The future of religious spaces (VI)

 

Every year about this time, Faith and Form produces its worldwide survey of the best in religious art and architecture--mostly architecture, because "[f]or the second year in a row, the jury was concerned about the low number of Religious Art entries" (Crosbie 2019). It's fascinating, eye-catching, and an opportunity to reflect on the roles religion and religious places play in our common life.

It's also the time when Christians like me celebrate the birth of Jesus. We have appropriated Jewish prophecy like that of Isaiah, who may or may not have been discussing the Messiah when he wrote:

A shoot shall come out of the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.... He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. (Isaiah 11:1, 3b-4, NRSV)

Hearing these familiar verses again this year, I was struck by the seemingly casual reference to the killing that needed to happen to achieve the peace and justice of the "holy mountain" eventually proclaimed in verse 9. Again with the killing! which seems to be a prerequisite for Biblical promises. God's ways are beyond the scope of this blog, but it altogether too tempting to believe that things will be great once we (the hands of God?) first get rid of all the wicked/idiots/haters/evildoers. This is a prime example of what philosopher Martha Nussbaum (The Monarchy of Fear, Simon & Schuster, 2018, pp. 81-84) calls the "just world hypothesis"--the belief that I would get what I want if I weren't thwarted by bad guys--a worldview that leads to destructive, retributive anger. Instead of anger we need to affirm a common life, right this very minute, to deal with all humanity has to deal with. Excising the other only saps our energy and most likely adds to the evil instead of solving it.

The Christian apostle Paul offers us a rhetorical way out of this trap. In his letter to the Roman church, he writes of the believer dying to sin (see esp. ch. 6). How this death is accomplished seems to be a combination of divine grace, individual effort, and good old-fashioned Christian orthodoxy (see O'Brien 2012). That need not detain us here; we need only to accept that religious language about killing the wicked can apply to the evil within each of us, rather than some definitive expulsion of some individuals for the ultimate happiness of others.

Back to this year's award-winners. Leaving judgments about art and architecture to the professionals, and recognizing that what happens within places is as important as how they're designed, we urbanists can ask: How do the physical features of religious places help us achieve connection in a disconnected world?

One way is to bring us, for a time, away from the world into a place apart. Spectacular sanctuaries, like Boston's Cathedral of the Holy Cross, can achieve that by creating its own world of wonder.

Cathedral of the Holy Cross won an award for renovation

Usually these grand sanctuaries have spectacular acoustics as well, so those who raise their voices in song or prayer become part of a greater whole. Through our encounter with the divine, we are re-centered for life in the world.

Another way is to arrange seating in a circle around the altar, rather than having everyone in the congregation facing the same direction, as in Seattle's St. Anne Church.

St. Anne Church won an award for renovation

Author James F. White (Protestant Worship and Church Architecture, Oxford University Press, 1964) argues this older form, abandoned for awhile, emphasizes communal worship rather than individual emotional reaction in a hierarchical setting. (See especially chapters 4 and 5.) Shifting from my experience to our action also re-orients us to a world of diverse people.

Most urbanist of all is the religious building that is accessible to the street, such as St. Bartholomew's Episcopal Church, which fronts directly onto Park Avenue in Manhattan--a block from the #6 subway line.

St. Bart's Church won a restoration award for its dome, which is not relevant to this post

This is the "meaningful destination easily accessible on foot" commended by Andres Duany, Elizabeth Plater-Zybeck and Jeff Speck (Suburban Nation, North Point Press, 2010 rev. ed., p. 64). In fact, it contributes to all four of their prerequisites for the street life--meaningful destinations, safe streets, comfortable streets, interesting neighborhood--needed to support community. Contrast that with the award-winning new church, St. Luke the Evangelist in suburban Ankeny, Iowa...

St. Luke the Evangelist Catholic Church

...which opens onto a parking lot accessible from Weigel Drive only by a long driveway. Neither it nor the school next door will ever be walkable. (It's not even clear how you would walk from one to the other.) No one will ever happen by.

Jane Jacobs (The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Random House, [1961] 1993, pp.72-73) waxed eloquent about the social utility of public spaces like sidewalks that are building blocks of connected neighborhoods.

