I don't want to be romantic, but one of the most important things

Listen, O children of wisdom, to the words of Renzo Piano, the great architect whose reflections on buildings transcend the physical realm and touch the very heart of human connection and purpose. He said, “I don’t want to be romantic, but one of the most important things is to have happy buildings... it’s like having a family with a lot of children.” In this, Piano speaks not only to the aesthetics of architecture but to the deeper soul of buildings and their role in the lives of those who dwell within and around them. His words reveal the profound truth that buildings, like families, are not mere structures; they are living, breathing entities that must nurture, connect, and inspire.

Consider, O children, the idea of a happy building. It is not a building that simply fulfills its purpose of shelter or structure, but one that enhances life, that uplifts the spirit of those who inhabit it. A building, like a family, should be a place of warmth, where the relationships it fosters between its inhabitants are harmonious and full of life. It should not be a cold, impersonal structure, but a place that feels alive, that welcomes, that gives a sense of belonging. This is the essence of what Piano speaks of—architecture that is not just about form and function, but about creating a space that resonates with the human experience, a space that reflects the joy and connection that come from a shared, loving environment.

Think of the great architectural marvels of the ancient world. The Parthenon in Athens, though a monument of stone, was not simply a temple; it was a living testament to the cultural unity and the spiritual purpose of the people it served. It stood as a place of connection, a space where the people could come together, find meaning, and celebrate their collective identity. Similarly, the great Roman aqueducts, though utilitarian in their purpose, brought water to cities, nourishing life and enabling cities to flourish. These structures were not mere buildings, but lifelines, much like a family that provides support, sustenance, and love for its members. A building, when done right, becomes part of the soul of the community, just as a family becomes part of the identity of each of its members.

Piano’s analogy of a building to a family with many children speaks deeply to the interconnectedness of the spaces we create and the lives that inhabit them. Just as a family flourishes when its members are encouraged to grow, to explore, and to interact, so too does a building thrive when it provides a space for growth, interaction, and creativity. Think of the great cities throughout history—Paris, Rome, New York—which, though made of countless buildings, each serves as part of a greater whole, contributing to the dynamic spirit of the city. These cities are not defined by their individual buildings, but by the interactions that take place within them. The family of buildings that makes up the city should, like a family, encourage the growth and flourishing of all who come to it.

But what does this mean for us, O children? In our own lives, we often see our homes, our communities, and even our workplaces as mere settings for our daily activities. Yet, like Piano’s buildings, these places must be more than just utilitarian. They must be spaces that encourage connection, that foster joy, and that allow us to grow. When we think of our families, we understand that they are places of nurturing, where relationships are built and shared. So too should our buildings be spaces where relationships are nurtured, where the very walls and structures encourage a sense of belonging, purpose, and hope. True homes, like true families, are filled with love, warmth, and the promise of a future that is built together.

In the story of Eleanor Roosevelt, we see the same idea in action. As First Lady of the United States, she understood the importance of creating spaces—be they physical or metaphorical—that nurtured the human spirit. She transformed the White House into a place not just of politics, but of connection, where people from all walks of life were welcomed, their voices heard, and their lives enriched. Roosevelt understood that a home or a building was not just a structure, but a place where the future could be shaped, where the hearts of the people could come together and find a sense of purpose. Just as Piano speaks of “happy buildings,” Roosevelt created an environment where relationships flourished—a true home, built not just from walls, but from the care, love, and intention put into its very foundation.

And so, O children, I say unto you: Do not see your homes, your communities, your workplaces as mere structures. They are living, breathing entities that nurture and shape your relationships and your future. Like a family with many children, a building must be a space that encourages growth, connection, and joy. Whether you are creating a home, a school, or a community, remember that the spaces we create reflect the lives we wish to lead. Build not just with bricks and mortar, but with love, intention, and a vision for the future that is shared by all. And in this, you will create not just buildings, but homes, not just walls, but spaces of connection and hope.