We hear a lot these days about authenticity. It is critical, it seems, that the words of worship language be precisely translated, that our gestures be appropriately subdued (no dancing for joy), and our sung prayer be carefully monitored. Liturgical abuses must be reported and dealt with, we are told. The integrity of our faith tradition is at stake. As I write this, on Ash Wednesday, I recall such an episode of liturgical-abuse reporting on an Ash Wednesday in a parish where I worked. I was the object of the report, and my crime was that I sat in the wrong chair. Leading a prayer service, the third of seven in which I would participate that day, I had forgotten to put a chair out for myself so that I could sit for the minute or so that it would take for the reader to proclaim the word. I sat in the presider’s chair in the sanctuary for that minute, but as we all know, that is reserved for the ordained presider. The letter to the bishop was written, the requisite call from the worship office came, and I was left to defend my heinous act of sitting. I accepted the reprimand, knowing there was no point in objecting. It didn’t matter that it was a long day or that I would minister to more people than the clergy there. No matter that it was the laity collecting and burning the palm, crushing it into ash, mixing it into the right consistency, and setting it out. No mention that they prepared the environment with a loving touch. No regard given to the fact that all of the services that day save one had lay presiders and ministers and that all of the coordination was my responsibility. I sat in the wrong chair and violated the worship space. Mea maxima culpa.

Sometimes we focus too closely on the details and we have to go back to the guiding principles to rediscover authenticity. Jesus sat on the floor, on boats, in temple, and at table. I doubt that Jesus would care that my unordained yet consecrated body briefly sat in the presider’s chair. Perspective is critical. By word and action, the places where Christ gathers those close to him are made holy. The worship space is a vessel for the living Body of Christ, made holy by its use and by the sanctity of what is held within. Built of Living Stones elaborates, “Because the church is a house of prayer in which the Eucharist is celebrated and the Blessed Sacrament is reserved, a place where the faithful assemble, and a setting where Christ is worshiped, it should be worthy of prayer and sacred celebration, built in conformity with the laws of the Church, and dignified with noble beauty and intrinsically excellent art. The general plan of the building reflects the Church that Christ gathers there, is expressive of its prayer, fosters the members’ participation in sacred realities, and supports the solemn character of the sacred liturgy” (29). It is in the eucharistc liturgy that heaven is wedded to earth and the physical church sustains that liturgical moment.

In this issue of ML we consider the theory and practice of worship space. Steven Schloeder guides us in an exploration of how it is that church buildings become for us symbols of heavenly things. He offers us a detailed journey through history, Scripture, and metaphor, leading to a deeper understanding of sacramental architecture. At the other end of the spectrum, we have a demonstration of the practical application of theory and documents. Mary Immaculate Church in Farmers Branch, Texas, is a multicultural community whose renovated church is an example of the spirit of Built of Living Stones. Pastor Bruce Bradley and Barton Drake, AIA, NCARB, shepherded this parish in creating a renewed worship environment that echoes the community’s identity and enables participation by all. With true community involvement, respect, and a desire to glorify God, this process is an example of authenticity.

As we continue this year to be formed and guided by the words of the Exsultet, we know that heaven is indeed wedded to earth whenever we gather as one body of believers in communion with all the saints. There, sins are forgiven, hearts are made whole, life becomes new. May those among us who dream into existence the places where we come together to pray and praise be always blessed with true vision, right judgment, and pure grace.

Night truly blessed when heaven is wedded to earth
and [we are] reconciled to God! ML

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