They bring together people who do not know each other in an intimate, private social fashion and in most cases do not care to know each other in that fashion....

The trust of a city street is formed over time from many, many little public sidewalk contacts. It grows out of people stopping by at the bar for a beer, getting advice from the grocer and giving advice to the newsstand man, comparing opinions with other customers at the bakery and nodding hello to the two boys drinking pop on the stoop, eying the girls while waiting to be called for dinner, admonishing the children, hearing about a job from the hardware man and borrowing a dollar from the druggist, admiring the new babies and sympathizing over the way a coat faded....

The sum of such casual public contact at a local level--most of it fortuitous, most of it associated with errands, all of it metered by the person concerned and not thrust upon him by anyone--is a feeling for the public identity of people, a web of public respect and trust, and a resource in time of personal or neighborhood need.

The intentional design of religious places, new and old, architectural wondrous and humbly utilitarian, can contribute substantially to the public identity that will sustain us all through whatever lies ahead. Or not.

Primary Source: Michael J. Crosbie (ed), "2019 International Awards Program for Religious Art and Architecture," Faith and Form 52:4 (2019). All photos are from the article, and are used without permission.

Last Year's Model: "The Future of Religious Spaces (V)," 28 December 2018

The future of religious spaces (V)

The challenges faced by religious institutions in today's West are highlighted even when celebrating the year's best artistic and architectural achievements. Editor Michael J. Crosbie noted increasing numbers of nominations in recent years discussed their projects at least in part in terms of the "need [to] forge connections between the faith community and the context" (Crosbie 2018).

Here on Holy Mountain, we're all about the context i.e. the work of the religious body in the world, and how the group acts out its relationship to the world. Often that starts with the building. So while something like this is eye-catching and would probably be even more impressive if I knew all of the design and engineering that had to go into it...

Snyder Chapel, Lynn University, Boca Raton FL (Source: faithandform)

...an urbanist would rather know [a] how does this work with the street [hypothetically, as in this actual case it's a college campus building], and [b] how does this building's design contribute to the communal act of worship?

Other trends: a lot of renovation-related nominations, but only two entries in the adaptive re-use/re-purpose categories. Also, "The absence of megachurches submitted might indicate a decline in their construction." I am not sorry if this is true. Marc Auge (Non-Places: An Introduction to Supermodernity [Verso, 2nd ed, 2008]) considers all houses of worship to be "anthropological places" because the people who gather there have specific identity, rituals, stories and such. The standardizing of the megachurch form, however, verges on making it a non-place, with the individual worshiper in the role of spectator-consumer, sort of like at a religious mall.

Churches, synagogues and other houses of worship surely have a lot on their plates:

• They provide both welcome to the stranger and a haven for their members, which must be hard to balance in practice; 
• The best of them maintain a presence in their neighborhood, while accommodating the vast majority of their attendees who arrive by single-family auto; and 
• Their worship spaces are at once functional (this is where the act of worshiping gets done) and political (their design speaks volumes to group dynamics like community and hierarchy).

All this must be accomplished in the context in which many public and quasi-public institutions find themselves today: declining resources and increasing demands/needs.

With that said, and with every disclaimer you can possibly imagine, three award winners struck me as particular examples of successful religious urbanism.

1. All Saints Episcopal Church, Chicago, Illinois (Religious Architecture--Restoration).

(Source: faithandform)

All Saints Chicago, initially constructed in 1884, sits on a busy street corner in the Ravenswood neighborhood near the Damen L stop. According to their website, they nearly closed in 1992 after losing most of their membership base to the suburbs. Their resurgence stressed celebration of diversity, engagement with the real world, and "commitment to our neighbors"--as well as a lot of fundraising. They don't say a lot about the restoration of the worship area, but the altar is notably in the center, a feature commended by Professor James F. White (Protestant Worship and Church Architecture, Oxford University Press, 1964) to reinforce the communal nature of worship.

