They completed this house on the third day of the month Adar,
in the sixth year of the reign of King Darius.
The children of Israel–priests, Levites,
and the other returned exiles–
celebrated the dedication of this house of God with joy.
For the dedication of this house of God,
they offered one hundred bulls....
As a young priest in Australia, I heard the story of a bishop's conversation with a priest. "I have bought this property out beyond the city boundaries," the bishop said, "and developers are moving into that district. They are building streets, bridges, and homes. They have already marked out school, park, and commercial districts. Go to the banks, borrow a few million dollars, and build a Catholic Church. They'll be happy to loan you the money and you can service the debt for the next hundred years. By then inflation will have reduced the capital to a pittance and your successor will pay it off. As Catholics arrive for Mass you can hand them the parish debt."
It was a story of confidence in the future, and in God's people. And it exceeded anything this young priest could imagine. I hoped and prayed that I might never be given such a responsibility; and God has spared me. For which I am grateful,
And I am still amazed when I enter a large church or basilica and remember the effort, determination, and sacrifices people made to build this church. Their homes were "working class" which now house the poor but their churches were first class magnificent. I see them wherever I go.
But they're empty on Sunday because Mass attendance is sparse. These few Catholics have often arrived from the outer reaches of the metropolitan area. They love this dear old church which their grandparents built in the old part of town; but they belong geographically to suburban parishes which they're not supporting.
Our ancestors built churches and a nation, but we're strangers in a strange land, and no longer at home in this place. Rather than building churches, we're combining and renaming because we have neither the priests to serve the parishes nor the people to fill them. We have fond memories but cannot see the future.
We hope for a rebirth of wonder like that described in the Books of Ezra and Nehemiah. After the Babylonian Exile, the descendants of the refugees returned to the ruins of Jerusalem and the blasted land of Judah. Their welcome was forced from the new occupants who had to obey the decrees of the Persian emperors Cyrus, Darius, and Artaxerxes. The prophets Haggai and Zechariah encouraged them with the assurance of God's word.
Their new temple was a pale reflection of Solomon's Temple; and the oldest folks, who had been children when they were driven from the land, sadly compared the new one with their memories. But God proved his presence with them as they completed construction and reconsecrated the site. They had seen history unfolding before their eyes as they watched. And they remained faithful as God is faithful.
We're still here. The Real Presence of our Eucharistic Lord with the Apostolic Succession of bishops and priests still supports us. We're not going away.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.