The renowned American church architect Ralph Adams Cram (d. 1943) once described his field as a tongue-of-Pentecost art, through which “the Holy Spirit manifests himself in a peculiar way to all nations and kindreds and peoples.” Along with architecture, he denoted other “tongues” under the fire of art: sculpture, painting, poetry, music, drama, and ceremonial. The ordering of a church, therefore, is a ministry because “beauty is the instrument of art; without it, art does not exist, and wherever beauty is used either for self-revelation or for the communicating of spiritual energy, there is art, whether it be in the majestic modes of music and architecture, or in the modest ministry of woodcarving or embroidery.”
Cram had no patience with rectors who also thought they were artists (fair enough) and for cheap materials and methods that cut time. He didn’t mince words when he said it’s not really the fault of the priest or building committee but that they are victims “of that most pernicious and devil-engendered principle of the present age, namely Give the people what they want. I have no issue with Cram’s words, although I am certain he would likely have taken issue with me. In a perfect world, I would follow his counsel to the letter. I would elevate the ministry of the artist, use traditional materials and methods, and cast away expectations regarding deadlines. The church would be finished when it was finished, whether I would be alive to see it or not.
While I hear Cram’s words constantly in the back of my mind, we do not live in that perfect world. At least I don’t. I think he is right when he says that the “devil-engendered principle” of our age is to give people what they want. And as Henry Ford allegedly said, “If I gave the people what they wanted, it would have been a faster horse.”
I think the theological task today is more rudimentary. Cram wanted excellence in art as a ministry. I think we must first make the case for art. We need to insist on beauty as a theological principle. The challenge is that beauty is often derided as affected and superfluous. The priest who tries to insist on architecture, art, sculpture, etc., as the Pentecostal tongues of beauty is likely to be dismissed and ridiculed as focusing on the wrong things and a prodigal steward of parish resources.
I think we can strive for Cram’s ideals while also introducing the “Pentecost of art” in ways both affordable and feasible. Before we can insist on the ideal, we must first establish proof of concept. Otherwise, the perfect will be the enemy of the good. Church buildings and furnishings will continue to be cast with a vision clouded by a lack of beauty as a theological instrument for the revelation of God’s truth. The artistic and theological vision will be limited to catalogs and discount pricing.
Our inspiration for this is Cram’s contemporary Martin Travers (d. 1948), the English designer known for using inexpensive materials such as papier-mâché to create furnishings that looked like gold and wood. He wasn’t trying to give people what they wanted, but rather he wanted to show people what they needed. Over the years, I have discovered, through trial and error, various ways to introduce ecclesiastical art in ways we could afford. The goal is not to be cheap, but to introduce the parish to beauty in a way that reveals the talents of the community. Since I haven’t found a handbook on how to achieve this, I offer these ideas as examples that I hope will prove helpful and inspire local adaptation.
Altar Frontals
In my experience, most churches first purchase superfrontals for their altars from affordable catalogs. The superfrontal hangs only a few inches on the vertical face of the altar and was intended to cover the mechanism on which the frontal was suspended. In other words, the superfrontal wasn’t intended to adorn the altar by itself and is not, technically speaking, an altar frontal. The result is an altar that looks incomplete because it is. An easy way to achieve a frontal is to construct a simple wood frame and then staple fabric to it. The frame can be suspended from the altar on hooks or, as in the case of my parish, it can be constructed so that the frame fits snugly in place under the edge of the mensa. By all means, purchase fabric from Watts & Co. if you can afford it, but if you need an inexpensive way to introduce fabric to the parish, you can find very attractive upholstery fabrics that will be just fine in the interim.
Candles
How in the world can you get candles tall enough to be in right proportion with the rest of the altar? I have looked at the dizzying heights of altar candles online and in person, and I have never found an apparatus that would work. The candles aren’t five feet tall. By sheer luck, I stumbled upon the perfect solution: lamp parts. I found a company online that sells parts for lamps. Not oil lamps, but the kind of lamp sitting on your desk or in your living room. I bought a box of three-foot plastic tubes from grandbrass.com. These tubes are 1¼ inches in diameter and fit perfectly in my candle stands. Furthermore, my existing liquid wax candles fit perfectly into the tube. The brass follower keeps the candle from falling inside. My “big six” candles are now nearly 50 inches tall (including the stand) and each tube cost me around $5. You can easily make these into requiem candles and paint them to look like unbleached wax.
Requiem Candle Stands
Years ago, I was told that a church in London used broomsticks for torches at Mass. Inspired by this, I asked two creative parishioners to create six requiem candles to flank the bier. We bought porch spindles, added a top of the candle and painted them black and silver. You can tell it’s a porch spindle, but only when you get close. It’s not the perfect solution, but once people see the beauty and function in these candles, they will be inspired to provide the means to have them done properly by an artist.
Gilded by Spray Paint
Until I can afford a commissioned statue, I will find a resin substitute on Amazon and spray-paint it gold. For ex votos and a backdrop for the monstrance at Benediction, I’ve bought inexpensive wooden picture frames, spray-painted them gold and used cotton velvet for the backing. It works in the interim until you can perfect your techniques at applying gold leaf.
Confessionals
I have found that the presence of a confessional leads to penitents seeking out the sacrament. But confessionals can be prohibitive, as they often cost tens of thousands of dollars, and antique examples may fit clumsily in your space. Over the years, 
I tried various methods in making a confessional space, including converting little-used closets. St Alban’s, Holborn, and All Saints’, Margaret Street (both in London), have a simple but private structure for their confessionals. I asked a furniture-building parishioner if he could replicate the London confessionals. He created a beautiful confessional from wood that was previously used for our old reredos. He built a confessional that is functional, bespoke, and honors the past by using wood from a previous furnishing. Perhaps more important, my parishioner discovered a vocation of ecclesiastical woodworking and is actively looking for programs to hone his craft.
Stenciling
Some of the most dramatic ecclesiastical spaces include impressive displays of text. Chances are that most parish budgets will not allow for extensive texts carved in stone or marble inlays. One can, however, purchase reusable stencils to paint text on surfaces. The advantage of this method is that it is economical, easily achieved using parish talents, and if it doesn’t accomplish the aesthetic or theological goal, it can be painted over. I have used stencils from stencilplanet.com for various projects. I doubt one would spend more than $100, and the reward far outweighs the risk.
These economical solutions are not substitutes from Cram’s aesthetic ideal but clear the path toward it. All these examples included the talents and ideas of parishioners. My parishioners are not professional ecclesiastical designers or artists, but rather faithful Christians who are eager to use (and in some cases discover) their gifts for the glory of God. Their passion and enthusiasm make the proof of concept to the congregation. The work and witness of the “average artisan” illustrate the spiritual instrumentality of beauty.
The Rev. Steve Rice is the rector of St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church, an Anglo-Catholic parish in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and is the founder of the Society of St. Joseph of Arimathea.
