Memorial of Saint Josephine Bakhita, Virgin

Lectionary: 330

How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God! I had rather one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I had rather lie at the threshold of the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

Franciscans traditionally begin our contemplation of God with a request that we might appreciate the beauty of God in his creation and in himself. We're less into doctrines and truth than beauty. We should like to be amazed, awe-struck, and overwhelmed by grandeur; we should like to be silenced by a nuance in nature too subtle for precise definition. Entering a gothic cathedral or a Roman basilica should render us excited and speechless as centuries of devotion unfold before our eyes. 

The visual grandeur of these houses of worship is never like the spectacle of human artworks displayed in a museum. Unfortunately, some of our churches in Europe have been repurposed for museums with paid admission at the door, but the Franciscan feels an absence of God's presence upon entering them. The statues, paintings, and stained glass windows are all in place, the ceilings are high and the walls are massive, and space still soars overhead, but the tabernacle is empty. We cannot cry out,

"How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord, mighty God! I had rather one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere."

Jesus apparently felt that emptiness when he entered the temple in Jerusalem. Aroused by a prophetic righteousness he staged a one-man riot and ran the merchants out of the building as he overturned their tables and liberated their sacrificial animals. He would fill the house with God's emptiness rather than permit the satiety of human commerce! 

He confronted the same godlessness in today's gospel when he was challenged, “Why do your disciples not follow the tradition of the elders but instead eat a meal with unclean hands?”  His opponents appeared to be devout; they scrupulously observed all the rites and rules, but in vain do they worship God.  Nor can they feel heaven's silence. They would not understand Claudius's groan; they have other things to attend rather than notice that their "words without thoughts never to heaven go." 

The Church is grateful for the grandeur and greatness we can produce in our churches; a place of worship should be beautiful to reflect God's beauty. It should lift the spirits of those who are ready to have their spirits lifted. But the effort of building churches to rival Solomon's temple should never outshine the sheer delight of Jesus who, seeing a woman like Saint Bakhita, would exclaim, 

"...she put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

With that clarity, we can echo Solomon's amazement:

“Can it indeed be that God dwells on earth?

If the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you,

how much less this temple which I have built!"