Lydia Collins

During my first two weeks, I accompanied a small group of researchers studying the architecture of Pentacostal religion in Belo Horizonte. The project, let by a visiting Polish professor and my advisor here, is attempting to map these sites of worship.  

Tagging along for this experience taught me a lot about religions beyond Pentacostal, especially the Afro-Brazilian faiths of Candomblé and Congado. Myself, along with the lead researchers and five undergraduate research assistants, visited four different sites of worship and a community center to get a better understanding of the physical presence of these religions.

However, what I found most interesting was what emerged during conversation with the undergraduate research assistants (bolsistas) in the debrief of these site visits. After our jaunts around the city, we would convene back at the School of Architecture and discuss. While the bolsistas are undergraduates, their ages range from 21-27. Some of them are from Belo Horzionte, one from Sao Paulo, one from another city in Minas Gerais, and one from the rural countryside.

Unanimously, they all said that they were raised in Catholic families and strongly identified with Catholicism when they were growing up. However, after leaving their homes and moving to Belo Horizonte for college, they started to question their upbringing, and, soon after all of them disassociated from religion.

Some reasons for this were that there were too many rules in the Catholic church, that Catholicism is homophobic, that it has been the source of much oppression. One said that when they started to learn the true history of Catholicism, they rejected it because it was so contradictory with what they were taught.

A two now identify now as Agnostic, and the others as Aethiest. They find religion interesting, but have distanced themselves from their Catholic roots.

What connected them, was their desire for spirituality. Not all believe in a higher spirit, but some definitely affirmed what I feel – that there is a place for spirituality in life.  One talked about going into a Terreiro, a Congado site of worship, and feeling a rush of overpowering emotion. She said she seeks that feeling, but doesn’t want it in the context of the Catholic church.

In these debriefs, I started to feel more connected to my peers than I did before. Our generation is coming of age at a time of unprecedented departure from formal religion. Yet, we are no different from our ancestors who sought rituals to guide them through the rhythm of daily life. I think as humans we need spaces that encourage reflection and meditation, where we can be in the company of others and revel in the beauty and chaos of life.

A week after these site visits, I’ve been contemplating their comments and have come to three core reflections.

The first is that I am very interested in how architecture and urbanism students are interpreting the world around them. One student is planning on going to Sao Paulo next month for a Harry Styles concert and was able to describe that her car was “overheating” because she listened to Billie Eilish’s most recent single, OverHeated. (the car was ok in the end!). What kind of spiritual space does she seek? As a openly queer woman, what would a site of worship look like to her that could guide her through life, provide community, and ground her in the uncertainties of life? As an architecture student herself, how would she design a “church”?

My second reflection is that I am feeling a larger interest in exploring the design of spiritual spaces. One day, when I was cursing profoundly behind my mask at something I don’t remember, I came across a huge basillica and decide to step inside. Simply passing the threshold into the quiet, cavernous, sacred space lowered my blood pressure, reminded me the scale of life, and helped calm me. In the presence of four other worshippers scattered around the church, I felt an appreciation for this space. Free of charge, I could enter and escape the chaos of daily life, of the street. What is the potential of sacred spaces in the city?

Finally, perhaps other forms of spirituality can be found in social revolution. In one article about the decline of GenZ participation in formal religion, a researcher Elizabeth Drescher found that many of her students, “have found that in a spiritually rich Black Lives Matter movement and other social justice causes. [...] Youth participation in the Black Lives Matter movement comes from a well of moral and ethical hunger.”¹


In an On Being interview with psychotherapist Esther Perel, she says, “You know, when people are engaged in revolutionary movements, they feel erotic.” Connecting the feeling of eroticism to spirituality, she says, “My work is about eroticism. It is about how people connect to this quality of aliveness, of vibrancy, of vitality, of renewal. And that is way beyond the description of sexuality. And it is mystical. It is actually a spiritual, mystical experience of life. It is a transcendent experience of life, because it is an act of the imagination.”² 


What will spirituality look like in the future and where will it be housed, where will it land?