What is a church? How you answer this will set the tone for much of what follows because there is an obvious answer that focuses on the physical structure and a slightly more involved response that focuses on the community that uses the building. If you opt for the first definition, try this thought experiment: the building you envisage becomes unusable, for one reason or another. The congregation decamps to a nearby community centre. Does this community centre become a “church” because it now fulfils the role that the “real” church used to play? Or is “church” a more abstract concept? Our displaced congregation has a specific purpose in their gathering, different to that of a yoga class or birthday party that might also take place in this space. There is something intentional about this gathering, in other words, that justifies use of the word “church”. People come together, set out chairs and tables in a particular fashion, hand out hymns books and follow their liturgy. Then, at the end, the books are packed away, the chairs and tables stacked again and the room is ready for the next group, the next activity. “Church”, in other words, describes the people and their purpose, not the place.
I can write with some personal experience because Durham Quakers meet in just such a shabby hall in a community centre, sitting in the shadow of the Durham Cathedral, one of the grandest Romanesque cathedrals in Europe. For an hour or so each Sunday, that hall with its rundown fixtures and tired fittings has something in common with its iconic neighbour, not in architectural or liturgical terms, but simply because people have chosen to come together there to perpetuate a tradition of worship. Durham Cathedral has a near unbroken tradition of such worship that goes back to Saxon times. However, the group in the community centre hall are not only part of this same tradition, but can trace their origins further, to the earliest days of the Christianity, when there were no dedicated buildings and believers met instead in rooms in houses (Acts 1:13; 12:12), or even outside (Acts 16:13).
The earliest records of buildings dedicated as spaces for Christian worship date from the second and third centuries and the word “church” as a result, came to have two meanings: the network of believers in a local area, but also more broadly, and the building where they met. Over time, every aspect of these buildings was enriched by layers of meaning - the orientation of the structure, the furniture (pews, altars etc) and decorations (frescos, icons, statues, crucifixes), as did every act performed within the building. Every sense was invoked: sight (crosses and stained glass, for example), sound (singing), smell (incense), taste (the bread and wine of the Eucharist) and touch (a hand laid on a head for a blessing).
Almost none of this had any basis in the Bible but arose as a result of later traditions. This meant that churches and their decorations became a target for the Protestant Reformation in the sixteenth century, which sought a purer, more authentic, Bible-based faith. Many Presbyterian, Congregational and, later, Quaker groups went so far as to refer to their buildings as “Meeting Houses”, to emphasise that the place, itself, had no sacral significance beyond being the place where a group of like-minded people met for worship.
Yet whether they meet in a Meeting House or a hired space, Quakers still take steps to create an appropriate environment for worship so, in a sense, they are creating an ephemeral “sacred space”, at least for the hour or so when they gather. So it is worth asking what defines this space as a place where a Meeting for Worship can take place? What do Meeting Houses and spaces used by Quakers have in common? Given that Quakers emphasise “plainness”, we will not be seeking answers in the fabric of the building or its ornamentation, so the exercise will need to focus on less tangible characteristics.
The outline for this contemplation comes from Finding Sanctuary by the Benedictine Monk Christopher Jamieson. In this short book, Jamieson urges his readers to construct a “monastery” in their minds as a place for their own private retreats from the busy-ness of everyday life. He defined the door, floor, walls, roof, windows and furniture in terms of the mental attributes required of a monk and, though I did not agree with all of his metaphors and interpretations, this is a useful framework for contemplating Quaker worship. With that in mind, let’s approach the Meeting House and seek out the entrance …
This series will be illustrated by photos of sacred spaces that I’ve gathered on my travels, starting close to home with a photo of Durham Cathedral.