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"Domus
Dei" Promises Business-as-Usual
Draft
Document on Church Architecture Needs Facelift
(from the Jan./Feb. 2000 issue)
BY
MICHAEL S. ROSE
THE FIRST PUBLIC NOTICE of
Domus Dei appeared in an October issue of the
Jesuits’ America magazine. Nathan D.
Mitchell, associate director for research at the Center
for Pastoral Studies at the University of Notre Dame (as
good a representative of the liturgical establishment as
any) offered his serious and apparently sincere
misgivings about Domus Dei.
While expressing his
unqualified admiration for the 1978 document Environment
and Art in Catholic Worship (EACW), Mitchell lamented
the "exclusivist" and "mechanical"
approach of the new document, which, he said, has a lot
to learn from its predecessor. Whereas EACW was
"poetic" and "concise," he wrote, Domus
Dei is a "confusing medley that lacks clarity,
focus and cohesion." In other words, I concluded,
the new document did not say what Mitchell would like it
to say.
For instance, contrary to
present archi-liturgical trends, Domus Dei allows
for the tabernacle in older churches to be kept in the
sanctuary. Mitchell even took issue with the
document’s definition of the sanctuary as "the
area of the church…in which the core of the ritual
action takes place," a place linked primarily to
priestly functions and defined by altar, ambo, and the
priest’s chair. Mitchell believes that the use of
the word "sanctuary" (which EACW does not use)
is "neuralgic, suggesting a two-tiered church where
clergy ‘boss’ and people
‘obey’."
It was even more
encouraging to read in Mitchell’s review that the
document’s use of certain words is already setting
off a wave of criticism from the archi-liturgical
establishment. For example, the word "church"
is being reintroduced in place of "worship
space," "gathering space," or
"assembly hall." And "presider" has
disappeared in favor of "priest celebrant."
Instead of "table," Domus Dei speaks of
an "altar." The document even says—brace
yourself—"Christians gather to ‘celebrate
the memorial of the Paschal Lamb’." There is
mention of suffering, sacrifice and crucifixion.
Liturgists and liturgical
design professionals have labored for the past 35 years
to introduce a new vocabulary to Catholics in order to
undermine the traditional Catholic understanding of the
liturgy. The fact that traditional terminology is being
reintroduced must be a severe blow to the
archi-liturgical establishment, I reflected happily. They
probably even hate the title, Domus Dei. They have
been teaching for 35 years that a church is not a
"house of God" (domus Dei), but a
"house for the Church" (domus ecclesiae).
(In fact the church building is both of these, the two
concepts being complementary.)
Judging from
Mitchell’s account, the archi-liturgical
professionals who have long been engineering the
renovations of our traditional churches and the design of
our new churches found something to fear in Domus Dei.
I surmised that it was no longer their vision of
church architecture, one based on subjective and faddish
opinions, that was being promoted. Then I read the
document itself. The truth, alas, is that Domus Dei
has so many glaring problems—architectural,
liturgical, and logical—that it would take this
critic more than the document’s 100 pages to
identify and address every issue.
Although Mitchell was
objectively correct on several points—e.g., the
terminology used is more traditional; the text is written
in loose, unskillful prose; and generally the document is
a "confusing medley that lacks clarity, focus and
cohesion," his complaints are certainly disingenuous
given the fact that few could read the manifesto in its
present form and interpret it in any other way than as a
go-ahead to the church renovation and design
establishment to proceed business-as-usual.
Indeed, the document in
its present draft form poses little threat to the status
quo. The same people will be left in charge of overseeing
church renovations and building projects, and continue to
use the same methods of manipulation they have refined
over the past few decades. If the document were approved
by the bishops in its present form, the "liturgical
design consultants" who dominate the field of church
design and renovation will be able to use it to
justify most, if not all, of the subjective and contrived
ideas they have been long promoting.
Justifying the fads
Just to take one example, the fashion for the last dozen
years or so has been the construction of a full-immersion
baptismal pool at the entrance to the church or its nave.
