worship space

Stained Glass in the Worship Space

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One medium of art that has been almost exclusively associated with Christian churches is that of stained glass. Some basic considerations regarding stained glass are mentioned here.

Light. In the beginning, God created light. Since that time, it has been a source of fascination. Such fascination has been important in the art forms of Christian places, so much so that a prime criterion for judging the success of a religious building has been the way in which light enters the spaces. The craft of the glassmaker thus has its important place.

Glass. We marvel at the wonderful ways stained glass plays with light. Glass is thought to have been invented by accident; Phoenician sailors found glass-like remains in the embers of their beach fires over five thousand years ago. Glass was long considered a precious material, used in molded vases, mosaic tile, beads, and imitations of gems. Glass was not used for glazing windows until 1500 years ago, and the earliest evidence of such window glass is in buildings for worship.

Colored glass originated from our ancestors’ inability to make clear glass. Such glass is not really “stained”; the colors come from metal oxides fused to or suspended in the glass while it is liquid. “Art glass” is a more appropriate term today, one which can refer also to clear glass that has been acid-etched, beveled, engraved, sandblasted, or textured. These are all ways to modulate the quality of light refracted through the glass surface. Color is only one of the qualities available to the artist working in glass.

Between the Glass Pieces. The materials which hold the glass pieces together must also be carefully chosen. Since medieval times, lead channels have been in common use. In the last 100 years, glass fabrication methods have changed; copper, foil, epoxy, and zinc are now used as structural members.

Cost. The cost of art glass is generally determined by its size (square feet being the unit of measure). Price varies according to the types of glass used, the way it is held together, and the installation conditions. More significantly, the intricacy of the design and the number of glass pieces per square foot are primary cost determinants. Art glass suitable for a worship space typically ranges from $75 to $150 per square foot, not including the window frames and installation. For glass with painted figures of scenes, the median price is between $200 and $350 per square foot.

Collaboration. In church building and renovation, it is important that the architect, artist, and fabricator work together to explore all the design possibilities. Working with the parish representative, this team enhances the likelihood of a compatible marriage of the art glass to the architecture.

Historical and Theological Perspectives on Acoustics for the Worship Space

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One of the most important aspects of the worship space is its acoustical properties. This is so because of the importance of sounds in worship, the sound of verbal proclamation and musical prayer and praise.

“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love Him, God has revealed to us through the Spirit” (1 Cor. 2:9–10).

On a visit to the city of Meissen, Saxony, in early May of 1985, I was given an opportunity to tour the magnificent Gothic cathedral, the construction of which was begun in the year 1260 and largely completed late in the 15th century when the lower portions of the west towers were built by Arnold of Westfaha (Cf. Paul Liebe and Hermann Klemm, Meissen: Der Dom und seine Geschichte [Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, n.d.], pp. 11–36). The woman who guided us through the cathedral began the tour by saying, “We would not build a building for the church like this today because we have a different understanding of the church.” What a church understands itself to be determines what kind of building it builds and, simultaneously, what kind of acoustical requirements it expects of its building.

Our guide in Meissen was giving simple expression to an observation by French sociologist Emile Durkhelm (1858–1917), who said, “A society is not simply the mass of individuals that comprise it, nor the territory it occupies, nor the things it uses, nor the movements it carries out, but above all it is the idea that it has of itself (Quoted by Leonardo Boff, Church: Charism and Power [New York: Crossroad, 1986], 41). The idea that the medieval church had of itself was that of “salvation institution,” a society whose leaders could confer salvation upon its individual members, provided that those members fulfilled the minimum conditions required for salvation (Cf. Avery Dulles, Models of the Church [Garden City, New York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1974], 31-39). Since the minimum conditions required for salvation consisted of participation in certain sacraments, the buildings constructed in the high Middle Ages were intended for the administration of baptism and the medieval Mass. Baptism was administered outside of the gathered congregation, usually with no more than family members and friends in attendance. No attention to acoustics was required for its administration.

