From Dialectics to Life
Elia Carrai - I want to begin this brief contribution by quoting a phrase found in the last chapter of the famous novel Crime and Punishment by Feodor Dostoevsky: “Life took the place of dialectics.” I believe that these words can introduce us to identifying the opportunities of the historical moment in which we are immersed, what Pope Francis defines as a “change of era,” what Bauman identifies with the liquefaction of society, or what Ulrich Beck describes as a true “metamorphosis of the world.” Our society, so fragmented both at the social level and at the level of thought, can in fact reveal itself as an open space in which to leave behind dialectical and ideological oppositions and return to affirm the primacy of reality and life.
This is true for the ecclesial reality as well as for the cultural world. I believe that with this primacy of life over dialectics, we can also build a fruitful encounter between the creative energies of contemporary architecture and the heritage of buildings—specifically liturgical halls—that the Church has preserved for centuries.
1. As the first point of this speech, I would like to emphasize the need to overcome the mistrust that risks leading to dialectical approaches. We need to find a way that can meet the lives of women and men of our time.
Let me say that the risk of such a dialectic is present first of all in the Church, where the most conservative instances oppose attempts to “jump forward.” Such a dialectic immobilizes the ecclesial reality: what is needed is neither traditionalism nor progressivism; today more than ever, we need realism.
The risk of a similar dialectic can also be found in the field of architectural research and the conservation of artistic heritage. We might ask ourselves: to what extent is it enough to just conserve? What is the limit of philologically conserving or of bringing everything back to its supposedly original state? Isn’t there a risk of “mummifying” these places by trying to tear them away from the course of their history in which they are immersed anyway?
At the same time, we can realize that the value of memory and conservation tells us that we absolutely cannot allow ourselves to simply destroy and rebuild everything every time. The precious treasures of the past must maintain their legibility in order to be understood. Transformation cannot mean making a previous architectural language incomprehensible.These are equally crucial themes for the Church itself whenever it questions its liturgical and sacramental tradition.
We could say that, in a certain sense, there is room for a common reflection on certain themes both on the part of ecclesial reflection and for research and innovation in the field of architecture. Both of these realities are asked, in fact, for close contact with reality and, specifically, with the reality of the women and men of this time, to whom both the Church and architecture itself intend to address—creating human spaces and building places designed for people.
It is necessary to overcome the mistrust and dialectics between the ecclesial sphere and architectural research. It is a question of overcoming on both sides the paradigm of the so-called secularization: the idea that a place or a building must be torn away from its previous purpose and given a completely different purpose. Such an attitude leads the ecclesial reality to resist or to make conservative attempts that are now beyond its strength.
At the same time, in such a horizon, architecture risks following forced alternative paths in the name of “oppositional” creativity. I believe, instead, that there is an area of common interest that must be valorized where a sacred building, like a church, stops being a liturgical place and offers itself to a fundamental architectural rethinking. This point of common interest is man. I believe that this realism is fundamental. Dialectics must be replaced by life, as I was saying. Churches were places for the living, places of life: no one should be happy in the ecclesial reality seeing these places “mummified.” We cannot think that a solution could be, in fact, their total and global musealization. Without wanting to touch here on the issue of what kind of place a museum is, simply such a path is not allowed: too many churches today are closed, and not all have an artistic architectural profile that can make them museum places. We certainly need to find new uses—places of life.
2. Here I would like to touch on a second point. Human life is characterized, in fact, by multiple possibilities. At this point, we could ask ourselves: Any human activity, being an expression of human life, is suitable for these places once intended for liturgical worship? How to choose? What life can architecture, with its creative and transportive abilities, bring back to these spaces that are today closed and empty?
Precisely by overcoming dialectics, we can think of a fruitful dialogue on this theme: What kind of life did churches foster? What kind of life did they welcome, and what kind of life did they generate? These questions could open spaces for new creative research for architecture itself.
I would like to highlight some significant factors, without claiming to exhaust this investigation. It is, rather, a matter of opening a reflection and identifying some questions. From my point of view, it is a question of addressing these aspects not from a theological point of view but from a strictly human one.
a) First of all, churches were meant to be places of beauty, not simply beautiful places. Churches were meant to reawaken in man the sense of possible beauty. In a world that often turns out to be very ugly, the beauty of cathedrals reminds man of the beauty he is capable of. A French philosopher—Emmanuel Mounier—provocatively stated: “When men no longer dream of cathedrals, they can no longer even build beautiful attics.”
b) Secondly, churches were places of life because they were places of encounter—a meeting not of individuals but of the community. The Church was a place of human community. In it, each “I” rediscovered the decisive value of “you” and “we,” a place that generated social and popular awareness.
c) Finally, churches were spaces where one passed from the horizontal to the vertical of existence. They were places of maturation of the personal depth of the subject, we could say, of self-discovery and dialogue with one’s interiority—characteristics that every healthy culture should have. In this sense, we could say they were places that generated culture or existential depth.
3. In conclusion, I would like to summarize what I have formulated in a synthetic way. We live in an era in which it is possible to overcome dialectics in favor of life and necessary realism. The need to rethink the use and spaces once dedicated to divine worship opens up interesting prospects for an encounter between ecclesial reality and architectural redesign. The meeting point is the interest in man, in the life of man. At the same time, the need to respect the memory and legibility of places leads us to ask: What aspects of man's rich life can return to live in these spaces? A hypothesis only touched here is that of considering some aspects of that life from which the churches themselves arose. In light of the traits I have just highlighted, we could imagine these redefined architectural spaces as:
• Places where life rediscovers its capacity for beauty, as desire and as human creative capacity—places of creativity, not just beautiful or well-built places.
• Places where life rediscovers the need for community—places for free encounters that allow us to escape from the dangerous bubbles of individualism in which most people live today.
• Places where life rediscovers its verticality and depth—in this sense, places that generate culture, research, and communication.
This primacy of life and, therefore, of reality and the human can constitute an interesting ground for dialogue from which to overcome the dialectic between merely preserving and the necessary renewal. This evolution of a bit of part of our churches does not diminish their historical and spiritual value; rather, it could reveal their ability to serve and inspire future generations.
By Elia Carrai sac. Professor of Fundamental Theology at the Theological Faculty of Central Italy.
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