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TABLE OF CONTENTS
List of Figures and Tables...................................................................................... ix
List of Contributors.............................................................................................. xxi
Editor’s Preface ................................................................................................ xxiii

Esteban Fernández-Cobián, Chair of CIARC-ICCRA
List of Abbreviations .......................................................................................... xxv
Section 1 - The Expression of the Identity of Christian Art and Architecture

1. Steven J. Schloeder, USA .................................................................................. 3
The Architecture of the Mystical Body. How to Build
Churches after the Second Vatican Council
2. Giancarlo Santi, Italy ........................................................................................ 29
The Debate on the Identity of the New Churches
The Italian Situation
3. Rafael A. García-Lozano, Spain ...................................................................... 41
From Theology to Identity in Contemporary Religious
Architecture
4. Eduardo Segura, Spain...................................................................................... 49
The Configuration of the Sacred Space.
Sacramental Essence and Christian Existence
5. Anthony Arizmendi, USA ................................................................................ 55
Redefining the Sacred in the Urban Realm
6. First Panel Discussion ...................................................................................... 67
The Sacred Space in the Globalized Society: Between the
Concept and Identity
Section 2 - Typological Transgressions and Theological Determinations:

the Inculturation of the Sacred Space
7. Glauco Gresleri, Italy........................................................................................ 93

Lercaro and the Beginning of Modern
Liturgical Architecture
vi Between Concept and Identity
8. Aleksandar Kadijevic & Miroslav Pantovic, Serbia ...................................... 119

The Concepts and Identity of the New Serbian Orthodox
Ecclesiastical Architecture
9. Zorán Vukoszávlyev, Hungary........................................................................ 133
Contemporary Hungarian Church-Architecture.
Re-Interpretation of a Broken Tradition on the Turn
of the Millennium
10. Eugenio J. Rodríguez-González, Spain ........................................................ 143
The Search for the Irish National Identity
through Church Architecture
11. Silvia Blanco, Spain...................................................................................... 155
An Amazing Project: the Ephimeral Church
of Montigny-Sur-Lès-Cormeilles
12. Myriam B. Mahiques, USA .......................................................................... 163
Religious Expressions of Chicanos in Los Angeles.
From the Body to the Streets
Section 3 - Inclusive Architecture vs. Exclusionary Architecture
13. Victoriano Sainz, Spain ................................................................................ 173

Continuatio Naturae. The Monastic Architecture
of Dom Hans van der Laan
14. Caroline Voet & Yves Schoonjans, Belgium ................................................ 199
Dom Hans van der Laan’s Architectonic Space as a
Contemporary Interpretation of Connaissance Poetique
within Sacred Architecture
15. Ana M. Tavares Martins, Portugal................................................................ 213
Cistercian Minimalism: from the 12th Century Cister
to the 21st Century Minimum
16. Antonio S. Río, Spain .................................................................................. 223
The Chapels of Labor Universities.
Recovering Modernity in the Spanish Architecture
of the 20th Century
17. Alessandro Braghieri, Italy .......................................................................... 233
The Holy Family Church by Ludovico Quaroni in Genoa.
The Search for Identity
18. Arsenio T. Rodrigues, USA .......................................................................... 245
A Study of Phenomenological Differences Between the
Sacred and Secular in Architecture
Table of Contents vii
19. Victorino Pérez-Prieto, Spain ...................................................................... 257

Sacred Spaces in Christianity and other Religions.
Section 4 - Sacredness and Urban Space: the Place of Worship

as a Socially Cohesive Element
20. Fernando Tabuenca & Jesús Leache, Spain.................................................. 269

Saint George’s Church and Parish Complex in Pamplona
21. Brett Tippey, USA ........................................................................................ 291
The Traditional Worship and Social Reality.
Richard J. Neutra’s Religious Architecture
22. Carla Zito, Italy ............................................................................................ 301
The Construction of 22 Churches for Turin’s Periphery (1965-1977)
23. Claudia Manenti, Italy .................................................................................. 309
Contemporary Cities and the Presence of the Church
24. Barbara Fiorini, Italy .................................................................................... 319
Church Building and Thermal City
25. Lorenzo Valla, Italy ...................................................................................... 331
The Cavedone District Church, Bologna.
The Social Function of Sacred Architecture
26. Imanol García de Albéniz, Spain.................................................................. 343
The District Church or the Debate on the New Sacred
Identities in the City
Section 5 - Extensions of Metaphor in Contemporary Religious Architecture
27. Soledad García-Morales, Spain .................................................................... 357

Building the Religious Space. A Teaching Experience at
the Madrid School of Architecture
28. Antonia M. Pérez-Naya, Spain .................................................................... 389
The Silenced Death. Contemporary Funeral Architecture
29. Luigi Leoni, Italy .......................................................................................... 399
Father Costantino Ruggeri, the Singer of Beauty
30. Javier Viver, Spain ........................................................................................ 415
An Update on Sacred Art in the Spanish Tradition of Mystical Realism
31. Second panel discussion .............................................................................. 439
Metaphor, Beauty and Contemporaneity in the Sphere of Worship
Index.................................................................................................................... 455
LIST OF FIGURES AND TABLES
FIGURES
Fig. 1.1. Peter Hammond, Organic models of the church according to radical
functionalism (taken from Liturgy and architecture, 1960).
Fig. 1.2. Rudolf Schwarz, St. Michael, Frankfurt (Germany), 1953/54.
Fig. 1.3. Rainer Senn, Pelousey chapel (France), ca. 1960.
Fig. 1.4. J.W. Crowfoot and G.M. Crowfoot, Church at Dura Europos (Syria),
ca. 232.
Fig. 1.5. Eusebius of Caesarea (ca. 275-339).
Fig. 1.6. Francesco di Giorgio Martini, Study for the plan of a church (taken from
Trattato di architettura civile e militare, ca. 1482).
Fig. 1.7. Abbé Marc-Antoine Laugier, The primitive hut (taken from Essai sur
l’Architecture, 1755).
Fig. 1.8. Gustave Doré, The heavenly Jerusalem, 1865.
Fig. 1.9. Author unknown, The Desert Tabernacle.
Fig. 1.10. Sandor Ritz, Santo Stefano Rotondo (ca. 468/83) (taken from La nuova
Gerusalemme dell’Apocalisse e S. Stefano Rotondo, 1967).
Fig. 1.11. Blessed Virgin Mary Cathedral, Salisbury (United Kingdom),
1220-1320.
Fig. 1.12. Jean Fouquet, Construction of the Temple of Jerusalem, ca. 1470.
Fig. 1.13. The ancient city and the contemporary city: Jerusalem vs. Los Angeles.
Fig. 1.14. Parallels between one of the temples of Tarxien and Sleeping Lady
(Malta, ca. 2800 BC.)
Fig. 1.15. René Schwaller de Lubicz, parallels between the Ramesseum at Luxor
(Egypt, s. XIII BC.) and human skeleton.
Fig. 5.1. Constantinople and Hong-Kong.
Fig. 5.2. The Limelight Night Club, New York; external view.
Fig. 5.3. The Limelight Night Club, New York; interior.
Fig. 5.4. Church in American Mid West or office building? Church in Mexico or
mall interior?
Fig. 5.5. Rheims Cathedral, France. Durham Cathedral, England.
Fig. 5.6. St. Patrick Cathedral, New York. Washington National Cathedral,
Washington DC.
Fig. 5.7. Trinity Church from Wall Street, New York. Citicorp Centre w/St Peter
church.
Fig. 5.8. Spanish Steps, w/Trinitá dei Monti church behind, Rome.
Fig. 6.1. Steven J. Schloeder, St. Therese, Collinsville-Tulsa (Oklahoma, EEUU),
1996/2000.
x Between Concept and Identity
Fig. 6.2. Distribution of major religions in different U.S. states: Tulsa

(Oklahoma).
Fig. 7.1. Giacomo Lercaro, Archbishop of Bologna (1952/68).
Fig. 7.2. Bologna in the 1950’s. Undifferentiated sprawling of the peripheral
urban tissue, with some residual plots for facilities in the middle of the
constructed plots.
Fig. 7.3. Catacomb-like situation of the parish of San Vincenzo de Paoli in 1954.
Exterior and interior.
Fig. 7.4. Glauco Gresleri, model of an emergency church: temporary arrangement
of a garage as parish church devoted to Sant’Eugenio Papa in the Casaglia
area (Bologna, 1956); interior.
Fig. 7.5. Luciano Lullini, parish church of Sant’Eugenio Papa in the Casaglia area
(Bologna, 1963/73).
Fig. 7.6. Cover of the issue 1-2 (1956) of the Chiesa e Quartiere magazine.
Fig. 7.7. Lercaro, standing inside a convertible car and embracing a huge wooden
cross, tours the Bologna outskirts followed by an entourage of faithful
(26 June 1955).
Fig. 7.8. The wooden cross in the periphery marks the plot acquired for a new
parish church (1955).
Fig. 7.9. Parish of Santa Rita deCasia; a country estate adapted as worship place
(1955).
Fig. 7.10. Location of the new parish churches in the outskirts of Bologna (1955).
Fig. 7.11. Churches finally made by Centro Studi (1968).
Fig. 7.12. Alvar Aalto shows Cardinal Lercaro the model of the church to be built
in Riola di Vergato.
Fig. 7.13. Cardinal Lercaro, Guillermo Jullian de la Fuente, Jose Oubrerie and
Luciano Gherardi comment on the project for the Hospital of Venice church,
as well as the planimetric situation of the Le Corbusier’s church for Bologna
(September 1965).
Fig. 7.14. Glauco Gresleri, Kenzo Tange, Francesco Scolozzi and Cardinal
Lercaro. Bologna, September 1966.
Fig. 7.15. Giorgio Trebbi, Glauco Gresleri, Giuliano Gresleri and Franco
Scolozzi, re-structuring of the crypt at San Pietro Cathedral, Bologna 1966,
currently demolished. Plan.
Fig. 7.16. Interior.
Fig. 7.17. Costantino Ruggeri, Stone Calvary with central tabernacle for the crypt
at San Pietro Cathedral, Bologna 1966.
Fig. 7.18. Giuliano Gresleri, Sole e luna, wall painting made at the workshop of
the parish church of Beata Vergine Immacolata (Glauco Gresleri, 1956/58).
Fig. 8.1. Bogdan Nestorovic & Aleksandar Deroko (original); Branko Pesic &
Vojislav Milovanovic (current), St. Sava Cathedral, Belgrade, 1926/2009.
Fig. 8.2. Mihajlo Mitrovic, St. Basil of Ostrog, Belgrade, 1996/2002.
Fig. 8.3-8.4. Miladin Lukic, St. Luke, Belgrade, 1995/2003.
Fig. 8.5. Nebojsa Popovic, St. Demetrius, New Belgrade, 1998-2001.
List of Figures and Tables xi
Fig. 8.6. Predrag Ristic, The Ascension of Jesus, Ub, c. 2000.

Fig. 8.7. Zoran Bundalo, St. Michael, Jabucje, c. 1995.
Fig. 8.8. Ljubisa Folic, Holy Trinity, Djakovica, 1999.
Fig. 8.9. Sasa Budjevac, Memorial chapel, Bubanj-Nis, 2002/03.
Fig. 8.10. Branislav Mitrovic, Private chapel, Stipina-Knjaževac, 2003/05.
Fig. 9.1. Aladár & Bertalan Árkay, Roman catholic church, Budapest-Városmajor,
1932/33.
Fig. 9.2. László Csaba, Roman Catholic church, Hollóháza, 1966/67.
Fig. 9.3. Imre Makovecz, Roman Catholic church, Paks, 1988/92.
Fig. 9.4. Ferenc Török, Roman Catholic church, Budapest-Lágymányos, 1994/96.
Fig. 9.5. Gábor Kruppa, Roman Catholic church, Budapest-Újpalota, 2008.
Fig. 9.6. Tamás Nagy, Roman Catholic church, Gödöllõ, 2001/07.
Fig. 9.7. Mihály Balázs, Greek Catholic church, Kazincbarcika 1991/95.
Fig. 9.8. Péter Basa, Calvinist church, Budakeszi, 1994/99.
Fig. 9.9. Béla Pazár, Evangelic church, Budapest-Békásmegyer 1997-2000.
Fig. 10.1. William Hague & Thomas McNamara, Roman Catholic Cathedral,
Letterkenny (1890/1901)
Fig. 10.2. William Anthony Scott, St. Enda, Spiddal (1912 ca.).
Fig. 10.3. William Anthony Scott, St. Patrick, Station Island (1919-1926/31).
Fig. 10.4. James McMullen, Honan Hostel’s Chapel, Cork (1915/16).
Fig. 10.5. Rudolf Butler, St. Patrick, Newport (1915/18).
Fig. 10.6. Barry Byrne, Church of Christ the King, Cork (1929/31).
Fig. 10.7. Gerald McNicholl, Garrison church of St. Brigid, Curragh Military
Camp (1955/60).
Fig. 10.8. Ronald Tallon, Corpus Christi, Knockanure (1964).
Fig. 10.9. Patrick Haughey, St. Therese, Sion Mills, (1963/65).
Fig. 10.10. Liam McCormick, St. Aengus, Burt (1964/65).
Fig. 10.11. Shane de Blacam & John Meagher, Chapel of Reconciliation at the
Catholic shrine of Our Lady at Knock (1989/90). External view.
Fig. 10.12. Internal view.
Fig. 11.1. Hans Walter Müller, inflatable church in Montigny-lès-Cormeilles
(France), 1970.
Fig. 11.2. Inflatable-Suit-Home, exhibition of Archigram Group in XIV Triennale
di Milano, 1968.
Fig. 11.3. Structures gonflables, exhibition, Modern Art Museum, Paris, 1968.
Fig. 11.4. Hans Walter Müller, Cabine M de relaxation; Structures gonflables
exhibition, Paris, 1968.
Fig. 11.5. Interior of Montigny-lès-Cormeilles church.
Fig. 11.5. Exterior of Montigny-lès-Cormeilles church.
Fig. 11.7. Detail of the translucent cross above the altar.
Fig. 11.8. The folded church.
Fig. 11.9. The faithful around the unusual event.
Fig. 12.1. House interior. Aztec images and the cross side by side on the wall.
Fig. 12.2. The Virgin Mary and the saints displayed on the fireplace, covered with
xii Between Concept and Identity
a mirror. See below the flowers and candles offered.

Fig. 12.3. Domestic altar.
Fig. 12.4. Day of the Dead altar inside a restaurant in Olvera St.
The Virgin Mary is shown twice.
Fig. 12.5. Virgin and angel in front of a house.
Fig. 12.6. The procession of the Virgin of Guadalupe sets off in Los Angeles
downtown.
Fig. 13.1. Dom Hans van der Laan (1904/91).
Fig. 13.2. Cemetery at Saint Benedict’s Abbey in Vaals (Holland, 1956/86);
with the grave of Dom Hans van der Laan in the foreground.
Fig. 13.3. Roosenberg Convent, Waasmunster (Belgium, 1972/74); the orchard
with the building in the background.
Fig. 13.4. The plastic number: the tridimensional bases of the system.
Fig. 13.5. The plastic number: margin, type and size order.
Fig. 13.6. The plastic number: the morphotech.
Fig. 13.7. Drawing for a chapel façade in Baarle-Nassau (Holland, 1938).
Fig. 13.8. Saint Joseph’s Chapel, Helmond (Holland, 1948).
Fig. 13.9. Vaals Abbey; porter’s room.
Fig. 13.10. Vaals Abbey; cloister gallery.
Fig. 13.11. Aerial view.
Fig. 13.12. General plan.
Fig. 13.13. Church interior.
Fig. 13.14. Church atrium.
Fig. 13.15. Open gallery in the new cloister.
Fig. 13.16. Roosenberg convent; view from the forest.
Fig. 13.17. Plan.
Fig. 13.18. The church seen from the orchard.
Fig. 13.19. Monastery of the Benedictine Mothers of Tomelilla (Sweden, 1986).
Fig. 13.20. Roosenberg Convent; refectory with the furniture designed by Dom
Van der Laan.
Fig. 13.21. Monastery of the Benedictine Mothers of Tomelilla; church interior.
Fig. 13.22. Vaals Abbey; church sacristy with the ornaments designed by
Dom Hans van der Laan.
Fig. 13.23. Sacred cup designed by Dom Hans van der Laan.
Fig. 13.24. Monks’ choir.
Fig. 13.25. Roosenberg convent; altar.
Fig. 13.26. Vaals Abbey; crypt tabernacle.
Fig. 14.1. The vestment workshop in Oosterhout around 1935; in the middle Hans
van der Laan.
Fig. 14.2. Nico van der Laan, Sint-Martinus church, Gennep, The Netherlands,
1952/54.
Fig. 14.3. The crypt. Abbey Sint-Benedictusberg, Mamelis, Vaals,
The Netherlands, 1957/61. Abbey alterations as library extension until 1986.
Fig. 14.4. Isometric view of the atrium, church, tower and entrance.
List of Figures and Tables xiii
Second extension at Abbey Sint-Benedictusberg, Mamelis, Vaals,

The Netherlands, 1962/68.
Fig. 14.5. The atrium.
The Netherlands.
Fig. 14.6. Roosenberg Abbey, Waasmunster, Belgium, 1972/75.
Fig. 14.7. Convent hall. Roosenberg Abbey, Waasmunster, Belgium, 1972/75.
Fig. 14.8. View from the hall towards the bell tower.
Fig. 14.9. Stair towards cellas.
Fig. 14.10. Models: personal experience-space: handelsruimte (workspace)-
oopruimte (walking space)-gezichtsveld (visual field). Translation into
architectonic space: dispositions of cella-court-domain.
Fig. 15.1. The old farm in Novy Dvur (Czech Republic).
Fig. 15.2. John Pawson, Cistercian Benedictine monastery, Novy Dvur
(Czech Republic), 1999/2004.
Fig. 15.3. External view of the monastery.
Fig. 15.4. The cantilever cloister.
Fig. 15.5. External view of the church.
Fig. 15.6. Internal view of the church.
Fig. 15.7. The refectory.
Fig. 15.8. The library.
Fig. 15.9. External view of the church apse.
Fig. 15.10. Internal view of the church apse.
Fig. 16.1-16.2. Luis Moya Blanco, chapel of the Gijón Labour University, 1946.
Fig. 16.3-16.4. Luis Moya Blanco, chapel of the Zamora Labour University,
1947.
Fig. 16.5. Luis Laorga & José López Zanón, A Coruña Labour University, 1964.
Competition model.
Fig. 16.6. Sections of the chapel.
Fig. 16.7. Square leading with the chapel at the back.
Fig. 16.8. Luis Laorga & José López Zanón, Huesca Labour University, 1967.
Fig. 16.9-16.10. Fernando Moreno Barberá, chapel of the Cheste Labour
University (Valencia), 1967.
Fig. 17.1. Main view of the building shortly after its construction in 1959.
Fig. 17.2. Project perspective from the lowest path, 1956.
Fig. 17.3. Project perspective from the middle height path, 1956.
Fig. 17.4. Project plan, 1956.
Fig. 17.5. Project section, 1956.
Fig. 17.6. Project perspective, 1956.
Fig. 17.7. View of the nave shortly after its construction in 1959.
Fig. 17.8. Current view of the nave.
Fig. 17.9. View of Bisagno stream, 1959.
Fig. 17.10. View of Bisagno stream nowadays.
Fig. 18.1. Philip Johnson, Howard Barnstone y Eugene Aubry, Rothko Chapel,
Houston, 1971.
xiv Between Concept and Identity
Fig. 18.2. Gunnar Birkits, Contemporary Arts Museum, Houston, 1972.

