Architecture Matters: Christ the King Catholic Church in Ann Arbor, MI
After two years spent serving in the South Bronx with the Franciscan Friars of the Renewal, my parents felt the Lord calling them to move elsewhere so they could raise their growing family in a charismatic Catholic community. They chose Ann Arbor, MI, where Christ the King Parish was just completing construction of their physical church building. This was the parish I attended with my family throughout my childhood. Quite differently from other parishes, Christ the King began as an association of lay Catholics who were active in the charismatic renewal, became a parish, and then last of all gained a church building. It is a personal parish of the Diocese of Lansing, rather than a territorial one, because it is specifically charismatic. The history of the parish is important to understand the physical building itself, as choices were made about the structure and artwork chosen based on the particular nature of the parish.
To place it within Richard Kieckeffer’s categories from Theology in Stone, Christ the King is a modern communal Church. The pews surround the sanctuary on every side — wherever one is seated, other members of the congregation are easily visible. However, unlike the typical modern communal Church, the furnishings are not easily moveable. While the congregation is very visible, the sanctuary is still the focal point of the Church, since everything is permanently oriented that way. Additionally, although Kieckeffer speaks of the importance of procession specifically with regard to classic sacramental churches, processions are employed quite effectively in Christ the King as well, particularly during Holy Week. On Palm Sunday, the procession with the psalms goes throughout the many aisles of the church, as does the procession with the Eucharist during the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday. Throughout the year, the Eucharist is processed throughout all of the aisles whenever Adoration and Benediction take place. Therefore, although it is certainly a modern communal church, there are also some aspects of the classic sacramental church present.
Somewhat in line with the nature of the church being modern communal, the Church is rather unadorned. It is important to note that the Church was built to hold as many people as possible with minimal cost, with the intention of beautifying the Church more substantially as time went on. Despite the dearth of imagery, there were some strikingly beautiful images and symbols very intentionally chosen and included. Of course, it is impossible to miss or ignore the crucifix above the tabernacle. Its unapologetic enormity makes it one of my favorite aspects of the church. The altar, rather than being moveable or designed with legs like a table, is an expansive marble piece. The floor tiles immediately surrounding the altar are red, chosen as a reminder that altars are for sacrifice. A closer look at the steps leading up to the sanctuary reveals the words “Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus” engraved in gold on the way up to the altar. There was some fear during the construction of the Church that Christ the King would too easily become Protestant — thus the keys of Peter were placed upon the ambo and the one stained glass window included in the original building was chosen to be an imitation of the Holy Spirit window which shines upon the Chair of Peter in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Both the icons of the Evangelists and the mosaics surrounding the tabernacle were later additions, movements towards the increased beautification which was always intended.
Were I an architect hired to make improvements to Christ the King, my primary goal would be to add eschatological and doxological elements to the Church. One quite effective way would be to add mosaics of saints and angels to the walls on either side of the crucifix. Among the saints would be Catherine of Siena and the three other saints whose relics are in the altar — I unfortunately cannot remember the other three at this time. It would resonate with the already existing words, “Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus,” for we both do and will for all of eternity praise God with both the angels and saints. I would also love to add stained glass windows of women from the Bible behind the statue of Mary (Ruth, Judith, Susannah, Miriam, etc), and stained glass windows of significant Biblical men behind the statue of St. Joseph (Abraham, Moses, David, Samuel, etc). There are eight women from the Bible portrayed around the statue of Mary in the Church of the Dormition of Mary in Jerusalem — making these windows mirror those mosaics would be quite striking. Simply to beautify the space in general, I would replace the drywall on four of the prominent columns with marble. Finally, adding gestures to all of creation, whether by depictions of trees or foliage included with the mosaics of the saints or added as stained glass elsewhere in the Church, would again invite the members of the Church to a quite heightened sense of the totality of worship — that all of creation is brought together into the worship of God and we hope for a new heavens and a new earth.
Such additions would be an immediate invitation to a disposition of worship. To draw from Romano Guardini’s The Spirit of the Liturgy, the liturgy is both playful and serious, both for the satisfaction of everyday needs and the most elevated moments of human life, both for the worship of God and the union of humanity in offering that worship. The architecture of a Church ought to dispose one to be attentive to all of these aspects of the liturgy, and thus the architecture of each and every church matters.