the
Anchor An inclusive, spirited, and Christ-centered urban church community that transforms lives
Architecture Issue . Summer 2016 Dear Friends, In 2008 I applied for—and received—a grant from the Louisville Institute (funded by the Lilly Foundation) to help fund a sabbatical. In the introduction to my grant proposal I said the following: The theme of my sabbatical is, “Roots and Renewal.” In my vocational life and in my personal life, I have been nourished by five main roots: 1) Scripture, 2) prayer, 3) sacred spaces, 4) relationships and 5) music. A story from my youth helps to further define those roots. I grew up in Kinston, N.C., a small eastern North Carolina town, where my parents settled following the Second World War. I was baptized on November 14, 1954 at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church. The motto of St. Mary’s, a beautiful neo-gothic structure built in 1952, was “These Church Doors are Always Open.” And they were. As I entered my teenaged years, I would ride my bike over there at all times of the day and night and spend time in the quiet. I would read from the lectern Bible and at one point even memorized the entire Sermon on the Mount. (I would obnoxiously use quotes to bolster my arguments with my parents!) I would pray, especially using the Psalter. I would just sit and soak in the place itself and enjoy the connection that sacred space opened for me with God. The experiences of Scripture, prayer and connection with God through sacred space, though they have evolved over the years, are three of the roots that continue to nourish me. For me, architecture—the way spaces are configured, what they make possible, the meaning they convey—is critical. At Grace and Holy Trinity Church it is clear that our forebears, the ones who designed and built our worship space, were also profoundly moved by architecture. And the results of their labors continue to move us. I am grateful, that through the generosity of the members of this congregation, we have been able to renovate our Parish Hall spaces and bring everything together in a fitting way. All of our spaces are now in harmony with each other and most importantly, everything empowers our mission. That is the bottom line, of course. I commend this issue of The Anchor to you as together, we explore how church architecture shapes our worship and faith. The Rev. Bollin M. Millner, Jr.
I
n the current issue, we proudly feature articles authored by nonmembers of the Editorial Committee and we hope that this will continue. There is, obviously, literary talent in our Church community and we would like to see more of it, not least because The Anchor will soon become boring if it’s constantly the product of the same writers. We have tentatively selected décor as the theme of the next issue, and are looking for articles about the things that make our church beautiful such as kneeler covers, altar cloths, the baptismal font, the lectern and the pulpit. If you are a parishioner who might know about these things, please come forward and tell us what you know!
About the author: Andrew Charles Reinholz, author of this issue’s second article, is originally from Pennsylvania where he attended Moravian College in Bethlehem and studied Religion and Political Science. He earned his Master of Divinity from The General Theological Seminary in Manhattan and has recently accepted a call as Rector of The Church of the Epiphany, Richmond. Rev. Reinholz was ordained in December of 2012. He has worked on a Diocesan staff and also in a parish setting. He has a particular interest in and passion for liturgy—and also, how Christians, as both individuals and as a community, engage in and interact with the arts. Andrew is married to the Rev. Kimberly Reinholz. They and their two-year-old daughter, Audrey, are eagerly awaiting the arrival of their second child this summer.
