For as long as I can remember I’ve felt drawn to worship spaces. As a child my family attended large non-denominational mega churches complete with huge tv screens in the front, space for over 1,500 to sit, and a sizable baptismal dunk tank in the front of the sanctuary. A tank that resembled, at least to my younger self, a big, built-in churchy hot tub. Even though, from memory, the water that baptismal tank contained was really rather lukewarm.

As a middle schooler, when a friend invited me to attend synagogue one day, as part of their upcoming Bar Mitzvah, I excitedly said yes, relishing in the hopes of what the new experience would contain.

On our honeymoon in Key West, while lazily exploring the island, Kathi and I happened upon a church, right there on main street, with an afternoon organ recital that was about to begin. So of course, we walked right in and sat down.

Before kids, the two of us would often hop on cruise boats in South Florida heading to all sorts of Caribbean ports of call. What one thing would I always beg Kathi to do, if we by chance came across one? To spend time in the local Catholic cathedral, sitting in the back pew, awaiting whatever blessings those moments might hold. And if there were a mid-day mass spoken in a tongue not our own? Even better.

Heck, last year, as we carefully planned out what a socially distanced, safe summer family vacation in Iowa could be, you better believe we found some local sanctuaries to check out.

We visited the World’s Smallest Church, located near Decorah, with a seating capacity that tops out at eight. And also The Little Brown Church in Nashua, made famous by the song, The Church in the Wildwood. Both built in the 1800s, both great stories behind them, both highly recommended if you haven’t visited them already.

When in Washington DC? The National Cathedral is a must. And in Paris? Notre Dame. I haven’t gotten to that last one just yet – hopefully one day.

I’ve always felt drawn to worship spaces. And since you’re listening, watching or reading this odds are book you are drawn to them too.

Church
Worship spaces give us the opportunity to learn, reflect, sing.

In them we confess –
all is not right in the world,
all is not right within us.

It is where we pray that earth better resemble heaven.
It is where we pray for guidance to help make it so.

It is where we –
ask for, and receive, forgiveness,
learn to love our neighbor as ourselves,
find strength, in each other, to carry on.

It is where we look back, at what God has brought us through,
It is where we look around, at where God has brought us to,
It is where we look ahead, to where God will lead us next.

It is where we do all these things, together, in unison, as one.

We enter worship spaces with certain expectations.
We enter with our hopes, our fears, our dreams.

When what we encounter there is centered on worship of our Creator, over and above all else, we are nourished, comforted, made more complete. And when we encounter something else at the center of worship? It’ a sign something just might be amiss.

Temple
Jesus too was drawn worship spaces. He was from the beginning. His earthly parents went to Jerusalem for Passover every year, and did so religiously. As a teen, when mom and dad headed back on the long walk home from the temple, Jesus lingered there, for days.

It was a place he understood.
It was a place he loved.
It was his Father’s house, after all.

Jesus, more than any other, knew what his Father’s house was to be about.

They gathered there for Passover, which was a time to –

Commemorate God’s people being liberated from slavery.
Celebrate the passing over of a plague that spared their firstborn.
Remember the promise of a home they could one day call their own.

It was a look back, at what God brought the Israelites through,
It was a look around, at where God has brought God’s people to,
It was a look ahead, to where God would lead God’s beloved to next.

Jesus knew what to expect, heading into the temple that day. He was familiar with what went on there, when, and why.

But this time, as Jesus entered the worship space things were, well, different.
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Gone was the look back, around, ahead.

Instead there were merchants, buying and selling animals for sacrifice. All so people could be made clean. And if you didn’t have the temple’s preferred currency? No worries. Money changers would, for a fee, take care of that. All so people could purchase what they needed to get right with God.

These weren’t Girl Scouts selling cookies in the narthex after service.

It was instead salvation for sale.
And it was replacing worship of the God who saves.

God’s people had moved toward economic profit at the expense of spiritual gain.
A shift rife with pitfalls.

Seeing this Jesus was less than impressed. What follows is one of the more animated scenes in all of scripture. Christ raises his voice, flips tables, drives out animals, merchants, money. All with the help of a whip he made, right there on the spot. It’s a sign what he saw there that day needed to be addressed, and pronto.

Every time I read this passage it’s hard not to be reminded of Indiana Jones and that whip. Except this time the scene is from the Temple of, well, Jerusalem. ?

The scene has action, drama, tension. Gone were the animals. Gone were the merchants of means selling access to the divine. In their place simply Jesus. The one who would soon sacrifice himself for us all.

Tension
I have to be honest with you, this text really challenges me. It puts two things we highly value as a society, connecting with our Creator, and a market driven economy, in tension with each other.

We love our God.
We love our money.

Yet when it comes to what it is we worship, over and above all else, we can only choose one.

The text also brings into focus the nature of our salvation. Either we’re 1) working for it, paying our dues along the way to earn it, or 2) it’s a gift, price already paid by the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.

I’d suggest that worship spaces, and what we do in them, and how we access them are a gift from above, shared from people that love us.

Gift
The non-denominational mega churches of my youth? A gift from my parents, sowing the seeds of faith early on. The synagogue visits as a teen? A gift from a friend, showing me the diversity of ways we connect with our God. The Key West church organ recital? A gift from my wife on our honeymoon, helping to center faith within our marriage for years to come.

Best of all? There was never an admission fee for any of these visits. Just walk right in, connect with others, and experience the divine. No strings attached.

Sacred spaces are gifts from past generations before us.
They are gifts we hope to pass along for generations to come.

They are –

Where we look back, at what God has brought us through,
Where we look around, at where God has brought us to,
Where we look ahead, to where God will lead us next.

And the worship that happens in these spaces a reminder, that in this journey we’re on we are never alone. Just look around.

It is here where we gather, together, as one people.
In the prayers, the scriptures, the songs.
The water, the bread, the wine.

It is here where we give and receive support, encouragement, hope, helping each other along the way.

Oh we’ll collect an offering,
Tho that too is a gift, from the heart.

Not the center of why we are here.

So come, cleanse your soul, in confession, forgiveness, community. Gather in sacred spaces, like this one, to recenter, reflect, renew.

For salvation doesn’t hinge on what’s in your bank account. For Christ’s gift keeps on giving. We need only embrace the gift, celebrate it together, with others, sharing it the whole world round. Amen.