Design for Life

By now we should be familiar with the idea of created human beings sharing certain characteristics in common with our Creator God. These characteristics are crucially important in allowing our God to reveal himself to us meaningfully so as to accomplish his purposes for humanity.

However, the Bible contains clues to another neglected aspect of our created nature: spatial awareness. Not convinced? Well think of the large number of theological concepts that assume an understanding of our position in a space - holiness, territory, gathering, marriage and banishment. These are ideas from God that are intended to chime immediately with our understanding of the world around us in order to convey truth.

Or think of Adam in the garden, using that simple, child-like act of hiding, in a feeble attempt to separate himself visually from God's all-seeing gaze. Throughout the Bible, we see how God has communicated truths about his own character and the nature of created order in ways that clearly assume we have a common grasp of spatial ideas, even if, like Adam, his people carry too small a concept of God.

Of course, the best embodiment of spatial intent in Scripture is found in God's architectural instructions for the holy buildings of the Old Testament - the tabernacle and the temple. The divine architect gives a precise specification for the material content and quality of the constructions - and, crucially, the juxtaposition of those parts to enclose spaces. This leads to a very particular layout that literally enshrines the relationship of the Israelites with God. Along the way, God's people are also given rules about how they themselves are to be arranged in assembly. These architectural techniques for creating formality in gatherings persist in our modern church buildings, which traditionally share much in common with the biblical models.

So, with that in mind, what might we look for in architecture in order to assess its quality? In short, what makes a good building?

This week saw the annual award of the Stirling Prize for architecture, given to the building that is deemed most significant for the development of the discipline.

From a shortlist of brash contenders from better economic times, it was awarded to a building of uncommon modesty and generosity. The Maggie's Centre for cancer treatment in West London features state-of-the-art sustainability measures, a warm modern style, and high quality materials. But, significantly, it is a building that creates spaces that support the notion of a small community together under one roof. Though not religious in content, it speaks of giving a dignity to human relationships by taking great care in its internal organisation.

As we look at architecture we should ask ourselves whether we are being taken in by the superficiality of image, or whether we are appreciating buildings for the way they put people at ease together for a purpose. Of course, the Stirling prizewinner demonstrates how it is possible to do both well.

Ultimately, space is more important than appearance, because it shapes how we relate to one another and God.


 

Author: John Lee