Life, a Cathedral
Scripture: Exodus 3:1-5
Glenys and I recently vacationed in Quebec. While there, two experiences stood out for me as the highlights of our vacation. These impressed me, not in the sense that it met my entertainment approval but these affected me and my sense of things.
The first life-affecting impression was our visit to Parliament in Ottawa, our Nation’s Capital. The tour was breath-taking. The thing that stood out amongst the massive architecture, antique furniture, dated wooden doors and impressive marble was the Senate. Prior to entering the Senate we were instructed to remove our hats. It was not a request. I wondered if the accompanying security officers would hustle anyone outside who did not comply! As we entered the room it became quickly obvious that we were quarantined to a restricted area. I sensed the possibility that the floors outside the majestic rope barrier were sensor-plated and one false step could mean tripping an alarm that would bring the Queen’s Guard running!
I was impressed with the thought rather quickly that this is not a garden variety country club.
Another thought occurred. I complied with the instruction to remove my hat, not simply because I was told but because this was a sort of hallowed ground. Then I wondered, if standing on restricted space in the empty Senate pulls a deep reverence from my heart, how should I ‘behave’ when rubbing shoulders with God?
This experience was a prelude to the ultimate experience so I won’t stop here.
We move on to when we visited Our Lady of Quebec, the Cathedral Basilica in old Quebec City. I had a plethora of emotions upon entering this bastion of structures, dating back 365 years, having been built in 1647. It continues its stately gaze as the oldest parish church in North America. My experience there shaped my impressions – of me and my relationship to God and the world.
As soon as I entered the edifice, I saw candle stations in strategic places. A Confessional on my right near the door I just entered immediately caught my attention. It was not a coincidence that I was invited - maybe challenged – before I took another step, to prepare myself for this unforgettable journey that would eventually take me to the altar.
Directly in front of me was the first of several candle stops. I was informed by the posted instructions that I could light a votive for a dollar. A few steps to my left on the other side of the Cathedral I was invited to light a prayer candle in another station. This candle would cost five dollars. As I moved a few feet forward I felt a growing intimidation. I felt intimated trying to work my way to the front of this magnificent holy place that represented humanity’s relationship with Divinity.
How should one ‘feel’ when rubbing shoulders with God? Can we be expected to feel something specific to the occasion? Maybe what I feel and how I behave has much to do with how I understand authority; how I respect or despise it; maybe my behaving and feeling have much to do with how I perceive ME – as an equal or a subordinate, worthy or wretched. It certainly has much to do with how I understand HIM – meaning God.
Another candle location allowed me to pray a prayer of peace and blessing. This Station was about me. It was for a price as the others, another five dollar invitation.
I mentioned a strange feeling of intimidation. I say ’strange’ because I don’t intimidate easily! So, here I was feeling an odd sensation in my spirit. I felt something but didn’t know what I felt or most of all, why I felt it. It resembled a child-like concern that I might get yelled at. Am I allowed to just walk through here as if at a ballgame? While I pondered this odd sensation a tour bus arrived and a wave of tourists invaded our space. Some quietly entered and marvelled, as others started clicking cameras and at times were offensive and intrusive. One man stood directly in front of a woman in prayer to get a shot of a statue near her.
After a while I began moving forward but always a few steps, with pauses; ever watching for the ’authority’ to touch my arm and challenge me about what I’m doing here and waiting to possibly be evicted.
The journey to the altar was a long and demanding experience.
As I thoughtfully advanced I was intrigued by different things. One fascinating consideration was the pulpit. It appeared suspended a few feet above the congregational level, maybe about ten feet. It was in the center of the Cathedral, between the front entrance and the main altar at the far end. It stood a significant distance below the ceiling that was magnificently crafted and accentuated with gold in places, until at the very front of the Cathedral the whole ceiling and its images were completely saturated with gold! I could only imagine the messages of this arrangement - the priest is the mediator between the people and God and even the priest, with soiled robes of heart and experience, will work through challenges coming near the Almighty who is so far removed from us.
I was further intrigued when I reached the communion rail, the public place for prayer and participation in the sacrament of identifying the blood and body of Christ. Standing there I felt a weight in my spirit. I wanted to approach the main altar, which seemed to be at least sixty feet beyond my reach, beyond the communion rail. I couldn’t go there. It didn’t seem to be an invitation to the general public.
Is it any wonder that Jesus came to mediate the message of mercy, grace and forgiveness between us and our Father? Father is so distant in holiness and righteousness, that without the mediating presence of Atonement in the flesh, we could never reach the throne.
The Cathedral changed me. I realized my ’little-ness’, realized how terribly insignificant I am.
