Sacred spaces—new and renovated
Saint John’s
Marcel Breuer and his team of architects began their dialogue with the Benedictine community on their first official visit to the site in June 1953. They studied reports, examined the extant buildings, talked with the monks, and observed them using their space. To gain familiarity with the religious component, they read the Rule of Saint Benedict and essays on liturgical architecture.
At a time when so many designers and religious leaders supported the use of traditional building methods, materials, imagery, and plans, the completion of Saint John’s Abbey and University Church proved that a material like concrete could create a new language of form, function, and meaning, with the ability to transcend centuries and styles.
As Father Cloud Mainberg told the community early on in the project: “We are Benedictines and Benedictines historically have a tradition of inventive architecture. William of Volpiano [962-1031], Lanfranc [ca. 1005-1089], and Suger of Saint Denis [ca. 1081-1151] at one time led Europe in architectural development. They were great builders precisely because they looked to the future, refusing to be bound by the accomplishments of the past. Nothing could be more uncharacteristic of our Order than to fall back upon limitations of the past, no matter how successful.”
With Marcel Breuer’s assistance, Saint John’s had created an architectural monument to the Lord by boldly casting Catholic ideals in concrete forms that would be valid and functional for centuries to come.
[From Victoria Young, “The Design and Construction of Saint John’s Abbey Church,” Chapter 11 of Hilary Thimmesh, OSB, ed., Saint John’s at 150: A portrait of this place called Collegeville 1856-2006 (Collegeville: Saint John’s University Press, 2006), 120, 126.]
Saint Benedict’s
It began one day at Evening Prayer [in 1979]. A huge slab of plaster loosened from the ceiling in the dome and fell with a thunderous explosion onto the altar. The sisters paused in their prayer, looked up to see what had happened and, without hesitation, continued praying.
When the Council’s conservative plan to repair the roof and to replaster and paint the chapel was presented to the Chapter, discussion resulted in a more comprehensive plan. Had they known the disruption of community life and the grief of losing the familiar that would result from this project, they might have been more hesitant. Today almost no one regrets the boldness and wisdom of that decision.
Surely the beautiful simplicity of the chapel space is a reflection of God’s beauty. True, some people found the simplicity jolting, but Frank Kacmarcik explained the reason for simplicity: “The jewels of the space are the faces of the people in it. They are the community. The building is the container of that community. The building should be empty when the community is not there. It is complete only when the community is in it.”
Mary Anthony Wagner, OSB, put it this way: “The sacred spaces here within this Sacred Heart Chapel reflect our faith: the Gathering Place, our belief in being called together by God; the oratory, our faith in knowing that, when we chorally respond to each other in prayer, Jesus, our risen Lord and mediator, is in our midst praying with us; and the quiet, hallowed space of the Blessed Sacrament Chapel speaks of our kneeling in adoration to our eucharistic priest and victim. The spaces do not only reflect what we believe, but if we allow them to do so, they also shape us day by day into what we believe.”
[From Evin Rademacher, OSB, Emmanuel Renner, OSB, Olivia Forster, OSB, and Carol Berg, OSB, With Hearts Expanded: Transformations in the Lives of Benedictine Women, St. Joseph, Minnesota, 1957-2000 (St. Cloud, Minnesota: North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc., 2000) 76-77, 82-83.]