The Manassas Crossing

I took a group of students to the Washington National Cathedral a few weeks ago. It was maybe the twentieth time I had taken a group for a tour. The ladies of the Cathedral Guild who conduct the tours are very good. Although each tour is a little different there are a few things they always highlight. The guide always shows you where President Woodrow Wilson and Helen Keller are buried. She always shows you the moon rock in the Space Window. She always shows you the Canterbury Pulpit. The Canterbury Pulpit was carved from stone taken from Canterbury Cathedral in England. Its carvings honor the men who were instrumental in producing English translations of the Bible. The pulpit sits in the crossing. A Cathedral is, of course, cruciform by design – for theological as well as aesthetic reasons. The point where the two lines of the cross intersect is the crossing, and here the pulpit sits. “In a protestant Cathedral, placing the pulpit in the crossing demonstrates our commitment to the preaching of the Word of God as central to the Christian experience,” the lady in the purple hat says.

I was told by another lady who was a small aircraft pilot that our church building is known as the “Manassas Cross.” We were in line at the grocery store and she knew from my conversation with the florist that I was the preacher here. She informed me that our cross shaped church atop Signal Hill was quite a landmark for small craft pilots. The fact that our church building takes a cruciform shape is neither theological, nor aesthetic, but functional. It was the most efficient use of the space we could afford to build. Furthermore, the crossing provided for weary parents a great lookout from which to find their kids. In our old, labyrinthine building you could spend hours rounding your kids up. Here you just stand in the crossing and wait for them to pop their heads out somewhere like prairie dogs. Since kids can not resist the impulse to go in and out of doors repeatedly, such a vantage point comes in handy.

Our crossing is not occupied by the High Altar (we have none) nor by the pulpit, but by the narthex (or foyer, or vestibule if you like). It is a large space. The square footage of it rivals the size of our old auditorium. When I saw plans for our building, and knew how cramped we would be for education space I thought such a large foyer (or vestibule, or narthex if you like) was a waste of space. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Our vestibule is large and inviting enough that people stay and stay. Work gets planned, gets done. Information is shared, as are laughter and tears, advice and comfort. It is the spot of congregation, of fellowship. It is the heart of the place.

Is it appropriate for the place of fellowship, instead of the place of preaching, to occupy the crossing (assuming we want our architecture to be theological)? O yes, I think so, because fellowship is the definition of the Christian life. It is one of the things the first congregation devoted itself to (Acts 2.47ff), it is the relationship we have with Jesus (I Corinthians 1.9). The New Testament word “fellowship,” koinonia, is also the name of the commemorative meal we have each Sunday, it is “communion.” It is what we refuse to have with the world (II Corinthians 6.14, I John 1.6ff).

The word means “to share,” and describes a specific kind of sharing. There are other New Testament words that mean “to divide into portions,” and “to divide equally”. We describe such apportioning as “sharing” when we have two children and one Snickers bar. Koinonia means having a much too large bowl full of pasta, and everyone at the table eating until they are full, with lots of leftovers. Koinonia means to share from abundance – and that is what our family life is all about. So after service, stay in the foyer for a while. It is the center of the Manassas Cross. It is the heart of everything that happens - and that is Biblical, that is as it should be.