No doubt many of you will have had a chance to ‘test drive’ the prototype pew in Pryor-Hubbard Hall. The next phase in our project to restore and beautify the Oratory Church will have a real impact on our experience of worship: no more thuds and crashes as 30 kneelers drop to the floor in hellish syncopation! No more orange wood! No more burnt carpet!

We have decided to restore the pews to their original deep lustre. The woodwork of the Church was lightened at some stage, but you can see the original tones in the ceiling and the Sacristy doors. Combined with a new, stone floor, the aesthetic will be light, but dignified and befitting to the Sacred Liturgy.

Included in the project are new ‘soft-close’ kneelers. A patented design, in use in many churches, the mechanism does not allow the kneelers to fall to the floor under their own weight, but instead they are guided by users’ feet. Perhaps the biggest innovation will be the fact that pews, though fixed, will be moveable, permitting different seating arrangements for choral singing, or for funerals.

Our little country church deserves the best that we can give to it. It is a gift to all of us who treasure it. We did not decide to build it; we simply inherited it from our forebears. Not for us the toil and sacrifice of building from scratch. Our responsibility therefore is to cherish it, like they did.

There is, however, a tension between excellence, on the one hand, and what I might call ‘coziness’ on the other. Excellence seeks to provide the most beautiful art, the highest quality materials and an attention to design that speaks of the transcendent. Coziness finds that expression uncomfortable, seeking to reduce the scale of the aesthetic to a less challenging parameter.

The great cathedrals of Europe – and indeed the great cathedrals and churches of the Victorian era here in the USA – were built by those who strove for excellence and not coziness. Coziness would never have built St. Patrick’s Cathedral, or the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. Coziness would have found it ‘too much’ or ‘too fussy’ or any other description which belies a desire for Church to feel domesticated.

Truth is, the Church building should challenge us, because it speaks of a life beyond here; a life with God, according to God’s perspective. God does not need carpet, or central heating, or wet wipes. God is essentially simple; He is who is and when you are in His presence, you have everything you need.

Doing beautiful things for God is always its own reward. But there is more to it than our comfort. How can I repay the Lord for all His goodness to me? The Psalmist asks. The answer is simple: go, make disciples. Bring people to your beautiful place of encounter. Strive to enhance every element that speaks of God. So that our Church reflects who we are. On holy ground; aiming for heaven.