(Source: Google street view screen capture)

2. Phap Vu Buddhist Cultural Center of Florida, Orlando, Florida (Religious Architecture--New Facilities)

(Source: faithandform)

The Buddhist Cultural Center is located on a busy stroad just north of the East-West Expressway. The entrance, however, is welcoming and accessible to the sidewalk. According to their contractor, Rowland Construction, the entire project built four buildings and a parking lot on six acres, taking nearly a year and costing "multi" millions of dollars. Not every congregation has access to those kinds of resources, or would spend that much on a campus. The availability of land and/or access to the highway probably account for the decidedly un-urban choice of location, but they've done a lot to create human scale.  (Compare the Jehovah's Witnesses more remote structure down the street.)

3. Our Lady of Good Counsel Church, Deepdene, Victoria, Australia (Religious Architecture--Renovation).

(Source: faithandform)

Deepdene is a suburb of Melbourne, recently carved out of another suburb, Balwyn. The church is located on Whitehorse Road, a major east-west stroad through metropolitan Melbourne. So both the municipal and the street situation raise red flags.  On the plus side, I love the worship space with its somewhat cured seating area and plenteous natural light. And the church is built close to the street, so if people walk there, they can walk here. The original church, from 1922, is still part of the campus; the current church was built in 1955.

(Source: Google street view screen capture)

The interior picture may be misleading; it's hard to see how far back the seats go. The sanctuary is described as distinctively narrow because of the constraints of the property. So someone seated in the far back of the row of seats could feel quite remote from the worship activities--better get there early!

Religious organizations have a lot to offer America in the 21st century--a sense of the sacred and permanent, experience acting in common, a place to be quiet--and design has a lot to contribute to that. Design needs to emphasize neighborliness, though, without which the house of worship is merely an isolated island. A structure like this clearly received a lot of expert attention and boasts some striking design features.

Christ Cathedral Arboretum and Tower of Hope, Garden Grove CA (Source: faithandform) 

I see rows and rows of seats all facing forward, and huge windows overlooking a huge parking lot. We owe it to our neighbors, and to ourselves, to do better.

Primary Source: Michael J. Crosbie (ed), "2018 International Awards Program for Religious Art and Architecture," Faith and Form 51:4 (2018)

Last Year's Model: "The Future of Religious Spaces (IV)," 1 January 2018

The Fall 2018 issue of The Wheel includes a review of an intriguing book analyzing worship spaces from an Eastern Orthodox perspective: Nicholas Denysenko, Theology and Form: Contemporary Orthodox Architecture in America (Notre Dame Press, 2017). Hat tip to F. John Herbert for this item.

The future of religious spaces (IV)

Source: faithandform.com

"Community-based sacred space" is a prominent theme in Faith and Form's 2017 International Awards for Religious Art and Architecture, which were announced in the current edition of that magazine. One of the jurors is quoted: "There seems to be more emphasis on what the role of the community is, and the sharing of liturgical space, and that is a breath of fresh air." Editor Michael J. Crosbie notes this trend possibly is connected to religious institutions' needs to adapt existing facilities as they face both declining membership rolls and tight budget constraints.

As I concluded my post on last year's awards I listed, off the top of my head, five functions religious buildings are expected to perform. These functions are at best complimentary and can often be contradictory in practice: are houses of worship places for action or contemplation? in the world or apart from it? familiar "home" or a place to welcome strangers? I mention these again because, as much as a blog devoted to promoting common life is looking for churches to be parts of or even anchors of their neighborhoods, it's important to remember that these places have other responsibilities as well. 

Having said that, a religious building, however beautiful or original, that is situated like this 2017 award winner for new facilities...

Liberty United Methodist Church, Liberty MO (Google street view capture)

...or this 2014 winner...

Watermark Community Church, Dallas TX (source: faithandform.com)

...is a place unto itself, accessible to members in cars but not to its neighbors if anyone actually lives nearby.

So we are pleased to take our hats off to this year's winners in the renovation and adaptive re-use categories, whose exterior pictures inevitably include sidewalks and nearby structures. These congregations have chosen not to flee to open spaces but to stay in their neighborhoods and be part of them--to consider them to be, to use Christian parlance, part of their ministry.

Here, for instance, is Westport Presbyterian Church (PCUSA) in Kansas City, Missouri, which won an award for renovation. They reopened in 2016 after the former, 107-year-old building was destroyed by fire in 2011.

