Sermon: The Rev. Dr. Maryann Amor
Everywhere we go, all the different places we enter, the place around us, impacts us, even if we rarely, if ever, think about it. In 1989, sociologist Ray Oldenburg wrote about how we all inhabit three main places: the first place is our home, where we are most comfortable, and where our families come together; the second place is our work, the place of productivity and responsibility; and the third place is where we go to relax, meet up with others, and have conversations — places like the gym, the library, or the coffee shop.
These places shape our experiences. Do we unwind when we're there? Are we energized or stressed? Do we find joy or feel drained? The places we inhabit impact how we feel and what we do, thus when we move between places — from home to work, from work to a coffee shop — we change as well.
In the biblical tradition, place is vital for how people experience God. In the Hebrew Scriptures, the Temple was the center of the emerging Jewish faith. It was there that people went to make sacrifices and to draw near to the holy presence of God, which was kept behind a curtain, set apart from the world. The Temple was a sacred place in contrast to the ordinary, often chaotic, world outside. When the Temple was destroyed by the Babylonians, the people mourned not just the loss of a building, but the loss of their tangible connection to God. But, as we heard from the prophet Isaiah, there was a promise: “Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations.” The people longed not just for the return of their physical building, but for their sacred place in which they encountered the divine.
For the people of Israel, God was their refuge and strength, as we heard in the Psalm. Amidst the chaos of life, they needed a place to be still and know who God was — a place of safety, a place where the presence of the divine could be felt in the depths of their being.
In our modern lives, we still need that kind of place. We have our homes, our work, and our coffee shops, but many of us also have what can be called a fourth place: our church. This concept was added to Oldenburg’s original theory when sociologists recognized that people need more than just places to live, work, and socialize. We also need a place where “we can actively pursue spiritual development, wrestle with questions of faith, and be supported on our personal journeys.”
Like the Temple in Ancient Israel, our church is a sacred place for us — a place to step away from the busyness of life and draw closer to God. A place where we can quiet our hearts, offer our prayers, and experience the love of Christ in community.
Because of this, our church building holds incredible value. I know we’ve all heard people say, “We should just close the building — it’s too expensive to maintain….Why are we bothering to repair this building? We should sell it, save money, and meet in a mall or rent a gym.” On a purely financial level, these arguments might make sense. But what they miss is the profound impact that our fourth, physical sacred place has on our lives. Think back to the pandemic when we couldn’t gather in this place. Do you remember how difficult and isolating that was? The ache of not being able to step into this place of worship, join with others who feel drawn to God too, and experience the quiet presence of the divine?
And it’s not just us who need this place — our neighborhood needs it too. British priest and theologian Alison Milbank writes that “place is a gift that is given to us,” and that by committing to a place, we imbue it with meaning and identity. Church buildings bless their neighborhoods simply by existing. Their presence silently proclaims that this neighbourhood is holy ground, it is valued, and God is present here.
By keeping our doors open, by ringing the bell, by looking after this place, making sure our building doesn’t fall apart, we declare to the world: amidst the chaos and stress of your life, there is a sanctuary. There is a place where God’s love is known and you are welcome here.
But the truth is, not everyone has experienced church in this way. For some, stepping into a church building brings up painful memories — sermons of judgment, of a God who punishes sins harshly, of exclusion and feeling unloved because one loves differently or believes differently, reminders of past harms done in the name of religion, the deep trauma of residential schools. For many, the church has been a place of hurt rather than healing.
And that’s where we come in. We are called to make this place a sanctuary not just in name, but in practice. Through our welcome, our compassion, and our unwavering commitment to proclaiming God’s love for all people, we reshape this place for others…turning it from a building, to a living symbol of the extensive, boundless, grace of our God.
When someone walks through these doors feeling lost, we can show them that they are found. When someone enters carrying shame, we can remind them that they are loved. When someone steps inside longing for peace, we can offer them the quiet assurance of God’s presence.
This building is not just a structure of wood and stone. It is our fourth place — a sanctuary where we can encounter the living God. And by loving this place, by caring for it and filling it with kindness, we make it a beacon of hope for all who pass by.
So let us commit to this place. Let us tend it with love, not because we worship the building, but because we worship the God who is our refuge, our strength, and who meets us here. Let us keep the doors open, the candles lit, and the pews ready. Because there are people out there longing for a sacred place just like this. And when they come looking, may they find it here — a holy place, a place of refuge, a sanctuary of love, welcome, and hope.
Amen.
Comments