Celebration of the 200^th Anniversary of the Meeting House
The Baptist Church in the Great Valley
945 North Valley Forge Road, Devon, PA 19333
April 24, 2005

The Rev. Arthur R. Namendorf

Lessons: I Corinthians 3:10-23; Ecclesiasticus 44:1-15

Text: "Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain." – Psalm 127:1

I love the story – which I know many present have heard before, but which seems particularly appropriate on this anniversary Sunday – of the famous German poet and critic Heinrich Heine who, with his friend, was standing before one of the great cathedrals of Europe.

"Heinrich," his friend inquired. "Why can’t we build churches like this today?"

And Heine replied: "In those days, dear friend, people had convictions. Today we have opinions… And it takes more than opinions to build a Gothic cathedral."

We gather together today, not in a great cathedral, but in a simple Meeting House.… Yet these proud and noble stones bear silent witness to the faith and the conviction of the men and women who forged them into this sacred place of worship.

And Sir Thomas More was undoubtedly correct when he said: "All places on earth are equidistant from heaven." For whether divinely appointed or humanly chosen, the places people regard as holy – be they religious shrine or imposing cathedral or simple parish Meeting House – are of the utmost importance to those who gather there. For these are places where faith becomes concrete. Without them we are religious orphans; we are homeless and destitute.

A church building, like the people it serves, is a living thing. It is conceived, it is born, it flourishes, it does its appointed work … and sometimes it dies. And it does all these things well or poorly, depending upon its fitness to serve as a meeting place for people in search of their God. A church should be a place whose shape and décor emerge from the collective religious experience of the people who, in the words of the Greek philosopher Epictetus, "enjoy the great festival of life" there together. "We shape our buildings," wrote Winston Churchill; "thereafter they shape us." Indeed, the more control people have over shaping their places of worship, the more those sacred spaces are likely to contribute to their faith and well being.

The famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright once made the interesting remark that an architect should first be a poet … and a good poet, he noted, observes closely and listens carefully. The architect, then, should observe the people who will worship in the building he has been commissioned to design and listen attentively to their needs. The designer should make the structure express the heart of the congregation in such a way as to help them continue on their spiritual journey without losing their way. The building should not be the architect’s but the congregation’s.

Interestingly enough, we know next to nothing about the actual construction of this building.… And we are equally in the dark with regard to the person or persons responsible for its design.… And, perhaps, that is all for the best. For as Alexander Pope penned in his Essays: "Who builds a church to God, and not to fame, will never mark the marble with his name." But one thing we do know of a certainty: The architect must have been at heart a poet … and he must have listened well to this congregation; for this Meeting House remains profound in its simplicity – both structurally and spiritually.

But what is it that makes a particular building "holy" or "sacred" or possess the apparent ability to draw people closer to their Creator…?

In his book, The Idea of the Holy, theologian Rudolf Otto identifies three universal and elemental aspects of religion: the devotion to truth or reality; the commitment to an ethical position; and the awareness of what he called the Mysterium tremendum. Certainly the last is the most memorable perception. For religion attempts – with varied success – to portray to the world the ineffable, utterly mysterious Transcendent Other – that is, the God of the universe – whom we perceive not through reason but through intuition.

And if religion is to adequately express this mystery, it must find suitable symbols to represent it. It must discover those objects of beauty that are somewhat able to express the inexpressible. And these are usually in the forms of buildings or shrines that are designed to convey the presence of the holy.

And buildings, as we know, can be described in the same terms as people can: They can be noble, trivial, awkward, vigorous, charming; they can be domineering, imposing, or just plain boring. A church building, for example, that seeks consciously to induce what might be called a "mood of worship" is usually to be held in suspicion because it seeks to manipulate the emotions. And I’m certain we have all had the experience of walking into one of our modern churches and feeling, because of the architecture, a coldness rather than a warmth … distanced from God rather than drawn closer to Him.

Frederick Debuyst, the Belgian Benedictine monk, has been particularly critical of much of our modern church architecture. And the places of worship he most admires have what we might call a "domestic" quality about them. Not that they have to look like houses, he is quick to point out, but in their scale, in their rhythms, in their details, they suggest habitation rather than monument.

As one architect has astutely noted, just as it is a privilege to be in the presence of a really good person, so one finds both comfort and stimulation in simply being in the presence of a good building, whether or not one has anything to do there. And one way of defining good architecture is to ask oneself whether a building is a good place to be when one has nothing to do.

This venerable Meeting House is surely just such a place. Dedicated to the glory of God 200 years ago, its simple, quiet beauty still touches hearts today. It is what architects sometimes describe as "haptic." It seems to invite the presence of people and furnishes a continual spiritual conversation with all who enter here, rather than just addressing them oratorically. And the hymn writer undoubtedly conveyed this truth most poignantly when she penned the words: "There’s a sweet, sweet spirit in this place.… And we know it’s the Spirit of the Lord."

But there is yet another aspect of our gathering together this morning. And this is to be found in our morning lesson, Paul’s words addressed to the Church at Corinth: "You are God’s building."

Paul’s deep concern is that the church must be constructed with absolute integrity. And he compares himself to a head building contractor who has carefully laid the foundation of a building and then let out the remainder of the work to subcontractors. If their work is not up to code or they have used inferior materials, there will be dire consequences. We might, for example, think of what happens in California earthquakes.… Some buildings that have been properly constructed to endure the shocks remain standing, while others that have not been built according to sound principles of seismic engineering come tumbling down.

But rather than earthquake, Paul uses the image of fire, the traditional Old Testament image for God’s judgment…. But the point is still the same. A cataclysm is coming that is going to test the structural integrity of our construction work, so we must build with great care. Our building should not be hasty, not just for show.… It must be built solidly from the ground up, a structure designed to withstand the traumas and tragedies of life.

What a striking and poignant analogy this is! Just as a building needs a strong foundation … and an equally strong superstructure built upon that foundation … so the church of Jesus Christ – which is infinitely more than a sanctuary or physical plant where men and women worship – which is, rather, a community of believers, must be constructed with equal love and care.

We are, indeed, God’s building.… And the men and women who founded the Baptist Church in the Great Valley, whose faith and conviction constructed this sacred space, are its foundation. They were those, as the writer of Ecclesiasticus reminded us: "who gave counsel because of their intelligence … they were wise in their words of instruction." Above all, they were "godly men and women whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten."

This morning, then, as we celebrate the 200^th anniversary of this Meeting House, we once again, as the writer so poignantly phrased it, "Declare their wisdom and proclaim their praise." And because we hold their faith as a sacred trust, it behooves us to build upon their foundation with only the most worthy of materials … with, as Paul said, gold and silver and precious stones … that is, with wisdom and discernment and intelligent spiritual insight. Or, as the writer to the Hebrews admonished: "Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith."

It was Cervantes who once wrote: "Walls have ears." And if we believe this to be true … in some intriguing metaphorical and metaphysical sense … can you imagine the remarkable services of worship, the conversations, the earnest prayers, the laughter and the tears to which they have been privy over the course of the past 200 years?

And if these walls could talk, what would they tell us about the men and women of faith who built this Meeting House and called it their spiritual home? But, perhaps, even more to the point is the question we should ask ourselves as we gather here on this anniversary Sunday: A hundred years hence, what would these walls tell those who will worship here … about us?

Would to God that it would be simply: "We have fought the good fight … we have finished the race … we have kept the faith."

Amen.

Copyright © 2006 by The Baptist Church in the Great Valley. All rights reserved.
Revised: November 04, 2006.