The Anchor Editorial Committee
Between Cathedral and Mosque
I
n documenting the vast and cluttered construction site shown here, the photographer inadvertently captured a view of Grace and Holy Trinity Church from a perspective that cannot be seen today. Taken in summer 1926, the photograph resides in the collections of the Virginia Historical Society and shows excavation for the basement of what is now known as the Altria
Theater. At the time, it was called Acca Temple Mosque, as the inscription on the picture notes. The name derived from the Moorish Revival style of the building and the nomenclature favored by the Shriners, the order of Freemasonry that owned it. The domed tower of the Roman Catholic Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, built in the Italian Renaissance Revival style in 1903–06, rises above the tree line on the horizon. In the middle distance, the rusticated granite side of Grace and Holy Trinity, with its immense slate roof and tall, slender Gothic stained glass windows, looms over the excavation. This photograph was taken three years after consolidation of Holy Trinity Church, built on Laurel Street facing Monroe Park in 1886–87, and Grace Church, which had occupied the northwest corner of Main and Foushee streets. Visible to the immediate left of the apse, the original two-story brick parish hall, later demolished, stands on the site the parking lot occupies today. Older parishioners may remember the time when Richmonders sometimes described the location of their church as “between the Cathedral and the Mosque.” Nelson D. Lankford
2
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
T
In Grace and Holy Trinity, there are many here is a phrase you will hear thrown around architectural features: stained glass, baptismal font, often, if you ever spend time with a liturgist, pulpit, and so on. But one feature stands out above and that phrase is, “The space always wins.” all the rest. The dominant visual and functional This simple little phrase helps to illustrate the relafeatures in the worship space are the altar and the tionship between our liturgy and the places in which stained glass window above it. From almost any we worship. vantage point, one’s eye is drawn to the image of the Architecture is unique among the arts. Every resurrected Christ. The eye is also drawn to the altar, space we occupy impacts us, and has an effect on us. where the Holy Sacrament is to be found. This is also We do not just view architecture from afar, distant true from a functional perspective. The vast majority and remote. We live and breathe and move within of seats face in the direction of the altar. All of the architecture. Its aesthetic forms help to shape our pathways we walk on emanate from and return to the emotional and mental states. Its functional features altar. help to guide our actions within it. At Grace and Holy Trinity, we gather as the Take for example Grace and Holy Trinity, or Body of Christ. By virtue of our baptism, our faith, King’s College Chapel in Cambridge, or a non-denomand our good works, when we assemble, Jesus is inational mega church. All three have similar feamanifest. Together, we face an image tures: floor, roof, walls, windows, and that mirrors our gathered presence, doors. But they are uniquely different Lord Jesus Christ, make this a temple of your presence and a the Risen Lord in Glory. We all move spaces. Each building comes with its towards one shared location, the altar. own aesthetic quality—its own deter- house of prayer. Be always near And it is upon that altar that ordinary mined functionality. Each carries with us when we seek you in this place. Draw us to you, when we bread and wine become something it the history of communities, and more. Through a holy mystery, they the stories of individuals. Each one of come alone and when we come become the mystical Body and Blood these elements impacts us when we with others, to find comfort and of Jesus Christ. It is at that visual and are in that space. They also impact wisdom, to be supported and functional focal point that the assemwhat we as a community and a worstrengthened, to rejoice and give bled living Body of Christ encounters shiping body do. thanks. May it be here, Lord the Body and Blood of Christ. The In King’s College Chapel, one Christ, that we are made one with ordinary and the divine, the finite of the dominant features in both you and with one another, so that and the infinite. Our liturgy and the form and function is the choir stalls. A great portion of the worship space our lives are sustained and sancti- building we worship in all point to the fied for your service. meeting of heaven and earth. is given over to these stalls. Carved Built into the stones, the glass, from wood and gilded by candleFrom the rite for dedication and and the wood of Grace and Holy light, they sit at the literal and figconsecration of a church Trinity are powerful symbols in both urative heart of the worship space. function and form. These mirror and The Book of Common Prayer With little to no previous knowledge echo the theology, beliefs, and hopes or experience, one can feel the rich (Church of England) written into our prayers. tradition and importance that choir Liturgy is often about choices. Within the music plays in this space. In fact, one of the Chapel’s boundaries of the rubrics, which are those things that best-known liturgies centers on the choir. Christians we are required to do in our liturgy, is a vast area for from around the world tune in by radio, flip on by creativity and expression. The local community and television, or stream by the internet a Festival of Nine the wider Church make these liturgical choices. The Lessons and Carols. For many, the music and words same is true of our architecture in both form and rising from those choir stalls are the sound of Christfunction. And just as the words and music of our litmas itself. urgy resonate and are familiar to us as Episcopalians, Many mega-churches are converted spaces so are the spaces in which we worship. that previously were used commercially. Often they As any liturgist will tell you, the space always are large, wide-open complexes. They are converted wins. Architecture lifts up and affirms that which we for worship with the addition of seating and a large, do in our liturgy. Fighting against a space creates a dominating stage. The impact in such a space is clear. discord that is felt consciously and subconsciously. The sermon will be the main focal point during the Working with it creates a harmony between intention service. The words and charisma of the preacher will and action. It allows for the Body of Christ to gather, quite literally be center stage. While the stage, like to be fed, and to be sent out into the world to do the any stage, will be multipurpose, in these worship spaces the defining aspect will be a preached message, and the delivery of that message. The Rev. Andrew Charles Reinholz