Buildings were constructed chiefly for the administration of the medieval Mass, the main sacrament for the congregation assembled on Sundays and Holy Days. Although the mass was “said” or—on festive occasions—“sung,” it was meant to be primarily a visual event rather than an audible event. It was mean to be seen, not heard. Bard Thompson has described the “three conceptions” that attained prominence in the Middle Ages: (1) the Mass as an “epiphany” or God amongst men, which focused attention upon the reality of the eucharistic presence, upon the consecration at which it occurred, and upon the priest by whose action it was effected; (2) the Mass as a sacrifice offered unto God for the benefit of the living and the dead; and (3) the Mass as an allegorical drama of the whole economy of redemption (see Bard Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church [Cleveland: The World Publishing Company, 1961], 48).

Even though the events were available to the eye, the Mass was directed toward God, not toward the congregation. The “drama” of Christ’s sacrifice upon the cross was once again offered to God by means of the “consecration,” which transformed the elements of bread and wine into Christ’s sacrificed body and shed blood. Because the consecrated bread, now Christ’s body, could be preserved in more or less elaborate tabernacles, the building became literally “the House of God.” The ever-burning lamp indicated the location of God, who was there, available for the prayers and devotions of the individual worshiper.

The Lutheran Reformation of the sixteenth century articulated a different understanding of the church with very significant implications for the spaces that such an understanding required. The Augsburg Confession defined the church as “the assembly of all believers among whom the Gospel is preached in its purity and the holy sacraments are administered according to the Gospel” (Theodore G. Tappert, ed., The Book of Concord [Philadelphia: Muhlenberg, 1959], 32). The focus here was not on the leadership of the community but on the baptized people. They were regarded as visible, available to the eye when they gathered. Their gathering was identified as “church” by what took place when they gathered, namely, the proclamation of the Christian good news and the administration of the “holy sacraments” identified and defined by that Christian good news. The primary sacrament that took place in the gathering of the baptized people was the Holy Eucharist. But in the Christian gospel, as the Lutheran Reformation understood it, the Holy Eucharist was not directed toward God as a re-presentation of Christ’s sacrifice. It was directed toward the people as God’s good news to them that the great benefit of Christ’s sacrifice is for them. It was available to them here and now in the promise of Christ to be present as the One who was crucified for them, namely the promise to give them his body and blood under the forms of bread and wine for their forgiveness, life, and salvation.

Both proclamation and Eucharist were meant for the ear as well as for the eye. The buildings of the Christian community were no longer to be understood as houses for God. They were to be houses for the People of God, spaces in which they would be addressed by the Word of God and participate in a sacrament in which the presence of God was promised to them through bread and wine, which they were to eat and drink. Hence Luther could say that “the church is a Mundhaus, the place of the mouth and salutary speech, not a Federhaus, the domain of the scribe” (Cited by David Lotz, “The Proclamation of the World in Luther’s Thought,” Word and World 3:4 [Fall 1983]: 347). In Luther’s own words:

The gospel should really not be something written, but a spoken word that brought forth the Scriptures, as Christ and the apostles have done. This is why Christ himself did not write anything but only spoke. He called his teaching not Scripture but gospel, meaning good news or a proclamation that is spread not by pen but by word of mouth. (Martin Luther, “A Brief Instruction on What to Look for and Expect in the Gospels,” Luther’s Works, American ed., vol. 35 [Philadelphia: Muhlenberg, 1960], 123)

In 1523 Luther directed that the words of Christ used in the Eucharist were “to be recited in the same tone of voice in which the Lord’s Prayer is sung at another place in the Canon; so that it will be possible for those standing by to hear” (“Formula Missae et Communionis of 1523,” in Thompson, Liturgies of the Western Church, 112). “The Peace of the Lord” is “to be announced with face turned to the people, as the bishops were accustomed to do” (Ibid.). Three years later Luther wrote that “in the true Mass … of real Christians, the altar could not remain where it is and the priest would always face the people as doubtless Christ did in the Last Supper” (Ibid., 130–131).

