Mass Talks 2: Church Architecture

Saint Paul once used a curious expression, writing about what he termed the “aroma of Christ.” Evidently, Christ was for him all, even the senses needed to be permeated with the one love of his life, Jesus Christ our Lord. If there is an aroma of Christ, so too there may be said to be an “aura of Christ,” a holy atmosphere that exudes from His divine Person and which we have all experienced whenever we have come into contact with holiness. This mysterious feeling of sacredness is just the very thing that good Catholic architecture should transmit to the worshiper entering into a Catholic church-structure. I will cast aside here the temptation to comment about the dismal failure of most recently built churches to convey anything that one might identify as holy, and come straight to the theme of this sermon which is an brief explanation of some of the main architectural and artistic features of this church. This will serve as an introduction to a series of sermons on the Mass itself in our on-going project of preaching about the Holy Eucharist in this Eucharistic Year.

I already averted to the fact that the church building is meant to give us an experience of Christ in every fitting sense. The universal symbol of our Lord is, of course, His cross. The cross, in fact, has been the most basic and ubiquitous form for the shape of Christian churches. If you were to get an aerial view of this church, you would clearly notice that it was built in the form of a cross, with the long central aisle crossed by the two arms that form its transepts. The interior of the church is divided into two main parts: the sanctuary, this side of the communion railing in which the sacred liturgy is conducted, and the nave where you are seated. This too, sanctuary and nave, is a symbol of Christ: the Head joined to His members in the one body.

Assumption Grotto’s is a church built in the Gothic style, a type of construction that we can’t comment on here, except to note that the austere stone walls of the Gothic church (and in our case the walls are of unpolished marble and not of stone)–these plain walls serve to lift the eye to the sublime stained glass windows which, in our church, are very fine indeed, especially those over the sanctuary and the choir loft. It would take a whole sermon itself to review each of our windows, but it will suffice here to point out the principal ones: in the sanctuary we have depicted the Annunciation and Christmas scenes on this side, and opposite those of the Assumption and Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary–windows rich in detail, vivid in color. Windows of this sort allow the light (another Christ symbol) to shine down upon us and to convey some of the warm radiance of heaven. On a sunny day, with streams of light aimed just so, there’s a serenity and an ethereal joy that one easily associates with holiness. In the choir loft we find the Blessed Virgin enthroned with attending angels making music for her pleasure. (You might sometime want to count the many angels there are in this church–but please don’t do it during Mass, and most especially not during the sermon!). In the nave are windows featuring some great saints, notably the eminent doctors of the Church with insignia proper to each.

I return to the sanctuary area here and mention first the altar. Of course, we have two altars at this time, the one nearer to you was added in more recent years to conform to the liturgical trend of having Mass towards the congregation. I’ll say more about that topic in another sermon and move on to speak of the altar itself.

The altar is another symbol of Christ. On each of its four corners is etched a cross, with another cross inscribed at the altar’s center. These represent the five wounds of Christ crucified. The reason that the priest kisses the altar, bows before it and incenses it is that it represents our Lord. Another reason for this veneration is that the altar holds the relics of some martyrs–a custom that dates from the very earliest days of the Church and which can be known also from reading the Apocalypse. The altar is the single most important object in the church–‘most important,’ that is, as an object. (As you well know, there is something far greater here, which is not a ‘thing’ but a living Reality and Person housed in the tabernacle.) But the altar is the point-of-crossing between heaven and earth: the “threshold” of the divine, as one author put it (Guardini). Here the priest, representing everyone present, approaches God and God descends to earth. The altar is also rightly regarded as a sacred table (a term now much abused by associating it with our domestic tables and thus disassociating the altar with the sacrifice of Calvary.) The altar as table rightly refers to the sacred banquet in which Christ’s very body and blood is received as our Eucharistic food. But the altar’s most ancient function is for sacrifice. In the Old Testament, the altar was the stone upon which animals were slain and burnt as a sacrifice prescribed by God to atone for sin, to express thanksgiving to God, and to obtain divine blessings. All those animal, grain, and libation sacrifices of old came to an end when our Lord Himself became our Paschal Lamb and was slain on the altar which was His cross. This is the same and only sacrifice that the remains ever valid: the one we reenact every time we celebrate the Mass.

