So, almost half way through Lent - how is it going for you?  Are your abstentions intact?  Are your undertakings being undertaken?  Do you feel as though you are drawing closer to Calvary?

Today's readings:

Psalm 84
2 Chronicles 29:1-11, 16-19
Hebrews 9:23-28

The same lovely psalm as yesterday, an account of spring cleaning in the Temple and Jesus as the sin sacrifice once and for all.  It seems, thus far, that there may be a bit of a Temple theme running through this week, but as I don't read on, I won't know until the days unfold.

Hezekiah, one of the 'good guys' orders that the Temple be cleaned, all the profane stuff removed, all the scared stuff cleaned, repaired and then, in due course, rededicated.  I suppose the question this raises has to be around the clutter that accumulates, literally and figuratively, in churches and in in lives, and how that which is 'sacred' or precious gets grubby, battered and neglected along the way.  There's a balance to be struck between worshipping our buildings and being poor stewards of what has been entrusted to us; a balance between pure functionality and over sacralisation.

It is Sunday in Dibley, whoever is on 'unlocking duty' arrives, opens the steel cupboard and lifts down the table cloth, the cross, the Bible, the arrangement of artificial flowers.  The banners are carefully hung up on the climbing frame or the picture rail.  If it is Communion Sunday a lovingly crocheted cloth adorns the table, homemade bread is placed on the metal platter and the trays of glasses stand ready.  Chairs are arranged, people gather, a sacred space, if such language is desired, is created, fleetingly.

And it is Sunday on the Gathering Place.  Whilst most still sleep, the chairs are hauled from the store cupboard and arranged.  The table is wheeled to its place and draped in colourful African cloth, a gift from a former member.   A silver chalice, from a former church plant, a brass lectern bearing a Bible, and a celtic cross form a visual focus; behind them hang simple drapes in liturgical colours.  For Communion Sunday a starched white cloth replaces the vibrancy of Africa, a large, round loaf sits on a silver plate, the chalic eis filled and trays of glasses wait to be shared.  People arrive, making scared this space, however fleetingly.

For me, this is about as 'sacred spacey' as it gets, I'm not even vaguely sacramental.  The sacredness, whatever that is meant to mean, arises among the people who imbue their objects with meaning... the African cloth, the hand-made banners, the floral arrangement, the silver-plate chalice.... they are largely, maybe utterly, meaningless except in the communities in which they are used.  Yet, in each community, they are precious, cared for, repaired, cleaned, put away safely after use.

This probably has nothing whatsoever to do with any of today's passages, but is prompted by pondering them.

God of the Tabernacle

God of the Temple

Which, I wonder, did you prefer?

God of all places

God of this place

What is it that makes ground holy?

God of past times

God of this time

How can I best honour you?

God of mystery

God of majesty

What do you require of me?

God of Cathedral

God of mission tent

God of tin tabernacle

God of Victorian chapel

God of school hall

God of church hall

Show us what we should clear out

Show us what we should retain

Help us mend what is tattered

Help is clean what is despoiled

Above all

Make us people in and amonst whom you are pleased to dwell.