"Church: Moving Beyond the Edifice Complex"
First Congregational Church - Wauwatosa, Wisconsin
26th Sunday after Pentecost - November 14, 2004
Rev. Steven A. Peay, Ph.D.
[Texts: Isaiah 65:17-25/Luke 21:5-19]

I recalled an incident from years ago that seemed appropriate to tell you today as we worship in the original meeting house of our church. I knew a minister who had built quite a reputation for himself. In fact, 'built' is the best way to describe it. Every church he'd ever served had either done a great remodeling job or built a new building. Since this man had done such notable work many of us younger clerics kind of held him up as a model for a successful ministry. That is until one of the ministers revered for his holiness and learning made this comment to our 'successful' colleague at a meeting. He said, "You know Robert, I believe you should seek counseling." "Oh really?" the builder replied, "Why?" "Why?" the learned, holy man said, "Why because, my brother, you've got the edifice complex!"

I've never forgotten that and it's curious to me that most people, clergy and laity alike, think of the church in either architectural or sociological terms. The tendency is to define the church as a voluntary society, almost like a club or other similar organization, designed for a specific purpose. What is more that voluntary society is then identified with a particular structure. An example, something I hear from visitors to First Church is, "Now. This looks like a CHURCH!" Another example, it's very easy to raise money for bricks and mortar, but almost impossible to fund persons or programs. So, what does a church look like? Is it simply a voluntary organization meeting in a structure reflecting a particular architectural genre? I don't think so -- we all need to move beyond the 'edifice complex' and discover what it means to really be the church.

God, I believe, has been trying to get us beyond the edifice complex for quite a while. God certainly tried to get the point across through the prophet Isaiah, who is sent to remind a people removed from the temple and its worship that God is in the process of doing something entirely new. God is building a new creation. This new creation doesn't depend upon what we can build, but upon what God can build. Elsewhere in the Hebrew Scriptures God reminded God's servant, the king that he was taken from the pasture to shepherd a larger flock, but that didn't give him the right to do something for God. Rather, God would build David a house that would endure so that one of his offspring would then build a suitable house for God's worship. In the same way, God will raise up a "peaceable kingdom" that turns our ideas of peace and contentment on their heads - "the wolf and the lamb shall feed together."

            What God seems to be calling us to through the prophet's words is a vision of wholeness and reconciliation. God's call to Israel, God's call to us, is for us to live in right relationship with one another. We are to open our eyes and see that the new creation is already happening around us - and we're to help it along by the way that we act and the lives that we lead. The covenant that we make together before and with God, the one in which we identify ourselves as "followers of Jesus Christ" is premised upon that idea of right relationship. We offer ourselves through worship and service to God. We treat each other with love and understanding - and especially we do that in our dealings with the household of faith, in our meetings, our attitudes, and our conversations here and outside. We reach out with compassion to those in need. In that way we make that vision of a New Jerusalem not just a longed for item in the future, but a fact in the present moment.

One of the early church's images for itself, and for us who continue in the Way, is that of the "new Jerusalem." What Isaiah prophesied and the people looked for, we are supposed to be. It's interesting to me to see how this house of David then becomes the typological foundation for the coming Messiah. The early church saw Jesus as the fulfillment of prophecy to David that God would build a house for the king. We understand now, however, that God builds God's home in the human heart and constructs that dwelling place out of the 'living stones' who come together in Christ. This is what Paul is telling the Ephesians when he writes: "For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us . . . That he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross . . . So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near . . . So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and the prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. . ." [Ephesians  2:14-20]

Now you can see why we Congregationalists refer to this building as a meetinghouse and not as a church. The church is composed of living stones, not construction materials. The church is a voluntary society only insofar as God works upon the will; because it is God who calls and we who answer. We have the freedom to say 'no,' but the call comes from God alone and not from ourselves. We are here because we have been called to walk this way together, a way that leads us to peace and union with the living God. Thus, the Cambridge Platform rightly says that "a Congregational Church is made up of saints by calling." We hear God, answer, and become the church.

 Harry Stout, the contemporary historian of New England, put it quite well when he wrote in The New England Soul: "The meetinghouse's position at the center of the community signified submission to God's power, the power that came to a people who subordinated all human authorities and institutions to the infallible rule of Sola Scriptura. The supernatural power represented by the meetinghouse was deliberately veiled to the external eye and became manifest only in those moments when, in a room filled to capacity, the community assembled to worship God and hear him speak through his Word. In those moments the meetinghouse ceased to be merely a building and became a church where God made his power and presence felt among the assembled. The buildings meant nothing because the church - the gathered body of believers - meant everything." [p. 14] It is when the church responds to God's call and meets to be God's people that it is most truly church.