Fig. 18.3. Place-making patterns embodied within Rothko Chapel.
Fig. 18.4. Place-making patterns embodied within Contemporary Arts Museum.
Fig. 18.5. Place-making pattern matrix.
Fig. 19.1. Francisco Javier Saenz de Oíza & Luis Laorga, Catholic Basilica of
Our Lady of Arantzazu, Oñate (Spain), 1950/55. Interior with presbytery,
altar, pulpits, place for the reserved sacrament, etc.
Fig. 19.2. Frank Lloyd Wright, Orthodox church of the Annunciation, Milwaukee
(USA), 1956/61. Interior with sanctuary and iconostasis.
Fig. 19.3. Philip Johnson, Crystal Church (The Crystal Cathedral), huge
Protestant church (nowadays, Catholic) in Garden Grove (USA), 1985,
with spaces for the Word, choir, etc.
Fig. 19.4. Mirza Abdelkader, Caltex Terminal Mosque, Karachi (Pakistan), 1998.
Fig. 19.5. Alfred Jacoby, Heidelberg Synagogue (Germany), 1991/94.
Fig. 19.6. Takashi Yamaguchi, White Temple, Kyoto (Japan), 2000/05.
Fig. 19.7. Studio Tamassociati, Pavilion for Prayer and Meditation at the Cardiac
Surgery Centre, Khartoum (Sudan), 2008.
Fig. 19.8. Philip Johnson and Mark Rothko, Rothko Chapel, Houston (Texas,
USA), 1964/71.
Fig. 19.9. Pierre Buraglio, Denis Valode and Jean Pistre, Bretonneau Geriatric
Hospital multiconfessional chapel, Bretonneau-Paris (France), 2001.
Fig. 19.10. Texas Children’s Hospital multiconfessional chapel, Houston (Texas,
USA), 2006.
Fig. 20.1. Domenico Cresti da Passignano, Michelangelo shows Pope Julius II his
modellino of St Peter’s (1619).
Fig. 20.2. Pamplona; location of Saint George church.
Fig. 20.3. Piero della Francesca, The Ideal City (h. 1475).
Fig. 20.4. Detail of the tender model (2000); view from the avenue.
Fig. 20.5. The tender model at the office of the Pamplona Archbishop (2000/02).
Fig. 20.6. Church location foreseen by the Town Council vs. The one
contemplated in the tender winning project.
Fig. 20.7. Final location of the church, with the atrium opened to the district
square.
Fig. 20.8. Tender model (2000); longitudinal section.
Fig. 20.9. Tender model (2000); Eastern elevation.
Fig. 20.10. Tender model (2000); atrium view towards the parish centre.
Fig. 20.11. Tender model (2000); atrium view towards the church.
Fig. 20.12. Tender model (2000); bird’s-eye view.
Fig. 20.13. Tender model (2000); view of the presbytery.
Fig. 20.14. Tender model (2000); view of the nave from the presbytery.
Fig. 20.15. Proposal for the liturgical adaptation of the nave by the new parish
priest (2004).
Fig. 20.16. Saint George’s parish church, Pamplona (2000/08); final project.
Fig. 20.17. Constructive detail of the coffering of the armoured concrete walls.
List of Figures and Tables xv
Fig. 20.18. Detail of the crest on the armoured concrete walls.

Fig. 20.19. Constructive section through the skylight.
Fig. 20.20. The church nave during the fitting if the wooden false ceiling (2007).
Fig. 20.21. Setting of the alabaster wall (2007).
Fig. 20.22. Detail of the posts in the alabaster wall.
Fig. 20.23. Pouring of the atrium pavement (2007).
Fig. 20.24. Interior view of the nave, once the continuous terrazzo floor had been
finished (2008).
Fig. 20.25. Removal of the altar formwork (2008).
Fig. 20.26. Eastern façade of the church, with open or closed doors.
Fig. 20.27. View of the finished atrium (2008).
Fig. 20.28. The main nave and the daily chapel (2008).
Fig. 20.29. Saint George church seen from the avenue (2008).
Fig. 20.30. Saint George parish church, Pamplona (2000/08); Southern elevation.
Fig. 21.1. Garden Grove church, 1961. General outer view of the main entrance.
Fig. 21.2. Inner view of the nave with the altar at the front.
Fig. 21.3. View from inside the nave to the outdoors nave with Neutra facing the
pulpit.
Fig. 21.4. First floor.
Fig. 21.5. View from the outdoors nave to the interior one.
Fig. 21.6. Location.
Fig. 21.7. View of both naves linked by the open windows. The text reads:
«Slowly... reverentially... huge sections of the Eastern wall of the great glass
cathedral slide and open quietly, and the worshippers, both those in the drive
in-church and those in the sanctuary, enjoy an unobstructed view of the
shepherds and the choir».
Fig. 21.8. Neutra’s draft for the project of Garden Grove church, showing a
family praying in their car.
Fig. 21.9. Riviera church, 1958. Outer view of the main entrance.
Fig. 21.10. Inner view of the nave with Neutra in the background.
Fig. 21.11. Miramar chapel, 1957. Outer view of the foyer.
Fig. 21.12. First floor.
Fig. 21.13. Inner view of the nave.
Fig. 21.14. Claremont church, 1958. Inner view of the nave.
Fig. 21.15. Inner view of the nave with San Antonio Mountain in the background.
Fig. 22.1. Cardinal Michele Pellegrino, Archbishop of Turin, 1965/77
Fig. 22.2. Nicola & Leonardo Mosso, Gesù Redentore church, Fiat-Mirafiori area,
1953/57. Built during the episcopate of Cardinal Maurilio Fossati, 1930/65.
Fig. 22.3. Detail.
Fig. 22.4. Nello Renacco, San Pio X church, Falchera, 1955. Built during the
episcopate of Cardinal Maurilio Fossati, 1930/65.
Fig. 22.5. Luciano Re & Aldo Vacca Arleri, Maria Madre di Misericordia church,
1971/74. Entrance.
Fig. 22.6. Mario Federico Roggero, San Luca Evangelista church, 1967/70.
xvi Between Concept and Identity
Fig. 22.7. Domenico Mattia and Ugo Mesturino, Maria Regina delle Missioni
church, 1970/73.
Fig. 22.8. Silvio Ferrero, Gesù Salvatore church, 1975/78. The modular scheme.
Fig. 22.9. Giancarlo Zanoni, eng. and Gualtiero Sibona, Gesù Salvatore church,
1975/78. One of the variants of the modular scheme.
Fig. 23.1. Duomo and Palazzo della Signoria, Florence.
Fig. 23.2. Eiffel Tower, Paris.
Fig. 23.3. Meridiana Shopping Centre, Casalecchio di Reno (Bologna).
Fig. 23.4. Regulatory Plan of Bologna, 1889. External Enlargement Plan.
General plan.
Fig. 23.5. Vaux la Grande Ile. Sector design. Equipment Corporation of Lyon
Region. Vaulx-en-Velin (France). Priority urbanization zone, 1976.
Fig. 23.6. St. Michel a Mont-Mesly church, Crèteil (France).
Fig. 23.7. Notre-Dame Cathedral, Crèteil (France).
Fig. 23.8. Model of central area in Evry (France).
Fig. 23.9. Resurrection Cathedral, Evry (France). View from the station.
Fig. 23.10. Cover of the introductory brochure of the Urban Conglomerate
Evry-Centre Essonne (France).
Fig. 24.1. Montecatini Terme church in the 1930s. Only the pronaos, stands up
from the worship building built in 1833, raised again somewhere else.
Fig. 24.2. Plan and perspective of the winning project by architects Fagnoni,
Negri, Spadolini & Stocchetti.
Fig. 24.3. Outside perspective of the project titled Domus Dei.
Fig. 24.4. Outside perspective of the project by architect Enrico Remedi titled
Fides.
Fig. 24.5. Outside perspective of the project by architects Marisa Forlani &
Sergio Conti, titled Cum Grande Umilitate.
Fig. 24.6. Inside perspective of the church project by Marisa Forlani & Sergio
Conti.
Fig. 24.7. Outside perspective of the project by architects Enrico Castiglioni,
Luciano Sangiorgi and engineer Antonio Garavaglia, titled Vi mostrerá un
Cenacolo grande messo in ordine. Below, model of the church interior.
Fig. 24.8. Architect Giuseppe Vaccaro. Up, main perspective of the parish church
of San Antonio abate in Recoaro Terme (contest won in 1949); next, design
of the main view presents for Montecatini Terme (1953 contest). Below,
interior and elevation of the church of Cuore Immacolato di Maria in Borgo
Panigale, Bologna (1955/62).
Fig. 24.9. Plan of the project by architect Giuseppe Vaccaro, titled MC53.
Fig. 24.10. Montecatini Terme church nowadays.
Fig. 25.1. Federico Gorio, Regulation of Cavedone district (Bologna), 1960.
Fig. 25.2. Federico Gorio, Parish Complex in Cavedone district
(Bologna, 1956/60). Plan.
Fig. 25.3. Section.
Fig. 25.4. Drawing of the assembly space: the place.
List of Figures and Tables xvii
Fig. 25.5. Drawing of one of the procession itineraries: the itinerary.

Fig. 25.6. Scheme of liturgical areas: 1. Classroom; 2. Chapel of the Blessed
Sacrament; 3. Penitential Chapel; 4. Baptistery; 5. Sacristy; 6. Belfry.
Fig. 25.7. Scheme of liturgical itineraries: 1. Palm Sunday; 2. Maundy Thursday;
3. Easter Saturday; 4. Way of the Cross.
Fig. 25.8. Scheme: 1. Interior space; 2. Exterior space.
Fig. 25.9. Scheme of the intimate dimension achieved when entering from the
outside: the public space; indoors: assembly area.
Fig. 25.10. Federico Gorio, Parish Complex in Cavedone district (Bologna,
1971/73). Upper floor.
Fig. 26.1. Rudolf Schwarz, Corpus Christi church, Aachen (Germany), 1928/30.
Fig. 26.2. Sigurd Lewerentz, Saint Peter church, Klippan (Sweden), 1963/66.
Fig. 26.3. Luis Laorga & Francisco Javier Sáenz de Oíza, Our Lady of Arantzazu
shrine, Oñate (Spain), 1949/55.
Fig. 26.4. Javier Carvajal & José María García de Paredes Barreda, Our Lady of
the Angels church, Vitoria (Spain), 1957/60.
Fig. 26.5. Miguel Fisac, Saint Anne church, Madrid, 1965/66.
Fig. 26.6. José María García de Paredes, Our Lady of Fuencisla church, Madrid,
1962/65.
Fig. 26.7. Antonio Lamela, Our Lady of Llanos church, Madrid, 1967.
Fig. 26.8. Fernando Terán, Saint Mary of the Angels church, Madrid, 1972.
Fig. 26.9. Luis Laorga & José López Zanón, Blessed John of Avila church,
Madrid, 1970/72.
Fig. 26.10. José Luis Fernández del Amo, Our Lady of Light church, Madrid,
1967/69.
Fig. 27.1. Soledad García-Morales (second on the left) with some of her students
from the ETSAM (2009).
Fig. 27.2. Nicolás Mariné, The way (2007).
Fig. 27.3. Luis Borobio Navarro, El ángel de la arquitectura (1978).
Fig. 27.4. Sunset from Mount Sinai (2006).
Fig. 27.5. Olafur Eliasson, The Weather Project, The Tate Modern, London
(2003/04).
Fig. 27.6. Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Saint Peter’s Chair, Vatican City (1657/66).
Fig. 27.7. Majlis al Jinn Cave (Oman), found in 1983.
Fig. 27.8. Gottfried Böhm, pilgrimage shrine of Maria Königin des Friedens,
Neviges (Germany, 1963/72).
Fig. 27.9. First sketch of a grotto; student’s drawing (2007).
Fig. 27.10. Diana Tato, The grotto (2007).
Fig. 27.11. Jesús Lazcano, The way (2007).
Fig. 27.12. Eduardo Chillida, Elogio de la luz XX (1990).
Fig. 27.13. Trees at Versailles; Santa María del Mar basilica, Barcelona (s. XIV).
Fig. 27.14. The tree as a ladder.
Fig. 27.15. William Blake, Jacob’s Ladder (1800).
Fig. 27.16. Filippo Brunelleschi, Santa María dei Fiori dome, Florence (1420/36);
xviii Between Concept and Identity
interior walk.
Fig. 27.17. Isabel Entrambasaguas, The way (the tree) (2007).
Fig. 27.18. Diego Acón, The way (2007).
Fig. 27.19. Henry Martin, Moses across the Red Sea (2003).
Fig. 27.20. Javier Sordo Madaleno Bringas, San Josemaría Escrivá church,
Mexico DF (2008).
Fig. 27.21. Alexa Macartney, The way (2007).
Fig. 27.22. Miguel Fisac, Coronation of the Virgin church, Vitoria (1957/60).
Fig. 27.23. Jørn Utzon, Bagsvaerd church (Denmark, 1968/76); preliminary
sketches.
Fig. 27.24. Elena Vicéns, The light that breaks through the clouds (2007).
Fig. 27.25. A drop of water: epiclesis, anamnesis and anaphora.
Fig. 27.26. Oscar Niemeyer, Saint Mary Cathedral, Brasilia (1959/70).
Fig. 28.1. Giovanni di Simone, Cemetery of Pisa (Italy), 1278/83; central patio.
Fig. 28.2. Gunnar Asplund & Sigurd Lewerentz, Woodland Cemetery, Stockholm
(Sweden), 1915; map of competition.
Fig. 28.3. Overall image.
Fig. 28.4. Alvar Aalto & Jean-Jacques Baruèl, Municipal cemetery, Lyngby
(Denmark), 1952; model for the competition.
Fig. 28.5. Carlo Scarpa, Brion-Vega family memorial, San Vito di Altivole (Italy),
1970/72; layout.
Fig. 28.6. Tomb.
Fig. 28.7. Aldo Rossi & Gianni Braghieri, Extension of San Cataldo cemetery,
Módena (Italy), 1971; perspective of competition.
Fig. 28.8. Carme Pinós & Enric Miralles, Municipal cemetery, Igualada (Spain),
1985; plan.
Fig. 28.9. Street niches.
Fig. 28.10. César Portela, Municipal cemetery, Fisterra (Spain), 2002.
Fig. 29.1. Juvenile drawing (1942).
Fig. 29.2. Fresco at Sacro Cuore convent, Busto Arsizio (Varese, 1949).
Fig. 29.3. Painting exhibited at the Centro Culturale San Fedele of Milan (1951).
Fig. 29.4. Altar at the Salesian Fathers chapel, Turin (ca. 1960).
Fig. 29.5. Father Costantino Ruggeri with Luigi Leoni at the Canepanova
Franciscan convent, Pavia (1965).
Fig. 29.6. Glorious Cross (ca. 1970); bronze.
Fig. 29.7. Glorious Cross (1975); plaster model to be made of wood.
Fig. 29.8. Chalice (ca. 1970).
Fig. 29.9. Tabernacle (1969); silver bronze.
Fig. 29.10. Stained-glass window at the baptistery of the parish church of
Custodian Angels, Milan (1971).
Fig. 29.11. Transparent (1974); blown glass and tempera.
Fig. 29.12. Cella diciotto (1982); cardboard, fabric, plaster and tempera.
Fig. 29.13. Madonna della Gioia church, Varese (1974/77); with Luigi Leoni.
Fig. 29.14. Tabernacle church, Genoa (1978/82); with Luigi Leoni.
List of Figures and Tables xix
Fig. 29.15. St. Francis of Assisi church, Kayongozi (Burundi, 1979/83); with
Luigi Leoni.
Fig. 29.16. St. Bernard of Clairvaux church, Centocelle-Rome (1988/93); with
Luigi Leoni.
Fig. 29.17. Madonna del Divino Amore shrine, Rome (1987/99); with L. Leoni.
Fig. 29.18. St. Francis Xavier church, Yamaguchi (Japan, 1993/98); with L. Leoni.
Fig. 29.19. Cover of the church of Apostle St. Paul’s conversion on the road to
Damascus (Syria, 2008); with Luigi Leoni and Chiara Rovati.
Fig. 29.20. Madonna della Grotta del Latte shrine, Bethlehem (Israel, 2002/06);
with Luigi Leoni and Chiara Rovati.
Fig. 29.21. Christ (1972); cloth on fabric.
Fig. 30.1. Javier Viver, Virgin Mary with Child (c. 1992).
Fig. 30.2. Francesc Català-Roca, Salvador Dalí (1953).
Fig. 30.3. Bill Viola, The Crossing (1996).
Fig. 30.4. Saint Silvester’s Holy Face, located at the Pope’s private chapel in
Vatican City.
Fig. 30.5. The Holy Shroud of Turin, detail.
Fig. 30.6. Pskov School, Icon of the Burial (s. XVI).
Fig. 30.7. Albert Durer, The Reverse Perspective (1525).
Fig. 30.8. Fra Angelico, Noli me tangere (c. 1437/46).
Fig. 30.9. Francisco de Zurbarán, Holy Face (c. 1660), Veronica’s Veil
(c. 1631/35) and Veronica’s Veil (1658/61).
Fig. 30.10. Antoni Gaudí, mouldings for Sagrada Familia, Barcelona.
Fig. 30.11. Antoni Gaudí, armatures for Sagrada Familia, Barcelona.
Fig. 30.12. Bill Viola, Emergence (2002); video-installation.
Fig. 30.13. Ignacio Vicéns & José Antonio Ramos, Saint Monica church,
Rivas-Vaciamadrid (Madrid, 1999/2009).
Fig. 30.14. Javier Viver, Virgin Mary, Saint Monica church, Rivas-Vaciamadrid
(Madrid), 2008.
Fig. 30.15. Javier Viver, model for the image of Holy Virgin Mary (2009).
Fig. 30.16-30.18. Javier Viver, Saint Mary (2009); process.
Fig. 30.19. Javier Viver, Saint Mary (2009); final result
Fig. 30.20. Eduardo Delgado, convent of La Aguilera (Burgos, 2007ss); chapel.
Fig. 30.21. Javier Viver, Resurrected Christ (2008); final image.
Fig. 30.22. Javier Viver, project for Cizur Menor (Navarra) (2009).
Fig. 30.23. Javier Viver, project for Las Ursulas (Madrid) (2009).
TABLES
Table 18.1. Comparative analysis of criteria associated with selection of case

