Okay, I can't figure out how to write on the right side. Too many changes have affected what pushing the design feature used to bring up. Now, I know they want me to add color, pictures, cartoons, whatever. And it is not as if I do not have some of these. I even have some videos that might be enlightening. I have spent most of the last year composing several, including doing the drawings and the animation for them. But those are for another venue, and another name. I have tried to be at least somewhat faithful to the title of this blog, though I have fallen short several times. The last one for example only applies in as much as the style of your places of worship influence how you do so. And that is because of teachings that instruct you to avoid idol worship. That has led you away from pictures and accurate portrayals of something into the geometric complexities of which I wrote. The previous post seemed a little harsher than I intended so I want to explain further.

I honor the desire to avoid false worship along with the ability to create something of beauty within those limitations. And I also appreciate the effect that enormous vaulted ceilings, columns and vast expanses have on the psyche. Whether in churches or mosques, government buildings such as courthouses or parliaments, or even in homes, a high ceiling induces in one the feeling of the greatness of the place. Its significance is related by the magnificence of the elevation.

During my teenage years I had the good fortune to live in a home whose foyer had a 14 foot height. The adjoining formal living room reached to 16 feet, though the dining returned to the modest 8 foot of normal rooms. Most of the house was at this height, though the family room had a vaulted ceiling whose middle with the main beam was at least 16 feet. The porch also had four columns, but was not so elaborate to be called a portico. The architecture gave me the feeling of expanded possibilities, of greatness that was unlimited rather than a humdrum and ordinary life of restrictions regular edifices bequeathed.

Later my first house (that my husband and I owned) had a one sided vault that led one's eyes up from the doorway to the middle of the house whose high ceiling was presided over by a fan and a light. Somehow laying on the couch and looking up encouraged me through some very dark times. The skylight midway may have added to it, but I acknowledge that these type of buildings seem to have an undue physiological effect on us. Psychological too but nevertheless instinctively producing the appreciation of things greater than ourselves.

Anyway, I am just saying that when I visit the state legislature with its rotunda and impressive designs, when I view buildings downtown especially those built fifty to one hundred years ago, or more, and see churches, mosques, or whatnot built in impressive size and shape, I am not immune. I appreciate that they produce the same sensations for you, inducing humility, wonder, and awe. So I do not mock your buildings in general. I merely question the effectiveness of scrollwork to actually produce genuine worship.

But then worship must be defined. For I do not mean a humbling sense of appreciation for the unknown, the infinite, the acknowledgement of a higher being that is so immense he cannot be reached or known. If that is your definition, then yes your buildings accomplish this for you. At least they enable the appropriate feeling of anonymity and insignificance to be achieved.

My understanding of worship is entirely different. See, I have been trained by a variety of sources, some so astounding in variety and depth that they stun those unused to them. Besides the normal singing of hymns and worship music along with sermons meant to instruct us in godliness that might not be too strange an adjustment for those used to hearing imams preach, the experiences of my young adulthood expand greatly.

My husband organized concerts which ranged from hard rock to black gospel to country. The most intense in terms of worship were those of Andrae Crouch. The congregation was full of folks from churches from all around town, not merely one group. Singing and dancing by one's chair or in the aisles was a spontaneous reaction of many. How do I explain, the image of a couple of thousand folks of various races and dress all on their feet shouting to the Lord? White men and their mates, bunned women without makeup or jewelry whose hair reached to their knees if taken down interspered between hordes of black church people. Singing, they mixed gently worshipping, swaying to the music, or hushed in adoration as the tides of rejoicing rose to thankfulness, humility of knowing our unworthiness of his grace, and greatness.

My inhibitions gradually adjusted to the volume, the movement, and yes the strangeness of the others. I had not been raised around UPC-ers (white United Pentecostals) nor COGIC (Church of God in Christ-one of the black denominations.) In fact charismatics, a milder form of pentecostal Christians were already a stretch for what I was used to. Those I met at church and our other concerts that drew a less extreme croud.

These times were not limited to only the concerts, we attended a church wherein our worship was not shortened to three songs and a sermon. But for thirty to fortyfive minutes every week we sought the Lord's presence. Not only might we sing or dance, we might kneel in place or at the altar, lay on the floor in humble submission to His might and majesty. (These far outdo the whistling and clapping of hands Mohammed noted was characteristic of his opponents.)

Since then I have been in very dry, normal settings wherein that decorum would be considered out of place. Even the act of raising ones hands for a while was considered nearly scandalous. As I have mentioned previously, I did so at the back of the room so as not to disturb others. Now they have loosened up. But we are still at three songs and a sermon, though they are backed with more drums and guitar to be more like rock music.

Mostly I do not feel a heavy beat induces worship as well as even the old hymns played regularly. However, along with a melody, we do have words that lead us to appreciate the character of our God, the works He has accomplished, and the majesty of His grace to us. These lead us into communion with Him. I do not mean the bread and wine here, but communication with the divine, with my Father. It is a relationship, and thus the worship is relationally directed to one who does hear me, who responds to me, and answers me. It is not anonymous.

We can and do have times of feeling His presence when a hushed reverance is appropriate. We even have banners though we do not have dancing or parades led by those carrying the decorations. I do sometimes miss the ballet dancers whose interpretive movements to hymns conveyed how we should respond to His majesty. (These were consistent with the instructions held within the Psalms about how to worship.) And I miss the greater worship. But I have grown in being able to reach Him without those exterior elements.

Because of these experiences, my background leads me to conclude that an enormous ediface may be a good beginning in humbling ourselves to understanding the proper proportion of who we are. But it is not sufficient to bring us into the presence of the Almighty. Thus it is not worship, or if it is, it is very inadequate for what He deserves, or for what your heart requires.