(Source: faithandform.org)

They adopted a resolution in 1983 that they call the Westport Declaration: We intend to use all resources available, without reservation, to minister to, with, and in the community defined as Westport (31st Street to Brush Creek, Troost to State Line). In the years since the church has been an important neighborhood resource, playing host to a variety of groups including Boy Scouts, senior meals, addiction services, child care, dance, choral music, hospice care, gays and lesbians, environmentalists, computer classes, a chess club and an investment club, as well as concerts and films. The current pastor has "worked with police to improve security in the area."

Their main entrance is up a long set of stairs, but there's an alternate entrance right off the street. The parking lot is behind the church, as it should be. The church presents the street with a mix of windows and walls, but on balance is interesting to see and inviting to enter.

Great approach from a side street (Google maps screen capture)

Redeemer Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Memphis, Tennessee, won an award for adaptive re-use/re-purpose:

(Source: faithandform.org)

The church was founded in 2006 by the Rev. Jeffrey Lancaster, who has a particular calling to plant churches in urban areas. Memphis is our home, they say on their website. We are privileged to live in one of America's most notable, influential, vibrant and storied cities. Its history, beauty, people and opportunities make Memphis our favorite city. Yet, like homes all over the world, she is not without her needs. Like every home inhabited by humans, she can be a paradox--joyful and sad, together and lonely, friendly and cruel, chaos and calm.

Note how the front door opens onto the street, the windows in the worship space provide an interesting view for the passer-by as well as "eyes on the street," and the parking lot is off a side street so neither worshiper nor passer-by has to negotiate a lot of pavement.

Another view, from redeemermemphis.org

Among other award winners, First Congregational Church in Bellevue, Washington, moved to this converted office building in 2016.

(Source: faithandform.com)

The new building is embedded in the same neighborhood they've served for over 100 years. Its parking lot is on the side so neither pedestrians nor members have to cross a lot of pavement. Pictures of the interior are impressive, but their exterior presents a giant gray wall--a "snout house" at prayer?

SGI New England Buddhist Center in Brookline, Massachusetts, won an adaptive re-use/re-purpose award. Note the light coming from the many windows, particularly at street level. In the Google Street View, it must be said, the windows are all covered with blinds; they face south, so must be closed on sunny days.

SGI New England Buddhist Center, Brookline MA (Source: faithandform.com)

Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun in New York City won an adaptive re-use/re-purpose award for their synagogue chapel, but the exterior opens directly onto East 85th Street and passers-by will soon be intrigued by large window displays celebrating the five books of Moses.

Congregation Kehilath Jeshurun (Google Maps screen capture)

These buildings have won awards because they're artistically built. I salute those architects and their institutions for doing so while also enabling connection with the world outside their walls.

Which brings me to the end of my post, except I feel like I've been avoiding an important aspect of this topic. Prompted by Faith and Form's fascinating issue, I've been talking about buildings and how they play with each other and with their streets. But, as the cornball songwriters Richard Avery and Donald S. March put it back in the day, "The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple... the church is people." Just because the doors and windows are in the right places doesn't guarantee everyone will feel welcome, nor that everyone will be welcomed. It doesn't even ensure that the doors will be unlocked!

Religious institutions have varying ideas about community, and some are frankly more comfortable with including difference than others. And people outside the doors have varying degrees of comfort with religious institutions. That includes me, for whom gays and lesbians are the canaries in the contemporary religious coal mines. If they're not fully welcomed, valued for who they are, without qualification, then I'm not welcome, either. (So, why am I still a United Methodist? Gosh, this conversation is getting complicated.)

I go back to the fundamental premises of this project: that Americans in the 21st century are going to become more interdependent, whether we like it or not. Dealing with all the challenges that make it so requires an ongoing conversation which is open to everyone on a basis of equality. That means something other than a like-minded community, regardless of whether I'm sympathetic to its viewpoint. It says a lot for any group to choose to be part of a neighborhood, part of a city, and whoever they are, I will salute them and welcome them.

We all have things we can learn from each other, and there are some research findings that suggest inclusion can build on itself.

The future of religious places (III)

Source: faithandform.org

It's mid-January already, way past time to have a good long look at the 2016 International Awards for Religious Art and Architecture announced by the journal Faith and Form. Jurors represent artists, architects and clergy, so there's an interesting mix of considerations in the awards.

