Earlier this year, Chichester Cathedral was the venue for a ‘silent disco’ (where the music was played through wireless headphones, rather than loudspeakers).

Previous uses of cathedral space have included:

• Stars Wars event (Peterborough)
• Crazy golf course (Rochester)
• Helter skelter (Norwich)
• Indoor skate park (Gloucester)

Not surprisingly, these have provoked a certain amount of outrage:

‘Rochester Cathedral was founded in AD 604. It survived the Norman Conquest, 2 fires in the 12th century, and several rounds of pillaging. St. William of Perth is buried there. And now*’

‘What an embarrassing shambles.’

‘Wonder what the shades of the holy Benedictines who built these places think.’

‘Rochester cathedral’s idea of mission. So devoid of theology they have forgotten ‘This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven’. Shame on you.’

I was interested to read Ian Paul’s take on this, and expecially his thoughts on the wider question of cathedrals (and other church buildings) as ‘holy places’.

The idea, expressed in the complaint above, that a cathedral is ‘the house of God…the gate of heaven’ comes, of course, from Genesis 28:10-19.  It has often been applied to church buildings; indeed, the front of Bath Abbey has a carving depecting the very scene described in that passage.  But this is ironic, since Jacob’s vision of a ladder to heaven took place away from any building!

Dr Michael Lakey associates the idea of sacred space with that of ‘temple’:

‘A sanctuary, and the liturgy enacted in it, is an idealised representation of universal and archetypical relationships between God and the cosmos as it ought to be (think of the way that the biblical temple represented the Hebrew cosmos with its metal sea and its creation-themed decor). In the Sibylline Oracles, there is a text about the eschatological temple which describes it as vast enough to serve the entire creation (there are similar ideas at play in 1 Enoch and in the final chapter of Revelation). In that sense, I think the Church as Temple is always ideally more or less representative of God and the World in idealised relationship.’

This faithfully represents the Jewish understanding of the temple, and explains why the destruction of the first temple (recorded at the end of 2 Kings) and of the second temple in AD 70 were such traumatic events for the Jews.

But the problem with applying this to contemporary church buildings is, as Michael Lakey goes on to observe, that ‘the New Testament consistently transfers the language of sacred space to Jesus and his followers’:

• In Jn 2, Jesus refers to his own body as a temple.
• In 1 Cor 3-5 temple language is extended to Christians, both individually and corporately.
• In Rom 12 Paul uses cultic and sanctuary language as he exhorts his readers to ‘offer (their) bodies as living sacrifices’.

It could be argued that the early church was highly mobile, and so the NT cannot be used directly to determine what buildings might be used by a more settled church.  But a Jewish model of synagogue-as-replica-of-temple was available at the time, yet not taken up by the apostles.

This might mean that we can take a fairly flexible approach to church buildings.  On the one hand, they might be used for ‘secular’ purposes, such as the screening of films or sports events.  On the other hand, churches – especially new churches – might re-purpose buildings such as warehouses, for their gatherings.

Using Rochester Cathedral for the installation of a temporary educational golf course might be justified on the following grounds

• the nave of a cathedral has always been a public space, ‘where the sacred and the secular meet’
• education is part of the church’s mission
• it gets people into a (possibly) previously unvisited building
• worship in the Cathedral is unaffected.
• it’s fun!

Some, at least, of these cathedral installations actively encourage spiritual reflection.  Concerning the golf course at Rochester:

‘We hope that when people come in, they will know that they’re welcome and they will have an enjoyable experience. So while people are here, having fun and playing crazy golf, they will take the opportunity to reflect on that wider theme of building bridges that they might find that they would like to pray, light a candle. Maybe talk to somebody. We hope that we’ll reach more people with the message the good news that Christians have to bring that Jesus came to bring peace.’

Because the Church of England is established by law, consecration of church buildings affects their legal status, and limits what they can be used for (including the worship of another faith).

It might be argued that since these buildings are consecrated to God, and God is Lord of all things, then all of life should find a place there.  It appears that in the Middle Ages churches did often function as community centres.

Church buildings, then, should be used for purposes that are appropriate and honouring to God.  Watching films might OK, but not offensive films.  Jumble sales, but not the sale of exotic goods derived from skins of animals.

Another angle is to consider a church building a sacred space because of its history and associations.  Where God has been worshiped, the Word preached, and the sacraments celebrated, it may feel jarring to install a golf course in that same space.  Indeed, it may seem no more than a stunt, a desprate attept to appear relevant and up to date.

Building bridges between the sacred and the secular is fine, but even this suggests that church buildings should remain in some sense distinct.  Is the offense caused (in some quarters) defensible and worth while?  The proof of the pudding will be the impact of these ventures on relationships and on church attendance.

[Note: the above is based on Ian Paul’s post.  I think that post is helpful, although not (as he himself would no doubt agree) the last word on the question.]

See also ‘How cathedrals can point to the life of faith‘, a Church Times opinion piece by Michael Higgins.