The Theology of Church Architecture

We didn't know whether this was a church
 or a Satanic temple but presbytera was hoping we
 mistakenly set foot in a Satanic temple, nevertheless.

With Bruvver Eccles's ongoing World Cup of Ugly Churches, I felt it would be appropriate to comment and expound on the theology of Church architecture a bit more. There's plenty of brutalist styles to select from and that can be easily condemned in today's world but for most people, architecture seems to be a superfluous stylistic influence, not something worth splitting the Church on, is it? But it is indeed highly important! Ever since Vatican II, the emphasis on prayer has been mitigated in the Church. The nouvelle théologie did much more to tear us up from our roots than it did to drive us back all in the dubiously ironic claim that it was "bringing us back to our roots". And Church architecture plays a significant role in the prayers of the Church.

Better at architecture than
any Scandinavian today.

Met. Hilarion Alfeyev gives a brief history and theological explanation of Church architecture in Orthodox Christianity, Volume III: The Architecture, Icons, and Music of the Orthodox Church. In it, he cites St. Maximus the Confessor,

God's holy Church is a symbol of man; its soul is the sanctuary; the sacred altar, the mind; and its body is the nave. A church is thus the image and likeness of God. The nave is used as the body should be used, for exemplifying practical moral philosophy; from the sanctuary the Church leads the way to natural contemplation spiritually as man does with his soul; and she embarks on mystical theology through the sacred altar. (The Mystagogia 4, in Architecture, Icons, and Music of the Orthodox Church, 34)

The measurements used derive from the human body which at the foundation, "lies the principle of harmonious correlation between parts and the whole as well as the interrelation of parts between themselves" (35). This principle was even used in pagan temples though it has its roots in Christianity from the Solomonic Temple of the era before the Babylonian Captivity.

The golden ratio is applied thoroughly in ancient Byzantine and Old Russian Church architecture. This is  when "the ratio of the larger portion to the smaller is equal to the sum of both parts of the segment to its larger section" (36-37). Such proportions "were a guarantee not only of [the church's] beauty and longevity but also of good acoustics....Primarily, the force of sound was amplified by arched openings and overhead coverings." (38)

Example of Naryshkin baroque.

When Tsar Peter the Great reigned, he oversaw a period that would westernize much of Russia. In doing this, Russian architects, influenced by Italian counterparts, adopted the Naryshkin baroque style. "Peter changed the meaning of traditional Russian measurements by coordinating them with English ones." (63) The sazhen became an English foot, which was shorter than the traditional sazhen in measurement by 1 percent. Only a house-builder who has to follow strict code nowadays can understand the mathematical consequences. Such would lead to an "absence of a correlation between the form of the structure and its liturgical purpose. Often a huge church would have a disproportionately small sanctuary, resulting in discomfort during divine services." (65)

Classical baroque. Note the assymetry.

Met. Hilarion Alfeyev only intends to focus on Church architecture from an Orthodox Christian perspective but his insight on this issue is valuable in considering the theology of Church architecture for the Church in its entirety. When such considerations are given to proportions, acoustics, comfort, and beauty, the question really becomes a matter of whether the architecture of the Church building points toward the splendor of Heaven or is it a purgatorial suffering that must be "put up with" on this Earth in order to attain eternal life. The comments from the envoys of St. Vladimir of Kiev regarding Hagia Sophia was that they didn't know whether they were in Heaven or still on Earth. The liturgy is certainly not a purgatorial suffering and how we frame our architecture is crucial to the experience of divine worship. Baroque architecture has its weaknesses but the architects have sought to preserve the beauty of the liturgy whereas the modernist brutalist architects are callous and have hearts hardened even more so than the lumps of concrete exposed in their designs. Let brutalism be anathema!