Thorncrown Chapel by E. Fay Jones

“Give us light… as much natural light as possible,” has been a common request from my congregational clients ever since I started designing sacred spaces. But today that plea has somewhat changed. Now my clients say, “Give us views of nature; we want to see to see out the landscape.”

Yes, we have all seen examples of modern places of worship with walls of glass overlooking a natural setting and recognize their departure from old recipes for places of prayer. But have we questioned whether they represent something beyond the architect’s bravura? Are we witnessing new attitudes to the relationship of man to this earth… and of man to his environment? Has God gone green on us?

I say yes to all of the above.

In a strange twist we have become more geocentric and less otherworld directed while at the same time we have been humbled in our views of man as the masters of the universe. The tables have been reversed…and man against nature has a new meaning in the world of global warming and environmental disasters. Rather than finding spirituality in a world beyond, we are looking for it in this one.

Early Christian ArchitectureIn the old paradigm, our place of prayer was the sanctuary which served as an escape from this world. Entering the holy place was often a procession, going from the public world to an enclosed courtyard and then proceeding to the inner sanctum, a place devoid of contact with the world outside.

Think of the early Christian Churches which were built like fortresses not only from enemies but also from this secular world.

Walls were thick battlements and windows were limited to long slots. Even as new technologies, such as the gothic cathedral’s flying buttresses allowed for greater penetrations in the stone walls and large expanses of glass, these were filled with stained glass to make sure that the thoughts of the celebrants remained upward and not tainted by this world.

Gothic Cathedrals

In many periods, as the faithful looked up, glorious domes flooded with clerestory windows brought attention to the On High and away from this world.

St. Peter’s BasilicaHagia Sofia

Modern times brought new formulae. Walls became thinner and stained glass lost its color but the result was the same. Saarinen’s chapel at MIT seemed to be a total break from the past, but this innovative structure still closed itself off from its surrounding environment. All the light that entered came filtered through the pond within it was placed, or the oculus above affording light but not even a glimpse to this world.

Clockwise: Saarinen’s M.I.T. Chapel, Wright’s Unity Temple, Wright’s Elkins Park Synagogue, and Meier’s Jubilee Church

Wright’s Unity Temple uses clear glass, yes, but all the windows are placed high enough in the space so as to afford sky views only.

His later synagogue in Elkins Park was flooded with light but all through translucent rather than transparent glass. Other modernists took the same route–glass was for letting light in, not for giving view out.

But at the closing of the twentieth century new paradigms evolved. In churches and synagogues of all denominations architects began to incorporate large expanses of glass into their most sacred spaces allowing views of nature as part of the spiritual experience.

“Escape from this world” has been replaced with adoration for it and one must question why. Is due to our new respect for the environment and or its frailty? Or does it go deeper and represent not only new notions of the relationship of man and nature but also to our views of man, nature and God?

Gates of the Grove Synagogue by norman jaffe
White Chapel By VOA ASSOCIATES

In his editorial in the current issue of Faith and Form, Michael Crosbie explores these issues under the heading: “Spirituality in the Green House Age.” Crosbie posits that in today’s world we are beginning to question our “faith in technology and market based fixes and to look for theologies that address the healing of creation: a move from our obsession with progress and development as measured in economic terms and greater attention on what will result in more sustainable life for all of creation.”

Crosbie forges on to question, “in a theology based on such new assumptions might architects and artists of the sacred be the leaders in a new praxis of sustainable human creation?”

It is a fascinating read that I would recommend to all. As well, it is the perfect primer for the AIA forum “God Comes to Earth” that Michael and I will be hosting at the AIA on October 26.

Please join us…