studies.
Table 18.2. Descriptive summary of individual place-making patterns.
Table 18.3. Differences in physical and spatial characteristics between the sacred
and secular buildings.
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
Anthony Arizmendi, Independent Scholar (USA)

Silvia Blanco, PhD, Cesuga-University College Dublin (Spain)
Alessandro Braghieri, Independent Scholar (Italy)
Barbara Fiorini, Independent Scholar (Italy)
Imanol García de Albéniz, PhD, Independent Scholar (Spain)
Rafael A. García-Lozano, Independent Scholar (Spain)
Soledad García-Morales, PhD, Universidad Politécnica de Madrid (Spain)
Glauco Gresleri, Architect (Italy)
Aleksandar Kadijevic, PhD, Univerzitet u Beogradu (Serbia)
Jesús Leache, Architect (Spain)
Luigi Leoni, Architect (Italy)
Myriam B. Mahiques, Independent Scholar (Argentina)
Claudia Manenti, Centro Studi per l’architettura sacra e la città (Italy)
Miroslav Pantovic, Independent Scholar (Serbia)
Antonia M. Pérez-Naya, PhD, Universidade da Coruña (Spain)
Victorino Pérez-Prieto, PhD, Independent Scholar (Spain)
Antonio S. Río, PhD, Universidade da Coruña (Spain)
Arsenio T. Rodrigues, PhD, Prairie View A&M University (USA)
Eugenio J. Rodríguez-González, Independent Scholar (Spain)
Victoriano Sainz, PhD, Universidad de Sevilla (Spain)
Giancarlo Santi, Theologian & Architect (Italy)
Steven J. Schloeder, PhD, Institute for Studies in Sacred Architecture (USA)
Yves Schoonjans, PhD, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven (Belgium)
Eduardo Segura, PhD, Universidad de Granada (Spain)
Fernando Tabuenca, Architect (Spain)
Ana M. Tavares Martins, PhD, Universidade da Beira Interior (Portugal)
Brett Tippey, PhD, Kent State University (USA)
Lorenzo Valla, Independent Scholar (Italy)
Javier Viver, Sculptor (Spain)
Caroline Voet, PhD, Katholieke Universiteit Leuven (Belgium)
Zorán Vukoszávlyev, PhD, Budapesti Muegyetem (Hungary)
Carla Zito, PhD, Politécnico di Torino (Italy)
EDITOR’S PREFACE
ESTEBAN FERNÁNDEZ-COBIÁN
CHAIR
2ND INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE ON CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS
ARCHITECTURE
BETWEEN CONCEPT AND IDENTITY
After the excellent reception of the 1st International Conference on

Contemporary Religious Architecture (September 27-29, 2007), the Ourense
Bishopric through the Santa María Nai Foundation and the Ourense Branch of
Galician Official Association of Architects (COAG) have called a new edition to be
held from November 12 through 14, 2009 in Ourense under the title: Contemporary
Religious Architecture. Between Concept and Identity.
The identity of places of worship is one of the most difficult problems faced by
religious architecture at the start of this new millennium. Contemporary globalising
experiences demand, peremptorily, a reflection, both conceptual and situational, on
the origin of objects, people and institutions.
The easiness with which foreign cultural systems are currently reached allows
multiple exchanges, some of them leading to a transfer of values and to inter-
religion dialogue. This happens as a result of the on-going influx of migrants to the
rich and strongly secular countries of Europe and North America, the repeated
fundamentalism outbreaks in various corners of the World and the gradual religious
opening of the Far East.
Nevertheless, the chance of these migration flows annihilating already-existing
religious identities is perceived as a problem. This problem is directly linked to the
survival of architecture as a system carrying a material representation of the divine
and constituting a self-reference system for the community of believers.
Therefore, it is important to define the extent to which the new religious
architecture has given room to an abstract type of formal experimentation which is
disconnected from social reality. Does this architecture maintain its bridging,
sacramental value, or, on the contrary, has it given way to the conceptualist trends
still alive in the artistic world? Is metaphor a valid concept for the Christian
religion? Is there an essential aspect linking this architecture to the centuries-old
tradition of the Catholic Church?
Different architectural, pedagogical, exhibition and formal initiatives have
arisen in recent years and it is necessary to get to know them, with the purpose of
understanding where contemporary religious architecture is heading in its eternal
search for a permanent identity.
LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS
1 Cor 1 Corinthians
2 Cor 2 Corinthians
Acts Acts of the Apostles
Col Colossians
Ex Exodus
Ez Ezekiel
Gn Genesis
Jn John (Gospel)
Josh Joshua
Lk Luke
Mk Mark
Mt Matthew
Prv Proverbs
Ps Psalm
Rev Revelation (Apocalypse)
Rom Romans
SECTION 1
THE EXPRESSION OF THE IDENTITY OF

CHRISTIAN ART AND ARCHITECTURE
THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE MYSTICAL BODY
HOW TO BUILD CHURCHES AFTER THE SECOND VATICAN COUNCIL
Steven J. Schloeder
I want to thank the organisers of this conference, especially His

Excellency Bishop Luis Quinteiro Fiuza for his patronage of sacred art and
architecture, the Fundación Santa María Nai, and Professor Fernández-
Cobián for their kind invitation. I am especially honoured to have been
asked to give the keynote address, which is a call to frame the whole con-
ference and to give context to the discussion we will have over the next few
days in the lectures by my esteemed colleagues.
I intend this keynote talk to be provocative: I want to provoke reflec-
tion, discussion, even rebuttal, since these are ideas and arguments that I
think are most central to the issues that we all grapple with as we attempt
to design, or think about, what constitutes a valid sacred architecture. I
hope to get to the heart of the issue, and not talk around the problems as I
see them. So I intend no offence, but I do intend real engagement with each
of the participants here at this conference.
THE PROBLEM OF A CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS

ARCHITECTURE
The general theme of this conference is contemporary religious archi-
tecture. And the specific theme asks us to consider contemporary sacred
architecture within some dialectical framework between concept and iden-
tity. For me, the key term here is contemporary: of our time. This seems to
presuppose a particular historical consciousness: that we are aware, or at
least we believe, that our particular place in history should demand, or elic-
it, a way of thinking about sacred architecture that is respectful of our con-
temporary condition. It also suggests that our contemporary response
might be different from past ages.
But every age is contemporary. And all we can do is contemporary
architecture. We simply cannot think about architecture except as contem-
poraries of our age. We can no longer cut stone into sculpture with the eye
and the mind of a mediaeval mason. Nor are we any longer engaged in the
4 Steven J. Schloeder
Counter-Reformation polemics which gave form to the glorious Baroque

churches. We are no longer involved in the Christological debates that
informed the architectonics of the churches in the age of Justinian. No
Gothic Revival building is not understood as a modern age interpretation
of a true medieval building. No Renaissance classicism can ever be con-
fused for an ancient Greek or Roman temple, just as none of these con-
temporary neo Classical churches could ever be confused for a work of
Renaissance genius like Palladio, Bramante or Alberti. So I think the fas-
cination with the notion of contemporary is problematic.
Furthermore, the term itself presents theological and ecclesiological
difficulties in that it absolutises this time we are living in as contemporary.
Absolute from ab-solvere is to cut off from, and does not allow for a con-
tinuity in tradition. It does not allow for a universality to the human condi-
tion that transcends time and place. It does not permit a Church that is fully
operational and fully equipped in every age, and in every culture, to
respond to the demands of whatever age and culture she finds herself. As
St. Augustine reminds us, «The Church of today, of the present, is the
Kingdom of Christ and the Kingdom of Heaven»1. Yet who here can imag-
ine the Bishop of Hippo hosting a conference in the year 400 on
Contemporary Religious Architecture?
Yet this question of contemporary sacred architecture seems to be the
core dialectic that architects and liturgists have been enmeshed in for the
past hundred years or so. I would point out that we do need to respect the
particularities of our age, and it is helpful to examine to what degree they
should influence our decision making process, and what values are being
embedded in our approach to sacred architecture. But to what degree it
should influence our approach to sacred architecture is much more limited.
So let us return to this question of the dialectic between contemporary
and sacred. This dialectic expresses a whole series of stresses and strains
in our experience of the modern world, our approach to architecture, and
in our thinking about religion itself before we get to the question of con-
temporary religious architecture.
Architecturally we can see the tension between an architectural vocabu-
lary of forms that are derivative and expressive of the natural world and an
architectural vocabulary that is based on a whole other set of determinants:
the efficiencies of concrete, steel, sheet glass, plastics, mechanical ventila-
tion and artificial lighting. This is a tension between an approach to build-
ings derivative of preindustrial materials of load bearing stone and hand
The Architecture of the Mystical Body 5
crafted wood and one that is derived from and expressive of the very real
need for mass production necessary for provisioning for the massive urban
populations with food, water, housing, public services and consumer goods.
In terms of specifically religious architecture, it is really a tension
between an approach to sacred architecture that considers the church build-
ing as an emblem and expression of a transcendental supernatural reality
and an approach that considers the church building as a functional accom-
modation for an immanent local gathering of people. In previous ages the
question of sacred architecture was enmeshed in a matrix of ideas about
revealed forms of the Kingdom of God and divine proportion and the dig-
nity of the human form and the majesty of worship. Today we seem
uncomfortable with and unsure about making grandiose and declarative
statements about God, beauty, the human person or the objective sacra-
mental reality of the Christian faith.
This is not so much to criticise our contemporary world—we are where
we are—but rather to point out what the implications of this tension are. It
is with such an overarching view that I want to explore this theme of con-
cept and identity as relates to contemporary sacred architecture, and to give
some context for understanding this tension.
PARADIGM SHIFTS IN THE TWENTIETH-CENTURY

The context of this understanding is the previous century that witnessed
radical new ways of thinking about, approaching and designing sacred
architecture. Even a casual glance at virtually any Catholic church build-
ing erected before the First World War and the vast majority of churches
built after the Second World War will demonstrate this.
The typical rhetoric of the mid century liturgical authors was that we
ought to build churches for modern man or constructed to serve men of our
age. Styles and forms from previous ages were declared as defunct, or no
longer vital. One even finds the condemnation of wanting a church that
looks like a church as being nostalgic: an unhealthy yearning for a past
golden age that really never was2.
Rather, it was felt that the Church must deal with the reality of con-
temporary life and embrace a contemporary architecture and reformulate
the liturgy to be appreciable to the contemporary consciousness. In some
manner this was seen as actually medicinal for the neuroses of the modern
age: Romano Guardini and Dietrich von Hildebrand both believed (and I
think correctly) that submission to the liturgy was curative for the soul,
although Guardini was more willing to rework the liturgy to meet the
human person on the contemporary grounds than was von Hildebrand. But
the leading architects and liturgical theorists of the past century seem to
have approached this question of contemporary life on a rather materialis-
tic and fashionable level; and tried to find reasons to build churches that
would be well received by their secular colleagues, rather than first and
foremost with regard for the people who actually would have to use these
buildings. There is, in my estimation, a whole lot of half baked thinking
among liturgists and architects of the past century that passed for mean-
ingful architectural theory, without ever touching the core of what it means
to build a church.
For instance, Edward Mills, in The Modern Church wrote:
If we do not build churches in keeping with the spirit of the age we shall be
admitting that religion no longer possesses the same vitality as our secular
buildings3.
His book concerns topics such as efficient planning, technology, cost
abatement, and environmental considerations. It is worth mentioning that only
a few years before this book, Mills had written The Modern Factory, with the
same rationalistic concerns for efficient planning, technology, cost abatement,
and environmental considerations. Similarly, writing from the Episcopalian
perspective, but in words that would have found resonance in the minds of
many of his Catholic contemporaries, Jonathan Sherman suggested:
To say that there is some relation between the appearance of a church, a fac-
tory, a theatre, or an exhibit hall is to proclaim its contemporaneousness and
in no sense to condemn it4.
There is a lot going on here in terms of culture and theology. I read a
sense of unease among many liturgical and architectural writers with even
promoting the idea of religion: after all, we are children of Galileo and
Einstein, moderns who more easily hold a materialistic view of the world
than a spiritual one. How credible can it be to the secular world or the
academy to state that we are designing buildings intended for the worship
of the Trinity, or to create an apt and even holy place for the offering of the
Eucharistic sacrifice of the Son of God for the salvation of the world, or to
model our designs so as to sacramentally participate in the great and
revealed archetypes of the Body of Christ, the Temple of the Holy Spirit,
and the Heavenly Jerusalem?
That all sounds so antiquated, so pre modern, so medieval, so benight-

ed. So there is a sort of legerdemain to give credence to the project of mod-
ern church buildings, it is thus that these passages proclaim the need for
contemporary architecture not only to validate church buildings but to val-
idate the very project of building a church.
But this goes a level deeper. It was not sufficient merely to change the
external style of the church, but the internal arrangement as well. One of
the chief characteristics that defines the modern approach to architecture is
the notion that the building is an expression of the function. The plan is the
generator of the form as Le Corbusier proclaimed. Form follows function
as Mies van der Rohe would phrase it. The problem of church architecture
became the problem of radical functional analysis according to Hammond.
In his highly influential book Liturgy and Architecture, Peter Hammond
noted that of the two hundred and fifty or so post-war Anglican churches
built in England, virtually all of them were built in revivalist styles—
Gothic, Georgian, Byzantine or Romanesque—and further opined that
«these churches have no message for the contemporary world»5. By way of
contrast, he wrote enviously of the new French churches:
These plans are of great variety. There are circular and octagonal churches
with central altars, others in the form of a square, with the seats for the con-
gregation on three sides of a free standing altar and those for the clergy
placed against the east wall, as in the early basilicas. There are other plans
founded on the ellipse, the hexagon and the trapezoid6 (Fig. 1.1).
While Hammond seemed to want anything other than a traditional cru-
ciform basilica, he purportedly wanted to get beyond mere stylistic mod-
ernism. He claimed to be disinterested in whether a church was in a con-
temporary or traditional style, but rather that it was programmatically
informed by the latest insights of «biblical theology and patristic and litur-
gical scholarship»7. In short, he called for the same approach to churches
as any other contemporary building:
that good churches—no less than good schools or good hospitals—can be

designed only through a radically functional approach8.
Hammond’s view was concisely summarised in his oft-quoted statement,
the task of the modern architect is not to design a building that looks like a
church. It is to create a building that works as a place for liturgy. The first
and essential requirement is radical functional analysis9.
1.1
Now in itself, this is hardly a problem. One can argue quite cogently
that the entire history of Christian building has been faithful to the notion
that the building is an expression of the liturgical requirements of the build-
ing program. This per se does not require any change in style or arrange-
ment, and is not beholden to any past style or historical contingency. The
builders of Hagia Sophia, Chartres and San Ivo would have had no prob-
lem agreeing with the notion that the church should express its function.
The question centres on how one defines the function: whether an
immanent and material function, or whether a spiritual and transcendental
function. How does the body move through space, or how does the soul
move toward God? Of course, for the Catholic thinker these are never in
contradiction: the Incarnation itself resolves the tension between the pure-
ly spiritual and the purely material.
But we see something else going on in the mid century writers. One
cannot simply discard two millennia of sacred architectural forms and
styles without having a new paradigm to replace it, and one cannot have a
valid new paradigm without have grounds for discarding the old paradigm.
The paradigm itself needed to change. All the better if the new paradigm
was promoted as the authentic paradigm: a recovery or what was lost, a
return to an original purity that was polluted by various accretions and
deviations and missteps and perversions from the true purpose of Christian
community, liturgy and building as intended by the Church’s founder and
his successors.
THE MYTH OF THE DOMUS ECCLESIAE

