Church Ventilation

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 2, 1872

Church Ventilation.

It is not possible to properly conduct services, or to enjoy the worship of God, in a house of worship that is not thoroughly ventilated between the services held in that house.

The Methodist says some sharp things, and gives some startling results of a case of common ignorance upon the subject of ventilation, taken from the Elmira Advertiser, under the caption of

“A WARNING.

“We have tried to preach the gospel of pure air, and shall continue to do so, though well aware of the small proportion of our readers who will ever be influenced by anything which can be said or written on the subject. Hot-air furnaces, or stoves, with listed doors and windows, which are opened as seldom as possible, are the order of the day, and will remain so probably through our generation, and until it can no longer be said with truth that ‘the fools are not all dead yet.’ The following is taken from the Elmira Advertiser. We are glad to see it. Startling examples are sometimes needed. It is seldom that such marked effects from poisoned air are experienced; but the most insidious effects are constantly produced, and there are few churches or lecture-halls in the land where the aggregate life of the congregation is not greatly shortened by every attendance. We have frequently entered churches on Sunday morning, where the poison of the previous Sunday was plainly perceptible in the air; and yet, through two long services, no window has been raised, nor a door allowed to remain open, except when it was unavoidable. Our recollections are too painful to permit us to speak of lecture-rooms, and low-ceiled, under-ground vestries. At some crowded prayer-meetings, we have fancied the lights burned blue, and have only wondered that they burned at all. But to our story: “‘On Sunday morning, a few young men, comprising the Praying Band of the First M. E. Church, assembled in their room for their usual meeting, before the morning services. Finding the room cold, they attempted to light a fire; but the matches would not burn. Finally, after exhausting their own supply, they borrowed a fresh lot at the parsonage, and coaxed some shavings into a feeble blaze. These, however, soon refused to do their duty, and the young men gave up the idea of having a fire. They decided, however, to have a short meeting, and then disperse. Soon they had peculiar feelings. One, who attempted to sing, said his throat seemed to choke. Others felt headache and throbbing pains. But each, ignorant that others were affected peculiarly, tried to master himself, and share in the meeting. However, on kneeling in prayer, these sensations became too dangerous for repression. One left the room. Just then another fainted. His companions dragged him out. One by one they emerged into the open air with flushed faces, trembling limbs, and racking pains. Sympathizing friends conducted some into the parsonage, and others to their homes. Physicians were called, and all finally recovered. Some were very near death, and all will feel the effects of this fearful trial for days. Such is a plain statement of the facts. What could be the cause?

“‘The room was used for meeting on Friday evening. Afterward it was closed, and the impure air confined to breed poison and disease until Sabbath morning. Then the door and windows were opened. But these are in one corner of the room, and there was no fire to start a draft. So the bad air remained, and the carbonic acid from the last assemblage, reinforced by the effluvia so long confined, was ready to do its work of death. The boys tried to start a fire, but the fuel would not burn—even a match could not find oxygen enough to support combustion. But ignorant of chemistry, as are thousands of people, they remained and tried to compel their bodies to live where fire would not. There was a broken pane of glass in the solitary window. Through this, the bad air ran out from the upper part of the room, but below this level it was dense and deadly. They kneeled down for prayer, and so came under its influence more directly. The carbonic acid crept through the arteries and veins, stopping the flow of blood, dulling the pulse, flushing the cheek, clogging all the channels of circulation, and threatening life itself. The pestilential effluvia of the breath, kept bottled up in a room for thirty-six hours, was inhaled, and swept through, poisoning their whole bodies. Thus we have here one of the most natural results of the want of ventilation. There was no smoke or gas from the chimney. There was no odor strong enough to attract the attention of any one not sensitive to bad air. All was the straightforward effect of supposing that a window raised will of itself ventilate a cold room.’”