Some Specific Shapes

To encourage further theological reflection, as well as architectural discussion, CT has invited others from various church traditions to respond to the article by Dr. Webber. Following are brief articles representing Baptist, Christian Brethren, Presbyterian, and Methodist perspectives, in contrast to Webber’s Episcopalian viewpoint.

The Baptist Journey

It can be generally said that most Baptist churches are characterized by certain building features that are determined by Baptist theological emphases:

• An emphasis on the centrality of the Bible means that the pulpit is usually centrally located.

• The emphasis on believer’s baptism and a regenerate church calls for the baptistry to occupy a prominent place in the building.

• The importance of the public imitation or the altar call means that the congregation should be close to the minister and the pulpit; the evangelistic emphasis also means it should be easy for people to move forward to make decisions. The emphasis on intimacy and immediacy is also causing some younger ministers to use pulpits that are slender stands.

• Allowance for the choir to help in the evangelistic invitation means it is usually behind the pulpit. A recent movement toward a semicircular style of auditorium has seen some churches moving the choir to the side.

• The Lord’s Table is usually in front of the pulpit.

For economic reasons, and in order to encourage fellowship, many churches have smaller auditoriums and are holding multiple services. High steps are avoided in order to make it easier for people to come into the building.

Since they major on outreach, Baptists are especially interested in better ways to communicate. Provision is being made for visuals with rear projection screens. Consoles for special lighting effects are being installed. Development of sound systems that can encompass the entire congregation is characteristic of some of the new churches. Architectural provision is also being made for large youth choirs, and for musicals and drama in the worship center. Larger foyers are provided in certain urban centers to encourage fellowship both before and after services. In many pioneer fields, multipurpose buildings are used.

One problem Baptists confront is how to gain a sense of transcendence without building high ceilings. Problems related to building costs and heating and cooling have raised serious questions about the wisdom of constructing buildings with high ceilings. A theological teaching brought to bear on this problem says the biblical emphasis is more on a journey and return motif after the redemptive pattern of the Prodigal Son, rather than that of an upward and downward motif. The context is one of man revolting against God, God’s redemptive love plan, and man’s response and return. While some architectural means of emphasizing transcendence should be utilized, the dominant biblical emphasis is on journey and return. That means evangelism and missions. The architectural emphases mentioned above are thus of primary importance.

JOHN P. NEWPORT¹

Christian Brethren Simplicity

Robert webber’s presentation stirs mixed emotions in a reader whose convictions lie with the “Brethren movement.” Christian Brethren assemblies would heartily agree with the concept that worship is congregational, that architecture must not draw a distinction between “us” and “them,” and that all too often Protestant worship has been more of a talent show than a remembrance of Christ. Nevertheless, there is an underlying concern that Webber’s emphasis on symbolism in church architecture and in the form of worship will promote rather than attenuate both clericalism and sacramentalism.

The emphasis on symbolism seems appropriate enough for Old Testament worship, as evidenced by the detailed instruction given to Moses regarding the tabernacle and the priesthood (Exod. 25 to 31). If “the goal of church architecture is to incarnate the meaning of worship in space,” as Webber claims, would not the OT analogy lead us to expect some evidence or instruction along this line in the NT? The absence of NT examples is understandable, for the early church had neither the freedom nor resources to build cathedrals. The absence of NT instruction is another story.

In contrast to the detailed pattern given Moses, simplicity characterizes New Testament worship. “The hour comes and now is,” said Jesus, indicating a change from what had gone before, “when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth” (John 4:23). Were he referring only to the Samaritan sanctuary, his words might be interpreted as an endorsement of Jewish religion. His introduction, “Neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem” (v. 21), implies not only the abandoning of a central religious shrine, but also the significance of any building anywhere. “God is a Spirit,” and henceforth true worship must be in keeping with that truth (v. 24).

Shadows, examples, patterns, and figures are the terms used for Old Testament worship in the book of Hebrews (8:5; 9:1–9, 23–24; 10:1), implying that the symbolic—like the rest of the Levitical system—was to be done away, replaced by a reality unrelated to man-made edifices (Heb. 10:19–25; 13:10–16).

So it is that the simple table with its bread and cup appear to be the totality of New Testament symbolism in worship. The church buildings of Christian Brethren assemblies have been in keeping with this understanding of Scripture. Even the use of crosses as decorations has been avoided. Scripture texts will often be found on the walls, being truth itself, rather than symbols of the truth.

The pulpit will be on a raised platform for purposes of visibility and acoustics, but not as marking the exclusive territory of a clergy class. The Communion table will always be on the main floor, never separated from the people, even by an altar rail. The Brethren reject the distinction between clergy and laity, and the bread can be broken by (and so must be accessible to) any man in the congregation.

In earlier days it was common to rent rooms or halls for church services. Chairs were arranged in a square, with the table in the center, for Communion services and Bible studies. They were arranged, auditorium fashion, for public preaching.

In recent years it has been more common to build attractive chapels, install pews, and place the Communion table at the front. But worship still centers in an hour-long Communion service. Meditative hymns are interspersed with prayers, Scripture readings, devotional messages, and even periods of silence. The goal is that the heart and mind should be fixed on the reality of Christ in keeping with his command, “This do in remembrance of Me.”

JAMES A. STAHR²

The Presbyterian Pledge

I teach philosophy at Baylor University. Most of our classrooms are, in fact, lecture halls, with rows of desks for the students, and a lecturn (sometimes on a raised platform) up front. In these rooms, the professor does not need to say, “I’ll do the talking. Take notes; I’ll ask questions later.” The students know this because the arrangement makes clear they are to be an audience for what goes on at the front of the room. It is extremely difficult to get students to discuss things in such a room.