Within this rhetoric of building churches for our age and in the willing-
ness to discard the past is an embedded mythos. By this accounting, only
around the time of the Edict of Milan, when Constantine first legalised
Christianity and soon actively sponsored building projects for the Church,
did the Church begin to formalise her liturgy, her architecture, and the trap-
pings of her hierarchy with elements take from the Imperial court10. Prior to
this Pax Constantiniana, the Church was largely a domestic enterprise, and
the model of domestic architecture—the domus ecclesiae (literally house of
the church)—was the simple, humble, and hospitable residential form in
which early Christians gathered to meet the Lord and meet one another in
Fig. 1.1. Peter Hammond, organic models of the church according to radical functionalism (taken from
Liturgy and architecture, 1960).
1.2
1.3
1.4
the Lord for fellowship, meals, and teaching. Such a model is often implic-
itly valued as a model for contemporary worship and self understanding11.
The early house church—seen as pure, simple, unsullied by later liturgical
and architectural accretions without the trappings of hierarchy and formali-
ty—was to be model for liturgical reform (Fig. 1.02-1.03).
As Richard Vosko surmises,
the earliest understanding of a Christian church building implies that it is a

meeting house: a place of camaraderie, education and worship. In fact, the
earliest Christian tradition clearly held that the Church does not build tem-
ples to honor God. That is what the civic religions did12.
This notion was put most forcefully by Sovik in writing:
It is conventionally supposed that the reasons that Christians of the first three
centuries built almost no houses of worship were that they were too few, or
too poor, or too much persecuted. None of these is true. The real reason that
they didn’t build was that they didn’t believe in ecclesiastical building13.
The notion of simple domestic house converted for Christian worship
was given impetus with the discovery of the church at Dura Europos in the
1930s (Fig. 1.4). This discovery was of profound importance given that it
was the only known identifiable and dateable pre-Constantinian church:
which was obviously a residence converted to the needs of a small
Christian community. It was also, significantly, a rather late dated
church—about 232 AD—and quite in keeping with the expectations from
all the various scriptural references to the various domestic settings in
which the Church first gathered14. From then on, especially in the late 50s
and the 60s, the thesis of the domus ecclesia as the architectural model for
pre Constantinian Christian architecture became dominant in liturgical cir-
cles. The common vision for new parishes built in the wake of Second
Vatican Council was toward simpler, more domestically scaled buildings in
emulation of the domus ecclesia in which Christians supposedly gathered
before the Imperial approbation of Christianity in the 4th century.
The only problem is that this model of a domestic residential architec-
ture for a small gathering of early Christians in communities celebrating a
simple agape meal, as romantic as it sounds, is of dubious merit.
Fig. 1.2. Rudolf Schwarz, St. Michael, Frankfurt (Germany), 1953/54.

Fig. 1.3. Rainer Senn, Pelousey chapel (France), ca. 1960.
Fig. 1.4. J.W. Crowfoot and G.M. Crowfoot, church at Dura Europos (Syria), ca. 232.
Let us first be clear that the term domus ecclesiae—popular among

liturgists to emphasis the communal nature of the assembly—is not a par-
ticularly apt term. More to the point, it is simply anachronistic. The phrase
domus ecclesia is not found in Scripture. No first, second or third century
author uses the term to describe the church building. The phrase domus
ecclesiae cannot be found to describe any church building before the Peace
of Constantine (313 AD), and afterward seems more to imply a building
owned by the Christians rather than any sort of formal architectural
arrangement: let alone an informal arrangement as the liturgists would
have us believe15.
While there were many terms in the early Church to identify the church
building, domus Dei seems to be of particular importance. Throughout the
New Testament, the assembly of Christians is called domus Dei: the house
of God. Paul’s passage in 1 Tim 3:15 could not be clearer: «in domo Dei ...
que est ecclesia Dei vivi» (the house of God, which is the church of the liv-
ing God). Likewise, domus Dei or its derivative domestici Dei (household
of God) is found in Eph 2:19, Heb 10:21 and 1 Pt 4:17. Following scripture,
Tertullian used domus Dei in a way that can only mean a church building.
The Greek equivalent, oikos tou theou is found in Hippolytus, and the sim-
ilar oikos kyriakon (house of the Lord) in Clement of Alexandria. Eusebius
also calls the church an earthly house to Christ and commonly a house of
prayer (oikos). But even the term oikos or domus does not suggest any res-
idential or domestic association. Oikos is generally a house, but it can also
serve to describe a temple (as in a house of the Gods). Similarly, domus
could also refer to the grandest of buildings, such as the Emperor’s palace—
domus divina—such as Nero’s ostentatious Domus Aurea. These are hardly
small scale and intimate associations. I propose that long before the time of
Constantine, the Church had already long ago moved out of the residential
environments we read of in the book of Acts and the letters of Paul.
CHRISTIAN ARCHITECTURE BEFORE CONSTANTINE

Rather than a domestic model, we have strong reasons to think that
even from its earliest days, the Church was looking to expand her influence
politically, socially, and culturally within the Roman Empire. What organ-
isation does not look to grow and to advance its political and social status?
What organisation does not look to promote itself, to build significant
buildings, and to establish its presence in the urban fabric? Why should the
Church not have been doing this from its earliest days?
The problem is that we know very little about pre Constantinian litur-
gy or Christian architecture. It is important to realise that at the beginning
of the 3rd century there were perhaps only a couple of hundred thousand
Christians in all of the Roman Empire (perhaps under 1-2% of the popula-
tion of over 60 million)16. Any trace left by these Christians is remarkable
at all and not much can be extrapolated from archaeological or palaeo-
graphic evidence. Furthermore, several widespread Imperial persecutions
called for, and presumably did, demolishing any sort of Christian meeting
place, which also destroyed scriptures and other writings that might have
given us insight into the lives and intentions of the early Christians. So the
vast majority of evidence that we have regarding the liturgical and archi-
tectural culture of the early Christians is only from the beginning of the 4th
century, in the age of Constantine.
Yet from the scant literary evidence we do have, it is generally accept-
ed that even in the second century the Church owned land and built special
buildings for the community. The account of the earliest special purpose
church building seems to be from Chronicle of Arbela, a 5th century Syrian
manuscript which tells us that Bishop Ishaq (135-148) «had built a large
well-ordered church which exists today»17. The Chronicles of Edessa men-
tion a Christian church destroyed in a city wide flood around 20118. This
presupposes an existing building from the late second century. Later, in the
first half of the 3rd century, Christians acquired a piece of public property
in a dispute with inn keepers to build a church with the explicit blessing of
Emperor Severus Alexander, who determined
that it was better for some sort of a god to be worshipped there than for
the place to be handed to the keepers of an eating-house19.
The pagan Porphyry, writing in the second half of the 3rd century,
attacks the Christians who in
imitating the erection of the temples, build very large houses, into which
they go together and pray, although there is nothing to prevent them from
doing this in their own houses, since the Lord certainly hears from every
place20.
Likewise, the Emperor Aurelian makes passing reference to a Christian
church (christianorum ecclesia) in contrast to his own religious temple
(templo deorum omnia)21. I submit that if the Emperor of the Roman
empire in the middle of the third century knew a Christian church when he
saw one, it was no simple obscure house.
THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF THE LITURGICAL MOVEMENT

So my contention is that the very model of domestic architecture in the
early church is essentially flawed. But the error is compounded with the
way the rest of architectural history is handled. After all, if the early
church’s domus ecclesia was to be the true and ideal model for the liturgy,
what then to make of the intervening 1600 years of architectural and litur-
gical history and development? Within this reading of history, the trajecto-
ry from the 4th century to the 20th century was a series of missteps and
deviations from the core truths of the meaning of the liturgy for the assem-
bled faithful, a gradual eroding of the vitality of Christian worship for the
believer, reducing him and her to a remote, detached, and disinterested
observer in whatever the priestly class was doing at the altar on their
behalf.
The changes in the age of Constantine are implicated for the advent of
clericalism, turning the congregation into passive viewers at a formalistic
ritual, the loss of liturgical and spiritual intimacy, the subjugation of the
Church’s evangelical mission to the politics of the Emperor, the transfor-
mation of Christ from a shepherd for this flock to a king, a ruler and a
judge, reflecting how the emperor took on the identity of a surrogate
Christ, as well as the adoption of the architectural formalism of the
Imperial basilica; which served both the new found prestige of the Church
in the urban cityscape and accommodated the spectacles of religious
pageantry, ritualism expression, and grand processions22.
With this understanding, which is essentially a hermeneutic of rupture
from the true intention of the Church, the years between 313 and 1920 were
essentially just stylistic matter of artistic inspiration that were based upon
deviations of the Gospel, where the piety of the church was replaced by the
ecclesiastical polity23.
Every subsequent age and style comes in for censure: the Byzantine for
their imperial courtly formality; the Romanesque for its immensely long
naves that separated the people from God24; the later medieval for the pro-
liferation of side altars and reliquaries of dubious merit; the Gothic for its
alienating monumentalism25; the Baroque for triumphalism, for Tridentine
rubricism, for pagan artistic themes and sensuality, for hyper valorisation
of the Eucharist in reaction to Protestantism, for dishonesty in the use of
materials with trompe l’oeil paintings, plaster work and scagliola26.
Bouyer’s judgement of the Baroque liturgy was that it was embalmed:
devoid of life and vitality27.
Similarly, the revivalisms of the 19th and early 20th centuries are
commonly said to show the lack of liturgical, cultural and artistic vigour
in the Church. In a typical critique of 19th century revivalism by Peter
Anson:
The trouble with so many churches erected in the past century is that
architects have been far more concerned with the superficial beauty than
with the nature of the building. Their object, so it seems, was to create a
building that looked what most people believed a church ought to look
like rather than a building that fulfilled the practical functions of a place
of worship...28
The decided trend of mid 20th century liturgical and architectural think-
ing was to reject historical styles. Clearing the table to start anew, with a
sweep of the hand, Fr. Reinhold dismissed all previous architectural eras,
styles and forms:
Conclusion: We see that all these styles were children of their own day.
None of their forms are ours. We have concrete, steel, wood compositions,
brick, stone, glass of all kinds, plastic materials, reverse cycle heat and
radiant heat. We can no longer identify the minority, called Christendom,
and split in schisms, with the kingdom of God on earth. Our society is a
pluralistic one and lives in a secularist atmosphere. We are not the Church
of early persecutions, nor the queen of creation as in the Middle Ages, nor
the guarantee of order as in the bourgeois period. The divine Presence, the
permanent Parousia, made by the liturgy, is a again in a new way, a mus-
tard seed and a leaven. For this our architects must find as good an expres-
sion in our language of forms, as our fathers did in theirs29.
In my estimation, this is a myopic view of history, and a truncated
understanding of sacred architecture. These styles might have been chil-
dren of their own day, but it is clear from the history of Christian sacred
architecture that until the past 500 years of so, sacred architecture was not
a question of style. Only in the 16th and 17th centuries did any sort of
architectural theory begin to distinguish between medieval architecture—
the maniera tedesca—and the Greco-Roman classical orders30.
Before the Renaissance, the concern of all Christian sacred architecture
was to design in harmony with the revealed images of Scripture: notably
the images of the Temple, the Heavenly City, and the Body of Christ.
Without going into depth, we find Temple imagery to be the most common
expression of the liturgical assembly in the post-Apostolic fathers: Clement
of Rome, Lactanius, Ignatius of Antioch, the Didascalia Apostolorum and
1.5
the Apostolic Constitutions. Invocations of the Tent of Dwelling,

Solomon’s Temple and the City of Jerusalem are found throughout
Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 275-339), who was the first expositor of Christian
architecture (Fig. 1.5).
THE LANGUAGE OF CHURCH ARCHITECTURE IN EUSEBIUS

In Eusebius we find not a nascent architectural theory, but a fully devel-
oped sacramental vision for the church building. In his dedication speech
for the Cathedral at Tyre, he compares Bishop Paulinus to his predecessors
Beseleel, Solomon and Zerubabel: thus invoking the Tent of Dwelling, and
the first and second Temples. There are several interwoven themes running
through Eusebius’ speech: the church building as an earthly expression of
a heavenly model; the building as a presentation of the heavenly Jerusalem
and the city of God as well as the desert tabernacle and Solomon’s temple;
and the building as a body—reflective of the greater Church and local com-
munity—but both the Body of Christ and the Bride of Christ in a nuptial
relationship.
Above all, this building is seen by Eusebius as a true sacramental real-
ity, built by Paulinus as
this magnificent temple of the highest God, corresponding to the pattern of

the greater as a visible to an invisible31.
The architectural writings of Eusebius, which are so fully formed as to
suggest that he was more continuing a tradition of architectural thinking
than inventing one, have informed the course of Christian sacred architec-
ture well into the 20th century. Eusebius was already working within an
established tradition of Scriptural metaphors for the Church, and of the
church building for the Church herself. Symbols such as the Body of
Christ, marriage, the desert tabernacle and the Temple, the great and king-
ly house, the various architectural metaphors of columns and doors and
building blocks and cornerstones, and the city all are employed by the
authors of the New Testament to give insight into the nature of the Church
herself. Eusebius would have been intimately familiar with them all, and it
would in fact be surprising had he not employed them to describe the
arrangement of the new church building in drawing out the correspondence
between the visible and the invisible.
Fig. 1.5. Eusebius of Caesarea (ca. 275-339).

1.6
1.7
A SACRAMENTAL VOCABULARY OF CHURCH ARCHITECTURE

In the remainder of this paper, I want to build on the ideas of these
architectural metaphors to offer a basic vocabulary of sacred architecture.
In doing so, I want to suggest that the dialectical tension between concept
and identity, or between contemporary and sacred need not concern us
since they are already resolved in the revealed images that help us to
understand the church.
The rudimentary vocabulary—and therefore the meaning—of ancient
Christian architecture is given to us from the Scriptures. There are sever-
al dominant metaphors in the New Testament that are used to explain the
mystery of the Church (Ekklesia): the Body, the Temple and the City being
the main figures. There are other images that Jesus uses to describe the
kingdom of God (in itself a figure), or are otherwise found in scripture
such as the tree, the vine and the branches, the Holy Mountain, the Ark of
Noah, the shepherd and his flock, the farmer’s field, the Bride and the
Groom, etc. Yet the three Scriptural precedents that seemed most to
inflame the imaginations of church builders from the earliest record are
those of the Body of Christ, the Temple, and the Holy City.
I would suggest that these three scriptural metaphors for the Church
are so powerful because they are rooted in such primal human experi-
ences: the body of Christ speaks to the very notion of embodiment. We can
all relate by the very experience of having our own body. The various
models of building all speak to the primal notion that human civilization
is only possible once we separate ourselves and protect ourselves from the
raw power of nature. The model of the city speaks to the fact that human
communities require cooperation and common purpose for us to thrive
and find human perfection.
The prime metaphor is undoubtedly the Body of Christ (Fig. 1.6). In all
its layered meanings—the Incarnation, the Eucharist, the Church universal,
and the Church assembled—the body speaks at once to our most basic real-
ity that we ourselves are embodied: that we exist, sense, operate, interact, and
connect as integrated composites of body and soul. The metaphor also speaks
to the relationship of parts to the whole: we as individuals are one body com-
prised of different parts—hands, heart, eyes, spleen, limbs—each with
Fig. 1.6. Francesco di Giorgio Martini, Study for the plan of a church (taken from Trattato di architettura
civile e militare, ca. 1482).
Fig. 1.7. Abbé Marc-Antoine Laugier, The primitive hut (taken from Essai sur l’Architecture, 1755).
1.8
1.9
unique and distinct functions, forms, locations, relationships, and meaning.