Over the high altar, near the ceiling, you see the canopy, called the baldachino. It is a covering that was traditionally placed over a sacred spot, identifying it and protecting it. Even the OT was familiar with the “tent” that was stretched over the Lord to house His glory, as if to contain it. You may not be able to see it from your seats, but high on the inside top of the baldachino is a dove, the symbol of the Holy Spirit.

Lowering your eye once again to the main altar, we come to the tabernacle. This too has a rich meaning that can only be suggested here. The tabernacle recalls the Holy of Holies in the Jerusalem Temple, the place where God dwelt in a mysterious way, a holy place where none but the high priest could enter, just once a year. This room, this sanctuary of the OT, contained the Ark of the Covenant that originally encased the tablets of the Ten Commandments. In our churches, the tabernacle is the dwelling place of the Most High God in the form of the Holy Eucharist and where the angels are gathered around in adoration of His Majesty. Although the golden doors of the tabernacle are beautiful to behold, they are veiled, leaving their beauty for the Lord alone. (It should be noted again that holy things are to be veiled, clothed, covered–something that the people of our time have no idea about, given the widespread loss of innocence, and that crass openness that has debased the holy and depreciated our humanity as well. But here I digress...). Whenever the Blessed sacrament is in the tabernacle, the Church requires that the sanctuary lamp be kept burning. This is the candle that hangs over the center of the sanctuary, informing us that the Lord is “in.” The candle itself is another one of many symbols of Christ, the “Light of the world.”

I want to quickly review only a few remaining things of special significance. There is always to be placed near the altar a cross with the crucified body of the Lord. The reason for this is to make clear the connection between the Good Friday sacrifice of Jesus and the renewal of that same sacrifice on the altar. The substitution of the risen-Christ figure or the Protestant cross without a corpus has now been specified as illicit by the Holy See.

I should call to your attention also the banks of pews that are placed laterally in the sanctuary, right and left sides facing each other. There is a reason for this arrangement: it refers to the practice in monasteries of chanting the psalms for the Divine Office. Each side would get its turn in the singing, two lines of the psalm for the right, two lines for the left. In this way the singing could be extended for long periods without tiring the voice. This manner of chanting was invented, if I’m not mistaken, by Saint Benedict. Originally, in this church, there were not one but two rows of pews on each side. Unfortunately, these were reduced to a single row to accommodate the addition of the low altar.

The pulpit may need no further remark except to say that it is the place from which the Word of God (who is Christ) is heard and explained.

At the other end of the church is the choir loft, an elevation well suited for the acoustical projection of the music and for the association of sacred music with the angelic voices on high. As for the suitability of the pipe organ for the music of the Church, you should refer to the interesting series of articles on sacred music now being featured in our Grotto News.

We have now arrived at a feature often overlooked, the ambry. This is the box that contains the holy oils consecrated by the Archbishop on Holy Thursday. In our church this ambry is set into the wall behind me, in the wood panel, close to the standing processional cross. It’s opened only when fresh oils are needed and so you’ve probably scarcely noticed it. It holds the three holy oils: the oil of catechumens (put upon those preparing to become Christians); the perfumed oil of holy chrism used to signify the Holy Spirit (it’s used for baptism, confirmation, holy orders, and for a very limited number of sacred objects–notably the altar at its consecration), and the oil of the sick.

There you have it: a building meant to uplift your mind and stir your senses to know Christ, to hear Him, see Him, taste Him, and to enjoy His pleasing aroma and aura.

What a wonderfully rich heritage of faith and human art we have as Roman Catholics!