"Building a House of Prayer"
August 27, 2006: 12th Sunday after Pentecost, Year B
The Rev. John MacIver Gage, pastor
United Church on the Green, UCC: New Haven, CT
www.newlights.org

Scripture:
Luke 11:1-13
[Jesus] was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples." He said to them, "When you pray, say, 'Father, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Give us each day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us. And do not bring us to the time of trial.'" And Jesus said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you got to him at midnight and say to him, 'Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he answers from within, 'Do not bother me; the door is locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs. So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or, if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask!"

1 Kings 8:22-61
[When the day came for the dedication of the great Temple in Jerusalem,] Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord in the presence of all the assembly of Israel, and spread out his hands to heaven. He said, "O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love for your servants who walk before you with all their heart, the covenant that you kept for your servant my father David as you declared to him; you promised with your mouth and have this day fulfilled with your hand. Therefore, O Lord, God of Israel, keep for your servant my father David that which you promised him, saying, 'There shall never fail you a successor before me to sit on the throne of Israel, if only your children look to their way, to walk before me as you have walked before me.' Therefore, O God of Israel, let your word be confirmed, which you promised to your servant my father David. But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built! Regard your servant's prayer and his plea, O Lord my God, heeding the cry and the prayer that your servant prays to you today; that your eyes may be open night and day toward this house, the place of which you said, 'My name shall be there,' that you may heed the prayer that your servant prays toward this place. Hear the plea of your servant and of your people Israel when they pray toward this place; O hear in heaven your dwelling place; heed and forgive. If someone sins against a neighbor and is given an oath to swear, and comes and swears before your altar in this house, then hear in heaven, and act, and judge your servants, condemning the guilty by bringing their conduct on their own head, and vindicating the righteous by rewarding them according to their righteousness. When your people Israel, having sinned against you, are defeated before an enemy but turn again to you, confess your name, pray and plead with you in this house, then hear in heaven, forgive the sin of your people Israel, and bring them again to the land that you gave to their ancestors. When heaven is shut up and there is no rain because they have sinned against you, and then the pray toward this place, confess your name, and turn from their sin, because you punish them, then hear in heaven, and forgive the sin of your servants, your people Israel, when you teach them the good way in which they should walk; and grant rain on your land, which you have given to your people as an inheritance. If there is famine in the land, if there is plague, blight, mildew, locust, or caterpillar; if their enemy besieges them in any of their cities; whatever plague, whatever sickness there is; whatever prayer, whatever plea there is from any individual or from all your people Israel, all knowing the afflictions of their own hears so that they stretch out their hands toward this house; then hear in heaven your dwelling place, forgive, act, and render to all whose hearts you know—according to all their ways, for only you know what is in every human heart—so that they may revere you all the days that they live in the land that you gave to our ancestors. Likewise when a foreigner, who is not of your people Israel, comes from a distant land because of your name—for they shall hear of your great name, your mighty hand, and your outstretched arm—when a foreigner comes and prays toward this house, then hear in heaven your dwelling place, and do according to all that the foreigner calls to you, so that all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you, as do you people Israel, and so that they may know that your name has been invoked on this house that I have built. If your people go out to battle against their enemy, by whatever way you shall send them, and they pray to the Lord toward the city that you have chosen and the house that I have built for your name, then hear in heaven their prayer and their plea, and maintain their cause. If they sin against you—for there is no one who does not sin—and you are angry with them and give them to an enemy, so that they are carried away captive to the land of the enemy, far off or near; yet if they come to their senses in the land to which they have been taken captive, and repent, and plead with you in the land of their captors, saying. 'We have sinned, and have done wrong; we have acted wickedly'; if they repent with all their heart and soul in the land of their enemies, who took them captive, and pray to you toward their land, which you gave to their ancestors, the city that you have chosen, and the house that I have built for your name; then hear in heaven your dwelling place their prayer and their plea, maintain their cause and forgive your people who have sinned against you, and all their transgression that they have committed against you; and grant them compassion in the sight of their captors, so that they may have compassion on them (for they are your people and heritage, which you brought out of Egypt, from the midst of the iron-smelter). Let your eyes be open to the plea of your servant, and to the plea of your people Israel, listening to them whenever they call to you. For you have separated them from among all the peoples of the earth, to be your heritage, just as you promised through Moses, your servant, when you brought our ancestors out of Egypt, O Lord God." Now when Solomon finished offering all this prayer and this plea to the Lord, he arose from facing the altar of the Lord, where he had knelt with hands outstretched toward heaven; he stood and blessed all the assembly of Israel with a loud voice: "Blessed be the Lord, who has given rest to God's people Israel according to all that the Lord promised; not one word has failed of all God's good promise, which the Lord spoke through Moses. The Lord our God be with us, as God was with our ancestors; may the Lord not leave us or abandon us, but incline our hearts to God, to walk in all God's ways, and to keep the Lord's commandments, statutes, and ordinances, which God commanded our ancestors. Let these words of mine, with which I pleaded before the Lord, be near to the Lord our God day and night, and may God maintain the cause of this servant and the cause of this people Israel, as each day requires; so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the Lord is God; there is no other. Therefore devote yourselves completely to the Lord our God, walking in God's statutes and keeping the Lord's commandments, as at this day."

