My House Is a House of Prayer
A Catholic does not have to be a liturgical expert, or architect, to know that there's something wrong, or at least "radically different" in contemporary church design. Walk into most churches built since 1975 when they are not in use, and you'll see some innovations: nonparallel aisles, hard-to-find tabernacle, plain altar-table in the middle of the sanctuary, instead of against the back wall. You'll also find unadorned walls, perhaps with abstract or modest stations of the Cross, a prominent baptistery, either at the entrance or near the sanctuary, understated "reconciliation rooms," and almost no statuary. When empty of worshippers, the church shows differences from the traditional model, but the changes are fairly subtle.
To experience the real difference, however, you must return when a liturgical celebration is going on. Choose a service which is fairly full. Sit in the pews with the people, not as presiding priest or deacon. Experience what they do, and wonder what we have allowed to happen in our worship spaces!
Because Sacrosanctum Concilium called for "actual participation" by all present, the cruciform layout of the medieval church, maintained in most church design through the 1960s, has been largely replaced. In its stead we have enthroned a series of "familial" configurations that can be characterized as "roundish." Few churches are actually round, of course, because that's a very expensive way to build an auditorium. Most take the approach of creating a rectangular structure with seating arranged around the altar (see diagram). In this way, a building that would ordinarily have the sanctuary against the short wall, with seating arranged on either side of a main aisle, takes an alternate configuration.
The intention is laudable-to center attention on the altar table, and to create a feeling of being "gathered around" as a family gathers around a common supper table for meals. In an empty church this is exactly the effect obtained. If our churches remained empty, the design would work very well.[1] The "problem" is that our church buildings tend to fill with "The Church," the people of God. It's only when we attempt to make these new structures work as worship spaces that problems become evident, and the space fails.
American Catholics come in all sizes and shapes. They have varying tastes, and varying senses of what is appropriate in divine worship. Some will come to church in their Sunday finery; others, in blue jeans, tank tops, cutoffs or leather miniskirts. In a traditional church structure, where the line-of-sight automatically focuses along the nave into the sanctuary, what other worshippers are wearing (or doing) comes into direct vision only if they move in front of us. And, when all are seated, they are not easily visible behind the bench backs. In a "wrap-around" church design, however, distracting dress or activities are frequently in the direct field of vision of a worshipper. This leads to a confusion of focus that makes listening, singing, responding more difficult.
This problem is particularly apparent during processions. These occur at every Mass during Communion, but are also used at the veneration of the Cross, at the distribution of palms and ashes, and at special blessings. Since movement naturally attracts attention, and the worshipper's vision is cluttered by much movement in several directions, focus on a stationary object such as a venerated cross, the altar, or the Sacrament is not facilitated.
Additionally, the altar and lectern of many contemporary churches are, in a filled church, difficult to see. In a traditional church, visibility is enhanced by the long aisle, pointing directly up to the "high altar." This is true in both nave and transept. The altar is on the center line of both long and short axes of the church. Worshippers' attention is drawn up the aisle toward the liturgical action.
In the "contemporary" design, however, aisles are shorter, and so less directed toward any focal point. One's attention naturally is drawn from side to side, following the lector, presiding priest, deacon, cantor or choir. This constitutes a kind of "planned distraction" of the wrong kind, since it naturally leads the eye to wander in other directions.
Planned distractions are not all bad. Consider devotional statuary. Our French, German, Italian and other European ancestors fought Calvinist iconoclasm, and their works left us churches that featured statuary of varying size and quality. All of it, however, was intended to foster devotion and prayer. By removing attractive statuary of any kind from our churches, and leaving bare walls and insipid banners, we have lost much of that inspired faith.
