Saturday, November 13, 2021

Anniversary of the Dedication of the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen

Readings: 1 Kings 8:2-23, 27-30; Ephesians 2:19-22; John 2:13-22

In his book Confessions
as a prelude to his account of his own conversion,
St. Augustine tells the story of Victorinus,
a prominent Roman philosopher of his day—
a pagan who, through reading the Scriptures 
and other Christian writings,
became convinced of the truth of Christianity.
When he said in private to a Christian friend,
“Did you know that I am already a Christian,”
this friend replied, “I shall not believe that
or count you among the Christians
unless I see you in the Church of Christ.”
To this Victorinus responded, jokingly,
“Then do walls make Christians?”
Augustine notes that, despite his joking tone, 
Victorinus’s question was motivated by fear 
that if he openly professed his faith
and stood publicly within the walls of the Church
he would be scorned by his pagan friends
who had hitherto held him in such esteem.

As time passed, however,
Victorinus felt a growing longing to be within the Church,
to abandon his pride and receive the sacraments,
which Augustine calls 
“the mysteries of the humility of your Word,”
signs of God coming to dwell with us.
The priests offered to let him be baptized privately,
to preserve his dignity and reputation,
but Victorinus said “no,”
that he wanted to be baptized 
with all the rest at the Easter Vigil.
When the day came, 
and Victorinus stood up within the walls of the cathedral
and the assembled congregation saw this famous philosopher
publicly proclaiming his Christian faith,
a murmur of excited whispers 
went through the crowd: “Victorinus! Victorinus!”
Augustine writes, “all of them wanted
to clasp him to their hearts,
and the hands with which they embraced him
were their love and their joy” (Conf. 8.2.4-5).

Do walls make Christians?
Victorinus’s question remains a question worth asking 
as we celebrate the anniversary of 
the dedication of this cathedral in 1959.
And the answer is…well…yes and no.

No, walls do not make Christians
because the God whom Christians worship 
cannot be contained within walls of stone.
King Solomon, 
who built the first Temple in Jerusalem,
says in our first reading that the God of Israel 
is unlike other gods
because neither the earth 
nor the heavens that he created 
can contain him,
much less a temple built by a human being.
Jesus makes an even more startling claim:
the true Temple, the true dwelling place of God on earth,
is not a building, but a person: Jesus himself.
God is to be found in him,
not within the walls of any building.
And Paul, writing to the Ephesians, tells us
it is the Christian community,
Christ’s body joined to its head,
that is a temple sacred to the Lord,
a temple built of living stones
in which God’s Spirit dwells,
a holy place constructed from holy lives.

So, no, walls do not make Christians;
Christians can worship God in spirit and in truth
without the benefit of walls,
much less stained glass and stone carvings,
marble altars and votive lights.
Christians can worship God wherever Christ is,
and Christ is wherever his body the Church 
gathers in communion with him, its risen head.

But also, yes, walls do make Christians.
Or at least, a Christian who seeks to be 
a living stone in the temple of Christ’s body
must be a part of an actual community 
that gathers at a particular time and in a particular place.
Walls, strictly speaking, are optional.
But what Victorinus discovered is that
what is not optional is gathering together to listen to God’s word
and to celebrate the sacramental mysteries of God’s humility
in coming to dwell among us in Jesus crucified and risen.
What is not optional is being part of a community of worship,
a community that can both challenge and embrace us
as the Christians of Rome embraced Victorinus,
clasping him to their hearts with hands of joy and love,
no longer a stranger and sojourner,
but a fellow member of the household of God.
What is not optional is letting the stories of our lives,
as diverse and varied as they are,
be fitted together into a dwelling place for the Spirit
with Christ as our head and cornerstone.

And experience tells us that the physical spaces
in which the living temple of Christ’s body gathers
do take on a kind of reflected holiness.
Walls may not make Christians,
but the walls within which Christians worship
serve as an outward and visible sign 
of the presence of the Church
and therefore of the presence of the Spirit 
who dwells within God’s holy people.
This is why we try to make out church buildings beautiful,
to point to the deep mystery of God’s presence
that is enacted within them in word and sacrament.
This is why we seek to make them oases of calm and beauty
in a world that can at times get very noisy and ugly.
This is why we fill them with images 
of the living stones of the past,
the saints who now worship God eternally in heaven.

But the real beauty of our churches comes
from the thousand of prayers 
that have been prayed in them:
the cries and pleas for divine mercy 
that have be uttered,
the words of praise and adoration
that have been offered,
the sacramental mysteries of our salvation 
that have been celebrated.
These prayers have saturated these walls for decades
and made them holy.

Do walls make Christians?
No, God’s Spirit makes Christians.
But those Christians make places in which to gather
and the Spirit who prays within them 
hallows those places
and makes them a home 
in which God’s household can dwell.
So it is right and just that we 
should celebrate today 
this house of prayer that is our home,
and call to mind all those faithful people,
past and still to come,
who have found in it
a place of prayer and adoration,
a place where God’s grace 
has been given and received,
a place of living stones 
where God’s holy people can be found.
May God have mercy on us all.