Jesus tells his disciples that great temple will soon be cast down. It will cease to be important because, as God has begun a new creation, so God looks for a new place for worship. The human heart, the human mind, and the lives that we lead, those become the places for worship. Our coming together here speaks to that prophecy's fulfillment and, likewise, we are to testify by word and action to the peaceable kingdom being among us. I think we forget that a house should be more than just a domicile, it should be a place of peace and rest, and God's house should be that peaceful, restful place par excellence! Here is the place where people can come with all of their hurts and their fears and know that they will be welcomed just as they are. Here is where people can come and know that those who welcome them are not seeking to take advantage of them, but to practice radical - at the root - welcome that invites us into the intimate embrace of God. It is something that, far too often, the church has not been and that the church - us - forgets that we're supposed to be. I hope we're never forgetful of it here on Church street!

As we've been going through the work on our visioning plan, the stewardship campaign and all the stuff we do here, I was moved to give some serious thought to what defines success for us as church. It never fails to amaze me what a tired, on-the-edge-of-burnt-out lot we active church folk are! We, and I mean clergy and laity alike, feel pressured to always be doing more. We're always trying to assess needs, develop programs, find a way to bring in new members, find a way to bring in youth, and, of course, to enhance stewardship. We have to do more and more because more programs and more people means we've been successful. You know, I'm just not so sure anymore.

The program mania seems to be just another side of the edifice complex. I believe that we need to heed Jesus' words that we will be given "appropriate words of wisdom" to meet every challenge. Our emphasis, our stress ought not to be on doing more, but on doing better. If we're a people of fervent prayer, a people of real peace, a people of deep spirituality, compassion and love; in short, if we're a healthy group of believers, God will 'grant the increase.' Our church, like so many others, needs to stop trying so hard to make success happen and instead let God be God in our midst. God will build God's house, God will establish the new creation - the peaceable kingdom, and God will do what needs doing. Are we willing to trust God and live accordingly? Are we willing to grow in so that we can really grow out? When I say this, I don't mean that we can simply stand by and do nothing. Sort of like the fellow climbing the mountain who turns and says, "Let go and let Goooooooooooodddddd." We are called to be a people of prayer and compassion. Perhaps that is why Jesus gives us the warning he does, so that we can get in touch with the compassion deep within us and live it out every day?

Elsewhere in the Gospels Jesus had called the disciples to "come apart and rest," I think we need to remind ourselves that our preparation for the new creation and the challenges of everyday living - especially in this day and age where "wars and rumors of wars" abound! - comes when we allow ourselves to rest in God's presence. The late Henri Nouwen wrote about this in his book Desert Spirituality:  "Thus in and through solitude we do not move away from people. On the contrary, we move closer to them through compassionate ministry. In a world that victimizes us by its compulsions, we are called to solitude where we can struggle against our anger and greed and let our new self be born in the loving encounter with Jesus Christ. It is in this solitude that we become compassionate people, deeply aware of our solidarity in brokenness with all humanity and ready to reach anyone in need." Our getting in touch with compassion allows us to be the true church, the people of God we are called to be. God wants people drawn into a community of love, of deep faith and real compassion, a place of safety and openness -- not just a building, regardless how beautiful.

When we begin to move beyond the edifice complex we understand our own weaknesses and are better able to care for others. In the Sayings of the Desert Fathers we find a story that tells us about compassion born out of spiritual growth: "A brother had committed a fault and was called before the council. Abba Moses was to join, but Abba Moses refused. They sent someone to get him, and he agreed to come. He took a leaking jug, filled it with water and carried it with him to the council. They saw him coming with the jug leaving a trail of water, and asked, 'What's this?' Abba Moses said, 'My sins run out behind me and I do not see them, and today I am coming to judge the error of another?' When the council heard these words they forgave the brother."

When we're in solitude before God faced with only ourselves, we learn the depth of true compassion. The church, God's covenanted gathered people, should reflect compassion, tolerance, and love in every aspect of life, but especially when together.

God is still at work "creating a new heaven and a new earth." God is at work in this place drawing us together and doing new things in the hearts, minds, and lives of all of us who seek to follow. I invite you to enter into that new creation, to become a part of the new building, the new temple that God is constructing even as we speak. Come to the place where you can rest in safety and be restored, knowing that you can leave here refreshed and renewed. Together we can become "living stones" built together into a "household of faith" that welcomes and embraces people with the love of the living God. Together we should move beyond this edifice complex that seems to plague every church. This gathered community can be a place of true compassion, a place of welcome, a place of rest and refreshment. I believe it can happen -- will you join me?