A marked trend this year, notes journal editor Michael Crosbie, is the use of natural materials and particularly of natural light. This might represent a long-term trend away from the dark, cozier and more mysterious sanctuaries of the early- to mid-20th century, which of course are the churches in which many people of my generation grew up. (A number of people note that movie theater-style churches are their own, quite different trend.) The Palm Beach (Florida) Synagogue has light coming in all around the worship space, with room for stained glass at the top of the windows:

Source: faithandform.org

Chicago's Chapel of St. Ignatius might overdo it, in that it's hard to imagine being comfortable in there on sunny summer days:

Source: faithandform.org

John Kenneth White (cited below) wrote a lot about considering what the worship space says about the role of the worshiper. The Chapel of St. Ignatius above has members of the congregation facing each other, with those officiating in their midst, suggesting a more participatory orientation. Many older churches, like the amazing and recently-restored St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City, have their services officiated in a space at the front of the church, separated from the congregation. This can put the worshiper in the role of spectator, although that effect surely can be mitigated with hymns and responsive prayers and such.

Source: faithandform.org

As I noted last year, the Faith and Form awards focus on the buildings themselves, particularly the interiors, as opposed to how the buildings interact with their surrounding neighborhoods. That interaction matters, however, because it articulates the social role of the worshiper as well as an understanding of society. To what extent does a worship structure relate to the buildings (and people) around it? To what extent does its exterior invite the stranger in? I was rather surprised, in seeing Stefan Haupt's documentary on the spectacular Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, that despite its size and the ongoing construction, to the extent the film showed it, it fit quite well with the streets around it.

Source: mybarcelona.pl

Churches of whatever design, surrounded by acres and acres of surface parking, don't do this nearly as well.

Source: myamericanodyssey.com

Worship spaces matter to our common life because we ask them to provide a number of things--quiet and comfort for individuals (whether members or not), a space to come together in common activity, a base for action in the neighborhood and the world, the familiarity of home for long-time members, a place accessible to potential new members--while they are themselves neighbors as well as important civic buildings. We should celebrate design that can do all this!

SEE ALSO
Michael J. Crosbie, "2016 International Awards Program for Religious Art & Architecture," Faith and Form 49:4 (December 2016)
Aaron M. Renn, "Why Contemporary Protestant Church Architecture is So Poor," Aaron Renn, 14 August 2014
"Sagrada Familia: The Mystery of Creation" official site (First Run Features, 2012)
John Kenneth White, Protestant Worship and Church Architecture: Theological and Historical Considerations (Oxford, 1964)

EARLIER POSTS:
"The Future of Religious Places (II)," 24 January 2016
"The Future of Religious Spaces," 8 January 2015
"Homes, Home Churches and Hometowns," 15 September 2014

The future of religious places (II)

Rural churches (here, Alice United Methodist Church in
Center Point, IA) face an uncertain future...

...but there are choices facing city churches, too,
like Cedar Rapids's Westminster Presbyterian

Two women, one in an urban area and one writing from the perspective of small towns, have just published perceptive essays raising issues of religion's relationship to place. Meanwhile, Faith and Form is out with their always-fascinating annual list of awards for religious art and architecture. The striking juxtaposition is also troubling for those (like me) who see an essential role for religious spaces in 21st century American places.

Lyz Lenz writes about the troubled future of small-town churches, including interviews with residents of Sidney (pop. 1138) and Ely (pop. 1776), Iowa. Citing the Association of Religious Data Archives, she notes the state has 500 fewer religious institutions than it did 20 years ago, mostly in rural areas. The Plymouth County Historical Museum has a whole floor dedicated to the remnants of rural churches. Drab old organs are huddled on the yellowing linoleum. One room holds stained glass windows, rectories, and murals retrieved from the small white churches now atrophying in cornfields alongside abandoned schools. In part this is due to declines in religious observance, and population shifts from rural to urban areas. But in towns like Ely, which is close enough to Cedar Rapids to be considered a suburb, a third factor is evident: the religiously observant have a wide choice of houses of worship in the nearby big city. And they're making those choices, reports Lenz. When our mobility enables us to get to a church that suits us, it also "leaves them more disconnected from the community where they live."

