Acts 20 :7a On the first day of the week, when we met to break bread…
In Scripture there is scant detail about where the “People of the Way” met to break bread. This, however, never stopped the church from imagining throughout history what it should/could look like. This past fall I spent a little over three weeks traveling through Europe visiting among other things churches constructed over a thousand years ago. I marveled at how in the absence of modern equipment these churches/cathedrals could have been built. I wondered how many people died in the attempt to build them. I wondered what inspired them to make such elaborate spaces of worship. I wondered what they were like when filled with people. But what really stuck me with these “monuments” to God was the knowledge that every painting, sculpture, stain glass window, altar, was meant to convey a spiritual meaning, and make an impression either directly or indirectly on the worshipper.
From a modern perspective much of the architecture was perhaps over the top. The presence of gargoyles (intended to keep away evil spirits) seemed to be less than welcoming but maybe that was their point – enter at your own risk into God’s house. But despite menacing gargoyles, and crowds of tourists taking pictures, one could not help but notice how many others entered quietly, took
a seat and spent time in prayer, meditation, or perhaps confession. I know here in North America such serendipitous postures are not likely to happen outside of church services. It is not the habit of people to enter a local church off the street in the middle of the weekday to pray, and/or worship. For starters exceptions aside, the church is likely to be locked.
Several years ago, I took my class in Worship Studies on a brief tour of four churches in Winnipeg. Our first stop was an Anglican church. The Priest explained its wooden arched ceiling was intended to represent the inverted hull of a boat
that symbolically carries the congregants through the vicissitudes of their spiritual life. In the middle of the church were three steps (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) leading to the altar. On one side of the altar is a podium for the speaker and on the other side is a place for reading Scripture. All quite typical for the Anglican tradition where the Eucharist is the central focus of the worship service.
Our second visit was a modest middle-aged Protestant church in the middle of a populated residential area. No foyer to speak of, once one entered the doors you were in the sanctuary – a modest space with worn wooden pews. Here in the reformed tradition
the pulpit is the center of attention with the communion table located beneath it. To get to the “Word” one must pass through the “cross.”
Our third church was rooted in a modern evangelical tradition. Among the four we visited it was the largest in terms of congregation. While the building is significant in size, its box like shape blends in with the industrial part of the city where it is located. When driving by the church a second glance is often required to notice that indeed it is a church. This is a church built first for function not aesthetics. Enter the church and the foyer has more square feet than most church sanctuaries in the Province of Manitoba. The actual sanctuary space doubles as a gym floor. In fairness, the church was intentionally built to be a community center. The host pastor was gracious in explaining his philosophy for the students. “This building is not a church in any classic sense. We built a community center for the area. On Friday evenings and on Sundays it functions as a gathering place for the congregation. But the real church is the people. It just so happens this address provides a space to meet". A space I might add that is highly versatile replete with spotlights, musical accruements and whatever else is needed for the moment.
Our fourth church was a newly built Catholic church. In contrast to the previous visit every feature of this church from its flowing baptismal waters in the foyer connected to the “Living Waters” Columbarium in the basement, to its sculptures, to its circular seating arrangement, everything is meant to convey some kind of meaning/experience. With the sanctuary surrounded by natural light this is intended as a sacred safe space where parishioners are encouraged to come during the week to pray, seek solace and so forth.
When we had a chance to debrief in the classroom a few days later, I asked my students for some feedback. They all appreciated the walkabout, and some told me that it cursed them insomuch as now when they enter a church building, they are looking at the church and asking what kind of meaning is conveyed. What does the space communicate to them about their understanding of God and the Christian life. I then singled out the last two churches which were on two ends of a spectrum - one built to be functional, and one built for a particular aesthetic.
I knew of the two approaches the later one was the most unfamiliar. In their broadly evangelical traditions, the church is first and foremost a meeting space. Comfort, perhaps a coffee bar and if possible, a concert like atmosphere by default is their big worship experience. But when I asked them to cast a vote for which one impressed them the most to my surprise, they overwhelmingly opted for the church which grounded its space in a “sacred posture.”
The church was not a family to be joined but a fortress to be stormed. The church was for breaking into.
Was that because it was more novel in reference to their upbringing. If the choice was given, would they really abandon their functional church for one that paid attention to aesthetics. It is difficult to know.
Truth be told the Bible is largely silent on the nature of the early church gathering places. They met where they could. In his book Open Secrets: A Memoir of Faith and Discovery, Richard Lischer tells the story of a young woman who had the habit of breaking into his church late at night to pray. Catching her one evening in the act, he admonished her to stop and even offered her a key which she refused. She preferred her method of entrance through a jimmied window. Concluded Lischer, “as far as my mystery woman was concerned, the church was not a family to be joined but a fortress to be stormed. The church was for breaking into.”1.
My late mother who modeled hospitality was fond of saying, “if you want to visit me, drop in anytime, if you want to visit our house make an appointment.” Wherever we find the space for meeting with Jesus should the same be said of it.
Richard Lischer, Open Secrets. Broadway books, (2001): p.104
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