Sacred Space (C.Crowe)

As our week of Ecumenism and Interfaith dialogue comes to an end, I find myself returning again and again to the spaces we entered — the buildings that held us, taught us, and sometimes surprised us. 

I was particularly curious about the Mosque, as it did not look as I expected. Instead of the vivid blues and turquoises of the Middle Eastern mosques, this one was subdued, with soft colours, curved lines, and filtered light. When I asked about it, I was told that the architect (Paolo Portoghesi) wanted to use Roman materials to integrate the mosque into its surroundings. He wanted it to echo Roman structures and history, yet still be Muslim.

 The building has a spreading plan and is quite low to the ground -it is what’s called contextual architecture: designed to harmonize with the Roman landscape as well as its culture. There is a fountain feature in which water from one fountain runs through a channel to another fountain some steps below, evoking ancient Rome. The intricate mosaics inside, typical of mosques, are in pastels rather than vivid colours, giving a sense of serenity and are made from different pieces of local marble. 

There are sets of five pillars scattered in rows that represent the 5 pillars of Islam: The Creed, Almsgiving, Prayer, Ramadan and Hajj. Light filters in from recessed windows, both low and high. The architect wanted particularly to evoke that “Allah is the light of the heavens and the earth” (Qur’an 24:35). The structure embodies memory, spiritual direction (it is oriented like all mosques to the Kaaba), uplift and peace. 

But it is a mosque that speaks in a Roman accent — a sacred space shaped by dialogue. 

The Synagogue we visited earlier in the week also featured architectural elements that
expressed religious experience. The Dome is square so that it stands out in a city of round domes, proudly reclaiming visibility after years of segregation in the Jewish Ghetto. The inside of the dome is painted in rainbow colours to recognize the covenant with Noah, and further down the ceilings are decorated with stars that honour God’s promise to Abraham: “Look towards the heavens and count the stars – so shall your descendants be” (Gen 15.5) Like the mosque, the synagogue uses architecture to express identity — but here the gesture is one of visibility after centuries of enforced invisibility, and the expression of covenant. 

By far the most numerous buildings that we saw were Christian basilicas, which have their own spiritual logic. Built over the bones of the dead, they have a visceral relationship with the past. The central part of the building is called the nave, which is Latin for ship. The church is the barque that carries us towards God. 

The column of pillars (common to most sacred buildings), for Christians, represents pilgrimage. It is both the way and the journey on the way. 

Hindu and Buddhist temples, though we did not visit them, also use pillars, light, and spatial rhythm — but they do so with a different sacred rationale, shaped by their own cosmologies. 

It would be impossible, here in Rome, to miss the reference of each of these sacred buildings to the ancient ruins of pagan temples. There was a different spiritual logic to these holy dwellings, thought to house the gods, but the similarities are hard to miss. I think these sacred buildings are a form of interfaith dialogue. They all reach upwards toward heaven, lifting our hearts; they inspire both awe and contemplation, and they express rhythm and order. They remember the past, but they lead us forward. 

In terms of inter-faith dialog, we have much more to consider than between denominations; the wounds are perhaps deeper. Some are older, as in the Crusades, and some much newer, as when antisemitism and islamophobia raise their ugly heads. We must learn respect across different cosmologies, different scriptures, different ritual languages, and different social identities. We need to find common values without erasing or watering down the depth of spiritual differences. We must never proselytize. 

I liked our lecturer’s analogy with family love. Everyone, he suggested, can say “I love my parents the most” without conflicting with another person who also loves their parents the most. 

Deep listening is important here, too. I would even suggest that we must always approach these kinds of conversations with a true desire to learn, rather than being too focused on what we might want to say. Not only will this communicate true respect, but it also allows God to work through us in ways that we don’t understand. If we enter these relationships with our own agenda, we can only cloud the good work of the Holy Spirit.

Sacred space reminds us that God is always doing more than we can see. Our task is simply to enter with openess.

Catherine Crowe

My section on the theology of Christian Churches is largely based on "The Geometry of Love" by Margaret Visser. The sections on the mosque and the synagog are based on conversations with the the Imam and the talk given by the docent at the synagog, augmentsed with information from Wikipedia.