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
3
Clockwise, from top left: Denizen of the north basement. Denizens of the south basement. The “stairway to nowhere.” The chimera—close up and personal. Undercroft gaslight. As seen on TV. Belfry view 1. Belfry view 2. Below: Spiral stairway to the belfry. Photographs by Miles Hoge
4
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
LOCI ARCANI
E
very parishioner has seen the nave, the chapel, the parish hall, the kitchen, the Sunday school classrooms and the staff and clergy offices. Many have seen the choir room. But there are places in the Church building that few have seen, including the basements, the undercroft, the roof and the belfry. These places aren’t familiar because they are hard to get to, and you‘d probably never think of visiting them except to satisfy idle curiosity. I am perpetually consumed by idle curiosity; hence my expedition and this report. To understand better you could first read Donald Traser’s fascinating history of the building, which is posted on the Church website. The Basements Part of the north basement is a remnant of the 1929 parish house incorporated into the Church building. It lies beneath the choir room, behind the parish hall. The south basement is original Church construction and it lies beneath the chancel and altar. The basements are not connected to one another, and in fact architectural clues suggest that some of the north basement was not always a basement. (To see another remnant of the old parish house, just open the closet to the right of the south entrance to the parish hall from the front corridor.) Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate!* No, that’s not the message at the entrance to the north basement; the message there is “Sprinkler Valve Room”—on the rightmost of the three doors at the foot of the stairway leading down as you enter the Church from the parking lot. (The other two doors lead to small rooms fully occupied by water heaters, electric system apparatus and air conditioning ducts.) Through the rightmost door, you step down into a large room cluttered with air conditioning ducts, furnace boilers, pumps, electric conduits, heating and sprinkling system pipes and other piping—some of it clad in now-prohibited insulating material—machinery of unknown function, and junk of all kinds deposited there and forgotten. In one corner there is what appears to be an air compressor, covered with dust. Proceeding further south towards the Church, you enter another large room, like the first in every way. In the southwest corner is a doorway to the outside, adjacent to three brickedup full-size window apertures. The doorway and
* “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” Dante Alighieri, La Divina Commedia—Inferno, Canto III.
one of the former windows are visible from the parking lot, in the rear wall of the Church. This remnant of the 1929 parish house was clearly above grade when it was built and therefore not a basement but, as the view from the outside shows, is now mostly buried, probably as the grade of the parking lot was raised and sloped to divert water into the storm sewer. The south basement is entered from inside the Church through a door in the south side of the chancel, immediately past the choir pews and paneled like the walls that surround it so as to seem part of them. The organ pipe chamber is on your left as you enter. Continue past it to the stairway on your right and proceed down to a landing reached from outside through the seldom-used double door on the alley between the Church and the Altria Theater. Go down one more flight of stairs and you are at the south basement. In front of you is the fabled “stairway to nowhere,” now littered with junk and debris. Immediately past it is the cage in which plum puddings, for decades made in the parish hall and canned in Hanover County, were locked up until they were sold. (A few years ago, the enterprise was shut down by the government in the name of public health. No fatality or illness of any kind from eating plum puddings was ever reported, although cloying oneself or others was occasionally a problem.) The cage still contains the scales used to weigh the puddings as they were “glopped” (an onomatopoeic plum pudding trade term) into cans. The usual piping, ductwork and junk are present in force in the south basement. It has existed for more than a century, far longer than the north basement, and its accumulated junk may include some with historical significance. The principal content at present is file cabinets. Some contain music and business papers of the Greater Richmond Children’s Choir; others contain music that was at one time sung by the GHTC choir but has fallen out of fashion. Boxed papers are common. On one stack is a yellowed and dusty program for the dedication of the Austin organ in 1979. Three chambers lead off the basement. One is full of boxed business papers of less antiquity than those in the greater basement; one houses the organ bellows; and the third, in the basement’s furthest reach, has nondescript content easily moved elsewhere and is thus perfectly suitable for use as an ossuary or catacomb when there is no space left in the new columbarium.