The lack of a central axis to a church, and the accompanying reduction in the height of the church, also creates an acoustic problem. In general, a good pipe-organ, recommended by the Vatican as the instrument of choice for worship, should be mounted directly on the center line of the building. To sound out properly, it should be played in an environment with hard-surfaced walls and a high ceiling. Instead, contemporary church design emphasizes low ceilings, soft materials, and high worshipper density. This makes it prudent to build a very large (and expensive) organ in order to serve the singing. In a more traditional design, with hard-surfaced walls, smaller organs can have excellent sound. Instead, architects have to build in extensive sound amplification systems, and parishes frequently feel they have to settle for electronic imitations.[2]
Pew design takes a wasteful turn with the new orientation. Note in the diagram the overlap of the biased pews. As you look from front to back, each pew is slightly longer than the one in front. This makes life difficult for the people on the end. If the end positions are taken, then kneelers are not available (more on this later). If not, then these seats are wasted. The "bias setup" of pews will reduce the effective comfortable pew space in a church by 10-20%!
But the most recent innovation in pew design is the elimination of kneelers. Doing away with kneelers saves trouble, space (the designer can put the benches closer together) and money. It forces the congregation to pray in the politically correct manner (standing). But it makes difficult or impossible one of the most ancient and well-attested symbols of community prayer, kneeling together (Acts 20:36). It is accomplished by "church consultants" with total disregard for the clear instructions of the Liturgy (prescribing the congregation to kneel at certain times), and the desire of the majority of Catholics. It leaves the church looking like a Methodist meeting house. It makes certain devotional exercises, like Benediction, impossible to accomplish in proper form. It eliminates a primary symbol of repentance and reverence in the presence of the almighty God. More than anything done to our worship in the last twenty-five years, it de-Catholicizes worship.
The length of pews in "modern" church design creates additional problems. In order to accommodate the number of persons necessary, using space-wasting angular pew placement, it is necessary to increase the average length of a pew. Pews forty feet in length are not uncommon in new churches. The only arguable "positives" in a long pew are that it makes it easier to hold hands during the Lord's Prayer,[3] and to pass the collection plate! But there are numerous reasons to keep pews short: it makes it unnecessary to stand up at the beginning of Mass to tell early arrivers to move toward the center of the pew (another distraction!). It reduces the irritation caused when someone in the center has to excuse himself and shuffle past twenty linear feet of human knees to get out. Finally, it permits penitents who have gravely sinned and know they ought not receive Communion to remain in place without embarrassment. If they are at either end of the forty-foot pew, they must endure being tripped over by ten or fifteen persons as they go to or return from Communion.
Where should church design go from here? First, of course, the American church needs to admit that most of the experimental configurations have been failures. Second, we need to go back to the seminaries and priests' meetings and explain why they have been failures, and why churches ought to go back to a cruciform or modified cruciform pattern. At the least, rectangular "box" auditoria should return to a configuration in which pews all face in one direction, and the sanctuary is on the long axis. Third, we need to tell church architects, through conferences and articles, what the demands of the Liturgy are. They believe all we want are soft little boxes where we can all stand around and plunk guitars and hold hands. They need to understand the Liturgy in its proper form, so that they can design spaces that are conducive to prayer.
Prayer. That's what sacred space is about- promoting common and individual prayer. We have lost that sense of facilitating prayer in the past quarter century. It's high time we listened to the Savior's voice: "My house is a house of prayer" and begin building and renovating toward his purpose, not our own. •
Endnotes
1 This comment is not intended as sarcasm. As any architect will admit, many ideas for communal space look a lot better on paper than they turn out in reality.
2 Even in churches with "marshmallow" acoustics, a real pipe organ is often affordable. Extensive unification and the use of "used" pipes can bring the price of the "real thing" within reach of nearly any church.
3 Where did this custom of holding hands during the Our Father originate? It's almost certainly a product of charismatic and "home" Masses. It detracts from the meaning of the Lord's Prayer as an individual preparation for communion, and even reduces the symbolism of the Pax that follows.
Mr. W. Patrick Cunningham received his B.A. and M.A. in theology from St. Mary's University of Texas. He also earned an M.A. in education from Stanford University. He has taught business ethics at Incarnate Word College and is on the adjunct faculty of San Antonio College. © The Homiletic & Pastoral Review, 86 Riverside Dr., New York, N.Y. 10024, (212) 799-2600.
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