Finding True North #19: A Faith of Aesthetics

My new favorite spot for quiet time and prayer is the chapel at North UMC. It is a small, beautiful space located at one corner of the main church building where we have morning prayers each day. I love it for its intimate feel, the piano I've taken to playing in the mornings, and the beautiful stained glass windows that tie together the semicircular external wall.

I picked up a brochure on the chapel windows, which I was pleased to know was available just outside the chapel. The art was commissioned in 1997, the artist being MAuren McGuire from Phoenix, AZ. The five windows trace salvation history from the birth of Jesus to the descent of the Holy Spirit, and though I'd want salvation history (or, to use a word I really don't know why I remember besides the fact that it's fun to say, heilsgeschichte) to go back to creation, I realize 5 windows is limiting. In any case, the windows are beautiful and draw anyone paying attention into the stories.

Naturally, the first window that caught my attention was the last one, which depicts Pentecost. As I was preparing my Pentecost sermon, anything having to do with the Holy Spirit was grabbing me. I love the broad sweep of the dove's wings and the little tongues of fire hovering over the disciples' heads. You can see close-ups, as well as many pictures of the other windows, in the slideshow at the top.

A while back, I was reading a book by my favorite author, Sharon Kay Penman (yes, it's historical fiction, I'm a dork). It was probably her book Time and Chance, because I remember it was Eleanor of Aquitaine whose thoughts Penman was exploring. Queen Eleanor was kneeling in a beautiful chapel to pray, and she found herself thinking that she had, to use the one phrase I recall, "a faith of aesthetics."

I strongly identified with this because space and visuals have always been important to me in life and especially in my faith. I appreciate and find God in beautiful things, whether that is a stained glass window, a Gothic sanctuary or an ordinary space made sacred by something as simple as a candle. For me, aesthetics has to do not only with visual art but with things like wood and stone, the feel of a seat or the floor, and the sounds of a space. Music is part of my aesthetics, whether it's playing out loud or in my head. At times, aesthetics have been all that has sustained my faith, and though I'm tempted to feel guilty about that, I refuse to do so.

Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite was the 5th/6th-century Christian theologian and philospher whose idea about a celestial hierarchy influenced later theologies of aesthetics, including arguments made by Abbot Suger of the abbey of St. Denis, whose basilica was the first church to use Gothic architecture as it came to be in the cathedrals and churches of medieval Europe. Criticized for the decadence of the structure, Suger argued, as Pseudo-Dionysius had, that visual beauty called people to contemplate the beauty and transcendence of God. The lines of Gothic arches and the light streaming through stained glass windows, he said, drew people's eyes, hearts and minds upward.

There are a lot of questions in such a discussion about stewardship. When I took a course on Gothic cathedrals in undergrad, my dad sent me a cartoon that depicted a bishop protectively holding a model of a cathedral while Jesus, depicted as a beggar, holds out his hand asking for help. The construction of Chartres cathedral in particular created a divide between the church and the city that even Duke and Durham's town-and-gown complex can't imagine. Of course, sometimes we focus our understanding of stewardship too narrowly on the building itself; understanding the impact of such a structure on the surrounding community is a helpful broadening of the discussion, but Elaine Heath argues that stewardship ultimately needs to be about creation care. How can the upkeep of a large facility be maintained in such a way as to be environment- and community-friendly?

Last night, I attended a meeting of the Board of Directors at NUMC. One thing they discussed was the use of their building. I had already been part of conversations on the subject, and one staff member said she feels strongly that the building is part of the church's ministry. It truly is, and part of the discussion last night was how to make that even more true. North has a gorgeous neo-Gothic building that sits on the corner of Meridian and 38th Street, a bizarre meeting place of vastly different cultures and socioeconomic groups. Last week through Party in the Park, an outreach event that started up last year, North invited the community to come over for food, fellowship, games, stories, crafts and more. Party in the Park is held in the parking lot, and for many of the attendees, just coming that far onto the property was probably a big deal. Of course, people are in and out of the building all the time, so not everyone is afraid of this big stone structure.

How can churches like North with large and beautiful (but, to some, intimidating) structures open themselves up to their communities? How can beauty and aesthetics become inviting and instructive, not simply for show? These and more are some of the questions North is wrestling with and which the church at large needs to face as membership and giving decline while large portions of budgets must continue to go to building maintenance. How can a beautiful building like North's become a gift to the community and not simply a burden on the membership?