For the Courts of the Lord

Robert E. Hall
Tarrytown United Methodist Church

August 23, 2009

I must tell you that Psalm 84 speaks personally to me and this is why I could not pass up the opportunity to visit it again.

I do, in fact, love God’s dwelling places. I have been, from an early age, fascinated by the appearance of sanctuaries---not so much the exteriors as the interiors. Gary Donelson, an architect friend in San Angelo---the one chosen to design the new sanctuary for the church I served there—told me that he wanted the people who walked into the place to look up and say, “Ahhh.” And I find myself, upon entering a sanctuary, being inspired by the ways in which various churches have tried to evoke that feeling.

I do find, in sanctuaries, that “my heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God. ”I find them to be places of refuge, safe havens, and I feel at home in them .And I really would be satisfied to be a doorkeeper in the house of the Lord than to be most anywhere else. I would have been at home in the time of pilgrimages, to go up to the temple for times of inspiration.

Like our ancient ancestors, we build sanctuaries and set these places apart for special use. Our churches become our spiritual homes, our places of pilgrimage.

How do we humans say: “God dwells here?” Historically, Christians have worshipped in many different kinds of structures.: Catacombs; homes; basilicas (which were designed by the churches after Roman governmental centers); churches in the shape of a cross, with sanctuary (altar/table) transcept (cross structure) nave, narthex. Churches with vaulted ceilings, stained glass, a pulpit which is “three feet above contradiction.” Ornate statues, replete with symbols: dove, bread, chalice, or pictures of Jesus. Other sanctuaries are strictly utilitarian. No symbols, lest we begin to worship our creations rather than the Creator.

Some want to make the point God is here by virtue of the sacrament of Holy Communion; others keep a candle always burns. For some, it is not so much the place but the people: God is here, they say, when members are caught up in the is ecstasy----- arms waving, eyes closed. Or when members are freed for unknown tongues, or persons being are being miraculously healed. For others, God is present when they are in a quiet place, with ethereal music and votive candles.

In the room called the Holy of Holies in the Temple precincts in Jerusalem, there was nothing, no thing. The room was bare. No ornamentation. No symbols. No Bible. The room was empty. And yet the invisible God was believed to be there.

In Solomon’s temple, there were stone tablets, in a container called an Ark. But the Babylonians conquered Jerusalem and destroyed the temple and the ark was either taken or destroyed, too. So when people came to the temple to worship, they knew they were worshiping no thing. For Yahweh, the Lord of Hosts, was no creature. God, whose name was so holy they would not say it, the great “I Am,” was the Creator of all things. “Hear O Israel, the Lord your God is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.” (Deuteronomy 6: 4-5)

You shall not love any created thing, any other creature, like you love this One.

When Jesus linked this bedrock instruction with teaching from Numbers, he said that the second “is like unto it.” “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” These two comprise the weightiest commandments. But without the first one, we will not likely do the second: for the neighbor is not always love-able, and at times we can only love the neighbor because we are commanded by a God whom we trust to be steadfastly loving and faithful---and holds us accountable! So the first commandment has always been, for me, the chief thing, and the most difficult. For how can we love and praise this unseen one? The people of Israel would walk up to Jerusalem three times a year, to visit the temple, a place set apart where they believed, this Lord of Hosts sojourned. They would rendezvous with God there.

And it is still so for us. Like the ancients Hebrews, we travel to these structures looking for hope, for love, for joy, for healing, for signs of peace, for forgiveness, for friends. Our daily routine is interrupted. We focus on God, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer. Of course, daily we pray and contemplate, in the times between doing things. But in our temples, when we are at our best, when are hearts are in it, we are here for God’s sake, for the love of God. We admit our neediness, our dependence: our souls long for God. Happiness is constant openness to God’s guidance. We gather because we are embedded in a people and a common Story. We come together admitting our need for mystery beyond facts. Karl Rahner wrote: “Christianity of the future will be mystical or it will not be at all.” I take this to be mystery the other side of knowledge, not around it.

In brief, our sanctuary is a life line, a ship in the storm.

And so we are so drawn to these places of worship that we want to take care of them and make them beautiful----for the love of God! We want to render up our most excellent arts and crafts, to say that which we have a hard time saying just in words. Think about it: apart from creaturely comforts, safety, accessibility, lighting, why should we care what the buildings look like? We could worship God in a warehouse! But we beautify our worship centers in a way similar that we do to prepare for beloved guests. In our own homes, we offer up our best work if we are having VIPs in our homes: china and silver, best food and beverage, clean and neat and fragrant. Finest music we can provide and flowers.

Our best work can be simple, and nor necessarily expensive. Some of my most treasured religious works of art are the carefully drawn pictures which children give to me. The point is that we don’t simply throw something together when we prepare to meet God.

Is there a danger in focusing on the beauty of our sanctuaries? Yes! Our hearts can be far from God even in beautiful places. Or we can begin to worship our buildings or our beautiful items in them. Or we begin to presume that we have God at our disposal. And so we must be vigilant in being and remaining a “house of prayer for all peoples,” as Jesus said, and not a place of merchandizing or self-congratulation and admiration. The Lord requires us to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with him.

The truth is that, though we prepare for God to be our guest, God becomes our host. We become the servers at God’s house, at God’s table, at God’s banquet. Jesus changed the way we temples: He is the temple! And we dwell in him, and he in us. And we as a community of faith are the body of this Christ. Our buildings become artistic expressions of praise and joy.

Today we celebrate the restoration of our beautiful church buildings and grounds.

We thank God for the sacrifices made by members who have and are still giving to this work. Some of the work is obvious; some is hidden. All required patience. From the days when Bob Schluter and Richard Harris showed me a preliminary list of needs, many people have labored to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. Talented men and woman have done the planning and the work: architects, supervisors, laborers, craftsmen.

Our church buildings now look for sure as if someone is at home, that this is a beloved home for a people dedicated to being a witness to love, faith and hope. It is a place where strangers can find the lights on, and a warm welcome. “How lovely is thy dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!