Parish Faces Opposition as it Reclaims its Catholic Architectural Heritage

In Portland, Oregon, a suburban parish’s decision to remodel the interior of its church building has the local architectural community crying over the loss of an “architectural masterpiece.” To read the coverage, one might think that the building belongs to the architects rather than to the parish.

A Typical Suburban Parish

The suburb of Milwaukie started as a small sawmill settlement before the Civil War. After World War II, a rapidly growing population and new expressways linked it with Portland, about thirty miles away. In 1958, its overcrowded Catholic parish, St. John the Baptist, established a mission church, Christ the King. Eighty-three families participated in the parish’s first Holy Mass in an area school. In 1960, a rather plain brick box opened as the new church building.

By 1979, Christ the King’s parishioners were ready for something a bit more distinctive and a lot larger. They hired the Italian-born Pietro Belluschi, a local architect with a long list of modern church structures to his credit, including San Francisco’s radical Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Assumption. He designed a kind of eight-sided pyramid trimmed in acres of local wood, surmounted by a skylight and a steeple that rather resembles a good-sized radio antenna. The “worship space” (in the jargon of the day) seats 650. It was dedicated on April 15, 1980.

Thus, the good people of Christ the King Parish were provided with a building that was commodious and in line with post-Vatican II directives emanating from Rome.

Worn-Out “Modern” Ideas

Like most churches built at that time, the new structure emphasized the horizontal relationships among parishioners rather than the majesty of God, as earlier Romanesque and Gothic church buildings had. The altar was a rather unprepossessing marble table. The tabernacle is a brass box off to the congregation’s left as they face the altar.

As in many of his other designs, Mr. Belluschi emphasized natural light and natural materials to create an effect referred to as “holy emptiness.” A radical mid-century Lutheran writer, Paul Tillich, coined this term. Those ideas were also popular among influential Catholic liturgists of the time.

Such buildings promoted a misplaced emphasis on ecumenism since so many were virtually bereft of Catholic imagery. Overall, the new Christ the King parish facility was simple, comfortable and interchangeable with similar Protestant buildings throughout America.

However, designs such as that of Christ the King wore very poorly as the decades passed. They are so emblematic of a particular era that they seem blasé to those who appreciate both modern and traditional architectural styles. Nor does their appearance hold up well in humid places like Portland. Natural wood finishes that once appeared vibrant, darken and cloud over with time. The cost of sanding and refinishing the vast expanses of wood in Christ the King Parish would be massive and would only preserve a design that was mediocre from the start, despite the architect’s fame.

Seeking Tradition

Thus, the parish decided to go in a thoroughly different architectural direction, one that emphasized the Catholic heritage the earlier design sought to escape. The parish website described their goals in words that should delight those devoted to traditional Catholic forms.

“The church will be renewed in a way that draws more deeply from the richness of the Church’s architectural tradition, creating a space that feels both timeless and fitting to our parish. This renewal is intended to increase beauty, reverence, and functionality, helping the church more fully serve its highest purpose: divine worship. Through thoughtful design, sacred art, and practical improvements, the interior will better reflect the dignity of the liturgy and foster a deeper encounter with Christ.”

The only elements of the old design that will remain apparent are the wood beams and the pews. Between the beams, the ceiling panels will be painted a medium blue with a pattern of golden stars. This is a common feature of many traditional parishes, designed to raise the eyes to the heavens and cause the mind to contemplate the God who dwells in grandeur beyond the skies. The altar will take on greater prominence with a centrally placed tabernacle surmounted by a large crucifix. The side walls will feature a series of arches and columns adorned with traditional religious images. Statuary will occupy new niches surrounding the seating area. There will be an altar rail.

The Sophisticates’ Lament

Of course, this increased Catholic architectural identity meets with great disdain among the aesthetes for whom buildings are supposed to reflect the glory of their architects.

The Architect’s Newspaper views the process as little short of vandalism. Its column quotes the original architect’s son, Anthony Belluschi.

“The current proposed ‘beautification’ plans ignore the significance of the legacy, history and heritage of CTK. The plans ignore the talent, expertise and vision of architect, Pietro Belluschi… The plans ignore the value of the Pacific Northwest style of architecture and use of local materials which are part of history for both the Archdiocese of Portland and the state of Oregon.”

Another column, this one from Oregon Artswatch, brands the controversy as “an architectural schism,” unaware of the irony of a phrase raising architecture to a kind of religion in itself. They excoriate this church’s attempt to emphasize Catholic religious symbolism as “a blow to our collective spirit of place.” To them, Pietro Belluschi was “a modern master” who exercised his “intuitive understanding of the factors that compose a spiritual space.”

A Church Building’s Actual Purpose

Of course, what the naysayers never admit is that the primary purpose of a Catholic church building is to serve as a connection between God and His people. Every inch of the structure should radiate the power and majesty of the Lord of Heaven, while serving as an invitation to the congregants to join Him there. That invitation begins by directing the mind ever upward during this life as a foretaste of the glory of the life to come.

Unfortunately, that spirit was lost in the post-Vatican II era and replaced with a desire to make the congregation’s life the focus of church architecture. Doubtless, Mr. Belluschi stood mute when magnificent church buildings, constructed at great cost through the sacrifices of struggling congregations, were “wreckovated” in the seventies and eighties.

Fortunately, Christ the King parish does not stand alone in their attempts to reclaim a Catholic architectural heritage that should never have been taken from them.

First Published on TFP.org