c. 2007 Religion News Service

WASHINGTON _ Most church preservation fights involve saving a building that neighbors think is too pretty to be torn down. This is the story of a church that parishioners think is too ugly to stay.

The Third Church of Christ, Scientist _ a six-story, eight-sided concrete behemoth circa 1971 _ sits atop a lonely windswept plaza just two blocks from the White House. Church members say it’s too big, too expensive, too uninviting.

Plus it’s just plain ugly.

Neighborhood preservationists, meanwhile, see a living testament to the type of 1970s architectural “brutalism” championed by I.M. Pei and others. It’s so distinct, they say, that it should be passed on to future generations.

Sure, it may be ugly, but that’s exactly the point.

For 15 years, church members have battled the preservationists’ request that the city designate Third Church a historic landmark, which would prevent any changes to the building’s exterior.

The 60-member congregation would prefer to tear down the monolith and possibly replace it with an office building that includes space for a church. Given the prime location, church members say, money from the deal would allow the church to devote resources to ministry instead of maintenance.

With a compromise between the two sides nowhere in sight, Washington’s Historic Preservation Review Board will rule in December on the landmark designation.

David Grier, a Third Church member leading the fight against a designation, said the building doesn’t deserve landmark status.

“This isn’t us. It’s a tomb,” he said, referring to the concrete walls that show years of collected grime.

There’s little disagreement that the building’s design can be off-putting. Brutalism, an architectural style of the late 1960s and early 1970s, is often characterized by stark concrete shapes and dark imposing forms. It’s the kind of architecture that can make passerbys stop and say, “What the … ?”

Brutalism is “a style that’s hard to love,” said A. Robert Jaeger, executive director of Partners for Sacred Spaces, a Philadelphia-based organization dedicated to helping churches and communities care for religious buildings.

Bruce Yarnall, operations and grants manager for the city’s Historic Preservation Office, acknowledged that plenty of people would like to see the church bulldozed.

“But what about 50 years from now?” he asked. “Architectural patterns go in and out of style, just as in some sense fashion does.” There’s value in maintaining some buildings that are no longer in vogue, he said.

Some local preservationists agree.

“Over time, the building became more and more appreciated,” said Sally Berk, a trustee of the Committee of 100 on the Federal City, a local preservationist group that filed the landmark application along with the D.C. Preservation League.

Berk said the church meets the landmark designation criteria of being created by a master craftsman _ architect Araldo Cossutta worked with Pei’s firm _ and exemplifying distinguishing characteristics of architecture.

The church’s decision to remain downtown amid the riots and upheavals of the late 1960s was “a symbol of the belief in the viability of the inner city,” she said.

J. Darrow Kirkpatrick, the first reader, or chief lay leader, of Third Church, said the thought of having something big, brutal and controllable made sense at the time, but the building is no longer affordable. Its vast, dark presence hinders the church’s efforts to welcome newcomers.

“We’re in the business of Christian healing and redemption,” he said. “Shouldn’t churches be allowed to follow their mission?”

Duncan Stroik of the University of Notre Dame, a specialist in preserving sacred architecture, said the preservationists bear a higher burden of proof for a church built so recently. “The building should be of very high quality, not just reflective of a certain time,” he said.

Kirkpatrick said that without significant changes, his congregation may not be able to stay in the neighborhood it has occupied for more than 100 years. The cumbersome heating system is falling apart, Grier said, and a new one could cost as much as the building itself. The concrete that has started falling off the building is also expensive to fix. The elevator doesn’t work, and just changing light bulbs costs between $4,000 and $8,000, given the need for scaffolding.

“The preservationists say there’s natural light in here,” Grier said, pointing to the skylights high above the sanctuary. “But there are no windows. If you shut off the lights and could read the hymnal, you’d have better eyes than I do.”

Kirkpatrick said the darkness and the 300 empty chairs every Sunday prevent intimacy. “There’s no sense or feeling of closeness or light,” he said.

Mary Wadleigh of Washington is a dedicated preservationist who has attended Third Church since 1973. This time, she said, preservationists have gotten things wrong.

“Preservation is so important,” she said. “But as a congregation we have to have the flexibility to meet the needs of the world today.”

KRE/LF END MCCANN

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