Dedication of Lateran Cathedral, Sunday, November 9, 2003
THE CHURCH A BUILDING . . . A preacher can do good things with this oddly prescribed commemoration of an old Roman church. Churches matter, for one thing. Even Quakers prefer to worship in a building, as grand as nature is. This building in which we worship (the preacher can say) was built with the contributions of people who wanted it. At the same time, in another sense, we are the church. I know a preacher can say this because I heard him this morning and have already written to commend him.
But ours is to see what Scripture tells us. Let us then consider what one might say in that respect.
WATERS FLOW . . . First, there is Ezekiel's "vision of the holy waters," as my King James Version heads it, in which the colorful, colorful Ezekiel, whom I am sorely tempted to call Zeke, sees water flowing from "the temple" and gloriously fertilizing the land. What can a preacher say better than to read this, working it for the glory that is language and the grandeur that is divine intervention. We are heirs to a wonderful tradition, a healthy part of which is this highly imaginative literature.
In general, such language tells us there is more to this being Christian than meets the eye. Nobody has it entirely figured out. We see through a glass darkly, said Paul. There is mystery here, as in life. Religion did not invent mystery, but responded to it. The good book is not a cook book but a series of body blows to the self-assured. Specifically, this passage seems to point to life in abundance, here and hereafter. That's not very specific, but it will do for starters.
MIXING METAPHORS . . . Paul takes metaphor in another direction, calling attention to another temple, and that temple is us. The Spirit of God dwells in us, he says. This is a highly chopped-up passage, First Corinthians 3.9c-11, 16-17. In parts not read, Paul mentions how some of the faithful side with him, some with another preacher, Apollos. How silly can you get? he asks. God giveth the increase, no matter who preaches, or sows.
"You are God's farm, God's building," he says in one version, "God's garden" in another. Yep, there's a planter and a waterer, but "only God makes things grow."
"Or again," he continues, "you are God's building." For which the foundation, "already laid, [is] Jesus Christ himself." In this context we are the temple and the preacher is no longer a gardener or farmer but a contractor.
Worldly wisdom is of no advantage in this building process. In fact, it's foolishness in God's sight. So. Forget who's preaching. Grow up already.
CHASING VENDORS . . . We end the readings with Jesus driving sellers and small-change bankers out of THE Temple, of which they had made a farmers' market. John presents (2.13-22) a side of him that undercuts without erasing the meek and mild image. He is challenged by "the Jews" but gives as good as he gets, which is a constant in those Jesus-"Jews" confrontations. They ask for a sign, and he promises that he will rise from the dead after three days: "Destroy this temple [his body] and in three days I will raise it up."
So the Temple stands again for the body, which ties in with the care of souls, specifically as preached to, as a building in process (and a farm to be cultivated), which hearkens back to that vision of Ezekiel, in which the "holy waters" flow from the temple, bringing unparallelled life to all who come in contact with it. Quite a picture, quite a wealth of imagery, quite a challenge for the gutsy preacher.