Thus both proclamation and sacrament would now require church builders to take acoustics into account. The first space constructed under the influence of the Lutheran Reformation was the chapel for the castle of the Elector of Saxony at Torgau. It has a free-standing Table on a platform raised two steps above the floor, accessible to communicants on all four sides, and a prominent pulpit. (A photograph of the interior of the chapel is reproduced in Peter Manns, Martin Luther: An Illustrated Biography [New York: Crossroad, 1982], p. 200, plate no. 82.) Luther preached the sermon at the dedication of the chapel. In his sermon, he added prayer to the acoustical activity of the gathered people of God.

Therefore God very wisely arranged and appointed things, and instituted the holy sacrament to be administered in the congregation at a place where we can come together, pray, and give thanks to God.… And here the advantage is that when Christians thus come together their prayers are twice as strong as otherwise.… Prayer is nowhere so mighty and strong as when the whole multitude prays together. (Luther’s Works, American ed., vol. 51 [Philadelphia: Muhlenberg, 1959], 337-338)

It is impossible to claim that Protestants followed their own Reformation insights in understanding both church and liturgy so that this understanding determined the construction of buildings for worship. In fact, Protestants and Catholics alike were affected by a variety of influences upon buildings and worship, most of which were not especially attentive to the acoustical dimension of the Christian gospel.

However, attention to the eschatological horizon of the New Testament in recent decades has given Protestants and Catholics a new and increasingly convergent perspective on the Christian gospel, on ecclesiology, on worship, and Eucharist that has profoundly affected the approach to Christian architecture. I want to summarize briefly what I think that eschatological horizon is, what its effects have been, and what its implications are for Christian architecture and its acoustical dimension.

1. The witness of the New Testament is that the Christian gospel is profoundly eschatological. The proclamation of Jesus can be summarized by the Gospel of Mark: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel” (Mark 1:15). The witness of the earliest disciples proclaims that Jesus has been raised from the dead. Jesus is therefore the Messiah, and the messianic age has begun. Jesus’ resurrection is a radical revelation of the eschaton, the outcome of history. Because Jesus has been raised, he and no one else determines that outcome. The kingdom of God has begun and will finally triumph. Death no longer has the last word. The resurrection of Jesus affirms Jesus’ mission, proclaims his death as redemptive, and confers the eschatological Holy Spirit on the community of Jesus’ disciples.

2. The community of Jesus’ disciples is called to be a witness to the resurrection of Jesus, a witness to the breaking in of the kingdom of God. The event of Jesus’ resurrection, which calls the disciple community, also shapes what the community does when it gathers for worship.
a. The disciple community appropriates anew the Scriptures of Israel and the remembrance of Jesus as it listens to the reading and exposition of lessons from the canon of the Scriptures. The disciple community has its matrix in Israel and in the mission of Israel’s Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. It is marked by its attention to “apostolic teaching” (Acts 2:42).
b. The disciple community engages in prayer in the name of Jesus. The prayer formula given to the circle of Jesus’ disciples (Luke 11:1–4) means participation in Jesus’ mission. It is the foundation for all prayer in the community. Prayer in the name of Jesus means attention to the needs of the community for its mission of witness to the kingdom of God.
c. The disciple community celebrates in anticipation the banquet of the messianic age (Isa. 25:6–8). The meal of the community includes the following: first, the offering of bread and wine as symbolic of the offering of all the baptized to the purposes of the kingdom of God (Rom. 12:1–2); second, the thanksgiving of the community under the leadership of the presiding minister as the way in which the community receives the promise of Jesus to be present with his body and blood in, with, and under the bread and wine; third, the eating and drinking through which the death of Jesus is proclaimed as shaping the community for its mission in and on behalf of the world as the body of Christ.
d. The disciple community sings the “new song” by which it celebrates the victory of God and anticipates the final eternal praise of God in the eschaton.

