You know the kind. Jesus — neither regal nor suffering — looks like He is about to make a high dive into the sanctuary. The statue of Our Lady is stuck in a corner — plain and unadorned, with eyes closed, offering nothing.
The windows are stained glass, true, but merely randomly assembled pieces. If there is a message in them, it is impossible to discern.
And worst of all is the tabernacle, stuck in a corner — an ugly box of inferior material with some purple circles that are supposed to represent grapes and some stylized wheat stalks.
But consider the possibilities. Windows could be replaced with heavenly scenes of angels or the mysteries of the rosary. The blank wall behind the altar could be covered with a great tableau — a realistic crucifix with Mary and John on one side, the Magdalen at the foot of the cross and centurions on the other side and above the hosts of angels, filling that empty space with heavenly glory. Below this scene a tabernacle worthy of the Lord of the universe, made of the finest materials, adorned with a scene of the Annunciation or Last Supper to remind the viewer that this sacred place does not contain ground wheat and fermented grape juice but the Word made flesh Who dwells among us.
We live in a visual age, spending seven or eight dollars for tickets to see incredible visual effects at the movies and much more at concerts. We know the power of the image and yet we expect our children to be attracted to visually impoverished churches. Shame on us!
I frequently complain about modern church architecture, not because it is modern but because the majority of architects who have been commissioned to build churches in the last 50 years don’t seem to have understood what a Catholic church is supposed to do.
When you walk into a Catholic church, you should be instantly aware of the fact that you have entered a sacred space — you should feel that God is in this place, because He is. The majesty of the place should drive you to your knees. Your eyes should be immediately drawn to the tabernacle or to an image that inspires devotion.
It is the job of the architect to convey this through the arrangement of the interior space and the design of the decoration. And most, but not all, modern architects have failed to create this sense of awe. I do not want to put all the blame entirely on the architects — they appear to be able to build awesome malls and sports areas; they probably weren’t given proper instructions.
It isn’t about money. A tiny chapel can fill us with awe. The sense of awe and glory can be created in any style and in any worthy material. Although if the goal is to keep it cheap, the cheapness is usually very evident in the ugliness of the final product.
I know what an awesome church can do to the soul because many years ago before I became a Catholic I happened on a hot spring day, driven by curiosity about things Catholic, to peek inside the cathedral in Philadelphia. For the first time in my life, I felt the real presence of God. No one had told me about the meaning of the flickering red light before the altar or the Real Presence in the tabernacle, but I knew that I was in a sacred place, a place worthy of God, and I knew as I had never known anything before that God was in that place. Beautiful awesome churches draw souls to God. They are worth every penny.
Beautiful churches are the only investment that really lasts. Would anyone today suggest seriously that Pope Julius wasted his money hiring Michaelangelo to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? I have had the joy of spending an hour in the Sistine Chapel looking at this masterwork and can say unequivocally that it was worth all that pope paid and far more.
We have all heard the complaint that the money spent on churches should be spent on the poor. Most of those who make such suggestions aren’t really worried about the poor. They are the well-to-do who live in fine houses. They should be reminded that the first person to so complain was Judas who questioned the waste of costly perfume used to anoint the feet of Jesus. He complained that the aromatic nard could have been sold for 300 silver pieces and the money given to the poor. The scripture does not praise him for this sentiment; instead it says, “He did not say this out of concern for the poor but because he was a thief. He held the purse and used to help himself to what was deposited there” (John 12: 6).
Beautiful churches do not discriminate against the poor. The rich already live in beautifully adorned spaces with lavishly set tables. With the help of Martha Stewart even the most ordinary middle-class home can be turned into a little jewel with beautiful things everywhere. It is the poor for whom the cool interior of a beautiful church provides a respite from the chaos of everyday life.
Perhaps this is why, over the centuries, it has been the poor who have been willing to donate generously to the building of beautiful churches. There is a certain irony in the fact that today, while the rich live in the suburbs and worship in the ugliest churches ever built, the poor live in cities and worship in beautiful old buildings built through the generosity of the poor and struggling immigrants who preceded them.
(Mrs. O’Leary is a mother and grandmother who participated in the U.N. conferences in Cairo and Beijing. She is the author of The Gender Agenda, which outlines the feminist influence in academia and the media. She can be reached at heartbeatnews@compuserve.com.)
(This article is reprinted with permission from Canticle Magazine.)
