Rector's Blog: Your Presence

Have you ever seen a video of an astronaut floating in space, with only that umbilical cord connecting them to the ship? And then they begin to be reeled in, pulled by the belly, back into life? That is how I felt when I saw the doors. Somehow, and I don’t remember how, it became clear to us that this was the Holy Sepulchre. I broke into a sprint. The first thing we saw upon entering the building was a slab of stone. There were several women kneeling all around its edges, leaning over and praying and touching and kissing the smoothed surface. It was not immediately clear what this slab was to look at it, but we knew it was holy. The tearful, longing devotion of the women told us what we needed to know.

Last week we had a guest preacher at Church of the Redeemer: The Rev. Dr. Mark Jefferson. Dr. Jefferson is a professor of Homiletics at Virginia Theological Seminary, and he’s currently on a mission to preach 200 sermons for the seminary’s 200th anniversary. He preached four different sermons at Church of the Redeemer last Sunday – all of which you can listen to on our website. In between sermons, during our Forum hour, I had the opportunity to interview him.

Dr. Jefferson spoke of the effect visiting so many different congregations over the last 3 years has had on him. He spoke of the holiness of the spaces in which we worship, about what is contained in these walls – the years of prayers and gathering. He said that even when he is visiting a church during the pandemic and speaking to a camera in an empty room, he prefers preaching in the space over preaching from his office, because of the holiness of the physical place. His words drew me back to those women at the stone slab, into a sense of reverence for place. The buildings Dr. Jefferson visits, that church back in Jerusalem, the building of the Church of the Redeemer – they hold so much of who we have been, who we are, who we are becoming. They hold us.

As I write this, many of you have not yet returned to worship in the physical space of your church. Many of you have come back, but have not made it a regular practice again, as it was for you prior to the pandemic. Every single one of you has your reasons, and I have no interest in judging them. Some of you are still not ready to be around a group of people. Others of you are frustrated with the strictness of our safety guidelines. Still others have just not gotten back into the habit – like your spiritual gym, you know it’s good for you, but you’re out of practice. Many of you have made use of our streaming of online services. I love that. Moving forward, we will keep those online services no matter what – because we see how important they are, connecting you to your church even when you can’t be present. And when you can be present, I want you to know that you are wanted. You matter here.

Your physical presence at Redeemer matters. This is not me guilting you for how much or how little you’ve been in your sanctuary in the last year. It’s a statement of fact. Your church notices when you are here, and notices when you are not here. We are a church: A people who belong to one another in Jesus’ name. Your presence transforms us, and it transforms you.

The stone we came upon in that space was, by the way, the Stone of Anointing. It is a spot within the church that is observed and honored as the spot where Jesus’ dead body was laid in order to be prepared for his burial. There is nothing you can do to prove this was the spot where Jesus’ body was laid. There is nothing you can do to prove this was not the spot where Jesus’ body was laid. After nearly 2000 years, faithful people gather in love to adore Jesus together.

This is holiness in the present tense – not just a memory of what was, but an active embracing of God’s sacrificial presence in the here and now. Without the women at the Stone, without the prayer at the tomb, without the gathering at Calvary, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre would be a museum. A beautiful, mystical museum, to be sure – but a museum nonetheless. An attraction, an artifact of something that used to matter to people. The continued presence and pilgrimage of the faithful draws Christ’s power in that space into the now, and makes it holy again and again.

If you are a part of Church of the Redeemer, you have memories of this space – of what it has meant to you. Perhaps you love it because of those memories. Perhaps you love it because of what it has meant to you.

I am interested in what the Church of the Redeemer’s sanctuary will mean to you going forward. I am interested in your continued presence and pilgrimage. I am interested in making Church of the Redeemer holy again and again. I am interested in this place helping to shape your future, as you help to shape its future. This happens when we are together, under whatever circumstance.

The ongoing presence and care of the community within the space is what continues to hallow it. Its memory, its history, these things matter. What it was matters. But it is the ongoing life of the space, the new memories, the new baptisms, weddings, funerals, songs, sermons, smiles, tears – the ongoing life of Christ as living and moving and having its being that keeps our church from becoming a museum, that keeps it a church.

What we have been is holy and powerful. What we are becoming is where the Holy Spirit is. And you are a part of that. This is your community, and your presence matters. As you are able, I invite you back to the church that you have hallowed. With love and gratitude.