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Sainte-Chapelle
I love this part of the semester, taking my students on a virtual pilgrimage, starting with the Road to Santiago de Compostela and culminating in Paris at Sainte Chapelle. Yesterday, I was lecturing on the architecture of the Romanesque and Gothic periods, all the while thinking how fortunate I am to have a job that requires me to regularly take note of the grand endeavors in human history. (Thankfully there is so much more that is glorious and mighty to report from our collective past than the wars and deprivation that yes, must also be told.) Even as I moved through the photos (that are simultaneously memories) with my students, detailing the advancements and innovations, I tried to explain how each new breathtaking innovation and technique representing marvelous technological advancements and skills were simultaneously correctives and adjustments for the previous innovations and improvements, and would cause additional, necessary inventions to counterbalance the weight and pressure of added grandeur. All the while as I was pointing out various architectural elements, I was thinking about the virtual/visual path, anticipating the last pictures of Sainte Chapelle. I recalled standing in the open jewel box of an upper gallery, basking in the reflected light of a thousand pieces of beautiful stained glass. I’m wondering as I lecture, “Will I be able to convey the beauty of this and other sacred destinations? Is it important for them to understand how each innovation and advancement made it possible for the next. Is standing in a particular locus, reveling in human achievement that somehow transcends the here&now what I really want to focus on? Is that what I’m trying to teach, or is it more about instilling in them a desire to reach for more and then go and do?”
Towards the end of my gothic architecture lecture, I talked about gargoyles, typically threatening-looking, but also
carrying out the necessary task of diverting the accumulation of water from off the roof and joints lest the weight of the water crush the monumental structure. Equipoise and counterpoise: a series of adjustments in order to distribute the weight of the workload or balance the stress and tension of the time and place.
The idea of the journey goes nicely with thoughts of pilgrimage and what that means. I love thinking about that path, and the way folks gathered to make a statement about themselves both individually and as a group and then declare themselves before God. Will I sound too trite if I say that I don’t think it was only about the sacred destination, but the dialogical relationship they found along the way? It might be that the craftsmen who built the cathedrals were also not always as concerned with the finished product as they were individually involved in the processes that made up the greater whole.
I love that “thing” that occurs in close community where there is movement. It’s something singular and unique–almost indescribably–involving inside jokes; quick smiles, teasing; easy camaraderie; and shared joys and pains. We notice the ups and downs of those we’re close to—in proximity or otherwise—and sometimes even cause the suffering. The joint endeavor is partly about pain and suffering, don’t you think? Is it because my community has seen my pain that makes me trust them, or because they smile when I join them and I feel a sense of belonging? Cicero tells us that in true friendship pain is diminished and joy multiplied because of the process of sharing. I’m fascinated by the thought, and I think I’m like most people: I’m actually on a journey to find my true friend. Forget EVERYTHING else: this is my true purpose in life.
Rosie Lopez, a creative and spirited young woman in the Imagined Future Project challenged the group to write about “Community” this week. I’m looking forward to reading their posts. They have set a demanding path for themselves, and I believe their level of success will be in direct proportion to their ability to practice communitas. But then, I believe that about every endeavor and all groups of people. The ability to place “it” together in some kind of balance shapes & directs the path.
I’m thinking that life consists of a series of balancing acts. . . of equipoise and counterpoise. . . .and the ability to choose. Perhaps we also need diversions to relieve the tension or redirect the stress that accumulates. Like the great craftsmen of the medieval cathedrals, at this moment in time I am a product of many corrections and adjustments along the way. I’m thinking (hoping?) that my beautiful friends who make up what I would call communitas distribute the weight of the burden I carry, and I hope I sometimes do the same for them.
As I’m so focused on the idea of fulfilling roles these days, my mind immediately jumped at the gargoyle illustration for equipoise and counterpoise: We all have our own individual roles to fulfill day by day, but we often forget that we also have a role in the completion of our various communities. These roles are much harder to fulfill, because far-sightedness is needed much more often for our smaller roles in a larger community than for our larger roles in a smaller community – when we fulfill a role in, say, a family (big role in small community), we know what each action will do and how our family will react and how to fulfill each other. However, when we fulfill a role in something like our academic residence (smaller role in bigger community), we don’t know how we can influence the students or professors around us, how they will react to us, or how to fulfill their needs. It is difficult, but we should make conscious efforts to change our lack of knowledge of others in our bigger communities so that we are able to fulfill them, which is our role as a member of the same community. No, we probably won’t be able to do that with every member of extremely large communities, but the responsibility is still there to try, to be able to fulfill one more person.