Judge All But Rules Fate of Third Church of Christ, Scientist
Marc Fisher and David Alpert both get a yuk from the following exchange between U.S. District Court Judge James Robertson and D.C. Assistant Attorney General Leah Taylor, which took place last week during a hearing that all but decided the fate of the controversial Third Church of Christ, Scientist:
"Have you seen the church?" Judge Robertson asked . . . "Yes, your honor," she replied.Not exactly funny ha ha to architectural preservationists. It will come as no great surprise, then, that Judge Robertson ruled that if Office of Planning Director Harriet Tregoning does not rule for the Church in the administrative appeal to be allowed to raze the building, Robertson would overrule the Metropolitan Baptist Church vs. D.C. DCRA case that decided that landmarking a church does not place a special burden on religious organizations. Which would be an awful precedent, in terms of future preservation efforts."Been down there? Walked around? Seen the building?" he continued. "Yes, your honor," she replied.
"Gone inside?" he asked. "No, your honor," she replied.
"Couldn't find the door, could you?" he shot back with a gleam in his eye and a wicked smile.
I get Robertson's joke. It's too bad that he doesn't get the Third Church of Christ, Scientist, building. To complain that a building with this design isn't accessible is a bit like complaining that a sailboat doesn't have a motor.
Inaccessibility is one of the features of the building, which former Post critic Benjamin Forgey called "inward looking." It's a difficult structure, compared to a building that everyone believes is pretty whose front door is right smack there front and center. Which is why Alpert is wrong to say that the Third Church of Christ, Scientist, is a bad case for preservation -- it's in a sense the very best case for preservation, because the building reflects an idea that is strongly appreciated by a minority of people in the city. The National Cathedral, by point of contrast, is a bad case for preservation, because no one wants to tear it down.
If it's true as seems likely the case that the Church will soon fire up the wrecking balls, bulldozers, and whatever else it will need to bring down its concrete bunker, it's worth thinking about the idea that the city will gain and what it will lose. And it's certainly true that the downtown location is valuable, as Ryan Avent and Tom Lee noted in two different takes on the issue for DCist last month. Virtually any other building on the same parcel will exploit that value more efficiently. But land scarcity (that is, the height restriction) is hardly an argument for throwing our hands up in the air and letting the market alone decide what ideas are worth preserving and what aren't. That framework, after all, informed the effort by Congress in 1953 to replace a tacky, old Washington building with a parking lot. Had preservationists not won that important early victory, Washingtonians would not have the Old Patent Office, which they have arguably come around on.
If (as seems likely the case) the Church soon fires up the wrecking balls, bulldozers, and whatever else you need to bring down its concrete bunker, it's worth thinking about what, if anything, the city will lose. To this writer's mind, the building has always reflected a sense that the search for God is dark, difficult, isolating, and ultimately lonely. Whatever else it is, the Third Church of Christ, Scientist, building is itself a rare and lonely thing, both in the context of modernist buildings in D.C. and Brutalist buildings everywhere.
But the precedent for preserving buildings used by religious institutions will remain intact, even if this building will not, and for preservationists, that's the more important thing to save.