3. All of these elements, essential to the worship of the gathered community, require the ear to receive as well as the eye. The gathering of the community for attention to the Scriptures of Israel and the apostles, for prayer in the name of Jesus, for the eucharistic banquet of the messianic age, and for the new song of God’s victory is and is meant to be, visible, that is, available to the eye. It is meant to be seen in such a way that this gathering can be distinguished from other gatherings, that is, as a church rather than as a meeting of stockholders, a musical concert, an instructional class, and so on. But these visible activities have an audible dimension. Scriptures are meant to be read and expounded so that those present are addressed so that those who have ears to hear can hear. Prayers are said so that those present can assent with “amen” or can raise their own voices for the amen of others. The bread and cup are not just distributed for eating and drinking. That would not yet be the messianic banquet under the conditions of anticipation. Rather the bread and cup need to be taken up into the words of blessing and remembrance, thanksgiving and proclamation, by which bread and cup are audibly linked with the promises of Christ (Eric W. Gritsch and Robert W. Jenson, Lutheranism [Philadelphia: Fortress, 1976], 83-84). The new songs are sung in such a way that the whole community is drawn into the praise and anticipation of eternity.

What had not, prior to Jesus’ resurrection, been disclosed to eye and ear and human heart has now been revealed through the eschatological Spirit. It is now available to the eye and ear and heart. What is made visible and audible can now be received in faith. It must be visible and audible for faith to occur, for “faith must have something to believe—something to which it may cling and upon which it may stand” (Martin Luther, “Large Catechism,” The Book of Concord, p. 440).

Hence architecture for Christian worship needs to create space in which speaking and hearing, addressing and responding, sharing a meal in the context of promissory eschatological words, and singing the new song can take place. We need attention to acoustics in such a way that no artificial amplification of the human voice is needed. Architects can be attentive to such requirements for Christian worship. Eliel Saarinen designed a building for Christ Lutheran Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 1951 in which the human voice could be heard by more than six hundred persons without amplification. Musical leadership was still required to come from a balcony in the rear, so only speaking leadership could be seen as well as heard. But Saarinen gave attention to hearing. The chapel of Trinity Lutheran Seminary in Columbus, Ohio, designed by McDonald, Cassell, and Bassett, Inc., and completed in 1983, allows the musical as well as the speaking leadership to be seen. Attention to acoustics is such that a congregation of six hundred can hear speaking without amplification. Singing the new song takes place in a space that the music critic of the Columbus Dispatch described as “like sitting inside a gigantic cello” because it has both resonance and clarity.

The church is called by its gospel, its liturgy, and its mission to give attention to acoustics in advance of constructing its buildings, not after the fact. For “what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him,” God has revealed to us through the Spirit.

The Problem of Worship Renewal in Present Worship Space

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Many existing church structures present problems for current efforts at worship renewal. In particular, these structures may fail to emphasize the primary symbols of Word, font, and Table or altar. They may also significantly restrict movement around these primary symbols and leave little room for the congregation to gather for worship. This article outlines some of these problems and is therefore instructive for congregations who may be designing new spaces for worship or renovating old ones.

A generation ago the debate about architectural style revolved around theological perspectives. On the one side of the debate were those who argued that the only appropriate architectural style was the “center-pulpit church.” On the other side of the debate were advocates of a “split-chancel church.” The former would have looked like many church buildings that were built in the late 1800s, whose prominent feature was supposed to be a dominant, central pulpit that emphasized the essential role of the reading of Scripture by the clergy and the preaching of the sermon. The latter building would have appeared much like any Anglican church of the day, with a long choir and a visible Table at the end of the sanctuary, and with a smaller pulpit to one side of the chancel with a lectern or reading desk for the Scriptures at the opposite side. The advocates of this style believed that it gave a balanced emphasis to Word and sacraments. By placing such a “balance” within an almost medieval structure, the advocates of such a style were often derided by the other party as being more “high-churchy.”

Today that debate is totally out of date. With the acceptance of new service books that give expression to the fruits of almost a century of biblical and liturgical research, none of the old buildings and their architectural styles give adequate expression to the new realities. The dominant role of the clergy in worship is no longer acceptable. Choirs are no longer seen as “religious performers” in some Victorian concert hall, providing entertainment to the congregation as a means of alleviating the weariness associated with long pastoral prayers and even longer sermons contained within worship that gave practically no active role to the people. Consequently, there is a growing awareness that our church buildings give inadequate expression to the new forms of worship. While some of them are capable of interior modification to address these realities, many congregations will look to new buildings as their congregations grow. Others will look to new buildings as older congregations that are growing smaller are amalgamated and relocated on new sites. Properly addressed, this can be an exciting and stimulating time in the life of a congregation.

