In my two months here, I have grown used to walking Capitol Hill. It is surprising how mundane and tangible the "halls of power" are. I searched for the right word for months, but yesterday, I found its perfect descriptor: "Not-sacred."
I do not mean to say that the Hill is secular, or any other adjective opposite to sacred. I mean to say that my conception of the seat of our people is this:
It should be a ley line of gravity and wisdom, to be walked in and spoken of with reverence. DC, I have found, is not so. The Capitol rings with the shouts of children and the chatter of tourists. This is not wrong. The House and Senate office buildings are, to be sure, generally quiet places--there's an air of professionalism in Rayburn or in Dirksen--but I would never describe them as "reverent."
There is, though, one place that is different. In the Supreme Court, men lower their voices instinctively. The halls of marble are generally quiet and solemn. It is a very good thing. The reverence and the silence in the courtroom are not something demanded, they are our acknowledgment of the law and this building as something greater than ourselves. It is not perfect, but is a place in which the words majesty, humility, honor, hierarchy, ceremony, guilt, innocence and authority all still hold some meaning. Such things are great and good. Sadly, reverence has vanished from so many of our churches (yes, I think from Protestant churches especially--tradition has its place). It has vanished from so much of our government. It is good for us to encounter those things greater than ourselves which demand our rightwise humility. The Court, though, does attempt to force my piety; I find that there I humble myself willingly.
I love such places.
I do not mean to say that the Hill is secular, or any other adjective opposite to sacred. I mean to say that my conception of the seat of our people is this:
It should be a ley line of gravity and wisdom, to be walked in and spoken of with reverence. DC, I have found, is not so. The Capitol rings with the shouts of children and the chatter of tourists. This is not wrong. The House and Senate office buildings are, to be sure, generally quiet places--there's an air of professionalism in Rayburn or in Dirksen--but I would never describe them as "reverent."
There is, though, one place that is different. In the Supreme Court, men lower their voices instinctively. The halls of marble are generally quiet and solemn. It is a very good thing. The reverence and the silence in the courtroom are not something demanded, they are our acknowledgment of the law and this building as something greater than ourselves. It is not perfect, but is a place in which the words majesty, humility, honor, hierarchy, ceremony, guilt, innocence and authority all still hold some meaning. Such things are great and good. Sadly, reverence has vanished from so many of our churches (yes, I think from Protestant churches especially--tradition has its place). It has vanished from so much of our government. It is good for us to encounter those things greater than ourselves which demand our rightwise humility. The Court, though, does attempt to force my piety; I find that there I humble myself willingly.
I love such places.
EDIT: Keaton pointed out to me last night that *all* of our public buildings deserve respect. I was wrong--there is something shameful about having the Rotunda ringing with shouts and cell phones.
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