Station for the Soul Train?

The chapel at my new school is a phenomenal architectural structure and the first time I saw it, I hated it. Allow me to explain. It is made almost entirely of concrete, with copper railings and things throughout and a very open floor plan. The balconies make it resemble a theater-in-the-round, but the floor seating can be removed or rearranged very easily. But I gradually came to see the beauty in the meaning of the design.

The chapel looks like a train station. It has giant concrete columns and exposed venting, and it has the feel of several railway tunnels that run parallel to one another. Someone once told me that it was designed to look like a train station to remind us that we are perpetually in transition. Particularly at a seminary, we are in-between, traveling from one part of our life to another, learning to minister to people, and temporarily in community in this place. We won't stay at seminary, just as people never remain in a train station forever, it is merely a point on the way to another destination, or perhaps a pause on a long journey.

There are also, if one looks carefully, pieces missing throughout the chapel. There are chunks out of the pulpit and the altar, as well as pieces missing in the columns. All of these remind us that nothing on earth is complete. Nothing is ever perfect or totally put together, but the incompleteness is still beautiful.

There is also a lot of natural light in the chapel, both from the ceiling and from windows along the sides of the chapel that are invisible from 3 sides, which make it seem as though the walls are glowing slightly. The balconies rise in steps as they go around the main floor, demonstrating an ascent or, to my mind, growth. While concrete and venting systems aren't beautiful materials, their unfinished nature and the baring of things that are typically inside walls make the whole space feel a little vulnerable and unpolished, as though to remind us that humanity isn't about being complete or impenetrable.

I was used to churches with giant stained-glass windows and pews that are nailed down that felt old and reverent and invincible. It's refreshing to worship in a space that is simpler. The totally different feel of the room challenges me to consider the service more carefully instead of just going through the traditional motions. At the same time, the space is not necessarily designed for contemporary worship, as many more recent church buildings are. The open floor plan allows it to be adjusted for any type of worship.

What a blessing to be able to meet God and the community of faith in such a unique space!