Foolish Virgins Caught Napping

An interesting critique of a current trend in Catholic church architecture, (projected and actual,) a sort of faux traditional style by Matthew Alderman highlights 4 problems, ( you'll want to read the entire blog,) all of which I have observed and found off-putting without having the vocabulary or knowledge to articulate what was wrong, (despite the long ago pique of an architecture student boy-friend at my insisting that certain matters my cognizance of which surprised him, were "common knowledge," e.g. the Greek orders of columns, what a "pediment" was...)
Besides, for instance, the specific, identifiable and therefore effable (yeah, I'm making the word up, wanna make something of it?) "where's Waldo" syndrome so much in evidence in modern tabernacle placement, or inability to distinguish from the outside of the building where one ought to enter to "go to church" (yes, on the road I once walked in to the sanctuary moments before a Mass began,) I am often discomfited for reasons I cannot explain. (Or at least could not -- now I can a little.)
This bit particularly struck me:
The modern fixation with horizontality and vast broad spans--the result of technical prowess--runs counter to human instinct.
Broad, long rectangles remind one of bodies lying down, of sleep or death, while the upright proportions of most traditional doorways and spaces convey the more active, normative quality of a standing man.
Church ceilings must be high, or at the very least convey a sense of upward movement.
Whether this is through literal verticality or some more subtle trick, it is not sufficient to simply have a roof over the heads of the faithful.
The entire "Church," (the gathered community of worshippers,) seeming, because of the general shape of the "church," (the building) to be recumbent, rather than poised, awake, and yearning toward the Bridegroom Who comes...
Anyway, that seems to me just right.
But is it?
Psychologically, this indeed seems to be my experience, my reaction -- but is it necessarily true generally of "human instinct", rather than just what I want to believe?
My "mood", my "feelings," in buildings in which I am dwarfed by soaring ceilings is drastically different from those in buildings in which I am dwarfed by vast horizontal expanses, (which can strike me two ways: either airport terminal-ish, or final-shot-of-Indiana-Jones-warehouse-full-of-crates-ish.
The latter leaves me hopeless.
But is that conditioned?
Anyone know of something short, and simple-minded, and online, for Lazy Dummies Such As I, regarding the psychology of architecture?