By Richard Reep
During most business downturns, nimble private business owners search for countercyclical industries to which they adapt. During this business downturn, the construction industry finds itself frantically looking for anything countercyclical. Private construction, almost completely driven by the credit market, has stopped, and public construction, driven by tax revenue, has also stalled. Religious institutions, however, seem to be continuing incremental growth and building programs, giving evidence to some people’s answers to spiritual questions being asked today.
Christian congregations surged in the 1990s, building megachurches in mostly suburban neighborhoods throughout the country. In some cities, mostly in the South, the urban megachurch also became common. Fundraising for these followed patterns that made lending a fairly straightforward risk; many were financed by a combination of patron contributions and lending from local or regional banks. By the early part of this decade, the growth of megachurches was a well-established pattern, and had become a sophisticated niche within the booming development and construction industry, as reported by Forbes Magazine in 2003.
Churches seem to remain one of the few work sectors for construction firms, architects and planners. This comes at a time when there appears to be very little new development, either private or public in Central Florida. Even small private projects that were funded by cash or private equity have been postponed or cancelled, as the money sits on the sidelines. Yet Christian churches continue to expand, forcing them to accommodate the needs of their worshippers.
Unlike in the past decade, much of this expansion is taking place in smaller congregations, and is funded mostly by donations, pledges, and bequests. “Our church task force is looking at creative ways to raise money for facility expansion,” commented Scott Fetterhoff, President of Salem Lutheran Church. “We have to have faith however that our congregation, and those looking for spiritual growth in a society with eroding values, will support worthwhile causes.”
Fetterhoff also displays a very worldly sense of pragmatism. ”Our expansion and outreach program will simply adjust to fit the available budget,” he adds. “On the bright side with a construction industry looking for work, that might allow us to do more for less.”
This is one example of several recent interviews with local church leaders who are considering a construction project, and all are echoing similar themes. Salem’s expansion includes new classroom space which seems part of a growing interest to provide flexible multi-purpose space for church-based education and community use – largely in lieu of public education. No one in Florida can ignore the continuous stream of news reports of its legislature’s continued reduction of funds for Florida’s public education system, and many in Florida are trying to find alternatives for their children.
Salem’s decision to expand is emblematic of other stories in the region. This incremental growth may signal a consolidation of sacred space into people’s lives, as we cope with the changes in our secular, consumer-driven culture. Salem Lutheran, and others like it, use the general uncertainty of our economic times to re-focus on faith based relationships. This is a true grass-roots trend.
On a larger scale, the evangelical movement continues to encourage church construction on a more global, top-led basis, in what is termed “church planting” by its leadership. The surge of interest in nontraditional forms of churches in the Western Hemisphere is well-documented and remarkable, as this Christian movement is supplanting traditional denominations, particularly Catholicism. Religion remains formidable in America, but much of it reflects more of a shift from one form of Christianity to another.
One organization, Capernaum Ministries, is developing a retreat for Christian pastors and ministers to provide leadership training to church leaders. Its founder, Jim Way, sees his mission as creating “a laboratory for building effective relationships between leaders of various denominations and independent ministries.” Way, a minister and founder of Capernaum Ministries, has affiliations with over 3,000 churches. “I see this as an opportunity to study, and solve, the problem of how the decline of the denominational church influence is affecting American culture”.
As cities have grown in the past several decades, the well-documented lack of sacred space has been notable as governments meticulously avoid any tangible form of religious expression, and mainstream religions find themselves in retreat. While public space in American cities has always been constitutionally secular, sacred space usually evolved with the development of cities, towns and neighborhoods.
Sadly, this has been missing from private development for some time. Church growth in the suburbs usually occurs after the fact, not as part of a planned community, for developers are loathe to forfeit profits on a choice parcel of land.
Church building has historically been a narrow niche market avoided by most design and construction professionals who have preferred more lucrative building types, like hotels or hospitals. If one believes in the organic model of city growth and development, this has been a serious deficiency.
But now, amidst lower costs for construction and more need for their services, some congregations seem to be taking stock, making plans, and acting. Salem Lutheran, like many, has members who come from the design and construction industries. These congregants know how to efficiently deliver a building, and are offering these skills to their congregations, while their regular businesses sit idle.
Whether global or grass-roots, the development of sacred space will need to overcome the substantial obstacle of financing, difficult in the best of times, using new means and methods. Nontraditional means including volunteer labor, outright donations, in-kind donations, and bartering will bring costs down to more affordable levels. As projects are realized, alternative practices to achieve affordability could result in interesting innovations.
If the current economic crisis begs some larger spiritual questions in people, then there may be a countercyclical trend towards investment in sacred space. Faced with lowered expectations and a lost sense of prosperity, people naturally long for some aspect of their lives that transcends the material. Church building, however incremental and small, demonstrates that sacred space is important to enough people to do something about it. Their actions speak loudly in these uncertain economic times.
Richard Reep is an Architect and artist living in Winter Park, Florida. His practice has centered around hospitality-driven mixed use, and has contributed in various capacities to urban mixed-use projects, both nationally and internationally, for the last 25 years.
The age-old agora, contrary to reports of its death, is actually alive and well. Weekend markets are springing up in public nooks and crannies around the older, urban core, and in the suburban public parks as well. These markets are scenes of a new American involvement with each other, in a manner similar to the traditional European town square and the historical American village green. “Farmer’s Markets,” “Fresh Markets,” and “Weekend Markets” are becoming popular not just in downtown Orlando, but in downtown Winter Park, Maitland, College Park, and surrounding communities. These markets are exciting because they are growing, despite all the forces working against them: crime, internet commerce, and the accelerated kinetic lives we lead in this new millennium. People are finding something important at these small, crowded, open-air market stalls, and it isn’t just good tomatoes.
