Making Sacred Spaces More Sacred

It’s 4:19AM, and I am writing this from the reception desk of my church which has become a temporary pop-up homeless shelter. I am sleep deprived, full of coffee, and awestruck by how my last week has been. This blog mostly centers around my writing for worship, so I want to spend some time talking about the architecture of our sacred spaces. This paragraph might not seem cohesive or coherent yet, but it will. Let me refill my coffee. 

Okay.

While it is true that we can worship fully regardless of the space we are in, another argument can be for the impact our worship’s architecture has on our sense of reverence, awe, and our sense of the sacred in the midst of our worship. I have seen some incredible worship spaces, from the centuries old Abbey on the Island of Iona in Scotland, to the historic, 102 year old sanctuary of my own church, to a worship space that also serves as a coffee shop. 

Main Sanctuary of the Abbey on the Island of Iona

Two qualities serve as the main ways I perceive a worship space: aesthetic and function. The two aren’t exclusive to one other: the aesthetic of a space often serves the function of incorporating symbols that tell a story; and the functional aspect of a space, such as high vaulted ceilings that create a sumptuous acoustic in the room, can imbue in the one who looks up an aesthetic sense of the celestial.

Symbols in our worship spaces are important. The symbols of liturgical season and scriptural narrative carry meaning that tells the story of our faith, and also the stories of our congregation. One of my favorite experiences of a sacred space’s use of symbols is at a church in Dallas called St. Luke “Community” United Methodist Church—a predominately black United Methodist Church with incredible stain glass windows whose depictions range from characters in scripture all the way to Malcolm X. It is clear to the one who is aware of the stories of black suffering in the United States that liberation is a central theme to the life and story of this church. St. Luke “Community” UMC also might be the only christian worship space in the state of Texas with Muslim imagery in its worship space. 

Stain Glass Window, St. Luke "Community" UMC

One of my favorite experiences of function has to be Perkins Chapel on the campus of Southern Methodist University. The aesthetic is straightforward, but you can tell that the entire space, from the vaults of the organ to the fact that every pew has hidden speakers, has been designed around the function of our worship’s acoustic. Amplified sound in this space, when managed correctly, doesn’t come across as if the sound emanates from a loudspeaker. Instead, the sound comes across naturally as if it were coming from the person speaking or singing, as every speaker in the pew of this worship space is precisely timed to match the distance of the delay created as sound travels to the back of the room. Sitting in the back sounds like sitting in the front, and the voices raised homiletically or musically are heard clearly. It’s a space meant for the voice, both of a human and an organ.

Should these be the only functions of our worship spaces? Thanks to Dr. Elaine Heath, now the Dean of Duke Divinity School, I learned of an episcopal church in San Francisco, California called St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church. This worship space is fascinating in its aesthetic, as the worshipping congregation is surrounded by dancing saints (both ancient and contemporary and maybe not all officially canonized). These symbols not only reflect the rootedness of the church’s history, but also the identity of the congregation--a congregation that also ends their services with circle dancing—mirroring the dancing saints that surround them. 

Sanctuary of St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church

But to me, that isn’t the most amazing thing about the worship space of St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church. What’s most amazing is that, every Friday, their worship space becomes a place where free healthy food items are available for anyone who comes. Think about that, the same location where the gathered community shares in the sacred meal of holy communion is the same space where a bounty of food is made available for the hungry. What a richness of unity between symbol and function!

What other kinds of unity between symbol and function can occur in our sanctuaries? What if our sanctuaries became just that? Over the past week in Dallas, we have experienced remarkably cold temperatures. A week ago, one of our houseless members of our congregation approached our Senior Pastor and asked if she and her companions could sleep in the church to escape the cold. Our Senior Pastor, the Rev. Rachel Baughman took this request seriously—she approached the leadership of the church and, with a remarkable nimbleness, organized our church to become a shelter. We coordinated volunteers, gathered donations, obtained the means to feed 40-60 people from the generosity of local businesses… and a remarkable thing happened. Everything worked. Folks flooded into our space for refuge from the cold. We built new relationships. Our spaces normally left empty and unused on days other than sunday were full of people who used it to rest, and receive the comforts of community and shelter. And our worship space, our sanctuary, became just that. The image of our worship space being used as a space for folks to sleep who otherwise would sleep on concrete and treated by the outside world as trash is a profoundly sacred image.

Sanctuary, Oak Lawn United Methodist Church

To me, our worship space has become more holy because of what has occurred this week. This is the first time our 102 year old sanctuary has been used in this way. 

How can we open up our churches to be fully utilized to offer comfort to the afflicted? How can the aesthetic and function of our church architecture be expanded in innovative and tangible ways? I have been blessed to bear witness to the transformation of our building to something that is even more truly what I believe God has called it to be. And I believe everyone who had the opportunity to share in this experience has also, perhaps, experienced a bit of transformation too. Ad maiorem Dei gloriam! (All to the greater glory of God!)

Fellowship Hall, Oak Lawn UMC