Reflection

As I sat in the chancel in the dark Tuesday night meditating, I was saddened by many things. The distance I felt emotionally from my parish was at odds with how at home I felt in the moment. I was aware of the Thin Space that I was in. How many almost countless souls had worshiped in this holy space before me. I thought about the looming demise on the horizon for this temple, and it filled me with sadness. How I loved the Maundy Thursday services, the reverence, their somber nature, it will be a great loss. The parish leadership are defeated, consigned to selling the building, believing that failure in imminent, not trusting. As my mind wondered and I lifted my head, I looked at the post on the end of the hymn rack in front of me, shaped by a carpenter, worn smooth edges by the passage of time. How many choir members had passed by, touching it, choir gowns brushing against it? How special was this holy place to how many people...is? It will be lost to me, and I want to cherish it's dying days, this temple.
Psalms 69:9

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