Spiritual Space and Architecture

In the summer of 1999, I experienced the full effect of architecture on physical, mental and spiritual notions. Made possible by a restored kiva on the property of Kelly Place, a bed and breakfast near Mesa Verde National Park, I became even more aware of the intricate relationship between the physical and the spiritual.

This Sunday's homily at mass was about spending more spiritual time in our lives. Recently, I have been doing a little research on prayer gardens and labyrinths, and specifically about the labyrinth at the Chartres Cathedral in France.

http://www.lessons4living.com/chartres_labyrinth.htm
http://www.johnjames.com.au/chartres-thelabyrinth.shtml
http://www.crystalinks.com/labyrinths.html
http://www.greatdreams.com/sacred/triple-doors.htm (scroll down to Chartres)
http://members.aol.com/Lambdom3/Chartes.html

Several websites have led me to wonder about the extreme thought put into architecture and buildings in the past. Many experts believe that these buildings were built to honor God or gods, take your pick. As I ponder this, I realize that this type of powerful architecture is more of an outer expression of an inner spiritual movement, if you will. Could it be a reflection of the internal dwelling of God?

Being born into a world pre-established with external buildings, institutions and societies, it is easy for us to think that the world is material, and that buildings are material. We know it exists in a physical sense, and we tend to assume that these external things are only external in nature and existence. We continue the assumption that these external existences have no foundation internally, exist solely in the physical realm and have no relation to the internal spirituality.

What about those truly inspirational buildings, places, and spaces that invoke a sense of amazement and wonder of something much more significant and ethereal than our own humanity? What about the spaces that transform our our thinking, our perception and our conscience to an entirely different realm?

A building, regardless how elaborate in form and function, effectively changes the physical space around it. It displaces air and molecules around it, and makes a footprint in the ground, interacting with all physical elements that surround it. The design of the building has a direct effect on how each physical element reacts to the building's imposition on that element.

I have believed for several years that undefined energies can be created within an architectural design, as physical elements react to the existence of this object in space. It is an extension of several trains of thought: The art thought that people are drawn to tension in an art piece (note the David sculpture and the twisting position of the torso among the tension points); and the concept of tension in design and construction of a building.

With this thinking, I began to be drawn to spaces that seemed to have this tension. A tension point in architecture could be defined as the location where two or more building materials are attached together with pressing force in its architectural design. (I'm sure there is a bona fide architect out there that knows the actual term for this. I, however, am not a bona fide architect.)
I noticed that ghost hunters would invariably sense the presence of ghosts in these same building tension point areas, as stairways and doorways are physical stress and tension points in a building. I noticed that in historical architecture altars and sacred places of distinction were located directly under these major architectural tension points in a building. Coincidence? I think not.

It is the outer expression of an inner spirit.

I look at new churches recently built and see a grave lack of major tension points in its building. Is this a reflection of the lack of spiritual energy within today's architect? Is it the denial of healthy and appealing tension in our external world because we don't want that tension and stress, and that feeling in society of don't offend anybody tolerance? (I digress.)

Yes, it is an outer expression of an inner spirit. A spirit created and designed before the first building ever stood. A spirit existing before the first stroke of pigment touched a cave wall. A spirit of succession that dwells in those who continue to use it to light the torch of their souls.

This same spirit beckons us to light our torches and see beauty and intricate simplicity.

Romans 10:8
But what does it say? The word is near you, on your lips and in your heart (that is, the word of faith which we preach)...

Psalm 91: 1-2
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, who abides in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust."

Luke 4:1
And Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan, and was led by the Spirit...

This was Jesus' 40 days and nights of temptation by the devil. Not even the Son of God had smooth sailing on earth. There is tension and stress. It is in this tension and stress that we see the work of God. As it is so for those who feel the tension and stress in architecture.

In the restored kiva near Mesa Verde, I felt an odd sense as I descended down the small hole in the earth on a hand-hewn ladder, not knowing what space this ladder was leading me into. It was a bit of fear and trepidation, also wonder and anticipation of exploration. I began to see a series of huge log beams radiating out from the center that held up the earth. I set my feet on the ground. I felt a sense of being safe and secure in this underground sanctuary.

I looked around in awe that a people so many years ago could build such a secluded, secure place. I sat down on the earthened bench and felt a calm come over me. I felt a need to reflect on my inner spirit, as if the external space was capturing and focusing my spiritual energies. I sat for a moment or two within the silence of the kiva. It felt peaceful and spiritually nurturing.

I heard a hum in my ear. A perfectly tuned hum that did not waver. I stood up and walked around the space to see if it would change or disappear. It stayed constant. My husband, who accompanied me into the kiva, stood on the other side of the circular kiva. I asked if he heard the hum. Although he had not initially noticed the hum, he confirmed that the hum seemed to be external and not something I was just hearing in my head. It was as if the structure of the kiva emitted this perfect audible and stable frequency.

These historic architects knew the power of the structure and its manipulative abilities on our environments. I cannot fathom how these ancient builders attained such knowledge, unless it was their own spiritual journeys that led them to understand the physical and spiritual nature that surrounds us.

I believe we all are architects of our physical, mental and spiritual realms. Our physical, mental and spiritual realms do not exist separately. We all have the internal spirit with us, to guide us, and to use the stress and tension before us to be used for good. We are challenged in our journey to stop, listen, and sense that spirit. And we are encouraged to bring that internal spirit into our world, and share that spirit so others can find it and experience the constant, conforting, and unchanging hum of that same spirit.

Whoever you are, if you seek to fathom the good in these doors

Then marvel not at the gold or the cost, but find the aim of the artist.

This noble art has a hidden light that can lift the mind in an inward way

It warms the heart, to turn from daily concern to heaven within,

And opens the door to truth in each of us.

Such art can show how the spirit within can be found in this world:

The dull mind rises to truth through material things,

And seeing this light escapes its former submersion.

--Abbot Suger of St Denis