The Architecture of Worship

By Rebecca Wolfe
(This article appeared in the National Altar Guild Association’s newsletter Epistle, Autumn 2006, and is based on Rebecca’s experiences at General Convention and the concurrent NAGA convention last June in Columbus, Ohio.)

In my father's house there are many rooms. . . .
– John 14:2

How literally true in Columbus; vast convention center halls, large, indifferent hotel ballrooms, the comfort and familiarity of a historic church, and breezy outdoor spaces. But no matter where we were, there was a sense of intimacy, of profound com­munity. The places we shared - physically, emotionally and spiritually - were varied in their architecture, but all were constructed around thhe unshakable foundation of the Eucharist. The worship that happened in these spaces united and invited us to greater community. Perhaps sometimes we found ourselves in different rooms of this great house, but it is a comfort, a peace beyond understanding to realize there are doors that open one to another.

If the building wasn't there, church would be in the park, in the street, wherever the people are.
– NPR Youth Radio

The theme of Unity Through Diversity defined the 2006 NAGA triennial meeting. We were fortunate to have as celebrants of the daily Eucharist men and women from different cultural and ethnic backgrounds who invited us to a broader understanding of the inclusivity of our faith.

The Rev. Canon Virginia "Ginny" Doctor was our first cele­brant. She was arrayed in traditional Native American vestments of incredible beauty and detail. The shells, feathers and animal skins in the vestments made me aware of the sacred connection that exists between all liv­ing things. She recounted a simple story that had special meaning to many of us. Her mother would fill a basket with soiled purifi­cators and wash them in silence, alone. This was her worship time, a space she made for herself. How many of us on the altar guild open our hearts in this way?

The Rev. William McCord "Mac" Thigpen led us in La Santa Eucaristia. The Spanish words of the service and music of the two short hymns were soft and melodi­ous. In his homily, the Rev. Thigpen remind­ed us that Heaven is "not for English only.­ When the Church makes room to offer ser­vices in the native tongue of an immigrant population, language becomes a construct of solace and caring. No matter what the lan­guage, we all understand the centrality of the Eucharist. But hearing the words spoken as one has heard them from childhood is a comfort many of us take for granted.

The Rev. Phil Byrum was our Chaplain throughout the NAGA meeting, joining us each morning for worship, leading Noonday Prayers and often accompanying us to after­noon workshops and evening social events. A memorable moment in his shepherding role occurred when our full Sunday morning of touring left us somewhat limp and weary. The affable priest gathered us under the shade of a massive tree in Topiary Park to rest on the cool grass and to join in prayers adapted from A New Zealand Prayer Book. After such refreshing respite, we were eager for lunch and the chance to explore the won­ders of the park.

At the Asian Eucharist on our final day of workshops, a diminutive, retired priest, the Rev. Dr. Frances Y. Toy, who proudly described herself as "a first gen­eration American and a cradle Episcopalian," led us through a Chinese-language rite. Although none of us understood the words, we easily followed the liturgy through her grace­ful hand movements. A lilting Chinese hymn reminded us that praise and music are a part of worship in any lan­guage.

One of the loveliest memories I have of Columbus is returning from the convention center to the hotel on the last shuttle bus of the night. As we rode down the darkened streets, I saw a city closed and at rest. But when we passed Trinity Church, the site of some of our worship experiences, the red doors stood open. Through the glass doors inside, one could see straight down the nave to the altar. The lighting was soft, glowing and warm; an invitation. In a moment the bus had moved on, but in that tiny space of time, I felt mv heart swell, filled with thanksgiving that I am part of a ministry dedicated to the hospi­tality, the welcome, of the Table.

Here is the church,
Here is the steeple,
Open the doors,
And see all the people.