The authors of the new document strongly encourage this,
unable to see it for what it really is, a mere fad, a
whim of the gurus of liturgical design.
To justify such fads, Domus
Dei makes a contrived appeal to their "symbolic
value". One of the most obvious objections voiced
over the years regarding the trendy placement of the
bubbling font is that it is an impractical impediment to
processions, especially on the occasions of weddings and
funerals. The authors of Domus Dei sensibly
recommend "wide, clear aisles," to accommodate
the ritual procession "of the wedding party and its
movement down the aisle to meet the celebrant at the
altar." But with their very next breath they strain
to justify the baptismal pool fad, notwithstanding its
obvious incompatibility with the principle just
enunciated: "If the baptismal font is located in the
center aisle near the narthex and the entry and on axis
with the altar, it can be seen as a symbol of the way in
which the vocation of marriage is a completion of the
call to baptism."
In the same way, if I
wished to advocate the placement of an immersion
baptismal pool at the foot of the altar, I could justify
it thus: "If the baptismal font is located in the
center aisle at the foot of the altar, the whole gathered
community will better understand the inextricable link
between the sacraments of baptism and matrimony. If the
bride and groom are able to exchange vows at the
baptismal font the symbolic relationship between these
two sacraments is strengthened."
In its discussion of
Christian funerals Domus Dei appeals to the same
artificial symbolism: "Because the journey of the
deceased began in baptism, it is appropriate that there
be a physical association between the baptismal font and
the space for the funeral rite. This can be accomplished
by locating the baptistery in such a way that the funeral
procession passes by or around the font on its way to the
altar."
This method of appealing
to strained symbolism is known in the architecture
subculture as "post-rationalization." The
designer approaches the project with a preset idea of
what he wants to accomplish and how he will do so. Once
the project is designed, he contrives the reasons or
justifications for his design decisions, oftentimes
relying on highly dubious symbolic references or other
rationalizations not of a practical nature. (In the
profession of law this is known as "The Yale
Thesis." As Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. explained it
some years ago: "The Yale thesis, crudely put, is
that any judge chooses his results and reasons
backward.") Domus Dei starts with a conscious
acceptance of the various archi-liturgical trends of the
day, and reasons backward in an effort to support these
conclusions. Some of the document’s rationalizations
and justifications are clumsier and more awkward than
others.
The most contentious of
its recommendations is bound to be that which concerns
the placement of the tabernacle. The new document
continues to license the relegation of the tabernacle to
a side chapel, whether in view or out of view of the main
body of those gathered for Mass. Although the text now
allows for some exceptions to the general rule, it
recommends, through the same process of
post-rationalization, that the tabernacle be located in a
separate chapel or "area."
Appealing to the General
Instruction of the Roman Missal of the early 1970's,
the recommendations ignore the subsequent legislation
regarding the placement of the tabernacle. Domus Dei
states that "it is preferable to reserve the
Eucharist in a chapel suited to the faithful’s
private adoration and prayer. Architects should devise
ways to maintain the separate identity of the Blessed
Sacrament Chapel while at the same time insuring that it
is associated with the main worship space." Inaestimabile
Donum, 1980, and the Code of Canon Law, 1983,
however, clearly allow for the tabernacle to be located
in the sanctuary, even in new churches.
To its credit, the new
document does allow for some latitude (i.e., exceptions)
on the placement of the tabernacle, as well as various
other design considerations. For instance, Domus Dei
goes on to say, "A separate chapel of reservation
can readily be provided in the construction of new
churches. However when churches designed in another era
are renovated, providing such a chapel can be
problematic." The document recommends that when a
separate chapel cannot be appended to or carved out of
the existing structure "care must be taken that the
area set aside for the reservation of the Eucharist is
worthy and distinguished." In the most exceptional
cases, it states, "the only appropriate place for
the reservation will be in the sanctuary itself."
