Father Tim Lemlin
The first Christians gathered to pray in private homes. When Christianity became a crime of treason against the Roman state, believers would meet secretly to hear the Gospel and break the bread. Today's feast commemorates the end of these many long years of terrible persecutions and martyrdom and the dedication of the Christians' first public place of worship.
Ironically, the word basilica for the Roman people means mansion. It is around this time that Christians began to struggle with a dilemma. The source of Jesus' power is found in weakness and poverty. While being an underground church this was easy to accept. Now, being accepted by the state, Christianity's power began to be aligned with fame and fortune, buildings and property, prestige and status. The church began to take on the political structure of the Roman state. Officials began to be identified by secular titles such as "prince of the church" (a cardinal) and "lord" (a bishop).
It is advantageous to have a place to worship. It is also advantageous to have a structure to maintain a sense of order. Both, however, can also prevent us from encountering God by presenting an image of God that keeps everything as status quo.
Saint Paul in today's second reading, says to the Christian community in Corinth, as well as to us: "Do you not know that you are the temple of God and that the Spirit of God dwells in you?" Paul went from being a staunch defender of both Temple and structure - even to the point of killing individuals - to the primary promoter of people and freedom.
This transformation begins with his encounter with the Risen Christ. Paul is thrown into darkness and confusion. The image of God that he has so vehemently and violently been defending disappears from his sight. He is blind and must be led by others. It is during this blindness that someone who knows that he is an enemy comes and prays with him - accepts him. It is this second encounter - this time, a physical one - that restores his sight. His image of God changes dramatically, though it will take many years before the full implications of this change can be internally processed and then formulated into words and concepts.
Both events are necessary: the individual experience of God and the structural experience of God. When one is over-emphasized it is to the detriment of the other. When all we have is the individual experience of God we are not grounded. When all we have is the structural experience of God we are not personally responsible. Both can lead to extremes that give us a distorted image of God.
This delicate balance isn't easy to maintain. A building of stones has nothing to say about how it is put together. Its order - its plan and design - is determined by the builder. A building of people has much to say about its order - its plan and design. Both are good, they simply serve different functions. A building of stones can give us a sense of structure and consistency. A building of people can provide us with the necessary friction to round off the sharp edges that we each have.
It is healthy then, from my perspective, that the very orderly and stable structure that is celebrated in this feast has enough awareness that it chooses for today's gospel Jesus cleansing the Temple. We need the certainty and the conviction that comes from something that is consistent and bigger than ourselves; and we also need the darkness and confusion that comes from change and transformation. We celebrate both today.