For customers, the thrill of a bargain is supplemented by a sense of community and a shared enjoyment of a vibrant local scene. Maitland, a suburban municipality five miles north of Orlando, recently started its own Farmers’ Market and has already outgrown Quinn Strom Park, and will soon be moving to the larger Lake Lily Park next year. Customers are treated to live music performances, occasional tables of Fresh Art by Maitland Art Center artists, and stalls by masseuses, cheese makers, and ethnic food providers. The informal nature of these markets guarantee spontaneity, an enjoyment of shared community, and an opportunity for relaxed interaction and discourse free of the manipulation of marketers, advertisers, designers, and other enablers of the high art of contemporary Western consumption.
Both districts will greatly enhance the city’s core offering of service jobs, and are being nationally scrutinized for their viability as a new home for technological research and application. In the next phase of city-making, Orlando can make important steps towards a sustainable economy, if it grows good jobs while focusing on the basics of safety, security, and a spiritual core for its citizens.
Surrounded by residential communities and scrub pine, the medical district is in its infancy. This community already boasts two promising features. For one, the focus on good jobs sets the fundamental stage for organic and meaningful growth created. This seems logical enough, but the employment element has been largely missing from most new developments of regional impact. Secondly, the residential community, currently less than 10% developed, appears to be growing unmolested by the need to conform to pre-set ideas about cities. Lake Nona’s Master Plan promises an 11-acre oval “town center”, likely to be a mixed-use district typical of recent Southeastern town centers: shops, offices, residential, and of course, the local supermarket, Publix. 
Switch focus to the inner city: forgotten, chaotic, grim residences; sagging front porches and weedy lots. Orlando’s own inner city, Parramore, did not benefit very well from the run-up in the last six years, and by the looks on the faces of the residents who watch you as you drive by, they know it. The City of Orlando has decided that it is now their turn.
In its infancy, Sodo appears to have the ingredients to become a good alternative to so-called “TND” or Traditional Neighborhood Development, as set forth by the Congress for the New Urbanism. Originally planned as condominium units, Sodo opens as a luxury rental community, which recognizes the current mortgage meltdown and the future of residential real estate in the Southeast. This neighborhood was typically oriented to the surrounding Wadeview railroad industrial district, but Sodo clearly looks north up Orange Avenue, beckoning hip, young, downtown workers.
Examined closer, Sodo makes some concessions to reality. It connects to the surrounding street grid on 3 sides, and the sense of safety and security within Sodo is beefed up with private security. The apartments have uninspiring views into their own parking garages, and the lack of green space throughout is harsh and startling. In order to accommodate parking, the anchor retail store parks its cars on the roof; shoppers are treated to the novelty of an outdoor shopping cart escalator, which should be interesting during the monsoon season of Orlando’s summer.
While all this is encouraging, Sodo is not an example of organic growth, blending new and old seamlessly. For example, it is doubtful that Sodo residents and existing locals will bond over coffee in the Starbucks or burritos in the Taco Bell. Exclusively private, Sodo has no library, park, school, or other public amenity except for its shopping sidewalks, and it seems strange to think of Sodo hipsters venturing into the local community to worship, walk the streets, or volunteer. Sodo seems to be a social oasis, at least for the present moment.
Yet these efforts have failed to produce affordable housing for those who truly want to live within walking distance of their workplace. This is in part because New Urbanists seem to have trouble with the idea of creating an economic base first. By contrast, older, organically grown clusters are thriving nicely, in areas such as Thornton Park. At one time, Lake Eola (a small, oval lake) separated Downtown Orlando from this older neighborhood walking distance of downtown. The area was shabby, violent, and chaotic. But efforts to drive downtown toward Thornton Park – painstakingly led by visionaries who believed in the neighborhood – has created an organically grown, variable density cluster that adds tremendous value to the city.
New Urbanists, however, are not approving of Thornton Park, perhaps because it was not their idea. They point to a violation of their form-based codes, which maintain seven stories the maximum height for a good structure. They point to the on-street parking – another abomination to their theology. In addition, they point to the older, single-family residential development that exists in and around the other development, citing its violations of their theoretical density hierarchy (six gradients of density, from urban to rural, which must occur in a specific order, and which are collectively labeled “the transect.”). Lastly, they are mute when it comes to the older, 11- and 12-story senior living towers associated with downtown churches, which happen to be 100% full with a waiting list. Somehow, this affordable housing does not fit into the Smart Code.
Parramore is another shabby, violent, chaotic neighborhood exists adjacent to Downtown Orlando, with similar potential to Thornton Park. Like cosmetic surgeons rushing to claim credit for a half-facelift, the New Urbanist professionals, when questioned about this area of Orlando, freeze with a faint smile, and mention that no private interests have approached them about Parramore. Until this happens, they maintain implementing the imagined order of a proper city, as set forth in the “Smart Code” by the Congress of the New Urbanism, is impossible. The code regulates form rather than use, and is generally referred to as a form-based code for this reason.
Orlando’s enduring, 10-year involvement with New Urbanism has reaped mixed results. While some organically developed areas like Thornton Park add interesting and thoughtful form to the city, many of the New Urbanist projects (which are larger in scale the farther out from the urban core) add bland, living-over-retail or office-over-retail streetfronts. These developments cherry-pick from New Urbanism what developers and city planners can agree upon: traditional architecture, vertical stacking of uses, and selective relaxation of land use codes. 
In reality although form-based codes claim to improve the city’s form, they also create a host of non-form social, traffic, income disparity, and employment problems for the city to solve. To improve social involvement, attract and retain meaningful employment, and deliver a safe and secure envelope is very hard work. Citizens should care what their city looks like. However, for the city to focus overly on form, placing aesthetics above the older, more proven values is not the way to create successful places that work primarily for people, not architects.