Sermon:
One of the great things about being a relatively small congregation in a relatively large building is that it leaves us plenty of room for the imagination. So, I'm going to invite you to close your eyes stretch your imagination a bit this morning. You've just had a whole lot of scripture thrown at you, so this will probably be a welcome respite. Go ahead, close your eyes and settle into your seat there. Relax with your hands at your side, or maybe in your lap. Now using your stomach and not just your rib cage, take a deep, gentle breath. Feel it fall down deep inside you and fill you. And let it out. Do that a couple of times, each time settling deeper into yourself.

When you're ready, keep your eyes closed and imagine the meeting house around you. Start with the cushion under you and the pew at your back. Reach out with your mind and see the way the pews run together to the aisle, past those damnable little doors. See the rows formed up together, and the carpet that surrounds them, threadbare in places. Imagine the carpet running up to the front where it meets the curve of the dais. Then imagine what's on the dais: the lectern and the communion table with its wobbly leg, the new pedestal that holds the clear glass bowl full of water. See the double curve of the stairs up to the pulpit with the Bible here in the center. Let your mind roam up the walls then, taking in the rippling old glass of the windows, some open, some closed. Let yourself flow up over the balcony and over the smooth grey walls, the plaster broken in places, up and up to the Easter egg dome arching over our heads. Let your imagination fill the space around you.

Keeping your eyes closed, slowly come back to sit in your own skin. Imagine yourself in the pew again. You can feel the clothes on your body and the air moving over your skin. Now, open your mind's eye again and look around. See that this meeting house is not half-empty at all. It is full of people, all kinds of people, some dressed like you are today, some in clothes that remind you more of your parents or grandparents, some looking straight out of the history books. Every pew is full, below and above; in fact, more than full. If you look out the corner of your mind's eye, you can see the hazy forms of countless more hovering just beyond, a great cloud of witness shimmering like summer heat. But there is no fear, no feeling of claustrophobia. No, the effect is disconcerting but oddly comforting. It's okay—we are here together.

As you let your imagination drift further, you feel a powerful low hum thrumming through the congregation. It's not so much a sound, really, as a vibration you can feel in your bones, like the deep rhythmic pull of a mill wheel turning up and down and around. Looking around at the river of faces around you, you can see lips moving here and there in the crowd, but it's more than that. As you listen, you can hear each soul turning like a prayer wheel, pouring out a steady stream of joys and concerns, anxieties and thanksgivings that are our prayers, whether we voice them or not.

As you bend the ears of your imagination closer, you can hear them. What's more, you can see them. With the eyes of your mind, you can see the prayers of the founders, who risked schism and the disapproval neighbors to create a new church, another church, certain there was more than one good way to worship God. You can see the hot, angry prayers of slaves confined to the balcony dripping down to mingle with the prayers of a young deacon, Simeon Jocelyn, who would stand up with them and walk out with them as a witness for the equality of all persons before God. You can see the prayers of a matronly woman for the Mendi captives, taken with the slave ship Amistad and imprisoned across the Green, for whom she has prepared a basket lunch and some new clothes. You can see the prayers of a passionate abolitionist for the escaped slaves he helps to shuttle North to freedom along the Underground Railroad that just happens to run through the minister's basement.

You can see the even wider prayers of ardent believers in the Social Gospel, who took the good news they heard here out into the streets of the late 19th Century to better the lot of the poor whom Jesus loved, the laborers in the factories, women and children, the immigrants pouring off ships from the old country looking for a better life. You can see the prayers for peace lifted like lanterns by men and women of this congregation when warring madness gripped the world over and again in Europe, in the Pacific, in Vietnam, in Nicaragua, in the Middle East. You can see the prayers of a quiet old churchwoman who faces the turbulence of mass protests on the Green and even threats of violence around the Black Panther trials of 1970 by making sandwiches for the demonstrators, thinking, "I bet they're hungry." You can see the prayers of a younger woman on the Outreach Committee working to end apartheid by making sure the church's endowment is divested of all interests in South Africa. You can see the prayers of lesbian and gay persons, who have always been here, yearning for a place to be safe, out, and free before God and everybody, turning to prayers of thanksgiving before your eyes.