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
5
The Undercroft The undercroft is beneath the Chapel. Its entrance is an inconspicuous ground level door on your left as you face the columbarium. A narrow passageway, strewn with dusty piles of New Age Bibles and 80-year old diocesan reports, leads to a short stairway down to the undercroft pavement. Although a person of normal height can stand upright on the pavement, you can only get to it by crawling backwards down the stairs, because access any other way is blocked by an enormous air conditioning duct that cools the chapel. Loss of the undercroft to air conditioning isn’t a tragedy. It is a small, neglected and dirty space that exists only because of an interior north-south foundation a few feet west of the chapel’s Laurel Street wall. An interesting feature is brass gaslight piping on the streetside wall of the undercroft, which suggests that it was at some long-ago time not neglected but useful enough to require illumination.
chimera. The chimera is frequently referred to as a “gargoyle,” but it isn’t a gargoyle. That’s because it doesn’t convey rainwater away from the building (if it ever did, which is doubtful), so the technically correct term for it is “chimera.” When in doubt about whether you’re talking about a gargoyle or a chimera, just use the medieval term “babewyn” and you can’t go wrong. The cruciform ornament above the main Laurel Street entrance is clearly vegetable and so not a babewyn but a boss.
The Roof The roof is reached by climbing a ladder housed in a closet at the rear of the Church, where the stairway at the rear emerges onto the second floor. Crawl through the trapdoor at the top of the ladder and you are on the flat parish hall roof. From there you can closely inspect the peaked, slate-tiled roof over the nave and its gabled vents which are visible from street level. Below the peaked roof, at the rear of the Church, is a slate hipped roof over the altar and chancel, and between it and the parish hall roof and below both, the flat roof over the sacristy, another remnant of the 1929 structure. The parish hall roof was rebuilt in the recent renovation and is largely featureless, except for a rather ugly HVAC cooling tower and “ghtc.org,” painted in large white letters to catch the attention of helicopter TV during the 2015 bicycle extravaganza. The parish hall roof also allows close-ups of the building’s sole whimsical architectural feature—its
6
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
The Belfry A longish, narrow corridor leads from the southeast corner of the balcony, back of the auxiliary organ pipe chamber, to a steep, tightly spiraled wooden stairway rising in the southeast corner of the Church tower. The first door off the stairway opens to the floor of the belfry, a large, vacant space notable for the complete absence of any trace of bells. A second door, further up the stairway, opens to the belfry roof where once there was a pyramidal steeple, installed, according to Church lore, not to reach up to heaven but to assure that the tower would be taller than, or at least as tall as, the spire of the Methodist church then under construction at Franklin and Pine Streets. This hubris, if that’s what it was, was rewarded in June of 1951, when a freak tornado blew east from Byrd Park, down the southern Fan streets, and turned north at Monroe Park, leaving devastation behind. The steeple was not torn off, but it was so severely damaged that it was removed and never replaced.** A door from the belfry opens to the space between the peaked Church roof and the beautiful wooden ceiling of the nave, so that bulbs in the recessed ceiling lights can be changed. A ladder leads up from this door to a second door opening out to the belfry several feet above its floor, perhaps intended as access for tuning, oiling or polishing the bells—if there were any. If you want to see any of these loci arcani for yourself, you now know how. My idle curiosity about them is satisfied—but now I’m curious about the contents of those dozens of old file cabinets and boxes in the south basement. Perhaps there’s another story hidden in them.