This is the power of Paul’s metaphor in 1 Corinthians:
The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its
parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ. For we were all
baptised by one Spirit into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or
free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink... Now you are the body
of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.
The metaphor of the Temple, the great and kingly house, is rooted in
the primal and now largely forgotten experience of what it means to set
apart a place for human habitation from raw and brutal nature (Fig. 1.7).
Safe from storms and wild beasts, mankind created shelter to dwell and
establish civilisation. Walls for defense and to block the wind, a door for
access and security, windows to allow light and breeze, a pitched roof to
shed the rain – these basic elements of dwelling have been with us from
time immemorial: what Joseph Rykwert calls Adam’s House in Paradise.
Following Fustel de Coulanges, the family unit is the primal religion:
something sacred is going on in the family that involves our continuity in
the human race, the mystery of marriage, sexuality, life and death. For the
ancients, the family house was the first church: the sacred hearth was reli-
giously tended in perpetual remembrance of the ancestors32.
Used to explain the ecclesia, in this metaphor we also see a relationship
of parts to the whole: with Christ as the Door and the cornerstone and cap-
stone, and the apostles as columns, of which we are all living stones: each
with a specific purpose and indispensable to the whole. This metaphor was
particularly elaborated on by Eusebius in his dedicatory address for the
Cathedral at Tyre, and further allegorized by other theologians such as
Maximus the Confessor, Rabanus Maurus, Honorius of Autun, Hugh of St.
Victor, Sicard of Cremona and comprehensively by Durandus of Mende.
These architectural allusions continued to inform Christian architecture
throughout the Renaissance and the early modern period in the writings of
St. Charles Borromeo, in the works of Bernini, Borromini and Guarini, and
throughout the Gothic Revival in the work of the Cambridge Ecclesiologists.
The third metaphor of the city recalls the establishment of community:
families banding together for common purposes, setting apart the commu-
nity from the wilds of nature and marauding tribes, creating a secure place
Fig. 1.8. Gustave Doré, The heavenly Jerusalem, 1865.

Fig. 1.9. Author unknown, The Desert Tabernacle.
1.10 1.11
1.12
for family life and commerce (Fig. 1.8). For the ancients building a city,
which involved selecting the site with the assistance of the augers, con-
scribing the walls, digging the foundations, and marking the centre with the
sacred fire, was a sacred duty and a religious act.
As early as the second century, Melito of Sardis would draw the spiri-
tual analogy between the earthly city and the heavenly city:
the temple below was precious,

but it is worthless now because of the Christ above.
The Jerusalem below was precious,
but it is worthless now because of the Jerusalem above33.
In various ways, this civic vision infused the imaginations of church

builders. We see urban imagery in church design from the fourth century,
where the Constantinian basilica was but one main building in an assemblage
of other buildings surrounding the piazza. In the fifth century the builders of
San Stefano Rotondo evoked the Heavenly Jerusalem as the perfection of the
Desert Tabernacle, with the temple in the middle of a larger complex (Fig.
1.9-1.10). The Romanesque abbeys were built in the wilderness, creating
urban complexes which later often grew into significant cities.
In other ages, the Gothic cathedral emulated the vision of the Heavenly
Jerusalem in Revelation 21: the city that shone with the glory of God, and
its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as
crystal. The Gothic genius was to dematerialise the dense stone, to create a
city of glass. Every feature of the Gothic style: the pointed arch, the ribbed
vault, the highly articulated verticality, the flying buttress, the massive
expanses of stained glass: was not merely an artistic device but used to cre-
ate the sense that the worshipper was not in a building of stone, but in the
Heavenly Jerusalem itself (Fig. 1.11-1.12).
Like the urban fabric of a city, the Gothic cathedral can be read as a har-
monious assemblage of small structures: chantry chapels, side shrines, the
chancel screen, towers, piers, choir stalls, buttresses and so forth. The artic-
ulation of the building itself as a complex composition of smaller aedicules
lends itself to being perceived as an urban expression.
Fig. 1.10. Sandor Ritz, Santo Stefano Rotondo (ca. 468/83) (taken from La nuova Gerusalemme
dell’Apocalisse e S. Stefano Rotondo, 1967).
Fig. 1.11. Blessed Virgin Mary Cathedral, Salisbury (United Kingdom), 1220-1320.
Fig. 1.12. Jean Fouquet, Construction of the Temple of Jerusalem, ca. 1470.
1.13
1.14
1.15
The same device was used much later by Borromini in his remodelling
of the Lateran Basilica. While ensconcing the old Constantinian pillars in
a series of massive pilasters to stabilise the structure, Borromini created a
series of aedicules to honour the Twelve Apostles, giving each a separate
residence within the city of God, and inscribing their names on the base in
tribute to the vision of Revelation 21:14 where
the walls of the city had twelve foundations, and on them were the twelve
names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb.
Today we have largely lost the sense of what it means to live in a civi-
tas. Our cities no longer have protecting walls, defensive portals, plazas
and marketplaces, sacred precincts, common wells, and such. In our post
agrarian urban and suburban lifestyles, with bedroom communities, shop-
ping malls and strip centres, sprawling housing tracts, highways and arte-
rials for transportation, and cities merging into cities, it is difficult to imag-
ine the reality that spoke so clearly to the early Christians (Fig. 1.13). But
the notion of the heavenly city, the perfection of the earthly Jerusalem, ful-
filled the image of the Twelve Tribes assembled around the Desert
Tabernacle: the community of Israel centred about God. In the New
Testament we find images of the city with the individual Christians as tem-
ples of the Holy Spirit, arrayed in a city that is surrounded by walls with
the Apostles as foundations, and Christ the Lamb as the temple and the
source of light.
Both in Scripture and in ancient thought these themes of body and tem-
ple and city are deeply interwoven. The body is a type of a house: a house
for the soul; and the temple is a particular type of house: a house for the
gods. Paul tells us that the body is a temple (1 Cor 6:19); and Jesus tells us
that the temple is a really a body (Jn 2:21). Peter calls his body a tent (2 Pet
1:13) while St. Paul considers the body to be a temple of the Holy Spirit (2
Cor 6:16). Elsewhere he says that the earthly tent will become «an eternal
house... a heavenly dwelling» (2 Cor 5:14).
This understanding however predates Scripture. Archaeological investi-
gations show that the earliest temples, the Neolithic earth temples of Malta,
symbolically express the woman’s body (Fig. 1.14), and Schwaller de
Fig. 1.13. The ancient city and the contemporary city: Jerusalem vs. Los Angeles.
Fig. 1.14. Parallels between one of the temples of Tarxien and Sleeping Lady (Malta, ca. 2800 BC.)
Fig. 1.15. René Schwaller de Lubicz, parallels between the Ramesseum at Luxor (Egypt, s. XIII BC.) and
human skeleton.
Lubicz’s works shows an uncanny parallel between the human skeleton and
the ancient Egyptian temple (Fig. 1.15). It was with this deep and now
obscure understanding that Jesus could announce that his body was the true
temple, and that St. Paul could liken the Body of Christ to the Church.
Similarly, the city is a house writ large, primitively as the house of the
tribe, the body politic. The king dwelt there, as did the gods. Primitive
cities were often both palace-cities and temple-cities, such as Nineveh and
Jerusalem. Even today we speak of cities as being incorporated.
In scripture we see these three themes come together symphonically in
the fantastical vision of John in Revelation 20—well worth rereading for
this consideration—where the themes of embodiment, dwelling, city, and
marriage are now seen as interweaving images that combine to express the
ineffable. This matrix of symbolic forms—body, temple, city—expressed
over the centuries in a variety of architectural styles—Byzantine,
Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, Revivalist—constitutes a pri-
mary vocabulary of Catholic architecture. There is no reason this cannot
happen in the vocabulary of modern materials as well.
So the problem for us contemporary architects, liturgists and church-
men is to rethink these metaphors and see how we can let them again
inform the discussion of sacred architecture. We need not worry about
being contemporary or doing contemporary architecture: that is all we can
do. We need not worry about resolving some tension between concept and
identity. The concept is the identity: the Church is the Body of Christ, it is
the Domus Dei: the Temple of God, it is the Heavenly Jerusalem. That is
the message of Christian architecture, and that is the identity that each of
us involved in building churches must strive to communicate.
NOTES
1 St. Augustine, City of God, 20.9.1
2 See for instance, Maurice Lavanoux, «Religious Art and Architecture Today», in Frederick
McManus, (ed.), The Revival of the Liturgy (New York: Herder and Herder, 1963), 152-154.
3 Edward Mills, The Modern Church (London: The Architectural Press, 1956), 16. Also Mills, The
Modern Factory (London: The Architectural Press, 1951).
4 Jonathan Sherman (ed.), Church Buildings and Furnishing (Greenwich: Seabury Press, 1958), 95.
Quoted in Mark Torgerson, An Architecture of Immanence (Grand Rapids: Erdmann’s, 2007), 91.
5 Peter Hammond, Liturgy and Architecture (London: Barrie & Rockliff, 1960), 3.
6 Hammond, Liturgy, 4.
8 Quoted.
10 Cf. Kevin Seasoltz, A sense of the Sacred (London: Continuum, 2005), 95-98.
11 The list of influential authors who hold this model is quite extensive: Peter Hammond, Liturgy and
Architecture (quoted), 29; Kevin Seasoltz, The House of God (New York: Herder and Herder, 1963), 78-
80; J.G. Davies, The Secular Use of Church Buildings (London: SCM Press, 1968), 1-9; Edward A. Sovik,
Architecture for Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1973), 98; Michael DeSanctis,
Building from Belief (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2002), 28-34; and Richard Vosko, God’s House is Our
House (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 2006), 17. All of these authors seem to assume this model without
consideration of counter evidence.
12 Vosko, God’s House, 22.
13 Edgard A. Sovik, «The Place of Worship: Environment for Action», in Mandus A. Egge (ed.),
Worship: Good News in Action (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing House, 1973), 98. Quoted in Torgerson,
An Architecture, 152-153.
14 Cf. Kimberly Bowes, «Early Christian Archaeology: A State of the Field», Religious Compass 2/4
(2008): 575-619.
15 Cf. Katerina Sessa, «Domus Ecclesiae: Rethinking a Category of Ante Pacem Christian Space»,
Journal of Theological Studies 60:1 (2009): 90-108.
16 Cf. Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (San Francisco: Harper, 1997), 4-12.
17 Cf. Sources Syriaques, t. 1 (Mosul: Imprimerie des Peres Dominicains, 1907). Davies gives the
dates even earlier as 123-136 in his The Origin and Development of Early Christian Church Architecture
(London: SCM, 1952), 14.
18 Cf. Uwe Michael Lang, Turning Towards the Lord (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2005), 67.
Harnack makes note of this in his The Mission and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries
(London: Williams and Nougat, 1908).
19 Lampridius, Life of Severus Alexander, 2.49.
20 Porphyry, Adversus christianos, known to us from the fragment addressed by the later Macarius in
Apocriticus, 4.22.
21 Cf. Epistle of Aurelian, quoted in Joseph Bingham, Origines Ecclesiasticae (London: 1722), 8.1.1.
22 Vosko, God’s House, 27.
23 DeSanctis, Building from Belief, 30.
24 Joseph Rykwert, Church Building (London: Burns and Oates, 1966), 81.
25 Hans Ansgar Reinhold, The Dynamics of Liturgy (New York: Macmillan, 1961), 87.
26 Reinhold, Speaking of Liturgical Architecture (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press,
1952), 13.
27 Louis Bouyer, Life and Liturgy (New York: Sheed & Ward, 1965), 7. Also Seasoltz, The House of
God, 110-114.
28 Peter F. Anson, Churches: Their Plan and Furnishing (Milwaukee: The Bruce Publishing
Company, 1948), X-XI. Quoted in Torgerson, An Architecture, 81.
29 Reinhold, The Dynamics, 32.
30 Vasari in Lives of the Artists speaks of the German manner as barbarous. Later, Wooton and Evelyn
both disparage the Gothic in contradistinction to the Classical Orders. From Wooton: «both for natural
imbecility of the sharpe angle itself, and likewise for their very uncomelinesse, ought to be exiled from
judicious eyes, and left to their inventors, the Goth or Lombards, amongst other relics of that barbarous
age» (Henry Wotton, Elements of Architecture. London: 1624, 51). Similarly, from Evelyn: «The ancient
Greek and Roman architecture answered all the perfections required in a faultless and accomplished build-
ing; but the Goths and Vandals destroyed these and introduced in their stead a certain fantastical and licen-
tious manner of building: congestions of heavy, dark, melancholy, monkish piles, without any just propor-
tion, use or beauty, compared with the truly ancient» (John Evelyn, A Parallel of the Ancient Architecture
with the Modern. London: 1707, 9).
31 Eusebius, Historia Ecclesiastica, 10.4.27.
32 Fustel de Coulanges, La Cité Antique. Paris: Durand, 1866.
33 Melito of Sardis, On Pascha.
METAPHOR, BEAUTY AND CONTEMPORANEITY
IN THE SPHERE OF WORSHIP
Second Panel Discussion
MERCÉ GAMBÚS (Chair)

Given that this is the panel closing the seminar, and since I believe that
a great part of the attendees feel that they have not had enough chances to
participate in it, let us turn this into the right occasion. Many issues have
been mentioned and I am not the one in charge of making a summary of
them all. Anyhow, I intend to make some sort of brainstorming of the ideas
mentioned. For instance, the sacred architectural space as an activator of
the sacred experience. Dualities such as the relationships between
metaphor and symbol, temple and church, architecture and urban planning
or functionalism and liturgy.
I am going to take a break here in order to remind those of you who
attended the first conference, as well as those who are now at the second
one, that on the occasion of the first one, we all left on the last day saying
that the programme was the liturgy. I do not mean that we all necessarily
agreed with that sentence, but maybe during these sessions there has been
a claim made in favour of architecture; architecture and a radical function-
al analysis, based on an analysis of the problems.
However, I do not wish to insist on that: Nature, Architecture, and
Liturgy; they are many of the proper topics. Nevertheless, there are some
other converging looks, such as, for instance, we have had the chance to
check these days how architects, just like orchestra conductors, are com-
mitted to the problem, and they are committed to worship and images, in
the case of the liturgy. Professor García-Morales, from the Polytechnic
University of Madrid, said that she claimed for the communion of the
saints. In terms of recovering the topic of images, somebody has quoted
today Compagnon and the anti-modern movement, and I loved that. I think
that is another extraordinary quote.
Anyhow, I do not intend to speak too long, because that would be total-
ly inconsistent. How do architecture and images converse in the definition
of art or the contemporary sacred space? Languages, techniques, materials,
440 Second Panel Discussion
and procedures. The iconic nature of the sacred image through narrative
episodes, of the episodes of cult, rituals, the world of furniture, the world
of stained-glass windows, the world of liturgical objects, the world of
attire, and the synthesis of the arts. May architects detach themselves from
or disregard the issue of the iconic nature of the sacred space? How do they
hold a dialogue, how do they discuss?
Let me finish by saying the following: What is the matter with the new
images and with historical images in new buildings and in historical ones
which must be preserved? Little has been said about the historical heritage.
Some actions need to be taken as regards the historical heritage and they
will not always consist of consolidation, or of mere reconstruction. There
will be a point in time when that new language needs to enter that old
space. According to my own experience, the discussion is already held
within the field of the iconic nature. A platform such as the one created dur-
ing the last three days of conference, with such a specialized subject and
with such a level as the one we reached, is the right forum for that discus-
sion. Next, Professor Soledad García Morales will take the floor.
SOLEDAD GARCÍA-MORALES
Continuing the line set by Professor Gambús, I only intend to ask some
questions. The purpose here is enticing a discussion, and giving the floor
to those who may actually have an opinion on that.
This would be my first question: Is it necessary to have an actual union,
in the sense of interlink, between architecture and plastic arts, from the
point of view of the project, or should architecture build some kind of sup-
port that will later on hold an image? That is my first question. How can
we dwell on that? Should architects open their creative and design stages
so as to integrate every plastic art? I will not answer so far.
My second question is: Is the landscape an icon in itself or should we
transform it, just as Costantino Ruggeri suggested? Because this appears in
the proposals made by Richard Neutra, Tadao Ando and some other archi-
tects. How do we do that nowadays?
That is the second question, and the third one will be: In case the land-
scape is not transformed, should Jesus-Christ, Virgin Mary and the Saints
be the only images to be represented? Since iconographic programmes
used to refer to Sacred History in the past, to images moving people to
piety, etc. There is a very rich iconographic programme but what should we
Metaphor, Beauty and Contemporaneity in the Sphere of Worship 441
be focusing on? Should we recover the role of sacred images in catechises,

