Two Visions of Community

As I toured Vienna with a friend during the summer, I was struck by the stunning architecture scattered throughout the city. Around every corner could bring you to a new vista of remarkable architectural designs and rich history. The first time we walked to St. Stephens Cathedral in Stephansplatz in the city center, I was in awe. The gothic towers loomed over the city square like guardian angels overseeing Vienna. The sheer size of the cathedral was simply imposing, and inside was just as magnificent. Immediately I was greeted by elaborate designs, cavernous interior, and intricate stonework adorning the structural pillars holding up the grand cathedral. The whole view was grand and evoke a sense of wonder.

St Stephens is an ancient building built in the 14th century. As the cathedral name signifies, St. Stephens is dedicated to the very first martyr in the early church—Stephen in Acts 7. The cathedral seemed etched out of time and in many ways was totally foreign to my modern sensibilities. The history represented in the structure and iconography reaches back to a distant time that I do not often consider. The saints depicted in the stone engravings such as the Church Doctors (Basil the Great, Ambrose, Augustine, and Jerome), show a reverence to the traditions of the Church. There are also images dedicated to other saints such as St. Catherine of Alexandria who was martyred in the early 4th century, where a room was located, adjacent to the cathedral ambulatory. All of this created a deeper appreciation of those that served God before me. And as a charismatic Protestant, it forced me to introspect on my own assumptions about how I view Christian history and how I am indebted to saints like these. This cathedral is a vision of community that stretches back in time, rooted in the past, and dedicated to its foundations.

During the tour of the cathedral we were also listened in on a choir practice from the nave. The sounds of the choir filled the immense space with numinous tones, giving the sense that one could be transported right into the heavenly realms. The whole sensory experience invited us into moments of worship and prayer. Together with the impressive visual architecture, these sensory moments helped me to contemplate the wonders of God. The reverence shown for the saints here did not seem idolatrous or misguided, in fact, it seemed to stimulate my own faith. Their lives give us a window into the way God has acted in history. It also reminded me of other scripture like Hebrews 11 and the heroes of the faith. It encouraged me to ponder the long and storied history of those that came before me and allowed me to feel connected to their spiritual genealogy. Overall, the experience was illuminating and brought a deeper sense of God's presence.

After this we toured another church, outside of Vienna. This church represented a much different sensory experience. The vision of this church here is futuristic and redemptive. This church is called Wotrubakirche or the Wotruba Church. The large unwieldy concrete blocks stacked seemingly haphazardly on top of one another, symbolizing order in chaos. The interior is just as disorienting. As you walk in and observe the space, it is not immediately recognizable where or how the structure supports itself. The pillars like in the case of St. Stephens, are replaced with non-traditional supports that obscures the sense of space one is used to. In this way, it felt like a representation of when in our lives, we feel disappointed and dejected, God still enables us to persevere.

Since this church is built in the brutalist style, it contains heavy features of large unadorned concrete and emphasizes form, structure, and texture. So also unique to this building is that at first glance you cannot even tell where the front is from the back, which is by design. The traditional order is disrupted and the conventional forms of logic are turned upside down. Yet, within the disorganization there resembles something sturdy, enduring, and reliable. The illuminating light shining in between the concrete walls and the cross at the center piece of the building guides your eyes, where as other aspects of the layout such as the chairs and stage take a less prominent role. Within this visual experience is a vision of the future, one where all disorder and chaos will be reconciled in Christ. The cross allows us to contemplate the future order of God where his kingdom will be totally and fully realized.

This church is also built on the site of a World War II German barracks. It was a Wehrmacht camp, meaning that soldiers from across different armed forces came together. It was a strategic and important site for the Nazis. Wortruba is a powerful redemptive symbol. It signifies that on the old grounds of a Nazi military base, God reigns. Within all the disorder and chaos this once represented, the cross stands as the enduring symbol, not the Nazi flag. The Church has existed throughout kingdoms, evil regimes, and will continue to do so.

In all of our church communities we wrestle with the tension of being rooted in the past and look forward to a future where God reigns eternally. We know our denominational traditions and doctrinal particularities. We know how and in what ways we are intellectually related to our past and even know how to articulate our faith along these lines. Additionally, contemplating this rich history allows us to feel connected to the family of believers transcending time and space. These communities are committed to the historic Christian faith and it is important to be grounded in these ways. Others are more concerned with how faith acts and exists in the world today and tomorrow. These communities are driven by a sense of urgency to make a historic faith relevant. They are caring, kind, and intentionally recontextualizing their faith. These communities are astutely aware of the issues plaguing the Church, and are keen to recognize the humanity of those around them.

The struggle is to be consciously rooted in the legacy of yesterday. Appreciating the traditions, denominationally distinctions, and the lives of the saints are an incredibly valuable way one can better understand their faith. It is also immensely valuable to look forward, wrestle with the issues relevant to the Church, and seek to address them with care and sensitivity. Taking on both emphases requires a great deal of courage and is difficult. But I hope to better appreciate the long legacy of the Church, learn from its triumphs and mistakes, and seek to live a life faithfully relevant to those around me.

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