** Architect J. Stewart Barney’s watercolor presentation drawing of the Church hangs on the wall above a chest of drawers on your right as you leave the parish hall toward the choir room. The porte-cochère seen in the drawing, with a large slab in its arch bearing a dedication of the building to Bishop Moore, succumbed to neighbors’ objections. Its entrance in the north Church wall, which is elevated to accommodate churchgoers alighting from their carriages, is now the vestibule’s stained-glass window. The drawing shows not only the belfry steeple but also smaller steeples over turrets in each of the Church tower’s corners and decorative parapets with lancet openwork, also visible in the images on this and the preceding page. The photograph below, taken to show post-tornado wreckage in Monroe Park, includes a silhouette of the Church tower. In it, you can see that the steeples and parapets, now all gone, were still standing.
Jim Featherstone
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
7
RENOVATE the HOUSE, RENOVATE the SPIRIT The Parish Hall Gets a New Lease on Life
Architecture is normally conceived (designed) and realized (built) in response to an existing set of conditions. These conditions may be merely functional in nature, or they may reflect, in varying degrees, social, economic, political, even whimsical or symbolic intentions. In any case, it is assumed that the existing set of conditions … is less than satisfactory, and that a new set of conditions … would be desirable … As the elements and principles become more familiar, new connections, relationships, and levels of meaning may be established … When [the relationships among the constituent parts] are perceived as contributing to the singular nature of the whole, … a conceptual order exists—an order that is, perhaps, more enduring than transient perceptual visions. Francis D. K. Ching, ARCHITECTURE: Form, Space, and Order
8
A
nd there it is. Read the second part of Frank Ching’s description again. “New connections, relationships, and levels of meaning ... contributing to the singular nature of the whole … more enduring than transient visions.” That sounds a lot like what a community of faith is for, doesn’t it? Todd Dykshorn, being as he is a good man as well as a good architect, understood the connection among those principles, and put them to work in developing the renovation of the parish hall. What was originally imagined as a cosmetic upgrade to a worn and outdated space grew deeper and more fundamental to parish life as the plan emerged. Everybody could see that all those years of cobbling and patching and upgrading in fits and starts had finally made this whole part of the building unresponsive to what we as a church family are trying to do. The spaces had lost most of their useful relationship to each other. It had become, not to put too fine a point on it, a little depressing, and much too easy to get lost in. Todd spent time tossing ideas around with the Vestry, the congregation, the clergy, and the staff about what the space might need. The most obvious problem was the circulation. For those of you who aren’t architecture nerds like me, that just means how easily and naturally people move through a place. Gradually the underlying idea of the cloister, an ancient, welcoming form which supports voluntary engagement among equals as people move into and around it, became the obvious choice. “The hierarchy of the space came from the survey of parishioners,” says Todd. “The rear entrance from the parking area felt more like crawling in than like coming to church in a glorious way. So the way in needed to be integrated, so that coming into the parish hall would give you a sense of where you are. We refocused that one and restored the original hallway. Now it feels like a family entrance rather than a service entrance.” The location of the big old kitchen wasn’t a problem. But its relationship to its purpose and to the rest of the parish hall wasn’t working. The first change was to reorient the work area with that big island. Now, the people working there for soup kitchen
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
