It’s not often that you find a group protesting their building’s status as a landmark.When a structure is labeled a historic landmark, that structure generally becomes a source of pride for those that use it. A plaque is usually placed outside, so that passers-by can learn about the building and its history.But for one church in Washington, D.C., their building’s landmark status is a curse — a curse they are desperately trying to remove.The home of the Third Church of Christ, Scientist is a giant block of undecorated gray concrete dumped in the middle of the nation’s capitol.Literally.The structure has one window, and its bells are suspened from a crude concrete, in lieu of a steeple.The church’s architecture belongs to a style appropriately called “brutalism,” which roughly speaking, translates into “ugly.”Ask any member of the church, and they’ll be the first to tell you the structure is hideous.”We think it says, ‘stay away.’ Something goes on in here that they don’t want to get outside, which is exactly wrong for all Christianity,” said one long-time member.But if the church’s members think the building is so ugly, why have they done nothing to change it?It’s simple — they can’t.In 1991, a group of preservationists made a successful push to have the building named a historic landmark — without the church’s knowledge.  They argued the Brutalist movement represents an important part of our nation’s architectural past, and few examples of the style remain.Perhaps in this case, the rarity is less a result of poor preservation, and more a sign of Brutalism’s lack of appeal.The church only became aware that its building was a landmark when it tried to tear down the existing structure and build one that was more suitable to worship, and the city told them they could not.Not only is the imposing structure preventing the church from gaining members — even those that attend say the building’s entrance is difficult to locate — its crude construction techniques and materials make it difficult and costly to maintain.To change the light bulbs, the staff has to erect scaffolding, which can cost between $5,000 and $8,000.To make ends meet, the church had to lay off its organist.Recently, this farce has been moving toward a conclusion. In a recent court case, a judge ruled in favor of the church, telling the city to allow its demolition.The judge ruled the landmark status violated the congregation’s First Amendment rights — the singular nature of the case merited the decision. The current building constitutes an undue burden on First Church’s ability to operate, and thus hampers their freedom to exercise religion.He also made it clear the case will not create a “dangerous precedent.”  Other religious institutions will not be able to circumvent preservation laws by simply invoking the First Amendment. Other churches won’t be able to destroy their historically significant facilities on a whim — only if, like First Church, their structure is an aesthetically abhorrent money-vampire.The judge’s ruling is commendable. Although maintaining our architectural heritage is important, at some point the problems a building causes must be taken into account.It would be absurd to force the church to maintain a structure they despise, especially considering it will very likely bankrupt them.The present should never be entirely sacrificed to preserve the past. Especially if that past is a hideously ugly block of undecorated concrete. 
Matthew Albright is a 20-year-old mass communication sophomore from Baton Rouge.
 
 
 
—-Contact Matthew Albright at [email protected]