We travel through life ever trying to fill voids and we wake up with a desire, oftentimes unaware of it, to have consciousness of a Higher Being. Of the many life-travellers in life’s cathedral, some have no sense at all of the wonder and mystery of life. They instinctively behave as if everything exists for whatever purposes they devise in their minds, to serve their purposes. Others are aware of something more than the moment. They can’t define it or explain it but something mysterious is breathing, alive, and they approach but with apprehension because they don’t understand it. The rest know too well the blessing/curse-relationship of approaching the Enthroned Majesty. We want to come near but each step that brings us closer seems to create a deeper, higher, expanse between us. The more we understand Him the less we know Him and the race to reach Him is countered with a widening chasm.
Remember the Confessional I mentioned at the beginning of this story? I was reminded that the moment I make steps to enter His presence and commune with him I am immediately directed to the Confessional. I am reminded first of all that I’m not worthy to come to Him. I don’t deserve Him. My broken and fallen self will not allow me to draw near. I’m reminded of Hebrews 4:16 where the author calls to us and says “come boldly to the throne” (KJV) or “draw near with confidence to the throne” (NAS). In that moment I was also aware that coming “boldly” or “confidently” is not an invitation to be glib, to behave stupidly or be reckless in my coming. Being confident is not the same as being cocky, or smug and arrogant. My coming must never be with an air of entitlement. I am entitled as far as God extends the invitation and acts in grace and mercy to favour me. I am never entitled because I have any deserving “right” to access or privilege. You see, He owes us nothing, needs never explain Himself. “Who are you, a human being, to talk back to God?” (Ro9:20)
Coming in confidence involves coming aware that He knows where I just came from, what is in my mind, my obsessions, and my transgressions. It involves coming AWARE of whom I’m approaching; confident He will receive me but aware that I am naked and exposed before Him. Confidence understands that He’ll receive me in spite of all that because of what He’s done through Christ. He’ll receive me because He designed a plan so I could come.
Approaching Him is bitter/sweet. It takes my breath away. He is over-powering. My sin-self fears a tap on my spirit’s shoulder that will say, "You have no right here. You should leave."
The only thing more dangerous than not coming is coming with a sense of entitlement, arrogantly barreling through like someone off a bus, trying to get to my pictures before the time’s up. Such recklessness misses the grandeur of His presence.
I wonder of times when I miss His stateliness. I can enter this Sanctuary without a second thought that God is here ahead of me, that this is holy ground. While I value our efforts as the Church to "de-Institutionalize" church, I can’t help but wonder if maybe we’ve accidentally traded the awareness of His opulence in the process.
I wonder of times when I miss His magnificence. How often do I approach His throne with a sense of entitlement, expecting God to pay attention to what I believe He owes me, entitled to know why He does or allows what is, rather than recalling that the only reason I come is because He set things up this way because it’s all about Him; He wants me to come because it’s what He wants and I am blessed with hope, purpose and redemption because He loved me that much; He loved me enough to care to do something about the mess I’ve made of things.
Then, when I finally get those lessons ordered as they should be I see the main altar, out of reach, beyond me and beyond my powers to affect Presence. As I am ready to cry out in frustration and anguish He reminds me, "No need. I’ve opened the way. I am the Way! Come in! But come through the way of the Confessional." Is it not the spoken message of 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” and again in Psalm 24:3-4, “3Who may ascend the mountain of the LORD? Who may stand in his holy place? 4The one who has clean hands and a pure heart...”
Life is a cathedral. We plod through the stuff that’s far too real to ignore or avoid. Our spirits aspire to something more than the here-and-now but life drags us back all too quickly and reminds us not to lose touch with reality. But, in challenging us with that, life actually pulls us away from reality!
Yes, the main altar of fellowship with God seems all too far away and impossible. We are faced with demands and expectations that make the life of faith appear a dreary journey. Our humanity’s response demands our rights and sense of entitlement to “better things”. Things that we cannot acquire by our own means we demand on the grounds of “human rights”.
We may be so busy trying to make things happen on our own steam that we forget God has a part in the equation. He is the Answer in the equation of life!
In loving, gentle tolerance He pokes us awake to how things really work, to how things really are. We are only saved through grace, the gift of God to us (Ephesians 2:8-9). We can’t work for it. We can’t earn it. We are not entitled to it. It is given us, by Him, because of His love for us.
In your cathedral, invite God to
- Make you aware of Him;
- Stagger you with the mystery of His awesomeness. And finally,
- Alert you to the dangers of idolatry that make you think He owes you in some way
“Take off your shoes”