To its discredit Domus
Dei then falls back on the old canard that the
tabernacle front and center is somehow an impediment to
full participation in the liturgy. Care, it cautions,
should be taken lest the placement of the tabernacle
"draws the attention of the faithful away from the
Eucharistic celebration and its components."
Therefore, "it is better not to locate the
tabernacle in the center of the apse at the rear of the
sanctuary."
Where, one wonders, do
these guidelines originate? There is no appeal here to
any official documents of the Church, nor even to the
legitimate tradition regarding placement of the
tabernacle. And how, might one ask, does a
centrally-located sanctuary tabernacle draw the attention
of the faithful away from the celebration of the
Eucharist "and its components?" Wouldn’t a
centrally-located tabernacle serve more to draw the
faithful’s attention toward the "liturgical
actions" in the sanctuary, much more so than a
Blessed Sacrament alcove or chapel located away from the
sanctuary? Why aren’t the liturgists concerned with
the distraction this might create?
The same sophism has long
been used to recommend the removal of statues and other
works of sacred art from the Catholic church building,
viz., "so that they will not draw the attention of
the faithful away from the Eucharistic celebration."
Recommendations for the
placement of "music ministry" suffer from the
same insistent capitulation to archi-liturgical fads. The
document states, "The ministers of music are most
appropriately located in the nave," and on certain
occasions, "it is more feasible for the choir to be
situated near or even in the sanctuary." Again, what
about this distraction?
This recommendation
disregards the traditional use of the choir loft for the
location of the choir and musicians. It is not mere
happenstance that the choir loft (or gallery) is located
above and behind the rest of the congregation. For
acoustic reasons this is the ideal position. The
traditional church building takes this into
consideration. The contemporary, carpeted worship space
does not. Using the Classical model the organ and choir
will both be located on an axis, usually in the rear
gallery of the building. It is very reinforcing for the
organ and the well-trained voices of the choir to lead
from above and behind. A return to classical models of
church architecture would mean a return to classical
acoustical ambience. It is no secret that American
designers have drummed out proper acoustics in the
secularized churches of the late 20th century.
Contemporary materials such as carpet and ceiling tile
are an acoustical nightmare for both choirs and
musicians. These materials deaden the sound and fight
against what the liturgists tell us we’re striving
for: "active participation." Without proper
acoustics, the individual hears only himself struggling
to sing along, or struggling to pray out loud. The living
room ambience that is created prevents each person from
hearing the congregation as a unified whole.
Unfortunately, none of these issues is addressed in the
new document.
The loophole problem
Let it be understood: Domus Dei is an improvement
over its 1978 counterpart in many ways. The hierarchical
nature of the church building and its architectural
ramifications are mentioned in several places. The nave
is defined as separate from the sanctuary. The priest
celebrant’s chair is defined as being for the priest
alone, and the different postures of the
liturgy—standing, sitting, and kneeling—are
acknowledged.
However, most points on
which Domus Dei is a clear improvement allow
gaping loopholes that will only serve to empower the
liturgical design consultant to continue with his planned
program of archi-liturgical change. The document’s
treatment of the cross is a case-in-point.
The document rightly calls
for a cross "bearing the image of Christ
crucified." Regarding its placement, Domus Dei
suggests that the "cross might be suspended over the
altar or affixed to the sanctuary wall." This is
indeed a solid recommendation grounded in both Church
teaching and tradition, both local and universal. The
image of the crucified Christ has been little popular
with the liturgical professionals of the past 35 years.
Unfortunately, in the same
paragraph, the treatment of the cross deteriorates into
an accommodation of the present liturgical fad. "A
processional cross of sufficient size, placed in a stand
visible to the people following the entrance procession
is another option," it says. If the processional
cross is used as such, then no other provision needs to
be made for a fixed cross. Thus, once the liturgy is
concluded, the cross is whisked away into the sacristy,
not to be seen again until the following weekend. Ought
we not have the image of Christ crucified prominently
displayed in our Catholic churches throughout the week as
well? The archi-liturgical professionals will keep
designing those plus-sign grilles, perhaps with an
abstracted Christ as the excuse for the required corpus.
