Greetings, SBT Readers!

Any faith community that has lost its worship space, whether on account of fire, war, the wrecking ball, parish mergers, or because the building became financially unsustainable, knows the heartache of being displaced. Similarly, individuals who have lost their faith community because of relocating, internal politics, or other reasons know the pain of separation. This is especially true for those facing health or age-related limitations who can no longer attend liturgies or participate in parish events. Sacred spaces are more than buildings, safety zones, or gathering spots. They are places of connection, not only vertically (with God) but also horizontally (with each other). In them, we ritualize our beliefs, express our deepest feelings, support one another, celebrate with each other, grow together, pray together, create "home" together... Little wonder, then, that we are so proud of our worship spaces -- or that we grieve so deeply when we lose them.

Growing up, I never experienced what it means to belong to a parish. During the years my family lived in England, we attended the local Catholic church on Sundays, but I don't recall any interaction with either the parishioners or clergy; nor do I recall participating in parish events. This may have been because we moved every two years between England and Malta; however, the same patterns continued in Malta. We lived in the middle of the island in what was then a rural area and would drive to the capital, Valletta, for Sunday Mass, attending either the Dominican Church or the Jesuit Church, and, occasionally, St. Publius (shown above) on the outskirts of the city. Perhaps that's what most Catholics did in the pre-Vatican II Church; our "obligation" was to attend Sunday Mass; the idea of belonging to a community would have been a foreign concept in those days.

My American experience has been very different. Putting down roots, participating in liturgical ministries, forming friendships, and growing spiritually have all enriched me wherever I have worshipped. However, along the way, I have lost a number of faith communities/ worship spaces, not only because of relocation, but on account of some of the factors I mentioned in my introduction-- including parish politics, archdiocesan decisions, and the wrecking ball!

Today, we celebrate a feast that holds little significance for most Christians -- the Dedication of the Lateran Basilica in Rome. Revered as "the mother church of all churches in the world," the basilica has a rich history dating back to the 4th century. Destroyed and rebuilt numerous times, the Lateran Basilica is a symbol of the Pilgrim Church on earth and its resilience in the face of every adversity.

Buildings rise and fall, here today and gone tomorrow, full today and empty tomorrow... As beautiful or as historical as they may be, however, churches function like the sacraments -- as outward signs of invisible grace! What is important is the community that gathers within, with each individual manifesting the presence of the Holy Spirit. "Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?" writes St. Paul (1 Cor 3:16). Ultimately, it is not physical churches that matter, but the presence of the Living Christ in his people. Faith is portable; buildings are not. Faith endures; buildings often decay, collapse, or even disintegrate (unless they are converted into condos, hotels, or shopping malls). The Church is made up of living stones-- the People of God-- with Christ as the cornerstone upon whom believers depend (1 Pet 2:7).

Many Blessings!

Elizabeth

LINK TO SCRIPTURE READINGS

Since Passover was near, Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money-changers seated there.

Making a whip out of cords, he drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, spilling the

coins of the money-changers and overturning their tables. To those who sold doves, he said,

"Take these out of here,

and stop making my Father's house a marketplace."

Jn 2:13-22

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If we really believed that we are God's holy temple, how differently we would live! Not only would our self-concept be transformed, but so would our ways of relating to others.

As God's holy temple, we would never let others diminish us, control us, manipulate us, belittle us, or mistreat us in any way. Instead of falling into victimhood, we would speak our Truth and utter the great "NO!" to the lies others may attempt to impose on us:

• "You are nobody."
• "You won't amount to anything."
• "You don't have what it takes."
• "You are a failure."
• "You don't deserve anything better."
• "You don't belong here."
• "Your role in life is to meet my needs." etc..

If we believed, really believed, that we are God's holy temple, we would not sell ourselves for others' gratification; nor would we bow down to false idols or accept the limited judgments others impose upon us. Instead, we would boldly proclaim, "I am a child of God, made in the divine image, bearing the divine breath, filled with divine light... I am holy, and the living God dwells in me."

But how many of us really believe this? When we forget our true identity, we allow our false selves to dominate. Lacking agency, we often allow others to make decisions on our behalf. Instead of following our bliss, we cater to others' expectations, letting our dreams rot in the process. When we remember, however, we find wholeness. God's light shines through us, around us, above us, and beneath us.

If we believed we are God's holy temple, we would not be tempted by the sin of self-worship, deifying ourselves, imagining that we hold the power and the glory, or assuming we are better than our peers. Nor would we feel entitled to the good things of this life, to the detriment of others-- seizing power, oppressing our neighbors, scapegoating those different from ourselves, denying our common humanity, squandering the earth's resources, indifferent to the fate of the poor, to those starving at home and abroad.

The sellers and money-changers in this Sunday's Gospel seem oblivious to the sanctity of the physical temple; at the same time, they have reduced worship to a financial transaction. Far from seeing themselves as God's holy temple, they are all too ready to hawk their animals, creating a cacophony of competition-- hence Jesus' words, "Stop making my Father's house a market place!"

Sadly, they are no different than those people today who profess to be Christian but who have repackaged the Gospel to fit their agenda, no matter how inhumane it might happen to be.