By contrast, the philosophy department also has a seminar room, where students sit around a large table. I find that there students will speak up because, again, the arrangement of things in the room “tells” them that this is appropriate behavior.

All of this is but another way of saving that surely the central thesis of Professor Webber’s paper is correct. Rather than argue with Webber’s thesis, I would prefer to illustrate some of its applications to the Presbyterian tradition, emphasizing the sacrament of baptism.

The sanctuary of the church I attend is more or less square, with the baptismal font, the Communion table, and the pulpit in the center. The pews, on four sides, all face toward the center. How does this affect baptism, which, Webber says, “… represents the entrance rite into the church”? If this is an “outward sign of an inward act,” or a symbol for the decision for Christ the new Christian has made, it would seem this ought to be done “up front,” with the baptismal font, or pool, placed at one end of the room where all could see it.

In short, baptism for Presbyterians is not a matter of someone’s doing something before an audience. The congregation has a central role; we pledge ourselves to bring up that child in what we take to be the Christian way. Having the baptismal font in the center of the congregation is an effective symbol of what we believe about baptism (what it is, and what it means).

In our church, after the child is baptized, an elder (usually a woman) will sometimes take the child and hold it aloft, carrying it around and showing it to different parts of the congregation. I used to think this was overly dramatic, “showy,” and just a bit foolish. Perhaps it is; but it is also an effective way of saving, “Look! This is the child who is now one of us, the child you and I have just agreed to bring up as a Christian, with all of our beliefs and traditions.” Again, all of this begins with a church “in the round.” Similar remarks could be made about Communion, and the way the table in the center symbolizes Presbyterian thinking on the subject.

But permit me a word of caution. I am a bit frightened by Webber’s suggestion (from Sovik) that we really should have “an all-purpose sanctuary with movable chairs,” and so forth. To say that there can be different architectural arrangements to symbolize differing forms of worship is not to say that “anything goes.”

During the 1960s, many Protestants (some of them Presbyterians) apparently noted that more young people attended “rock” festivals than church services. Maybe, they reasoned, we should make our services more like rock festivals. At least one prominent Presbyterian suggested that really to “have church,” we should take out the pews, roll up the rugs, and call in the guitars and drums. But that is another story, and considerations of space (not to mention my blood pressure) make it inappropriate to pursue the issue here.

ELMER H. DUNCAN³

A Methodist’S Melding

In his article, Professor Webber has identified several key elements in the relationship of the design of church building to the needs and desires of its congregation. It is the old architectural problem of form versus function.

Speaking as an architectural historian with a Methodist and Free Methodist background, I agree with Webber that a congregation needs to look carefully at itself and its practices before it begins to build or rebuild its ecclesiastical “home.” And the importance placed upon the concept of worship should be truly significant in determining the proper design of a church structure. Perhaps what is missing in Professor Webber’s remarks, however, is a wrestling with the issue of total design as well as in the interior space.

Professor Webber would have us believe we should all think alike on the matter of “active worship,” and that this agreement should then result in a central plan for interior space (akin to a theater in the round) so that the congregation will feel more participant. That may be fine for congregations that see themselves in that role. But the history of the church is grounded more in the tradition of the Latin cross floor plan, which calls for a longitudinal public nave. This has dominated church life for hundreds of years.

Why is it that our chancels and pulpits have been elevated above the congregation since the time of the first Christian church structures of the early fourth century? Surely the tradition of the church is founded on a more substantial principle than that worshipers need to see the religious ceremony and activity. It is the Good News that is being read and interpreted, and there is something holy and sacred about these ecclesiastical activities. Thus, for nearly two thousand years, pulpits and altars have been symbolically and abstractly raised—our “cities upon a hill” where we obtain refreshment and renewal and challenge for daily living.

Space, while it is crucial, is only one aspect of a building. The truth expressed in architecture comes from a sense of integrated design in the entire building, the sense that form and function work together in each individual design. An early Christian San Apollinare en Classe, near Ravenna on the sunny east coast of Italy, gives evidence of God’s truth. But so does the purity of a high Gothic design at Reims in France, or at Salisbury in England. Very different in feel and scope is the superhuman scale of Saint Peter’s or a purely effervescent baroque Borromini masterpiece in Rome. There is also the austere Shaker meeting house in Hancock, Massachusetts.

There are numerous twentieth-century instances of this same purity at work. Many of them are experimental structures using new engineering methods and materials: Eero Saarinen’s North Christian Church at Columbus, Indiana; Minoru Yamasaki’s synagogue in Glencoe, Illinois; a Catholic priory chapel by Hellmuth, Obata, and Kassabaum in Creve Coeur, Missouri.

Good architecture sings the praises of God and gives evidence of the creativity he has given us. Truth resides in no single architectural element: in no one specific floor plan, ceiling height, location of the pulpit, use of pointed arch or stained glass window, or even in a steeple. A congregation must analyze itself and its needs and be aware of the integrity of good design in meeting those needs.

A mindless selection of historical columns or Palladian windows or a Good Shepherd stained-glass design or ribbed vaulted ceilings is too often the result and rule of the well-intentioned church committee—just as a concrete block structure and metal folding chairs too often have been the economic rule. The quality of worship is at stake: we must choose the best in total design to enhance our worship experiences.

DONALD P. HALLMARK⁴