such as in Romanesque art, for instance, or should we simply encourage
those images which are for prayer, which would have a different contextu-
alisation? That would be another question. Finally, one last question, which
is merely rhetorical, since I already have an answer for that one: Moving
or static images? Should we integrate video art strongly as a new plastic
modality in our churches? And how shall we do it? These are my questions;
let us see if we get everyone talking with them.
LUIGI LEONI
I think that the problem of the link between architecture and plastic arts,
such as painting and sculpture, is a vast problem which has caused a great
concern to me, precisely because it is hard to come across a single solution.
Architects, generally speaking, are ready to provide a sacred space with
strength, and, when they finish their work, they demand an integration of
sculpture-like elements, at the altar, the presidential seat, at the place of the
Word, and they will also ask some other artists to perform pieces that will
finish the work.
Father Costantino was different, in general, since he thought of the
work as a whole. He would accept collaboration with other artists at the
beginning, reaching a communion with them. It was a hard job, since a
great unity, a deep spiritual communion is required, something from the
heart. The same tensions leading to sharing the work create a feeling of
great unity, given that the ultimate danger lies in the fact of architecture
meaning one thing and later actions saying another.
It is true that there are some inexcusable requirements, such as those
linked to the devotions that one needs to introduce in the church, such as
statutes for popular piety, etc. But that is not the single thing. It is about
providing one face, one characterisation to the fundamental elements inte-
grating the sacred space; to turn them into one thing with architecture. In
some of the previously shown contemporary examples [by Dom van der
Laan] the absolute purity of those elements has been reached, but this is not
always the case. In some inauthentic places, one feels the need to introduce
what architecture is missing: some rich plastic elements. I do not mean rich
just because of their expressive force, but because of so many things that
are needed. That is not, in my opinion, the complexity of the images that
we introduce; these are images which can really speak to the human heart.
That is depth.
It is true that architecture itself must have its own discourse, it must talk
about images. However, architecture is projected from images which are
perhaps not easily conducive to images that can be immediately recognis-
able. Today, we have seen [in the speech by Soledad García-Morales] the
amount of aspirations and dreams lying inside our hearts. Hearts also
express images. Powerful images speak to our hearts in a mysterious way.
We do not know why a work has had particular results. When architect
Gresleri was talking, he said that miracles are at work. These miracles
emanate from the confluence of many factors, and we do not know how
they appear. At a given point in History, at a given place, there is a partic-
ular meeting of people, here, today; there is a particular meeting of people:
the ordering priests, the Bishop from the diocese and the architect… the
parish community!
A synthesis is needed in order to produce a single impulse, a single ten-
sion into which every artist who really feels that he is one with all those
who work inside that sacred building, even though that artist was not there
from the very beginning, and who holds discussions during the long
progress of the works. An artist cannot be called to do a Way of the Cross
on a wall without having shared the whole process of acquisition of the
space: the way it was generated and thought of. How can one think of pay-
ing attention only to an isolated wall, without bearing in mind the whole
architecture, everything that an artist thinks of? Because I believe that is a
truly fascinating process which needs that impulse and should not be
closed to a kind of research that becomes beautiful and amazing for the
future, since it really opens the gazes. Just think that nobody would dare,
contemplating this morning’s works, for instance, tackle certain works
without taking on board the contributions by so many people.
I have told Giorgio della Longa that one of the most beautiful things
about this conference is the fact of meeting in order to share our experi-
ences. This is the way in which our heart opens, generating something
known only by it. It creates spaces for people and fits these places to invite
them to pray, to joy, to peace, to the communion and, above all, to make
one feel that mystery of the communion between God and people.
VICTORIANO SAINZ
Let me be very brief. I just wanted to highlight a couple of issues which
have already surfaced. Yesterday, as I was introducing Van der Laan, I said
that he believed that in Christian liturgy, the sign is the liturgy as a whole.
In that regard, I agree that it is necessary to hold a dialogue with the Church
as ordering party, the architect and the artists taking part in it so as to pro-
duce that sacred space. I also agree that it is necessary to harmonise it with
the assembly which is going to take part in the liturgical rite to be held
there. That is fine. I think that each person has their own role. Obviously, I
understand that the role of architects and artists is that of making the sacred
space. That is the role assigned to them and this has been so throughout
History.
Precisely because I believe that we are immersed in a living tradition,
Soledad just said some moments ago, as well as Javier Viver, who under-
lined it during his morning speech with amazing clarity and power, that we
are faced with a problem. Well, actually I do not know if it is exactly a
problem, but it is a question which has surfaced in every historical gener-
ation: how do we respond in this society, with the technical means avail-
able, with the artistic means available, to the construction of a contempo-
rary sacred space. This is obviously framed within a given tradition, but it
should be capable of creating and integrating all the technical and artistic
means that we possess, that we are working with and that we are explor-
ing. This is the topic of the new technologies in relation to plastic arts.
However, last evening during the concert, I was thinking of music. I
think this is a key topic in the construction of the liturgy. Well, I believe
that the questions facing us are to a great extent related to that: how can
architects and artists contribute towards the renewal of the contemporary
sacred space. A contemporary sacred space which is not merely a renunci-
ation, but which uses contemporary means of expression. I believe that
there lies our challenge and I would like to encourage those present to react
to this reflection.
JAVIER VIVER
Let me see, since many different topics have been touched upon here.
In the first place, with regard to the integration between architects and
artists, I think that the subject is much more complex. I must compare it to
a cinema production; I think that could be a good example of something
that is similar to building a church.
Cinema requires a series of promoters; there must be a soul and there
must be a producer first of all. On top of that, there must be a director and
a host of actors and artists walking in and out and each of them has a part
to play. To sum up, I would say that the role of the architect is that of cin-
ema director, so that the director cannot be bothered with production
issues, since there has to be somebody responsible for those things. That is
usually the role of the client.
When that kind of integration takes place, some excellent results are
achieved. The director should, somehow, discover the actor’s worth, and
that can be the sculptor, the musician or any other person in charge of the
works, in this case. It is a real direction job and, given that one gives way
to some artist or the other, architecture also holds that relation with the
other arts and a spectacular phenomenon takes place. So I think that the
liturgy must be understood here as a total kind of art, as Pavel Florenski
said. I believe that the confluence of poetry, music, architecture, and of all
the integration of the arts and the senses has not happened anywhere else
as it happened in a church. I think that is the direction of the challenge we
are facing.
Dealing with the other topics, of course I am totally in favour of intro-
ducing moving images inside a church, and not just with a pedagogical
purpose, but also because there comes a point in time when catechises turns
into mistagogy. That is, when talking about the mystery, one should not use
rigid concepts, but it is the image that we need, and, therefore, every image
entails creation. So when talking about art, when talking about the liturgy,
about the mystery, we need the best pedagogy, and it has always been so.
That has been made by developing a work of art. Well, I leave you with
those questions.
MERCÉ GAMBÚS
Before giving the floor to the public, I just want to remind you of one
thing as an art historian. Just think that, throughout History, sacred build-
ings were never conceived as a function of the presence of plastic arts.
Architecture was, above all, a container and contents would be accumulat-
ed through time. I say that with regard to perception. Obviously, nowadays
contemporary art is faced with a unique challenge: integrating everything
from the first moment.
However, I still insist. Please bear in mind that in Spain, at least 70% of the
historical heritage comes from Church assets. This heritage needs to be pre-
served and contemporary actions will be more and more the focus of discus-
sion. I just say that as a reflection to be born in mind. Now you have the floor.
CHEMA DAPENA
I am a plastic artist and a Fine Arts teacher in this world of architects.
I would like to answer a couple of questions posed by Soledad. I think that
the plastic artist is not a character who follows the architect, in this case.
Architects are not the possessors of the Fine Arts, at all. Architects are key
elements in Art, just like plastic artists. At present, I am working side by
side with an architect in a religious work and I think that is the most fasci-
nating work I have ever done. We are not there to fill things up, as if to say,
filling up spaces left by an architect. No. It is very easy for an architect to
create spaces and then say: What shall we put there? Someone must have
experience with that. We are not there to fill spaces up. We must work side
by side with the architect from the very first place.
I can only see one serious problem from the History of Architecture:
architects considered themselves to be almost the sole possessors of truth,
with due respect. They were unapproachable. Artists themselves had to beg
architects to intervene. So I would consider three podiums: the central and
tallest one for architecture, the right one for the architect and the left one
for the plastic artist. Both of them should reach for the central podium and
from there, up to Heaven.
EDUARDO DELGADO
Well, I will try to be brief. My name is Eduardo Delgado, architect.
Some very interesting things have been put forward by Mercé, Soledad and
everyone else. Javier has mentioned the image of a cinema production with
lots of actors, as one can see. I would like to move one step forward, if you
will allow me, so as to talk about updating those actions, the actions of the
Church. Those actions are not by an architect or by an artist, not even by a
client. In many instances, they should be considered to be actions of the
Church called to last through time, as updates of the mystery of Christ’s
Mystical Body, as Saint Paul so well explained. There is a head, there is a
hand, there is a foot, and many other body parts, each of them with its own
function which should not interfere with each other, although there is an
unavoidable union and relationship among them all. I think that reflecting
on this image would greatly help us to understand, at least it helps me, the
mystery posed by the realisation of an architectural work, what does this
kind of complex mean? There really should be no main role, as Chema was
starting to point out. A work which can be identified by its author is a mis-
take. That is an idea I wanted to highlight.
IAGO SEARA
One of the most important characteristics of contemporary art, in my
opinion, is that artists use space as a support or a tool for expression.
However, there is another aspect which is always present in every current
manifestation: memory, the historical memory interpreted from many dif-
ferent points of view. I believe that both aspects integrate the whole
approach held by a church community trying to build its faith, its identity;
it is taken on board, since it is part of every plastic manifestation.
Identity is a topic well illustrated by a sentence by John Berger, known
by all of you: I believe in identity. There was probably a moment of silence
between him and the journalist, in that identity which contemplates every
identity. This is amazing, since every community making a building, and,
therefore, building its faith, or maybe one that has already built it, actually
sets in motion some exceptional ideas, among which there may be plastic,
conceptual or worship ideas, but, in the end, it is always that community
which is present. I think that is hugely important. That is the perfect syn-
thesis between local and global. Somehow, Catholic, as far as I remember,
means universal and that whole universal ideal must also be present.
To me, the most important thing is that identity which arises from the
construction of the community through the construction of a building for
that community. I insist that there is a space and time for everything. When
I teach my students the subjects of restoration or conservation, I usually
say that any action carried out nowadays is acting upon History. This
History is somehow expressed by the material or immaterial culture.
However, when you are faced with History, you are under the disciplinary
obligation of making agreements with time, with these times. In the end,
those agreements integrate a shape, which is, I repeat, a material and imma-
terial shape. Both concepts are not understood as separate nowadays.
Obviously, those belonging to the Galician historical nationalism
would not say immaterial culture but spiritual culture. They said so with
the intention and comprehension of a country which, apart from being
humanised and built is christianised with alms stone boxes, crosses, her-
mits and parishes. Our Galician Statute of Autonomy says that the elements
articulating the territory are the hamlet, the parish and the district. But the
parish is also there. I just want to order this discussion.
However, I will say one more thing as an architect. Kenneth Frampton
used to say, and William Curtis would refine it in his arguments, that con-
temporary architecture became universal when it took on those elements,

and that is how a tradition began.
One more remark. Given that the Modena cemetery by Rossi has been
quoted, I believe that city construction is undergoing a permanent trans-
formation, that the monument transforms the city; every urban building,
and that the building builds a city. What I meant the other day was that the
Santiago Cathedral built a city; it built a historical territory and even an
idea of men. I am hugely interested in these issues.
STEVEN J. SCHLOEDER
Answering your question, couple of questions, they deserve a confer-
ence of their own.
The first point of the discussion deals with the integration of sacred art
and architecture. It is the history of integration between art and architec-
ture. And I think that the integration of the Byzantine with the mosaic, the
Gothic with the sculpture, the plastic arts, the Romanesque portals, espe-
cially in the Baroque age where the painting becomes the picture frame, it
becomes the wall, there’s an architectural integration of all the arts. And I
think a concern of modern architecture is that it looks at the objects in iso-
lation. So we put the Stations of the Cross on the wall or we put a crucifix
on a big blank wall and there’s no relationship and the very nature of
church architecture is to build relationships because we’re expressing rela-
tionship between God and Humanity and the community to itself and the
local community to the community of saints. It’s always that relationship,
this is the theological principle that sets Christianity apart from every reli-
gion, the fact that we’re in relationship to our beloved God and we are his
beloved. That’s why my concern with that modern architecture. It tends to
avoid the relationship between the arts and the building itself and I encour-
age the development of this relationship.
To answer the last question, with respect to Javier, I have a great theo-
logical concern about the integration of video or moving imagery of any
sorts into the liturgy. The reason is simply that video, TV, these sorts of
things, is not that they are profane, but they are in chronos, they are in meas-
ured time. The point of the liturgy is that we enter in kayrós, which is sacred
time. Technology is a problem with respect to church architecture. And I say
that with respect, for we all need to enjoy modern acoustics, modern heat-
ing, modern lighting in churches, there’s nothing wrong with technology.
But there’s a problem: Marshall McLuhan, the Canadian semiologist,

says that the microphone killed the liturgy, and that’s an interesting idea,
certainly technology is an interruption. So that’s my concern, they offered
me an appliance, so they wanted to integrate a video presentation into the
design of the church and I declined, most dogmatically, I said no. But it’s
a problem that we must consider carefully.
ANONIMOUS INTERVENTION
I am a plastic artist and I only work with sacred art. Echoing what Luigi
Leoni said about the experience of arts integration, I have been so lucky to
have a special experience working jointly in architecture and plastic arts.
I have been working at Aletti Centre, near Florence, maybe you know
it, which is characterised by making everything stem out from a set, from
a communion of plastic artists. That is, every project is born from the
beginning as a set and then it gives rise to a synthesis in which plastic arts
are not something stuck to each other, but an integral part of the building.
Thus, the building becomes plastic art.
I feel sincerely thrilled, because I have seen that magnificence of archi-
tecture from the very first day. Let me just tell you one little detail so as to
explain what I have experienced. That church we talked about yesterday
[Saint George’s Church in Pamplona] has an absolutely essential synthesis;
you can see how the material has been worked upon, so that it can express
the surface in an almost organic manner. This brings them so close to us
that you may consider it as totally plastic: it belongs to plastic arts. And, as
a consequence, I can see no division between architecture and plastic arts,
I do not understand it.
All of these architectural concepts have caught me so much that they
have almost penetrated me, if I am allowed to exaggerate. I have exulted
so much with architecture as when I am making a sculpture. That is why I
wonder: if art is a means to express the sublime, maybe the only way to
make the human soul visible is to say that it has something mystical inside.
I do not see airtight compartments between architecture and plastic arts,
or between dance and music. I wonder why don’t they all get together in
order to praise God, to show him and to make him visible among us. This
is quite clear, since I have had that experience and I have seen that is pos-
sible. And I want to thank all of you for giving me the chance to take part
in this unique experience for all of us.
MERCEDES PÉREZ DEL PRADO

