walking around

Ambulatory: the space behind

(A place for walking, esp. an aisle around the apse or a cloister in a church or monastery)

What do you do with extra space? You store stuff there. In your house or office, or even church. A living church has stuff and since we share our sanctuary with a school, there is even more stuff. There are chairs, old wedding candelabra, Mustard Seed banners and canned goods. Stuff needs to be put away where you can get to it and it won’t be in people’s way. I know this because we pass this stuff all of the time, getting to and from the choir stalls. We float by in our surplices and hope not to get caught on any stray edges. The lights turn on automatically and all is well, unless you are the church curmudgeon. The church curmudgeon is a good musician, a lovely man and an complete formalist. His church is so high I can’t see it. As such, the c. c. objects to the condition of the Ambulatory. “It is sacred space,” he says, and he is right.

In big old churches like York and Durham, the Ambulatory is a wide aisle that surrounds or cushions the high altar. In these great spaces there is room for shrines and altars and memorial windows. These are places of awe and contemplation. Tour groups address the shrine to St. Cuthbert at Durham or the various chapels, windows and gorgeous tapestries behind the high altar at York. These are Ambulatory with a capital A. We, at little bitty St. Paul’s, don’t have the beautiful space. There are no shrines or important windows. We have a hallway. Joshua and I walk sideways to get where we are going. When Philip is walking, just wait. But as small and plain as it is, our Ambulatory is blessed with functionality. It’s a place to put stuff.

Chairs, candelabra and canned goods all serve individually. The children sit on the chairs for Friday Chapel (listen, you little nits, that’s Carol Luther talking to you, sit up straight and pay attention). Orchestras also sit on those chairs; they can’t play if they can’t sit. The old chandeliers are messy but so dear. If I’d been married at St. Paul’s I would have wanted them. The food on the shelves of the ambulatory is a gift from those who have to those who don’t, manifesting “all that we have is Thine alone, a trust, dear Lord, from thee.”

Chalices and communion plates are obviously sacred, and have their own special cabinets. But we also need to store food, clothes and toiletries, things that are sacred because they serve Christ’s people. These gifts, on plain metal shelves, make the space sacred. It could not be more so even if it were perfectly empty, wet with holy water and reeking of incense.

I love my church curmudgeon. He’s a terrific musician and a dear friend and he keeps me thinking on higher things. But I think he is wrong about our Ambulatory. It is a sacred space because it is properly used.