Similarly, in its
treatment of devotional images, Domus Dei
encourages the use of "images of the persons of the
Trinity, our Blessed Mother and the saints" in
stained glass windows, wall frescoes and murals, and as
statues and icons. But wait: "There should be no
more than one image of any saint in a church." The
injunction against the use of more than one image of a
particular saint, as stated in the General Instruction
of the Roman Missal, seems to address the use of
statues in veneration shrines. The point would be to have
only one place of veneration for any one saint. Architect
Steven J. Schloeder addresses this point in his 1998 book
Architecture in Communion: "It does not seem
that to have a titular representation of Saint John the
Baptist in an apsidal mosaic, a painted icon depicting
the Baptism of Christ in the baptistery, a place of
veneration with a titular statue of the Baptist, and
perhaps even another stained-glass portrait would violate
the intention of this rule." Yet, as it is presently
written into Domus Dei, this injunction could well
be applied to purging the images of countless saints from
our older, more traditional churches. The fact is,
liturgical design consultants already refer to this
injunction stated in the GIRM to justify removing
stained glass, painting over murals or frescoes, or
removing certain statues—especially those of Mary.
One important clarification Domus Dei ought to
make is that Mary appears in devotional art under various
titles, e.g., Our Lady of Fatima, Our Lady of Perpetual
Help, and so on. If a church were to have several
veneration shrines of the Blessed Virgin under various
titles, there would be no conflict with the injunction of
the GIRM. Design consultants seem to delight in
removing statues of Mary over all other saints. Why give
them the means to do so?
Nor are these the only
recommendations which undercut the document’s own
endorsement of images: "As time passes and as
demographics change, saints who were once the object of
veneration by many parishioners may at another time be
venerated by few of the parishioners. When this happens,
these images should be discreetly removed when the
opportunity presents itself." What happens, then, if
over the years, through slovenly catechesis and neglect,
devotion to Mary (or another saint) wanes? I can just see
the pastor or some diocesan liturgist sneaking away with
a 200-pound statue and stuffing it into a closet
"when the opportunity presents itself."
Aside from the
deficiencies regarding the various design considerations
that bear on church architecture—too numerous to
discuss here—Domus Dei is conspicuously
deficient when it comes to addressing the church building
as a piece of architecture with the capacity to teach, to
catechize, to evangelize, and to educate. There is no
discussion of architectural transcendence; no endeavor to
effect a turning away from the banal and uninspiring
church designs that have characterized the past half
century. There is nothing in its 100 pages that is likely
to inspire church architects to produce anything that
embodies a sense of the sublime, an architecture that
inspires faith and belief, and humbles the viewer with a
power of eternal goodness, beauty, and truth.
From an architectural
standpoint, the entire document shows very little
understanding or appreciation of the various forms of
church architecture which have been developed in the
course of two millennia. Further, it creates the distinct
impression that there exists some sort of
"architectural schism," one that can be
classified into "pre-" (1500 years +) and
"post"-Vatican II (35 years). This is terribly
unfortunate, because contemporary church architecture
shouldn't try to sever its ties with the churches of the
past, but grow organically from them.
Domus Dei is,
fortunately, a work-in-progress. The earliest that the
bishops will vote on this document is in November of
2000. Although the document is going in the right
direction, if it is approved in its present form, it will
join the ranks of the many other ineffectual Church
documents that emanate from the national bishops’
conference. In the words of Archbishop Charles Chaput of
Denver, the new document "is just as confusing as
what has come to us before." Looking to the hopeful
side, Catholics can pray that the bishops will see
through the smoke screen of improved language and
abundant footnotes to understand that Domus Dei as
it now stands will validate the status quo and
perpetuate the unfortunate state of affairs with respect
to church renovation and design.
[ St. Catherine Review ]
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