Well, Eduardo has already mentioned many of the things that I meant
to say, so I will just reflect on them. I believe that when you want to do
something religious and Catholic, the essential thing is the spirit of com-
munion. This forces us to rethink many things because I think that, of
course, sacred things talk about prayer, they talk about listening, about fill-
ing ourselves up with the others and to immerse ourselves with the people
who will live them. As Iago said, we all need to get in their shoes.
You also need to listen to your inner self, of course: that is contempla-
tion and prayer. Listening to the place as a landscape and how that land-
scape is lived. It may be an unwanted landscape or an idealised one. This
has an impact on the reality of each place and of each intervention.
There is an essential unity in faith which makes us share a common
denominator, and everything else is freedom. The fact that a liturgy and a
series of special rules have been established must be an advantage. We
should appropriate those rules so that they are not a hindrance but quite the
opposite, a vehicle for expression. I am thinking along the line of integrat-
ing everything. I can see no threat in the integration of modernity and new
technologies; quite the opposite, I think that it all depends on how you use
them and the spirit behind all that is made. That is why I think that the basic
thing is having that spirit inside so that those of us who work with it man-
age to make the mystery visible in the end.
ALEKSANDAR KADIJEVIC
Thank you, gentlemen. I would like to ask a question to the chair of this
session. What do you think about the relationship between concept and
identity in contemporary church architecture? Do current or past identities
produce, basically, the nature of those concepts? Or, on the contrary, are
independent or different concepts those which should strictly respect pres-
ent identities?
MERCÉ GAMBÚS
Well, you are asking me directly and that surprises me, since I am
allegedly a neutral person in this history. But I will answer you, no problem.
I always believe in re-reading as a means of progress. I think that is my
answer. We can expand it later, just to save time.
Next, if you please, there have been more or less direct questions, but
first of all let me ask you something. On the corridors, that is where you
really meet people, everyone is saying: how polite we are, it seems that
everyone says the same; but, in fact, we are not saying the same thing. Let
us clarify where we get closer or farther away from each other. Anybody
wishing to answer any allusion may take the floor.
JAVIER VIVER
Let me see, since a direct topic has been mentioned, I will try to answer
it. As I tried to explain before, I think that I agree with your concern.
Certainly, you need to be careful about time; with the distance and the
immediacy between sacred time and profane time. This is very important.
The liturgy has always worked with time, providing profane time with a
different quality, accepting it. I believe that we agree with the core of that
concern; but I think that is a technical question, an exclusively technical
one, about knowing the environment.
I have shown you an example by Bill Viola. He resorts to slowing down
and what it does is allowing through cinema, which is the time of picture
frame movement, the creation of another time when profane time can be
observed from the outside. This slowing down creates a contemplative space
and, therefore, it can be integrated within the sacred space and the liturgy.
I am going to quote another example that is perhaps easier to under-
stand. We are developing a workshop where we consider how cinema,
through the emergence of digital media, will intervene time. A very popu-
lar case, probably known by all of you, is the bullet time effect in Matrix.
This means that, at a given point in time, the camera stops real time and
starts surrounding a person as if it was a classical sculpture. Apollo &
Daphne stopped in time. From an external vision, outside time, you start
seeing every viewpoint of that moment. You do it from your own vision,
let us say, from eternity, as if to say, with every limitation posed by images.
This technique allows one to talk about profane time from eternity and to
foster that typically sculpture-like contemplation which is time stopped
and, nevertheless, to stroll around a frozen moment. These are two specif-
ic forms in which time may be integrated within sacred space.
SOLEDAD GARCÍA-MORALES
First of all, I would like to thank Steven for being here with us, since
he is the one who has launched a controversy in this debate. I think we

have not thanked him properly yet for the excellent role he is playing in
this conference.
I would also like to insist on this question, actually two questions, with
regard to seeing isolated objects holding no relation to the building. That
issue, together with the issue of time that Javier has just mentioned. We can
resort to the example of the Sainte-Chapelle in order to illustrate that.
The stained-glass windows in Sainte-Chapelle have an iconographic
programme which is perfectly adapted to the space and the position occu-
pied by each window inside the temple, so that in the East, the windows
represent the prophets because the Sun, the first daylight, enters the build-
ing through the prophets. Scenes from the History of Salvation appear
along the nave, which is illuminated by the sunshine along the day. There
is a similarity with the history of salvation. The rosette corresponding to
the Apocalypse is in the Western gable, lit at dusk. I believe that is a para-
digmatic case of art encompassing all the images at a given point in time
and integrating them by giving them a key meaning.
What should be saved from this example is not the need for us to place
stained-glass windows with pictures of the prophets or the Apocalypse.
That is not the case. I believe that what must be saved is what Pope
Benedict XVI mentions as the core towards which we should orient the
whole that the building expresses, and that is the sense of orientation.
Orientation means—and this is when I talk about space and time—that
when we take part in the liturgy, we are not in the present. We are at a time
that is simultaneously the past time, the present we live in, and the place
we are heading to. We are gathering all the time in a single moment, the
moment that we are celebrating, as if we travelled to the instant of the
Cross. At that time, we are at the present, compiling history, and, at the
same time, at Calvary and heading for the future. This is the sense of cos-
mic time that the building has to celebrate and on which everything should
be focused. The direction we provide to it, the way in which we introduce
light, sound, images, all that... must be expressed by the power of our con-
temporary architecture.
I do not know if that answers both questions. In that regard, I would
clearly bet on every possibility granted by contemporary art, provided
that the key point is retaken. I do not know if this is an answer, but it is
a statement.
VICTORIANO SAINZ
I would simply like to add something to what Soledad has said, since I
totally agree with her. Let us see. I think that what has been integrated by
Western tradition into that discourse within the constitution on sacred art,
which I believe to be a common discourse for Catholic liturgy and sacred
space in general, and which is related to what Javier said this morning
about the transition that Guardini called the move from the cult image to the
worship one, is the integration of the ordinary, that is, the realities we are
immersed in every day. That is, in my opinion, what has characterised the
sacred Christian art of the West, distinguishing it from the re-orientation of
Christian art in the East. I think we must keep on doing that.
In this context, I also agree with Javier, and I understand the problem.
Actually, there is one, and there was a very intense debate in the 16th cen-
tury about Raphael’s paintings, whose best works clearly show who the
model was posing as the model for the Virgin Mary. Although those prob-
lems do exist, we should reflect about how to integrate all the technical
means and possibilities available. This is precisely with the purpose of
making a kind of sacred art which is capable of incorporating, and, there-
fore, incorporating to the process of salvation materialised in the liturgy:
the ordinary reality where today’s society is immersed. This will have to be
a long process of purification of particular elements or exploring how to do
it, undoubtedly, but I guess that the reflection is there and we must do it.
IAGO SEARA
The East-West orientation is the axis marking the cosmological space
of the hall. Well, I must say that I was hugely impressed by Javier’s pres-
entation and by the reflections he made. Based on what I said previously,
that nowadays art uses space as the means to support expression, often the
issue of the identity of the Iberian or Spanish Church is forgotten. The
manifestations of the cult, in the broadest sense of the term, in our history.
There was no cinema back then, but there were theatres, and things such as
living Nativities and Passions were included there... As a member of ICO-
MOS, I took part in the preliminary studies and reports so as to declare the
Mystery of Elche as Immaterial World Heritage1.
I think that is an extraordinary freedom of spirit, open cult and experi-
ences and it can be open to other manifestations, such as those mentioned
by Javier. I believe that freedom belongs to the construction of a faith, the
freedom of a community. John Berger said about that wealth: identity, of

course. First of all, we are Catholics, we are universal. I think that no pride
has been manifested about the Catholic temple and it must be done: of the
Catholic churches and cathedrals. In this regard, I think that the experi-
ences previously explained as an inventory or catalogue are extremely
important.
BERNARDO MIRANDA
My name is Bernardo Miranda, an architect from Lisbon. I wanted to
say that I take home many things to reflect upon. I think that different
approaches to the liturgy can be followed in that space.
There has been much talk about Bologna and also about Dom Van der
Laan’s contribution. But little was said about precariousness, poverty and
the connections we may feel between poverty, charity and beauty.
However, that poverty and precariousness are also a signal of the New
Testament, where one may find something which is not discovered in a
very sumptuous architecture. A lot was said yesterday about the feast, talk-
ing about the communion of the saints. We know that we still inhabit a very
unfair world, a world that still needs Jesus. Jesus had no fixed home, no
stable place; he would meet the communities. Therefore, there is this idea
of movement and mobility. Plastic arts, above all, suggest questions about
the dimension of injustice. We should allow questioning and, therefore, I
do not believe in a kind of plastic art that hesitates about the marking space,
but in one that is in space because it questions it.
Another topic is the different uses of space and, above all, the domes-
tic, the quotidian, which helps us become a better community and not to
distinguish ourselves from the rest. The presentation of the Pamplona proj-
ect was striking to me. But I have still many doubts as to whether that is
my faith, if that is truly the model, the icon of Jesus nowadays, of the 21st
century. I also want to thank you for this, since I leave with more questions
than I walked in.
NOTES
1 The International Council of Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS) is an international NGO devoted to
creating a doctrine on the heritage and to promote its safeguard. According to the World Heritage
Convention of 1972 and the Practical Guidelines for its implementation, it has the status of a UNESCO
consulting body. On 18 May 2001, The Mystery of Elche was declared by UNESCO as Masterpiece of the
Oral and Immaterial Heritage of Humankind (Editor’s Note).
INDEX
Aalto, Alvar 54, 108, 109, 111, 393, Barbacci, Alfredo 330
393, 401 Barning, Otto 159
Abdelkader, Mirza 259, 261 Barnstone, Howard 246, 247, 248,
Aburto Renobales, Rafael 347 249, 263
Acón, Diego 379 Baroni, Gilberto 107
Agagianian, Krikor Bedros XV 117 Barthes, Roland 437
Agati, Luigi 341 Baruèl, Jean-Jacques 393, 393
Aguilar Otermín, José Manuel de 48 Basa, Péter 141
Alberti, Leon Battista 4, 79 Baudrillard, Jean 161
Alexander of Lincoln 217 Bazin, André 437
Alexander, Christopher 246, 247 Behrens, Peter 352
Allmann, Markus 199 Bekaert, Geert 207, 211
Ando, Tadao 211, 261, 409, 440 Bellot, Paul 181, 195, 196, 200, 210
Androsov, Vasilij 121 Benedict of Nursia 219
Annecchino, Valeria 54 Benedict XVI 69, 387, 451
Anselm of Canterbury 61 Bérgamo, Maurizio 352
Anson, Peter F. 15, 27 Berger, John 446, 453
Aparicio Guisado, Jesús M. 47 Bergeson, Dom 211
Aquinas, Thomas 66, 81, 177, 197 Bergman, Ingmar 429
Arata, Giulio Ulisse 321 Berlage, Hendrik Petrus 203
Archigram 155, 159 Bernard of Clairvaux 213-222
Aries, Philippe 398 Bernini, Gian Lorenzo 21, 365, 367
Arizmendi, Anthony 55-66 Besco, Roberto 330
Árkay, Aladár 135 Beseleel 17
Árkay, Bertalan 135 Bettazzi, Maria Beatrice 330, 341
Arnáez, Juan 279, 281 Biffi, Giacomo 116
Asplund, Erik Gunnar 393, 393, 398 Bingham, Joseph 27
Aubert, Jean 161 Bird, Walter 161
Aubry, Eugene 246, 247, 248, 249, Birkits, Gunnar 247, 252
263 Blake, William 375
Augustine of Hippo 4, 26, 431 Blanco, Silvia 155-161
Aurelius 13 Bodar, Antoine 210
Aymonino, Carlo 341 Boesiger, Willy 295, 300
Bohigas Guardiola, Oriol 391, 398
Badía, Jordi 397 Böhm, Dominikus 48, 80, 159
Baker, Geoffrey H. 398 Böhm, Gottfried 159, 369, 369
Balázs, Mihály 141 Bollnow, Otto Friedrich 53
Banham, Reiner 161 Borobio Navarro, Luis 363, 363
456 Between Concept and Identity
Borromeo, Charles 21, 37 Chipperfield, David 397

Borromini, Francesco 21, 25 Choay, Françoise 313, 318
Bosnjak, Ljubica 125 Ciorra, Pippo 243
Bosquet, Alain 437 Civardi, Ernesto 116
Bossaglia, Rosanna 330 Clement of Alexandria 12
Botta, Mario 317 Clement of Rome 15
Bouyer, Louis 14, 27 Cocheril, Maur 215
Bowes, Kimberly 27 Coebergh, Dom 211
Braghieri, Alessandro 233-243 Coelho Dias, Geraldo 222
Braghieri, Gianni 395, 395 Cohalan, Daniel 149
Bramante, Donato 4, 231 Collamarini, Edoardo 330
Branningan 69, 71 Compagnon, Antoine 227, 232, 439
Brill, Michael 247 Congar, Yves-Maria 48
Brunelleschi, Filippo 375 Constantine 9, 12, 13, 14
Buddha 261 Constantinus, Johan Paul 210
Budjevac, Sasa 125, 131, 131 Construcciones VDR 281
Bueno de la Fuente, Eloy 48 Conti, Sergio 325, 325
Bundalo, Zoran 125, 127, 131 Corr, Frank 153
Buonarotti, Michelangelo 108 Corrales Gutiérrez, José Antonio 79,
Buraglio, Pierre 263, 265 351
Burelli, Augusto Romano 40 Cresti da Passignano, Domenico 271
Burri, Alberto 325 Crippa, Maria Antonietta 47
Butler, Howard Crosby 210 Crippa, Roberto 401
Butler, Rudolf 147, 149 Critchlow, Keit 255
Byrne, Barry 149, 149 Crowfoot, G.M. 11
Byrne, Ralph 147 Crowfoot, J.W. 11
Csaba, László 135
Cabrero, Francisco 347 Cuadra Rodríguez, Gerardo 48
Calatrava, Santiago 327 Curtis, William 446
Camaxtle 165 Cutillas, Juan Manuel 290
Cano, Alonso 435
Cantwell, Wilfred 154 Dalí, Salvador 417, 437
Capitel, Antón (Antonio González- Damljanovic, Tanja 132
Capitel Martínez) 227, 232 Dangelo, Sergio 401
Capogrossi, Giuseppe 401 Dapena, Chema 445
Cardini, Franco 318 David 50
Carvajal Ferrer, Javier 48, 87, 349, Davies, J.G. 27
349 De Blacam, Shane 153, 153
Castiglioni, Enrico 327, 327 De Bronseval, Claude 222
Català-Roca, Francesc 417 De Carlo, Adolfo 233, 243
Catti, Giovanni 100 De Faveri, Franco 341
Cesari, Carlo 318 De Galles, Gérald 215
Chiarini, Carlo 341 De Haan, Hilde 198
Chillida, Eduardo 371, 371 De Honnecourt, Villard 221, 222
Index 457
De Jong, Jan 211 Evdokimov, Paul 433, 437

De Meuron, Pierre 208 Evelyn, John 27
De Valera, Eamon 143, 149 Ezekiel 53, 55
De Wilde, Karel 210
Del Prete, Mattia 352 Fabbretti, Nazareno 406, 414
Delgado Orusco, Eduardo 48, 415, Fagnoni, Raffaello 321, 323, 327
433, 433, 445, 449 Fanti, Guido 111
Della Francesca, Piero 271, 271, 399 Fasana, Gian Franco 301
Della Longa, Giorgio 67, 77, 80, 85, Fathy, Hassan 259
442 Fergusson, Peter 221, 222
Den Biesen, Kees 211 Ferlenga, Alberto 197
Deroko, Alexander 121, 123, 125 Fernandez Arenas, Arsenio 48
DeSanctis, Michael 27 Fernández Catón, José María 48
Desmoulin, Bernard 263 Fernández de Oviedo y Valdés,
Dessauce, Marc 161 Gonzalo 163
Deverell, William 169 Fernández del Amo, José Luis 79,
Di Simone, Giovanni 391, 398 351, 351
Dianich, Severino 40 Fernández Muñoz, Angel Luis 398
Dieste, Eladio 347 Fernández-Cobián, Esteban 3, 48,
Dimier, Anselme 222 198, 273, 415
Dionysios the Areopagite 200 Ferrero, Silvio 307
Dondeyne, Albert 211 Fibonacci (Leonardo of Pisa) 210
Dooyeweerd, Herman 66 Figini, Luigi 401
Döpfner, Julius 117 Fiorentino, Mario 341
Doré, Gustave 21 Fiorini, Barbara 319-330
Dorotheus of Tyre 437 Fisac Serna, Miguel 47, 48, 273, 349,
Dorsky, Nathaniel 429, 437 349, 351, 381
Dova, Gianni 401 Florenski, Pável Aleksándrovich 423,
Downes, Joseph 149 444
Drew, Thomas 145 Folic, Ljubisa 125, 129, 131
Dreyer, Carl Theodor 429 Fontana, Lucio 325, 401
Durandus of Mende 21 Forlani, Marisa 325, 325, 327
Durer, Albert 423 Fossati, Maurilio 301, 303
Fouquet, Jean 23
Egge, Mandus A. 27 Fra Angelico 399, 423, 425
Einstein, Albert 6 Frampton, Kenneth 446
Eliade, Mircea 245, 255, 318 Francis of Assisi 83, 215
Eliasson, Olafur 365, 365 Francis Xavier 413
Entrambasaguas, Isabel 375 Franco Bahamonde, Francisco 45,
Erice, Víctor 417 223
Escrivá, Josemaría 377, 388 Fuksas, Maximiliano 33
Espinoza, Gaston 169 Fuller, Buckminster 161
Etlin, Richard 393, 398 Fustel de Coulanges 21, 27
Eusebius of Caesarea 17, 17, 21, 27
Gabetti, Roberto 40, 305, 308 Hague, William 145, 145

Gagnier Mendoza, Mary Jane 169 Hamed, Babar 259
Galilei, Galileo 6 Hammond, Peter 7, 9, 26
Gambús, Mercé 439, 440, 444, 445 Harnack, Adolf von 27
Garavaglia, Antonio 327 Haughey, Patrick 151, 151
García de Albéniz, Imanol 343-353 Heidegger, Martin 311, 318
García de Paredes, José María 349, Herzog, Jacques 207
349, 353 Hildebrand, Dietrich von 5
García-Gutiérrez Mosteiro, Javier Hines, Thomas S. 300
232 Hippolytus 12
García-Lozano, Rafael A. 41-48 Honorius of Autun 21
García-Morales, Soledad 357-388, Hugh of St. Victor 21
359, 439, 440-443, 445, 450, 452
García-Pablos, Rodolfo 353 Ignatius of Antioch 15
Gardella, Ignacio 33, 401 Ignatius of Loyola 215
Gaudí, Antoni 375, 385, 425, 427 Ilkic, Jovan 120
GE & Asociados SL Ingenieros Inza, Curro 352
Consultores 289 Ishaq 13
Gennaro, Paola Sonia 40 Ishikawa, Sara 247
Gerhards, Albert 341 Iturralde, Susana 289
Gherardi, Luciano 105, 111 Ivackovic, Svetozar 120
Gil de Hontañón, Juan 273
Gil Giménez, Paloma 48, 352 Jacoby, Alfred 259, 261
Giotto di Bondone 263, 399 Jesus-Christ 19, 21, 23, 25, 41, 42,
Girón de Velasco, José Antonio 223 43, 44, 50, 53, 75, 81, 82, 165,
González de Cardedal, Olegario 398 215, 311, 338, 363, 376, 377, 385,
Gorio, Federico 331-341, 331-341 407, 411, 417, 421, 423, 425, 429,
Granpré Molière, Jan 182, 200, 210 435, 445, 453
Greco, El (Doménikos John of the Cross 419
Theotokópoulos) 425 John Paul II 53, 82, 105, 133, 153,
Gregotti, Vittorio 33 407
Gresleri, Giuliano 113, 113, 115, 318, Johnson, Philip 246, 247, 248, 249,
325, 330, 341, 401 259, 263, 265
Gresleri, Glauco 68, 73, 76, 77, 79, Joseph of Arimathea 377
83, 85, 93-117, 99, 105, 113, 113, Joshua 63
115, 330, 341, 352, 401, 442 Jovanovic, Miodrag 132
Griffith, Arthur 143 Jullian de la Fuente, Guillermo 111
Gruzinski, Serge 164, 169 Jung, Carl Gustav 64, 66
Guardini, Romano 5, 6 Jungmann, Jean-Paul 161
Guarini, Guarino 21 Justinian 4
Guerriero, Elio 341
Guyard, Jacques 318 Kadijevic, Aleksandar 119-132, 449
Kahn, Louis I. 86, 335
Haagsma, Ids 198 Kaufmann, Emil 318
Index 459
Klubertanz, George 211 López Zanón, José 229, 229, 231,

