On Burned Churches, the Importance of Buildings, and the Greater Importance of Showing Up

Several years ago a United Methodist church in my mother’s Baltimore neighborhood closed. As a United Methodist pastor, this was of some interest to me, though at the time not enough to register many of the details. What I do recall was that in the months afterwards, as different ideas for the use of their vacant building were tossed around in the community, there was a ground-swell of effort to try to save the building, using it for what I can’t recall. The effort seemed to be to preserve the unique architecture of the building. Though preserving churches interests me, can I be honest? Preserving church buildings does not. Not after they have ceased to serve their purpose as a gathering place for a faith community and a mission center in the community.

I am a pragmatist in that way, I suppose. As long as church buildings are serving their designed purpose, I think we would do well to maintain them. This has been a challenge for many congregations, but it is a worthy one because our buildings not only glorify God, but they enable us to worship, draw close to the sacred, fellowship, serve, and reach out to the community.

This week as we watched Notre Dame in Paris burn, and then saw the outpouring of financial commitments for its rebuilding by many of the wealthiest people in France, I was reminded of that Baltimore church. I was also reminded, as many did well to make sure we all were, that Notre Dame wasn’t the only sacred building devastated by flames that week: three African-American churches in Louisiana were burned by a man motivated, it seems, by the dark cloud of racism that continues to hang over our nation.

In the wake of the Notre Dame fire, many were motivated to donate to help rebuild these churches as well. Pragmatist that I am, I found this reassuring—people seemed to rightly see the importance of restoring places of worship, wherever they were. I suspect that in the case of Notre Dame, some of those donors were motivated not by a desire to preserve a house of worship, but rather, like some in that Baltimore neighborhood, a desire to preserve the architecture, the cultural importance of the place. Perhaps the same might be true of some donating to rebuild other churches (whether in Louisiana or elsewhere) as well.

Art and architecture are important, and I am grateful there are those who passions seek to support and preserve both. I think such a drive is an important contribution to society and history—and, well, also the future.

For me, however, I can’t help but ponder why the Notre Dame fire really struck a chord with so many, and if they are willing to see their concern and interest through on a broader scale.

Notre Dame was built to glorify God. I have visited and served in churches which reflected great investment of time and money in their design, construction and decoration than some of the stark, simple houses of worship which dot the American landscape. I also understand and stand in the line of some of those Christians who pushed back against what they felt was the waste of worship spaces dripping in wealth. Still, I know the connection with the sacred that such grand places can create. If there is one need we have today, perhaps a greater connection and openness to the sacred is it. Sometimes it is towering arches, ornate stained-glass windows and inlaid floors which conjure not only a glimpse of the glory of God, but also the passion and commitment of the artisans to use their talents to bring glory to God.

And then sometimes all of these things can become an end unto themselves. Sometimes, whether we worship in ornate spaces or simple structures, the buildings can become an end unto themselves. There are far too many United Methodist congregations, for example, crushed under the weight of buildings whose deferred maintenance, rising costs and unwieldy upkeep hamstring efforts to grow—in number, depth of discipleship, and outreach to the community.

Our buildings serve our mission. For United Methodists, that mission is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. For Christians more broadly, Jesus’ Great Commission directs us to, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” (Matthew 18:19-20)

If you feel drawn to support the rebuilding efforts at Notre Dame, I hope it is so that the leaders there can further this mission of making disciples. If you feel drawn to join the many who have already donated, and support the rebuilding of the burned churches in Louisiana, I commend you for your support of the making of disciples in those places.

And if you want to go further, if your sorrow over these burned churches has stirred in you some sense of the sacred and a desire to support the work of making disciples and transforming the world, I invite you to consider visiting a local congregation for worship—to connect with the sacred and find opportunities to take that experience out into the world.

This evening begins the Triduum, the great three days of the Christian church. In these days, we commemorate the final hours of Jesus’ life, mourn his brutal death by crucifixion, then Easter Sunday, join in celebrating his resurrection. Churches across the country and around the world will be gathering—under grand arches, in the shadow of stained glass, or in simple rooms—to remember Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples, sit in grief and brokenness in the face of his death, and on Easter Sunday, you might even see some gathered in cemeteries, like Christians before them, to claim and proclaim their confidence that because of God’s power in Jesus Christ, death, even the most brutal of deaths, is not the end.

What the Church needs from you more than anything is for you to show up. To turn your sadness at the destruction of buildings into a willingness to take the intimidating step (and boy, do I know showing up at a church for the first time can be intimidating) of entering into community. If you are connected to a local congregation already, I invite you to not passively move into Easter, but to show up—both at your own church and maybe at other churches if your church doesn’t offer services each day of the Triduum.

Our buildings have never been meant to be an end unto themselves. Whatever grand architecture, beautiful art or creative design they may have, our church buildings have always been intended to provide a place for people to experience the sacred as they enter into God’s presence, and to connect with others as we all, with differing degrees of faith (or none at all) and at difference places on our journeys, come together. This world, our lives, can feel small, broken and discouraging. Our God invites us into redeemed and reconciled relationship with God and with each other—our buildings provide spaces for that community to happen. But that community, that mission, only happens when you show up. Join us.