Meanwhile, in Minneapolis (pop. 400,070), there are over 30 houses of worship within a mile radius of Sara Joy Proppe's house. In contrast to the small towns which are losing population, Proppe's neighborhood is densely populated, with residents making use of excellent pedestrian infrastructure. She looks at whether churches in the area offer inviting places for passers-by to rest. Citing scripture that values rest and sitting, she also notes a place to sit provides an opportunity for meeting our neighbors and the stranger. This is a vital component to actually loving our neighbors.... Putting in some seating is not a panacea for making better communities, but it is a step in the right direction. It is a way to invite others to rest, to participation, to value neighbors and strangers. And it all can start with something as simple as a bench. She observes a variety of orientations (see the link below for pictures). The fourth pictures in the two sets offer sharp contrasts: One has [a] vast expanse of lawn with so much unrealized opportunity. The mostly blank front façade of the building only exacerbates my pain; the other offers a garden... a Little Free Library, and some seating on the arc of the garden path. Having a place to sit is a measure (albeit not the only one) of how oriented a church is to the neighborhood around it.

Which brings us to the Faith and Form awards. In contrast to last year's set, which included the neighborly Christ Church of Cambridge, Massachusetts, this year's bunch tend to the overwhelming. They are visually striking, and artistically imaginative, but their size and shape mean they're unlikely to play well with others on the street. The first three American church structures (as opposed to buildings on academic campuses) listed are:

1. The Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Central Oregon, relocated to the outskirts of Bend at 61980 Skyline Ranch Rd. It is truly a lovely building, and sits comfortably in its woody surroundings, but as far as I can determine is walkable from nowhere.
2. St. Pius X Chapel and Prayer Garden, 6666 Spanish Fort Blvd, New Orleans. Maybe it's the angle of the photo, but it looks forbidding. I like the church next door better; it has a wide double front door that opens towards the sidewalk. The neighborhood, near Lake Ponchartrain, has an odd layout, but seems centered on the church/school campus, which may make this an exception to my point.
   
3. St. Edward Catholic Church, 5203 River Road North, Keizer, Oregon. River Road looks like a serious stroad, and the cross street Sandy Drive is a dead end, albeit the Walk Score is 74 so there might be more than meets the eye. There are benches outside for seating, which we've established is a plus.

This year's prize winners continue a positive trend towards use of natural light in the design of sacred spaces. Most of them, however, appear to reflect what Eric O. Jacobsen (2012: 189-190) calls insular churches (as opposed to embedded chuches like the ones described by Lenz and the ones Proppe likes). Typically built after 1945 in suburban developments, insular churches sit on large lots and feature large parking areas onto which their main doors open. They still can and do engage in vital ministry. A new facility on the edge of town gives congregations limitless choice to design their worship space to maximize natural light, sustainability and participation. But they miss an opportunity to help make and maintain neighborhoods, with all they imply for connecting and empowering people.

Jacobson calls churches to re-invigorate the idea of parishes, where churches are integrated into and minister to the neighborhoods around them.

 I don't expect to see very many churches draw the majority of their congregations from those who live within walking distance. However, I do believe that most churches and members of churches could benefit from learning to think in terms of parish....

I think that it would be a highly productive exercise for a church to make a regular practice of defining its geographical footprint and then doing strategic thinking in terms of the needs and opportunities presented within that footprint. Such a practice would be more accurate and helpful the more it was informed by hands-on local knowledge. That is to say, the more that church members and leadership actually spent time within the footprint talking to people and observing with all their senses, the greater would be their understanding of where God is at work in their parish. (2012: 194-195)

In the three examples above, there doesn't seem to be much of a neighborhood to integrate into. Lenz quotes sociologist Paul Lasley on the lost functions of community-centered churches (and small town schools): There is no glue holding these communities together... and it’s making us forget how to neighbor. As the 21st century forces us towards interdependence, insularity is a luxury we can't afford. We need embedded churches, among other elements of human-scaled civil society. Faith and Form might consider that as a design award category.

