God, Not a Building

GOD, NOT A BUILDING.

The recent announcement that the Bishop of Durham is to be the next Archbishop of Canterbury, reminded me of my first visit to that city, way back in 1961 to see my then girlfriend.

As the train slowed down to go over the viaduct, spanning the deep valley below, and enter the station, I caught my first sight of Durham Cathedral, sitting high upon a hill, dominating the whole city beneath. I simply could not wait to visit it, much to the disappointment of my girlfriend, who had other ideas about spending our time together!

Jesus and his disciples must have felt like that as they approached Jerusalem towards the end of his earthly ministry. The whole city skyline was dominated by the Temple, with its white snow-coloured walls and golden roof, glistening in the sunlight.

No wonder this magnificent building was regarded as one of the wonders of the ancient world. They could not wait to visit it.

The building, which was started in 20BC and not completed until AD63, was built upon Mount Moriah.

Instead of levelling off the top of the mountain we are told by Josephus, the Jewish historian of the time, that a vast platform had been formed by raising up walls of massive masonry around it, and so enclosing the whole area. On these walls a platform was laid, strengthened by piers, which distributed the weight of the Temple on top of it. Some of these stones were forty feet long, by twelve feet high, by eighteen feet wide. No wonder the disciples on their sightseeing trip, remarked to Jesus: ‘Look, teacher, what large stones and what large buildings.'

One could not but have been impressed by the size of the building, although it was only half built. When finished, it would obviously stand for generations to come and be a symbol of the permanence of Jewish faith and of the life of the nation.

However, Jesus replies, 'Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.'

I am sure the disciples found it very hard to believe such words.Yet in AD70, some six years after St Mark completed his Gospel Jerusalem fell to the besieging armies of Titus, who was to become the Emperor of Rome. The horror of that siege form one of the grimmest pages of history

The people from the countryside crowded into the city for protection. Titus had no alternative but to starve the city into subjection.

Again, the Jewish historian, Josephus, records that whilst 97,000 were eventually captured, over 1,100,000 perished by slow starvation or the sword. The lanes of the city were full of dead bodies. He describes how they searched the sewers and dung heaps for food. He paints a grim picture of men gnawing the leather of their shoes, and tells the terrible story of a woman, who killed her baby and roasted it, and offered to share it as a meal with those who came seeking for food..

The great Temple was no more.

The rise and fall of the Temple in Jerusalem stand as an eternal reminder to us not to place the worship of buildings before the worship of God. A reminder that the Christian faith is essentially about following a person, and not about the preservation of ancient buildings!

Now, I am not saying that we should not seek to preserve our ancient churches and cathedrals which we have inherited, and which we have a moral responsibility to hand on to future generations.

How could I say otherwise, when some of our finest churches can be found in Suffolk, my home county. Not that I am biased of course!

So I find myself saying not 'Look, teacher, what large stones; what large buildings' but, 'Look, teacher, at the fine wool-sack churches of Long Melford, Lavenham and Blyburgh, which reflect the former wealth of the area from its wool trade'.

‘Look, teacher, at the hammer-beam roofs of Needham Market, Rattleston and Woolpit, whose carved wooden angels seem to protect the worshippers below with their outstretched wings.'

'Look, teacher, at the magnificent carved font covers at Eye and Ufford, and the box pews of Dennington which are evidence of the wonderful medieval craftsmanship.'

Yes, 'Look, teacher'. But then I hear the reply: 'Not one wool-sack church, not one hammer-beam roof, not one font cover or one box pew will be left; all will be thrown down.'

Churches may well be among the most permanent features of community life, as opposed to houses, hospitals and schools. Nevertheless, they too can be subject to decay, closure and even demolition.

What really should be of lasting value is our personal relationship with God, who is the same yesterday, today and always. He is the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega. A relationship which should be permanent, yet alas, we often forget in our care and maintenance of our places of worship.

If that relationship with God is the primary object of our discipleship, it should not really matter what kind of building we use in which to express our worship.

Let me conclude by telling you a true story.

A few years ago, I had an Archdeacon from the north of England, together with his wife, as weekend guests. George used to work as a student helper, before ordination, with me at the Mersey Mission to Seamen and in my parish in Plymouth.

Over dinner on the Saturday evening, I said I would be presiding over the Eucharist in a village hall in Staunton the following day, and that he might choose to go to the cathedral, where the Dean was preaching. As I had anticipated, George immediately said they would go to the cathedral. However, wife Jane had other ideas and announced that they would go to Staunton. (There is no doubt who wears the trousers in that house!).

So George and Jane joined the small congregation in the village hall at Staunton.

I should perhaps point out, that the village started using the hall during the last Foot and Mouth epidemic which prevented them from using the church. Since then, once a month a service is held in the hall, particularly since many of the elderly find difficulty in climbing the steep pathway to the church.

The congregation sat in a semicircle around the communion table. There was a relaxed atmosphere as the congregation greeted each other, but as soon as I went to the back of the hall to robe, there was an automatic stillness and silence.

The hymns were unaccompanied, since I find many of the CD hymn tunes, too high for men to sing, and the pauses between the verses are often unpredictable.

Communion was received standing in the semicircle. After the service, a trolley was wheeled in with tea and coffee and biscuits so everyone could share fellowship.

On the way home, Jane, who regularly accompanies George around the diocese in fulfilling his archdeaconal duties, remarked that she had not experience such a wonderful act of worship for many years. And whenever we have met subsequently, she still makes reference to it.

My friends, at the end of the day, it is our personal relationship with God, which should be the focus of our Christianity and not the building in which we meet to worship him.