“And all the people responded with a great shout when they praised the Lord, because the foundation of the house of the Lord was laid. But many of the priests and Levites and heads of families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the joyful shout from the sound of the people’s weeping, for the people shouted so loudly that the sound was heard far away.”  

(Ezra 3:11-13)

Rebuilding has always been part of the journey for a people of faith. In many ways, rebuilding is part of the natural life-cycle, the leaning into our call to be a resurrection people – a people who dare dream dreams when others might only see ashes or despair.

Sometimes the call to rebuild seems to be an invitation from God – inviting the participants to a new vision and adventure. Consider Abram and Sarai, called to leave their homeland to rebuild a new land and identity for generations that would follow. At other times, the call seems to come after a way of life was interrupted by circumstances imposed by unwelcomed powers. Consider Moses the “Egyptian” prince, witnessing the murder of a slave; Ruth the Moabite, choosing to journey with her Jewish mother-in-law after the death of her husband; Paul’s temporary loss of eyesight on the road to Damascus. Much of the scriptures are focused on this very movement of rebuilding – both the spirit of a people who became enslaved by the powers around them and the rebuilding of a central symbol of their identity such as the temple in Jerusalem. They are the stories of exhaustion and hope; they are stories of death and resurrection; they are stories of defeat and of an indefatigable spirit.

One of the most poignant biblical narratives is the story of the children of God when they are called to rebuild the sacred temple and the city walls of Jerusalem after the Babylonians permitted the return to their homeland. We often romanticize the courage of the returning exiles, as they re-engaged the land they loved. But this week, as I joined other mid-council leaders from around the country, we were reminded of the response of those returnees – I heard their voices in a way I had not heard it before. We read in Ezra chapter 3:12, “But many of the priests and Levites and heads of families, old people who had seen the first house on its foundations, wept with a loud voice when they saw this house, though many shouted aloud for joy…” The “good” news of the rebuilding of the temple was received differently by those who were present – there was sadness for those who remembered Solomon’s grand temple; there was joy for others who saw a sacred symbol take on shape. Because of their past experience, their assumptions and hence response, was not the same. In the end, however, both worked together to lean into a new reality while they made their way through the “here and not yet.”

In many ways, we as the faithful of the Christian Church are standing before a new kind of foundation. The founding principles and assumptions of the organized church have been both simultaneously disrupted and expanded. Like those before us, it is healthy to name what we have lost. But also, like those before us, our call is ultimately to name and claim what we can learn and build up from this expanded reality that is no longer defined by the buildings we cherish. This pandemic and post-pandemic reality is still evolving and the outcomes of our stories are not yet written. But this is the moment we have been given to respond. This is our moment to lean into boldly this ambiguous and uncomfortable place between the “here and not yet.” May we find a way to make room for the voices of pain and joy as we together rebuild our identity as a people of faith for a time such as this – trusting that the very same God of creation through the power of the Holy Spirit will breathe inspiration into our sometimes weary souls.