As you watch, these prayers of our forebears in faith permeate the meeting house. They settle over every pew. They lift every stair and raise high the roof beams. They support the lofty dome and the roof above. They brace the steeple, straight and strong. And not just these prayers of historical import, but the inmost prayers of innumerable hearts down through the years who have sought healing for mom, for dad, for uncle Harold, for aunt Virginia, for all those living with the influenza, with cancer, with mental illness, with AIDS; comfort for Caroline, for Eugene, for my friend Monique, for all those lost loved ones in the Great War, the last war, the current war; blessings for an expectant mother, a new baby, a daughter confirmed, a son wed, a grandbaby on the way; care for Edward, for Maria, for a relationship in trouble, a family divided, a marriage ending, for those who hate; wisdom in trying times for our son, our daughter, our deacons, our aldermen, our Congress, for Mr. Roosevelt, Mr. Truman, Mr. Eisenhower, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Ford, Mr. Carter, Mr. Reagan, Mr. Bush, Mr. Clinton, for our president; thanksgiving for a new job, our anniversary, my wife's birthday, for the support of this community through crisis, for a church that has welcomed me.

All of these prayers and countless more like them pervade the mortar, the plaster, the paint, the carpet, the wiring of this old house and bless it to us. This is truly a holy house of prayer, not because there's a National Historic Landmark plaque in the foyer, but because generations of faithful persons have come here seeking communion with God and found it in prayer.

You can open your eyes now, if you like.

Looking back, Solomon himself could have done no better when he prayed his great dedicated over the great Temple in Jerusalem. He spent the fortunes of the kingdom and the sweat of his people building a temple for God from precious gold and bronze and cedar and stone. But Solomon was indeed wise, and knew that no building could contain God, no matter how grand. "But will God indeed dwell on the earth?" he scoffed. "Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I have built!" No, Solomon knew that his great temple would remain an empty shell apart from the prayers of the people and God's promised presence with them.

And so Solomon prayed the foundation, as it were. With rich and heartfelt words he poured his life and the life of his people into the temple in prayer, asking God to bless them, to be with them in war, in peace, in conflict, in accord, in plenty, and in want, in every situation of life, saying, "Whatever prayer, whatever plea there is from any individual or from all your people Israel, all knowing the afflictions of their own hearts so that they stretch out their hands toward this house; then hear in heaven your dwelling place, O God, forgive, act, and render to all whose hearts you know—according to all their ways, for only you know what is in every human heart—so that they may live in reverence of you all the days of their lives." And with that prayer, King Solomon threw open the doors of that holy house of prayer for all God's people.

King Jesus stands in midst of the gospel text this morning and throws the doors even wider than his ancestor Solomon could have imagined. He invites us to be bold in bringing our prayers before God, to come into God's presence with the courage of children who know ourselves to be beloved by Our Father who art in heaven. He encourages us to pray not just for the big things, like being saved from the time of trial, but for the very everyday things we need, like bread and forgiveness. He invites us to trust that God will make good on God's promise to draw near to us when we pray, to be with us, to be God for us.

How much clearer can Jesus be on the matter than he is here: "Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you." And in case you didn't quite get it, Jesus hits the point again, "For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened." "Go ahead," Jesus encourages us, "ask for a good gift, for a fish or an egg, without fear of being slapped with a snake or a scorpion, instead. Don't be afraid. God knows even better than you do how to give good gifts—and, conversely, how not to give the bad gifts you do sometimes ask for, too." And what is the best gift, Jesus says, but the gift of the Holy Spirit. It is God's Spirit, God's Own Self, who waits for us to pray, to ask, to search, to knock, to come on in and make ourselves at home in God's house.

That is what the great cloud of witnesses who came here before us did. They made themselves at home in the house of God, and following in the way of Christ, they did their best to open the doors even wider so that others might know they have a home here as well. So standing here before you this morning, I want to add my invitation to those of Solomon and of Jesus we've heard already. Come friends, and take up this holy work we've inherited, of building a great house of prayer. Bring your prayers to add to those who've gone before us in this place. Bring your grand and high-minded prayers, to be sure, your prayers for the great movements of our time. But make sure to bring your personal prayers, too, your day-to-day prayers for yourself and your loved ones. Contrary to popular belief, God is never too busy to hear them. They hold us together. You can even bring your petty prayers, the ones you wish you could but you just can't help but pray. We all have them. Just pray 'em all and let God sort 'em out, I say.

What counts is that you pray. Pray just as you are, in faith and in doubt, in sorrow and in joy, in hope and in pain. Pray and join your prayers, your life to the life of this community of faith. For without you, this building would be just another museum, beautiful to look at, to be sure, but empty inside, and ultimately lifeless. We need you to help make this a living house of prayer for all people, everywhere, a place where generations yet to come will experience what we experience here: the presence of God in prayer, in preaching, in singing, in silence, and in inspired works of justice, peace, and compassion.

May God take our prayers and build them, build us up together here into something beautiful and precious and pleasing to God and useful for God's purposes in the world. And let all God's praying people say, Amen!