When was the last time you experienced wonder in a church sanctuary?
I can remember one of the first times I experienced wonder in a church. I walked off bustling, noisy Fifth Avenue in Manhattan to discover the sacred hush in St. Patrick’s Cathedral. The sanctuary door was a threshold from one world into the next, a transcendent reality that caused not only me, but all my fellow visitors, to quiet our voices, our bodies, and our souls. We stood still, beholden to beauty, wooed by wonder.
Not every church sanctuary has this effect on people; but the constructed space of worship can, and maybe should, be a conduit for wonder.
This fall, I visited the Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona, Arizona, named by Architectural Digest as one of “The 10 Most Beautiful Churches in the World.” While St. Patrick’s is mammoth and majestic, the Chapel of the Holy Cross, by contrast, is intimate and humble. Yet, walking into the Chapel of the Holy Cross evoked in me the same feeling of wonder I experienced all those years ago crossing the threshold into St. Patrick’s. Whether a cathedral or a chapel, sanctuary can be built for wonder.
The Chapel of the Holy Cross was the brainchild of sculptor and philanthropist Marguerite Brunswig Staude. During the construction of the Empire State Building, she noticed the cross beams of the skyscraper resembled a gigantic cross. Inspired, she thought this would be the perfect design for a church. It took almost 25 years for her idea to be built.
Reflecting later on this journey, she wrote some magnificent thoughts on the theology of the church:
When we consider that just as the soul inhabits a human frame, and the house is built to shelter that frame, it is the mission of the church to shelter and inspire both soul and body. It therefore should not only be a monument to faith, but a spiritual fortress so charged with God, that it spurs man’s spirit Godward,
It reminds me of poet Gerard Manley Hopkins’ memorable line: “The world is charged with the grandeur of God.” And so should be our sanctuaries for worship be—spiritual fortresses so charged with God that we are captivated into God’s presence. The built space of the church, the gathering place of the people of God, stirs our spirit heavenward.
In worship, we bask in beauty but we also create, cultivate, and curate beauty. As Brunswig Staude wrote, “Throughout the ages the church has not only been a patron sponsoring the arts, but has used architecture, sculpture, and painting to illustrate her teachings, thus proving that truth is beauty through her prayers in color and stone.”
This task of creating, cultivating, and curating beauty is not an end in itself—it is to draw us heavenward to the God who makes beautiful things. The task inspires us to express the truth and beauty of our faith, not only in words, but also in color and in stone. The experience of beauty evokes the response of wonder and wonder draws us into grandeur, into the sacred, and into the unknown.
The era of grand church construction is probably long past. Most of us will never receive the commission to construct a sanctuary from scratch. But we can find and explore the beauty therein whether in a grand cathedral or a simple chapel, a storefront or a suburban campus. There is beauty to be found, and where there is beauty, there is wonder rousing us heavenward.
14 Responses
Thank you, Blaine, for reminding us to look for beauty–in sanctuaries, in the outdoors, in other people, wherever we are.
I pity the many people who have to worship in unwindowed auditorium illuminated only by electronic screens and lights, with all sounds electronically controlled at a mixing board. Everything controlled by the leaders. Is wonder impossible in such a place? Maybe not impossible, not with God, but certainly unwelcome. Without big windows, how can the angels get in?
I love this last sentence; it makes me smile as I picture this in my own imagination!
Such an important point – when we humans control everything, where do we let God in?
YES to the big windows. That stirring scene in *Conclave” when a terrorist’s bomb blows out the windows in the stale room where the cardinals have flocked together doesn’t open the place for angels only, but the Spirit’s dangerous wind breathes life into evil of competition and infighting among many of the clerics. Thanks, Dan.
I visited the chapel for the first time a year ago. It’s a remarkable place, both in its architecture and in the way out it emerges from the rocky cliffs that surround it. The view out the huge windows at the back is more inspiring, I found, than that of the gigantic Superhero Jesus corpus over the altar. But maybe that’s just my Protestant prejudice. And yet some things troubled me. No Sunday masses are celebrated here, only some midweek services. There are no classrooms for Christian education, only a stunning sanctuary and a basement gift shop. (And no restrooms available, only portapotties at the base of the hill, but that’s probably a needed adjustment to the things of tourists.) I had the impression that the local faithful (it’s administered by St John Vianney Parish in Sedona) see it as a tourist attraction more than a place of worship. A place of beauty it is indeed. But one that arose more from the obsessions (and the wealth) of a local rancher than from the dreams (and ministry priorities) of a worshipping community. A word from the Grinch . . .
David’s concerns and questions raise some interesting ideas. As Protestants, do we have any space for “chapels” — buildings without active congregations? And if we don’t, should we? I recall two of the more stunning buildings I’ve encountered (are they churches?) — Le Corbusier’s Colline Notre Dame du Haut in Ronchamp and Thorncrown Chapel in NW Arkansas. Neither, to my knowledge, has a regular gathering community. Yet both seemed “holy” and filled with wonder. On the other end of the spectrum, some of you will remember “Wayside Chapels” from the 1960s (especially in the Midwest?) little buildings along highways provided for travelers to pause and worship. How do we understand and value such places? Has our “the church is not a building” attitude blinded us to beauty and wonder? Asking, not asserting.
And the three chapels at JFK Airport, Catholic, Jewish, and Protestant, of which three the Protestant was the least inspired, but now all gone. Yes, a chapel, I figure, is usually a non-sacramental place for individuals to pray in, and usually designated to a specific saint or theme or locale or some other specificity.
Wonder…even in a hospital room. Without looking for it, I realized wonder surrounded me at the bedside of my husband who was recovering from a stroke. The hospital wall revealed serene scenery and soothing music, as my husband (a retired pastor) quoted scripture. A miracle in itself.
My favorite time of day in our church’s sanctuary is while the sun is setting and casting its light through the colored glass in the western wall. It’s all the more precious because there’s never a worship service at that time, it’s a blessing most people miss.
Lovely piece, meditating on the places we worship in. I, too, visited the Chapel of the Holy Cross and it is a marvel. Although, like David pointed out, it is not used to house a vibrant congregation, I saw it’s emergence from the rock as a metaphor for how we function, safe on our rock, Christ. The rock supports and sustains that building, without that support it would cascade down the hill. Each of us saw something different, which is a marvel in itself.
Like you, I am thankful for the beautiful sanctuaries I have worshiped in (or visited, like St. Patrick’s). And I’m also thankful for the plain sanctuaries (and even the not-so-pretty ones) where God has done beautiful things, including the likely-dark Upper Room that was filled with the Spirit’s light on Pentecost and the very dark stable where the Light was born. Thank you, Lord, for magnificent cathedrals and darkened hovels where you are doing glorious things.
Thank you, Blaine, for this reflection. Sanctuaries can truly evoke wonder. And for those of you in West Michigan who might be interested in visiting a sanctuary inspired (actually!) by The Chapel of the Holy Cross, you are welcome to visit Maranatha Christian Reformed Church in Holland. While Maranatha’s building is not perched amid anything akin to the breath-taking red rocks (and does not house a gift shop), we do gather for worship every Sunday at 9:30 a.m. We also provide indoor restrooms for all 🙂 The family of God in Christ at Maranatha would be glad to welcome you!