Why bars are fun and church is not pt. 2
or why lighting matters
Closing down a bar feels great until the lights come on.
Then all the flaws of the place, the drinks, your companions, are rudely exposed. Bars work because the combination of alcohol, music, & lighting all serve to put the patrons at ease. To help them let go of whatever anxieties or stressors they’re carrying, and be in the moment. The lighting helps immensely with this, as anyone who’s been to a very well lit bar can attest. Dim lights hide the flaws, and make everyone feel like they are both seeing and not seen. There’s a reason there is a trope of a detective shining a bare bulb into the suspects face: naked light exposes us, especially when it’s artificial, because it can be so directed. If we are in a dim environment, we have some cover, some ability to conceal the parts of ourselves we despise. That goes away with a mass of artificial light. It’s hard to be cozy, or be vulnerable to the people around us when we feel that every element of ourself is bared.
Oddly enough, early churches actually did a pretty good job at keeping things dim. This was an accident of technology, as said churches almost entirely used candles or oil lamps, both of which gave off a paltry amount of lumens in comparison to today’s cheap electric bulbs. They could not flood their spaces with light in the way we can today. Undoubtedly this was appreciated by those Christians who felt some sort of stigma towards themselves, real or imagined. And so, this was the way things were for the majority of Christian history. Churches were filled with open flames, and remained dim. Even under direct sunlight, the stained glass windows would have diluted the light down to a more hospitable level.
Much like the wartime invention of the nuclear bomb, church councils have spent much more time discussing how to light every part of the church, without asking whether such a task should even be undertaken in the first place. Of course we want to make sure people can see where they are going, and not trip and injure themselves. Likewise, for people with vision impairment, dim lighting is an anathema. I hope that there is some sort of middle ground to be found, where we are all safe, and can see the hymnals, and also feel the comfort that comes with a dimly lit space.
Every space is going to be different. However, church members and leaders shouldn’t overlook the importance of lighting. People aren’t going to sing if they’re feeling like everyone and their mother can see into their soul. Nor will they be as comfortable moving around in the pew to make their body comfortable if they’re acutely aware of their visibility. On the nose these points feel silly, but it’s hard to argue with the vibe of a bar compared to the vibe of a church. Comfort is so important, and though it’s often unconscious, it’s never unnoticed. I desprately want the church to be a place where new people are comfortable, so for God’s sake, turn down the lights.
I think these are better than musings. I think you have ideas that are perfect for the time, and if possible, you should execute them. I left the church decades ago, not so much because of any conflict over morality or belief, but rather that the church did not feel like a place that nurtured my connection with greater things, nor did it feel like a place that encouraged the self-reflection that I believe is necessary to deepening one's own soul. Frankly, it didn't even seem like a place even to connect with other people. With the bright lights and uncomfortable pews all lined up in rows so you could sit or stand there like neat little army men, it felt like a place where the purpose was to be seen by the community, and not just that... but to be seen listening and taking your instructions. The best part of each service was when Pastor Bill (who was awesome and centered his sermons around fly fishing) would have all the little kids come sit on the floor up front and he'd sit down on the floor with them and deliver the 'children's sermon'. It was so funny to me that this simple little thing for kids, was at least in my eyes, so much closer to church was supposed to be, than what the rest of us were doing. No neat little rows. No hard wooden pews. No orator behind a podium projecting at an audience like a radio on blast. A man sitting on the floor discussing life with kids. I also had the privilege of living in Germany during my time in the Army. I got to go inside all of those beautiful old churches and cathedrals. So immense and awe inspiring. You can feel greatness. But at the same time, the darkness, and the tone of the music... intensely personal places where you can disappear into your own self reflection. I have to be honest, I long for a place like that right now. I suspect a lot of people like me do, and if you could bring any of those elements back, I think you should go for it.