The low wall around Immaculate Conception Church, Cedar Rapids,
will be an asset to what may once again become a walkable area

SOURCES
Michael J. Crosbie, "2015 International Awards Program for Religious Art and Architecture," Faith and Form 48:4, http://faithandform.com/feature/2015-awards-program/ 
Eric O. Jacobsen, The Space Between: A Christian Engagement with the Built Environment (Baker Academic, 2012)
Lyz Lenz, "The Death of the Midwestern Church," Pacific Standard, 20 January 2016, http://www.psmag.com/books-and-culture/the-death-of-the-midwestern-church 
Sara Joy Proppe, "Sit On It," Strong Towns, 21 January 2016, http://www.strongtowns.org/journal/2016/1/21/sit-on-it ...includes additional links on the value of sit-able places

EARLIER POSTS
"CR Churches," 20 July 2015 [historic churches in Oakhill-Jackson neighborhood of Cedar Rapids]
"A Win for Today--A Strategy for the Future?" 14 May 2015 [a Cedar Rapids church in a core neighborhood expands its parking lot but saves a historic building]
"The Future of Religious Spaces," 8 January 2015 [thoughts on the 2014 award-winners]

The future of religious spaces

Grace Episcopal Church in Carthage, Missouri, pictured above (from its website), has a small, lovely sanctuary that dates from 1890. It's small, dark and cozy, with well-crafted woodwork and stained glass windows. When I visited there last fall, I felt immediately that I was in a sacred place. But that's the perspective of a late-middle-aged, lifelong church-goer, who admires the Episcopal liturgy (though I'm not sure I could do it every week). As times and expectations change, sacred places across America face change as well.

The quarterly publication Faith and Form is out with their 2014 religious art and architecture awards, which is as good an occasion as any to take stock of sacred space in America. Religion, mainly Christianity, has been part of the American landscape since the earliest permanent settlements of Europeans in the 16th century. Most towns of any size have a number of churches, and perhaps a temple or mosque, in prominent locations in their downtown areas. They are typically, in my unsystematic observation, buildings of beauty--sometimes simple, sometimes ornate--that are compatible with their surroundings.

John Kenneth White (Protestant Worship and Church Architecture, Oxford University Press, 1964) states that houses of worship have two basic functions: (1) to provide a location for group religious expression; and (2) to inspire individuals with a sense of the presence of God. The first could be fulfilled by any physical space, though White argues at length the structure of that space says a lot about hierarchies as well as expectations of individual participation. What makes for a sense of sacred place varies with the individual, but often involves features like apart-ness from the everyday world, peace and quiet, beauty and majesty. The common element of sacred space is, to quote Roger W. Stump (The Geography of Religion, Rowman and Littlefield, 2008), a "manifestation of the cosmos defined in [believers'] world views" (p. 301).

There might be other functions White doesn't highlight: the prominent physical presence of churches states a claim of social importance. Think of Fourth Presbyterian Church on Chicago's Magnificent Mile, or century-old First Lutheran and Immaculate Conception Churches planted opposite each other on one of Cedar Rapids's busiest intersections.

These days churches face a number of challenges that would have been unthinkable to my parents and grandparents, not to mention the 19th century founders of my town.

• Worship attendance is decreasingly a social norm. It has decreased so much, in fact, that one could argue the norm is not to attend worship. This is not the world in which my grandfather preached. Church members who might pride themselves on welcoming visitors and new members are nonetheless ambivalent about actively recruiting new adherents.
• As members age and the economy putters along, many religiously-active people have fewer resources on which to draw for donations to churches, synagogues and mosques. Giving USA reported last summer that religious donations have been unusually slow to bounce back from the Great Recession. It would be interesting to compare religious donations as a percentage of GDP over time (currently it's 1.9 percent); does anyone know if such data exist?
• Concurrent with these revenue challenges, religious houses confront some rather imposing cost burdens: energy costs fluctuate wildly, maintenance costs probably accelerate with age of building, and in prosperous areas opportunity costs undoubtedly beckon. As a result of all these factors, two lovely and historic downtown Cedar Rapids churches have fallen to the wrecking ball in the last five years. Other churches have moved in order to accommodate actual or anticipated growth, leaving buildings in urban neighborhoods for campuses on the edge of town with gigantic buildings and parking lots.
• In some areas, religion is seen as a regressive force. From the inside, a doctrine on birth control or homosexuality that has long since passed its expiry date can be seen as something we hope to see change. From the outside it's just ugly. It's not my tradition or culture, but the public face of Islam today can hardly be attractive.
• Social needs may take priorities over institutional needs, even for loyal members, and surely do for outsiders. "Jon," a commenter on the Religious News Service article I linked to above, argues: Giving to religious houses of worship is not charitable giving. We’ve seen time and again that a tiny fraction of that money goes to actual charities, while nearly all of it goes to the house of worship itself – salaries to paid employees, the building, etc. Without knowing Jon's perspective, it seems fair to argue he'd rather donate to food banks, schools and environmental groups instead of maintaining an awe-inspiring sanctuary. But places that evoke a sense of sacred immanence aren't free.