What’s Wrong with the Old Architectural Style?

Most church buildings are characterized by flaws that prevent free worship. Generally, there is practically no movement space at the front of the sanctuary. Many churches have relatively small Communion tables that have been crowded under the pulpit and must be moved out for celebrations of the sacrament in order to allow the minister to sit behind it facing the people. This leaves barely enough room for the servers to move from their seats to receive the elements at the Table for distribution to the people. On those occasions when the people come forward to receive the Communion at the Table, movement past the Table by the people is awkward. This same lack of movement space at the front of the church is very noticeable at weddings. Here, in many churches the Table must literally be moved from its central position and placed to one side, blocking a side aisle, in order to enable the prie-dieu to be located in front of the bride and groom and to allow space for the minister to stand there as well. As it is, the entire first pew on either side of the main aisle must be left empty.

The same lack of space is also very evident in celebrations of baptism. The baptismal font, in churches that do not have a pool, should be one of the most prominent items of liturgical furnishing. Yet, because it occupies too much of that small space that may be needed for other purposes, it is placed to one side, along a sidewall, while at other times it is removed entirely from the front of the church. At baptisms, it is placed within this small space to one side of the Table, and those being baptized are crowded around it with the feet of people in the front pew again being a hazard.

This lack of movement space becomes very apparent whenever a funeral is held. The church is the proper place for funerals, especially for people whose lives have been closely associated with the worship of God, and even more especially where that association has taken place in this building. However, the lack of space to place the coffin and the lack of space to move about it, together with the numbers of steps that must be climbed to get into the church building in the first place, often discourage people from having the funerals of loved ones take place here. Because of the limitations of space, the Table must be moved in order to accommodate the coffin, and the candles that visualize the light of the world, who is the Christ who gives us hope at such times of sadness, are also crowded onto the rails surrounding the Pulpit rather than being able to stand significantly at the head of the coffin.

Such lack of movement space is not just a logistics problem for people. Much more importantly, it is a hindrance to the setting forth of those pieces of liturgical furnishings that symbolize the very core of our faith. Like so many church structures that are based to some extent on the Victorian concert hall model, the pulpit and the pipe organ are the dominant visual elements. For many churches, this has had the effect of singling out the sermon in the Liturgy as the central element of worship. The somewhat hidden Communion table indicates a poor understanding of the centrality of the sacrament alongside the preaching of the Word. In many church buildings, the pulpit area is also extremely confined. While there are the customary three chairs behind it, space is often so small that it becomes almost a gymnastic feat to move more than one person around from chair to chair. Consequently, the very structure discourages the use of lay readers, thus once again centering out the Minister as the official “worshiper” on behalf of everyone else. The large pulpit Bible solemnly set on this pulpit thus becomes disengaged from the people and appears to be the domain of the minister. All of that is simply bad theology and communicates a message that is contrary to the message that is being given verbally from that same pulpit by the minister!

Like most older buildings, the seating in the sanctuary is represented by fixed pews set in rows one behind the other on both sides of a central aisle. It is almost impossible to establish a sense of “community” in a building where, for the most part, you are looking at the back of someone’s head. This form of seating arrangement carries with it all the theology of the Middle Ages, where the laity in the nave of the church was physically separated from the significant actions of the clergy in the choir area at the front of the building. We need to remember that earlier tradition did not place seating in the church at all, much like the Eastern Orthodox practice, and people were able to turn around, move, and mingle; to rub shoulders with each other in such a way as to make no mistake that this was a community of the faithful gathered together to offer their worship and devotion to God.