and other parish events are standing face to face around a communal table. That simple change expresses the privilege of service, and reinforces the ancient meaning of a family feeding a family in a subtle but eloquent way. Thanks to the addition of the serving vestibule between the kitchen and the gathering room, getting food and drinks out doesn’t get in the way of the activities they’re prepared for. You can go get yourself a cup of coffee without feeling like you’re standing in the middle of an event with your back to the room, which is much nicer for everyone. Now that it’s there, it seems perfectly obvious that it belongs that way. Another obvious choice, and one that was high on the wish list from the start, was to take out the southern interior wall and expose the rusticated stone and the stained glass windows. That stone is an integral part of the architectural presence of the building. So seeing it from this space is another clear reminder of where you are. “Rusticated stone is rare in this area,” says Todd, “and we’ll never see it again, so exposing it was an important part of the plan.” The windows are back-lit from the parish hall, and can be seen from the sanctuary as they should be seen. And how is it working, this expensive and time consuming project, now that it’s done? Was the enormous generosity of the congregation, and the patience of the staff while the construction disrupted their lives all to pieces, worth it? Apparently, the answer is a resounding “yes!” Bo talks about what the congregation, clergy, and staff were looking for. “We wanted to further the reach of the congregation, to be able extend ourselves into the
community, and to support the members. Besides the best breakfast in Richmond on Sunday mornings, we’ve already had a full tilt wedding reception, a wonderful concert, and a place for a grieving family who needed a warm, welcoming place to be held close.” He is delighted with the integrated 21st century audio-visuals for presentations, the multiple adult education spaces which were sorely needed, and the newly efficient suite for the choir, with all the music organized in one place right there. This is his third parish hall, and he says that Todd was a dream to work with. “We didn’t know what we couldn’t do,” he says. “Todd could see how to make the intangible solid and real.” Todd, with characteristic humility, said, “So many people were integral to the project’s realization. I would consider myself a guide in a very dedicated and talented group within an even larger dedicated community.” Of course it would never have happened, or been so successful, had it not been for the vestry and the committee charged with its realization, or the exceptional financial and volunteer support of everyone, led by the way-above-andbeyond contributions of a group of very generous people. But apparently that’s what we do here. The architectural concept of “parti” (literally, the “departure point”), the fundamental conditions established to guide each project, and that no decision may contradict, is analogous to the faith, values and commitments we accept as members of the body of Christ, and the commandments that our own decisions may not contradict. Ann Norvell Gray
These computer-generated renderings illustrate how an architect can present conceptual options to clients.
The images of people show you the scale of the room, and how we might assemble and move through it.
Notice how different the ceiling ideas are, how the lighting choices might appear, and how color affects the whole atmosphere.
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
9
RENOVATE the HOUSE... The old parish hall from the front door—not exactly expressing the convivial welcome we intended to offer, was it?
In the old arrangement, a distinct lack of clarity —where do these doors lead, and which way am I meant to turn?
The words are meant to inspire, but the environment is clearly working against them.
Well, it must be Bo’s office, because that’s his coat. Patience, it seems, is indeed a virtue.
Let’s hope Mary Cay didn’t have to find anything in a great big hurry.
10
Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
One of the arches in the new hallway gets its ancient ecclesiastical shape with new construction techniques (and a modern hardhat).
The finished arch, serene and timeless in its new plaster coat.
...RENOVATE the SPIRIT Who’d have thought that this ugly duckling ...
The Parish Hall Got a New Lease on Life
... could have turned into this lovely swan? Grace and Holy Trinity Church . The Anchor . Architecture Issue . Summer 2016
11
Grace & Holy Trinity Episcopal Church 8 North Laurel Street Richmond, VA 23220
ADDRESS SERVICE REQUESTED
Phone 804.359.5628
.
Fax 804.353.2348
.
www.ghtc.org
The Anchor is published seasonally by Grace & Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, a parish in the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia.
Clergy and Program Staff The Rev. Bollin M. Millner, Jr.
Dr. Elizabeth Melcher Davis
Rector
Associate for Music Ministries
bmillner@ghtc.org
emelcherdavis@ghtc.org
The Rev. Kimberly Reinholz
Paul Evans
Associate for Service, Campus Ministry & Pastoral Care
Assistant for Youth Ministry
kreinholz@ghtc.org
pevans@ghtc.org
The Rev. David Knight
Peter Knecht
Interim Assistant
Office and Facilities Manager
dknight@ghtc.org
pknecht@ghtc.org
Carolyn Moomaw Chilton
Mary Cay Kollmansperger
Associate for Evangelism & Stewardship
Assistant for Children’s, Youth & Family Ministries
carolyn@ghtc.org
marycay@ghtc.org
Follow us on Facebook at GraceandHolyTrinity and on Twitter at @GraceHTrinity