net/Blog/tabid/82/ID/3/Historic-Architectural-Consultant-to-General-Services-Administration.aspx   From 1992 to 1994, while serving as the Principal Historical Architect for Frazier Associates, we served as a historic architectural consultant for the General Services Administration (GSA) on selected historic federal building projects in the National Capital Region of Washington, DC.  The buildings included the International Trade Commission Building, former Navy Medical School Buildings, Department of Commerce Building, Department of Education Building, Federal Courthouse, Tax Court, Veteran’s Administration Building, and the Winder Building.  My responsibilities involved conducting in-depth historical research to determine the construction history of each building; submitting recommendations to GSA’s Historic Preservation Officer describing possible courses of action with historic building problems; providing analysis of original materials such as paint and mortar; preparing construction drawings and specifications for specialized restoration and conservation work; and reviewing the specialized construction in the field. In this role, I was a member of large project teams of professionals consisting of architects, engineers, interior designers, fire protection specialists, and representatives from the respective federal departments and agencies housed in each building.  With each project, a new team was assembled, who often had not worked together previously.  For these projects to be successful, I approached them with a spirit of coordination and cooperation, and cultivated the same attitude within the project team. One project, involving the Department of Commerce building, called for the installation of new fire barrier walls at strategic locations along the primary corridors of the one-time largest, horizontally-continuous building in the world.  The fire marshal for the project initially insisted the fire barrier walls had to be of solid construction with solid doors kept in a closed position.  While the project team agreed that improving fire safety for the building occupants was necessary, such a design solution would dramatically compromise the integrity of the building’s historic interiors and seriously impede a successful conclusion to the project. However after extensive research, I located a manufacturer of fire-rated, glass door assemblies that provided the necessary degree of fire separation required for this project, and also offered a minimalistic design that was compatible with the historic interiors.  In addition, due to the proposed fire barrier’s innovative design, the fire marshal was agreeable to the notion that the new doors could be held in an open position by electro-magnetic locks, until such a time when an activated fire alarm would release the locks and the doors would close automatically.   A second project involved the exterior rehabilitation of the Veteran’s Administration Building.  Since the building’s construction in the early twentieth-century, the original glass-roof canopies over the primary entrances were altered dramatically from their original design and, in some instances, replaced entirely, due in large part to their failure to shed water properly.  A critical component of this project was the expectation that new canopies would be created to replicate the original design, but eliminate the earlier flaws.  In addition, each exterior entrance must be made accessible to the disabled, a design challenge made difficult by the extreme change in elevation from sidewalk level to the entrance floor level and the minimal amount of frontage area in which to accommodate a ramp.   In close collaboration with the project architect, the structural engineer, and the landscape architect, I developed new glass entrance canopies that are very similar in appearance to the original designs, yet allow water to drain from the exposed surfaces properly.  In addition, new ramps were designed and constructed that provide accessibility to the disabled and are sympathetic in appearance to the historic building.   These two examples illustrate the ongoing need to incorporate contemporary building requirements into the fabric of historic buildings—a task that too often results in a clash of sensibilities and an ugly design solution that compromises the value of the historic building.  However, with clear communication, creative design and a shared desire to produce an excellent product, I was able to assist the project teams in building consensus and achieving successful results. JRAdmin Tue, 20 Dec 2011 02:18:00 GMT f1397696-738c-4295-afcd-943feb885714:3