Consequently, one of the “musts” for a new building will be the need to provide seating in something like the half-round so that people can see each other. With a large central area devoted to the pulpit, Table, and font, and with the seating located around that focus, people will be able to recognize themselves as a community of people gathered together around those visual symbols of God’s presence among us rather than a group of individuals focusing on a religious lecture and entertained every now and then by a choir. In this proposed arrangement the choir would be seated in one section of the curved pews, able to be seen by the congregation so that the choristers could cue the people for their participation, but also very be evidently identified as part of the worshiping congregation rather than a body of entertainers. Such a seating arrangement requires careful thought relative to the placement of the pipe organ. Whatever the mechanics and sound demands of that placement require, the organ should not be seen as the most visible artifact in the building.

Such a plan would solve the problem of movement space at the front of the church, making many things possible, including much more lay participation than is possible now. Weddings would be vastly improved, and funeral caskets would be able to be placed and moved with much greater effect and dignity than is now possible. Such a seating layout also enables more people to be gathered together but kept within much closer proximity to each other than is ever possible with a long, narrow nave. With such seating, it would also be possible to leave gaps at aisles where wheelchairs could easily be placed, enabling handicapped people to be physically and visually a part of the congregation. With a church building built at ground level, without any steps anywhere approaching it or in it, the handicapped will be encouraged to attend the worship of God. That none do so now is caused by the congregation’s unwillingness to accept them. It is simply the fault of the building that does not accommodate them.

Another problem posed by many present buildings is the lack of gathering space. Many buildings have a narrow narthex at its main entrance. Imagine a Sunday congregation of between 100 and 120 on average moving from the sanctuary following the benediction into a narthex that measures ten feet by twenty feet, already filled with several tables and containers for food-bank donations, and you can readily appreciate that it is not a mingling space! It is, however, important to provide a sufficient space outside the sanctuary where people can congregate prior to worship and greet each other following worship without being jostled and pushed or made to feel that they have to move on for fear of blocking someone else’s approach or departure. Many new churches have an expansive narthex and a kitchenette where tea and coffee are prepared for fellowship times after worship. This large, bright, and cheery gathering place is an excellent companion space to that of the sanctuary.

The Structure and the Church Year

All of this concern for adequate architecture to enable adequate worship to take place impinges heavily on the subject of the church year and its expression. Beginning in Advent, a building without adequate visual space surrounding pulpit, Table, and font leaves little room for the use of such symbols as the Advent wreath with its candles. Where such visual symbols can be easily seen in a central location relative to the people, its use assists in focusing attention on the theme of each Sunday in Advent. The appearance of chrismon trees or Jesse trees should not be relegated merely to church-school classrooms. With sufficient room to accommodate their presence in the sanctuary, they can again add visual focus to children’s participation in the Advent season’s devotional acts each Sunday. As Christmas approaches, the need for suitable space in which to place the crèche is also important. Within many of our traditions, the use of a Christmas tree carries on customs that many Lutherans claim credit for beginning. In my present church structure, all of these make their appearance, leaving the front of the church totally crowded and less effective than they might otherwise be.

Each season of the church year carries with it potential for changes in color through banners, antependia, and drapes. In older buildings, these can only be used as the building permits. A new structure provides an architect and the people with the opportunity of reflecting on the good use of color to highlight the change of ecclesial seasons. Walls thus have more significance than just structures to keep the roof and the floor apart! This usefulness of the visual in the form of changing color needs to be given thought in the design of the structure.

Holy Week and the triduum cry out for adequate space for the special services that mark this highlight of the church year. Gathering space outside the sanctuary proper is essential for the formation of processions that often precede some of these rites. Open space around the pulpit, Table, and font becomes necessary for the adequate use of candles in the Tenebrae. In my congregation, the movement of elders in relation to the Great Entry of the elements in the form traditional to the Church of Scotland is a feature of our Maundy Thursday celebration of the sacrament. Clear space to enable the gathered congregation to see what is happening is essential to the effectiveness of the movement, something that is now lessened by the design of the present building. The special and particular needs of the high holy seasons have traditionally been overlooked completely in much of Protestant church architecture. With the renewal of concern and interest in matters liturgical among many Protestants, the time is now ripe for the appearance of buildings that give adequate expression to the full range of Christian worship.