The upshot is that the qualities of sacred space that are highly valued by core members are likely to be irrelevant, or even off-putting, to the unchurched. Moreover, in many cases they may not be affordable.

In the face of all this, the Faith and Form report indicates considerable vitality. Their 2014 contest received 134 submissions, and made 32 awards in nine categories: new facilities, restoration, renovation (I'm enough of an amateur not to know the difference between those two), liturgical/interior design, liturgical furnishings, visual arts, ceremonial objects, sacred landscape, and student work. Journal editor Michael J. Crosbie noted that religious art and architecture are flourishing throughout the world, and that artists, architects, liturgical designers, students, and others are exploring ways to balance tradition with new demands of religious practice. The landscape of sacred space is changing, along with dramatic shifts in organized religion.

One clear winner in all this is what White years ago called the "church of light," reacting against 100 or so years of dark sanctuaries (which I find cozy, but that's just me). Light, lots of light, usually natural light, literally pours into a lot of these pictures.

Proyecto Clamor de Paz, Honduras, swiped from faithandform.org

Most of the pictures are outdoor shots, so it's hard to gauge the worship atmosphere, but I really like the simple style of this renovated Massachusetts church, as well as how it fits with the surrounding buildings.

Christ Church, Cambridge MA, swiped from faithandform.org

To me that front door screams accessibility, but is that enough to get strangers to enter?

I also love the grandeur of this Colorado sanctuary, which received an award for visual arts. It's clearly among the churches of light, and the pipes at left suggest potential for great liturgical music. (My church, as it happens, has organ pipes that are purely decorative i.e. they're not attached to an actual organ.) But now I'm wondering about their heating bills.

Our Lady of Loreto Catholic Parish, Foxfield CO, swiped from faithandform.org

On the other hand, this church doesn't appeal to me at all. It's showy, conspicuously expensive, and sprawling. I bet it's not within walking distance of anything, and that its parking lot is big enough to land planes.

Watermark Community Church, Dallas TX, swiped from faithandform.org

I am being snarky here, which is hardly called for, but I did just look them up on Bing and I'm right. On the other hand, if they're attracting members in this day and age, who am I to carp at them?

At the same time that this energetic construction and reconstruction is occurring, other religious institutions are dealing with change by retrenching: shrinking congregations are cutting services, merging or just closing down. Maybe the buildings can be re-purposed, but in the process the sacred element of the place is frequently lost. In the same issue, Crosbie reports on a group called Partners for Sacred Places, which has a program to match cash-strapped churches with non-profit groups who need space. I don't know how much revenue those arrangements might generate, but it has the obvious up-side of bringing people into the building who might not otherwise get there. In time they may come to value the space for its sacred qualities as well as for its utility.

FEATURED REFERENCES
Michael J. Crosbie, "Scattered Treasures," Faith and Form 47:4 (2014), http://faithandform.com/editorial/scattered-treasures/

Michael J. Crosbie, "2014 International Awards Program for Religious Art and Architecture," Faith and Form 47:4 (2014), http://faithandform.com/feature/2014-international-awards-program-religious-art-architecture/

SEE ALSO

Timothy W. Martin, "Window Pains: Stained Glass Faces Dark Days," Wall Street Journal, 22 December 2014, http://www.wsj.com/articles/window-pains-stained-glass-faces-dark-days-1419295927

EARLIER POSTS ON THIS SUBJECT

"Homes, Church Homes and Hometowns," 15 September 2014
"Sacred Space," 27 April 2013