Is nothing sacred?

What do silent discos, crazy golf and a helter-skelter have to do with sacred space? The answer is that cathedrals in Canterbury, Rochester and Norwich have all provided these facilities in their buildings, opening their doors for people to have fun in space traditionally viewed as dedicated to the worship of God. Predictably, people have polarised over the issue. Fans of the idea talk about a consecration by God of all that is good in life, providing creative and innovative ways to share the story of the Bible, and helping people to understand that it’s not all boring and serious. Rochester Cathedral has seen more people attending Saturday Evensong as a result. Critics see the move as a desecration or an unprofessional mistake: they claim that putting entertainment in a Cathedral is just ‘naff’, and detracts attention from God. According to Dr Ashenden ‘For such a place, steeped in mystery and marvel to buy in to sensory pleasure and distraction, is to poison the very medicine it offers the human soul.’
 
This strikes me as a rather sweeping statement, given that listening to music is about as sensory as it gets: when our ears appreciate music, blood flows into the limbic system of our brain, triggering feelings of pleasure and wellbeing. Our capacity to enjoy music is one of God’s gifts to us, and worth celebrating. And musical tastes vary – not everyone appreciates organ recitals. Should cathedrals restrict themselves to ‘sacred music,’ written to enlighten the spirit and to glorify God? Should Manchester Cathedral be hosting Candlelight Concerts which pay tribute to the music of Taylor Swift and Coldplay? If those concerts lift people’s hearts with a sense of wonder at what they have heard and seen, is that not part of what cathedrals are designed to do?
 
The experience of transcendence has been described as ‘that flight of the human spirit outside the confines of its material, physical existence which all of us, secular or religious, experience on at least a few occasions…the sense of being more than oneself, of being in some way joined to the whole of life.’ Such experiences are significant because because we are spiritual beings and in such moments God can draw close to us. If you have experienced transcendence, was that in a ‘sacred space’ or somewhere else? It was Salman Rushdie who gave us that description of transcendence in his essay, ‘Is nothing sacred?’ Does knowing the source of the quotation make you more or less inclined to agree with it? Why is that the case? Because I have cited Salman Rushdie in the church bulletin, does it feel to you as if I am bringing a secular writer into what should be a sacred space, exclusively set apart for Christian thinkers?
 
The London Institute for Contemporary Christianity wants us to abolish what it refers to as ‘the sacred-secular divide’: the whole of life should be holy. If that is the case, then we should look for the presence of God in every part of our lives, in every moment of the day, and we might find him in unexpected ways and places and sources. We certainly should not expect him to be corralled into ecclesiastical buildings for an hour on a Sunday morning.
 
Our own church buildings were designed to be multi-purpose, a resource for the community as well as a place for us to gather for fellowship and worship. It is great
to see our buildings being used so effectively in these ways, and I am grateful to all those who work so hard to make this happen. When these premises were built, it was never part of the vision for their use to be restricted to activities which could be classified as ‘holy’ rather than ‘secular.’ But would we hope that people entering these buildings catch a sense of the presence of the God who is worshipped by the congregation who gather for worship here week by week? Why would they do so? Simply walking into Brighton Road is not going to bring them into the presence of God, though some people do talk about finding a sense of peace here, and I am always glad to hear that. But what might they see of God through the fabric of our building, and how might they encounter him when they meet us on the premises? Would doing the Macarena in a silent disco help?
 
Actually, I wonder whether the whole idea of getting people into our ecclesiastical buildings so that they will encounter God there is a misconception. God’s agenda is less about safeguarding sacred space and more about releasing his holiness into the world, sending us out into the community so that Christ can reveal himself in us and through us. Paul talked about making himself a slave to everyone to win as many people as possible to the gospel (1 Corinthians 9:19). For him, every time he met someone, it was an opportunity for him to serve them in the name of Jesus, and for them to meet Jesus through the way in which he treated them and spoke to them.
 
If we are the temple of the Holy Spirit, then maybe for us the answer to the question, ‘Is nothing sacred?’ should be, ‘Isn’t everything?’
Tim Carter