Korunovic, Momir 121 231, 351
Krähling, János 142 Lõrincz, Zoltán 142
Krämer, Johannes 341 Lugli, Piero Maria 341
Kropholler, Alexander Jacobus 203 Lukic, Miladin 125, 125, 127
Krunic, Spasoje 125 Lullini, Luciano 99, 117
Kruppa, Gábor 139 Lyndon, Donlyn 247
Lactanius 15 Maas, Tom 197

Lamela, Antonio 351, 351 Mac Lamprecht, Barbara 300
Lampridius 27 Macarius 27
Lang, Uwe Michael 27 Macartney, Alexa 381
Lanza, M. 341 Mahiques, Myriam B. 163-169
Laorga, Luis 229, 229, 231, 231, 259, Makovecz, Imre 135, 137, 137, 142
347, 347, 351, 351 Manenti, Claudia 309-318
Larmour, Paul 154 Manevic, Zoran 132
Laugier, Marc-Antoine 19 Mangiarotti, Angelo 33
Lavanoux, Maurice 26 Marcel, Gabriel 211
Lawlor, Anthony 255 Mariné, Nicolás 361
Lazcano, Jesús 371 Mario, Fr. 279
Le Corbusier (Charles-Edouard Maritain, Jacques 200, 201
Jeanneret) 7, 86, 108, 109, 111, Märkli, Peter 211
159, 203, 401 Marlin, William 300
Le Goff, J. 398 Martín, Edgard 154
Leache, Jesús 76, 85, 269-290, Martin, Henry 379
269-290, 373, 386 Martínez Custardoy, Paula 289
Lebrun, Pierre 161 Martini, Francesco di Giorgio 19
Ledoux, Claude-Nicolas 311, 318 Mary (mother of Jesus-Christ) 165,
Lemass, Sean 149 167, 169, 257, 417, 425, 431, 433,
Lenci, Sergio 341 436, 440, 452
Lenti, Carla 301 Masiero, Roberto 341
Leoni, Luigi 399-414, 401, 405, 409, Masramón de Ventós, Josep Maria 48
411, 413, 414, 441, 448 Masznyik, Csaba 142
Leopardi, Giacomo 76, 89 Mattia, Domenico 303, 305
Lercaro, Giacomo 75, 93-117, 95, Maximus the Confessor 21
151, 331, 338, 341, 401 McCormick, Liam 153, 153
Lercaro, Giuseppe 93 McLuhan, Marshall 448
Lewerentz, Sigurd 345, 347, 393, McManus, Frederick 26
393 McMullen, James 147, 149
Libera, Adalberto 33 McNamara, Thomas 145, 145
Linazasoro, José Ignacio 197 McNicholl, Gerald 149, 151
Llano Sánchez, Rafael 48 Meagher, John 153, 153
Lockefeer, Walter 197 Meeks, Wayne A. 66
Loos, Adolf 207, 391, 398 Meier, Richard 33, 409
Melito of Sardis 23, 27 Niemeyer, Oscar 385, 385

Melograni, Carlo 341 Norberg-Schulz, Christian 232, 314,
Meloni, Gino 401 318
Menichetti, S.C. 341
Mesturino, Ugo 303, 305 O’Nelly, Oisin 151
Meurant, Robert C. 255 Oteiza, Jorge 415
Michelino, Walter 100 Otto, Frei 161
Michelucci, Giovanni 33, 40 Otxotorena Elizegi, Juan Miguel 352
Mies van der Rohe, Ludwig 7, 46, Oubrerie, Jose 111
327
Miletic-Abramovic, Ljiljana 132 Padovan, Richard 197, 198, 211
Mills, Edward 6, 26 Palladio, Andrea 4, 245, 273
Milovanovic, Dušan 121, 131, 132 Pamer, Nóra 142
Milovanovic, Vojislav 123, 125 Panofsky, Erwin 66, 222, 437
Miralles, Enric 395, 395 Pantovic, Miroslav 119-132
Miranda, Bernardo 453 Paul VI 108, 196
Mitrovic, Branislav 125, 129, 132 Paulinus 17
Mitrovic, Mihajlo 123, 125 Pavle of Serbia 121
Mladenovic, Miodrag 125 Pawson, John 213-222, 213-222, 409
Monica of Hippo 431 Pazár, Béla 141, 141
Moore, Charles 247 Pegenaute, Pedro 290
Mor, Andrea 233 Pellegrino, Michele 301, 303, 308
Moreno Barberá, Fernando 231, 231 Pérez del Prado, Mercedes 88, 449
Moses 53 Pérez Espinosa, Arturo 289
Mosso, Leonardo 301, 303 Pérez-Naya, Antonia M. 389-398
Mosso, Nicola 301, 303 Pérez-Prieto, Victorino 257-265
Moya Blanco, Luis 79, 225, 225, Pesic, Branko 125
226, 226, 231, 352 Piano, Renzo 33
Muck, Herbert 353 Picasso, Aurally 93
Müller, Hans Walter 155-161, 157, Piccirillo, Michele 399
159, 161 Pinós, Carme 395, 395
Mumford, Lewis 318 Pistre, Jean 263, 265
Muzio, Giovanni 33 Pius X 82
Pius XI 31
Nagy, Tamás 139, 139 Pius XII 31
Nathan 49, 50 Plato 211
Negri, Mario 321, 323 Plazaola Artola, Juan 48
Nero 12 Plinius the Old 437
Nervi, Pierluigi 327 Pollini, Gino 401
Nestorovic, Bogdan 123, 125 Poma, Antonio 339, 341
Neumeyer, Fritz 352 Ponti, Gió 33
Neutra, Richard 291-300, 291-300, Popovic, Nebojsa 127, 129
440 Popovic, Srdja 121
Nicodemus 377 Porphyry 13, 27
Index 461
Portela Fernández-Jardón, César 397, Ruvidic, Milorad 121

397, 398 Rykwert, Joseph 21, 27, 318
Portoghesi, Paolo 33
Prokic, Radoslav 125 Sabatucci, Antonio 414
Prouvé, Jean 155, 161 Sáenz de Oíza, Francisco Javier 259,
347, 347
Quaroni, Ludovico 33, 233-243, Sainz Gutiérrez, Victoriano 173-198,
233-243, 331, 341 367, 442, 452
Quinteiro Fiuza, Luis 415 Samojlov, Grigorije 121
Sanaa (Sejima + Nishizawa) 211
Rabanus Maurus 21 Sánchez, Alejandro 289
Radice, Mario 325 Sancho Campo, Angel 48
Ramos Abengózar, José Antonio 429 Sangiorgi, Luciano 327
Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino) Santi, Giancarlo 29-40
452 Sattler, Amandus 199
Ratzinger, Joseph 48, 53, 54, 365, Scarpa, Carlo 33, 393, 393
376, 388 Schildkrout, Enid 169
Ravasi, Gianfranco 67 Schloeder, Steven J. 3-27, 68, 81, 71,
Re, Luciano 303, 305 73, 80, 83, 88, 447, 450
Reinhold, Hans Ansgar 15 Schönborn, Christoph 54
Remedi, Enrico 323 Schoonjans, Yves 199-211
Renacco, Nello 301, 303 Schuller, Robert 293, 299, 300
Rév, Ilona 142 Schwaller de Lubicz, René 25, 25
Richter, Karl 341 Schwarz, Rudolf 11, 159, 243, 327,
Ridolfi, Mario 341 338, 341, 345, 347, 352
Riegl, Alois 398 Scolozzi, Francesco 111, 113, 113
Rinaldi, Giuseppe 341 Scott, William Anthony 145, 145,
Río Vázquez, Antonio S. 223-232 147, 147
Ristic, Predrag 125, 127, 129, 131 Seara Morales, Iago 446, 452
Ritz, Sandor 23 Seasoltz, Kevin 26, 27
Robin, Suzzane 161 Sebastián, Fernando 271, 273
Robinson, John J. 147 Segura, Eduardo 49-54
Rodrigues, Arsenio T. 245-255 Seldmayr, Hans 318
Rodriguez Barberán, Javier 398 Senn, Rainer 11
Rodríguez García, Pedro 48 Sessa, Katerina 27
Rodríguez-González, Eugenio J. Severus Alexander 13
143-154 Sheehy, Jeanne 154
Rogers, Ernesto Nathan 243 Sherman, Jonathan 6, 26
Roggero, Mario Federico 303, 305 Sibilla, Angelo 233
Rossi, Aldo 393, 395, 395, 398, 447 Sibona, Gualtiero 307
Rothko, Mark 263, 265 Sicard of Cremona 21
Rovati, Chiara 411, 413, 413 Silverstein, Murray 247
Ruggeri, Costantino 113, 115, Siren, Heikki 54
399-414, 399-414, 440, 441 Siren, Kaija 54
Sironi, Mario 401 Turley, Richard 154

Sitte, Camilo 77
Siza, Alvaro 409 Undurraga, Christian 409
Sodi, Stefano 40 Urbain, Br. 210
Sola Labarri, José Luis 289 Utopie 155
Solomon 17 Utzon, Jørn 383, 383
Sordo Madaleno Bringas, Javier 379
Sovik, Edward A. 11, 27 Vacca Arleri, Aldo 303, 305
Spadolini, Pier Luigi 321, 323 Vaccaro, Giuseppe 33, 103, 321, 327,
St. John 26, 42, 43 329, 329, 339
St. Paul 12, 21, 25, 26, 43, 413, 445 Val del Omar, José 429
St. Peter 25, 43 Val, Joseph 397
Stark, Rodney 27 Valenziano, Crispino 40
Stegers, Rudolf 211 Valla, Lorenzo 331-341
Stinco, Antoine 161 Valode, Denis 263, 265
Stocchetti, Alfonso 321, 323 Valori, Michele 341
Stock, Wolfgang Jean 142 Valverde, José María 352
Stojkov, Borislav 132 Van Acken, Johannes 46, 48
Studio Tamassociati 263, 263 Van der Laan, Hans 173-198,
Suenens, Leo Jozef 117 173-198, 199-211, 199-211, 441,
Szalai, András 142 442, 453
Szrogh, György 142 Van der Laan, Nico 197, 203, 210
Varaldo, Giuseppe 301
Tabb, Phillip 247 Vasari, Giorgio 27
Tabuenca, Fernando 86, 269-290, Vázquez Molezún, Ramón 79, 351
269-290, 373, 386 Verde, Paola 197
Tallon, Ronald 151, 151 Vermeulen, Dom 211
Talma, Dom 205, 211 Veronica 421
Tange, Kenzo 108, 109, 111, 111, 259 Vicens i Hualde, Ignacio 48, 429,
Tanner, Norman 437 431
Tarkovski, Andrei Arsenyevich 429 Vicéns, Elena 383
Tarzia, Antonio 341 Viola, Bill 419, 419, 427, 429, 450
Tato, Diana 371 Viti, Goffredo 222
Tavares Martins, Ana M. 213-222 Vitruvius (Marcus Vitruvius Pollio)
Terán, Fernando 351, 351 233, 245
Teresa of Ávila 425 Vittorini, Marcelli 341
Tertullian 12 Viver, Javier 88, 415-437, 417, 429,
Tippey, Brett 291-300 431, 433, 435, 443, 445, 447,
Tito (Josip Broz) 120 450-452
Tonka, Hubert 161 Voet, Caroline 199-211
Torgerson, Mark 26, 27 Von Balthasar, Hans Urs 42, 47, 53,
Török, Ferenc 139, 142 54
Trebbi, Giorgio 103, 105, 113, 113, Vosko, Richard 11, 27
401 Vovelle, Michel 398
Index 463
Vukoszávlyev, Zorán 1 33-142
Wappner, Ludwig 199

Weil, Simone 55
Wesselényi-Garay, Andor 142
West, Cornel 65, 66
William 219
Wölfflin, Heinrich 207
Wooton, Henry 27
Wright, Frank Lloyd 53, 259
Xella, Paolo 318
Yamaguchi, Takashi 261, 261

Yeats, William Butler 143
Zahner, Walter 341

Zalacaín, Javier 289
Zanoni, Giancarlo 307
Zerubabel 17
Zevi, Bruno 343, 352
Zito, Carla 301-308
Zivanovic, Dušan 121
Zuccotti, Gian Pio 301
Zumthor, Peter 199, 210, 211, 273
Zurbarán, Francisco de 425, 425

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List of Figures and Tables...................................................................................... ix

List of Contributors.............................................................................................. xxi

Editor’s Preface ................................................................................................ xxiii

List of Abbreviations .......................................................................................... xxv

Section 1 - The Expression of the Identity of Christian Art and Architecture

Section 2 - Typological Transgressions and Theological Determinations:

7. Glauco Gresleri, Italy........................................................................................ 93

8. Aleksandar Kadijevic & Miroslav Pantovic, Serbia ...................................... 119

Section 3 - Inclusive Architecture vs. Exclusionary Architecture

13. Victoriano Sainz, Spain ................................................................................ 173

19. Victorino Pérez-Prieto, Spain ...................................................................... 257

Section 4 - Sacredness and Urban Space: the Place of Worship

20. Fernando Tabuenca & Jesús Leache, Spain.................................................. 269

Section 5 - Extensions of Metaphor in Contemporary Religious Architecture

27. Soledad García-Morales, Spain .................................................................... 357

Fig. 6.2. Distribution of major religions in different U.S. states: Tulsa

Fig. 8.6. Predrag Ristic, The Ascension of Jesus, Ub, c. 2000.

a mirror. See below the flowers and candles offered.

Second extension at Abbey Sint-Benedictusberg, Mamelis, Vaals,

Fig. 18.2. Gunnar Birkits, Contemporary Arts Museum, Houston, 1972.

Fig. 20.18. Detail of the crest on the armoured concrete walls.

Fig. 25.5. Drawing of one of the procession itineraries: the itinerary.

Table 18.1. Comparative analysis of criteria associated with selection of case

Anthony Arizmendi, Independent Scholar (USA)

After the excellent reception of the 1st International Conference on

THE EXPRESSION OF THE IDENTITY OF

I want to thank the organisers of this conference, especially His

THE PROBLEM OF A CONTEMPORARY RELIGIOUS

Counter-Reformation polemics which gave form to the glorious Baroque

PARADIGM SHIFTS IN THE TWENTIETH-CENTURY

That all sounds so antiquated, so pre modern, so medieval, so benight-

that good churches—no less than good schools or good hospitals—can be

THE MYTH OF THE DOMUS ECCLESIAE

the earliest understanding of a Christian church building implies that it is a

Fig. 1.2. Rudolf Schwarz, St. Michael, Frankfurt (Germany), 1953/54.

Let us first be clear that the term domus ecclesiae—popular among

CHRISTIAN ARCHITECTURE BEFORE CONSTANTINE

THE HISTORIOGRAPHY OF THE LITURGICAL MOVEMENT

the Apostolic Constitutions. Invocations of the Tent of Dwelling,

THE LANGUAGE OF CHURCH ARCHITECTURE IN EUSEBIUS

this magnificent temple of the highest God, corresponding to the pattern of

Fig. 1.5. Eusebius of Caesarea (ca. 275-339).

A SACRAMENTAL VOCABULARY OF CHURCH ARCHITECTURE

unique and distinct functions, forms, locations, relationships, and meaning.

Fig. 1.8. Gustave Doré, The heavenly Jerusalem, 1865.

the temple below was precious,

In various ways, this civic vision infused the imaginations of church

Second Panel Discussion

MERCÉ GAMBÚS (Chair)

be focusing on? Should we recover the role of sacred images in catechises,

temporary architecture became universal when it took on those elements,

But there’s a problem: Marshall McLuhan, the Canadian semiologist,

MERCEDES PÉREZ DEL PRADO

he is the one who has launched a controversy in this debate. I think we

freedom of a community. John Berger said about that wealth: identity, of

Borromeo, Charles 21, 37 Chipperfield, David 397

De Jong, Jan 211 Evdokimov, Paul 433, 437

Gabetti, Roberto 40, 305, 308 Hague, William 145, 145

Klubertanz, George 211 López Zanón, José 229, 229, 231,

Lactanius 15 Maas, Tom 197

Melito of Sardis 23, 27 Niemeyer, Oscar 385, 385

Portela Fernández-Jardón, César 397, Ruvidic, Milorad 121