(The Nationalist, 15 August 2003)
People nowadays are under great pressure to live faster and achieve more. Someone has said that the new Irish creed is: faster is better than slower; bigger is better than smaller; richer is better than poorer; now is better than later; and for now is better than for ever. An Indian writer put his view of the matter this way, ‘An incessant “progress”, never ending in contentment, means a condemnation of all people to a state of irremediable poverty’ (Ananda Coomaraswamy)
People have greater expectations, but often are unable to fulfil them. Ever-increasing speed creates an illusion of progress, while generating tension and trivializing relationships. We live surrounded by noise and images. This can make life superficial, lived on the surface like the ice-skater skimming at speed but with no depth.
In the middle of all this, we need places of silence that are also places of beauty. The human spirit needs rest from time to time, a place and an opportunity to sit, unwind and reflect in silence, a place that speaks, breathes and even smells of calm and rest.
This is one reason why we need churches that are silent and beautiful. If we didn’t have such places we would need to create them. We need places which are unambiguously silent, set apart from the normal run of life’s activities, beautiful to look at, to feel, to touch and to smell. We need them to safeguard us against drabness and drudgery, against a mechanistic and wearisome utilitarianism. When people have such places, they can also be helped by them to go beyond the aesthetically pleasing and soothing, and begin a silent communion with the self. It is when we enter our own heart that we begin to find the kingdom of God.
Perhaps we could have a fresh look at our church buildings and how they have developed, not only in their appearance but, more so, in how we perceive them and what impact they have on us. If they are places of silence and beauty, let’s keep them that way. If not, maybe we could think about how we can make them such.