Today we celebrate the return to our renovated and restored sanctuary. This is a space where we come to worship our God in ways that are meaningful to us, with people who affirm the value of exploring and developing that Divine relationship with God and with each other. This is a safe space for us. Perhaps you recall that one meaning for the word “sanctuary” is a place of asylum and refuge. We experience freedom of religion here.
And thinking about sanctuary on this World Communion Sunday got me thinking about other houses of worship around the world, other sanctuaries that would like to experience that freedom to worship, that affirmation of their faith, and that sense of refuge and safety. So I have four stories for us to consider today about sanctuary lost and the work to create sanctuary restored.
First story. Tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary of the horrific attack by Hamas on Jews in Israel. Many were in their homes, even in their safe rooms, their rooms of refuge. Some were at a concert. Twelve hundred people were brutally murdered, others were injured, 200 were taken hostage. Some of those hostages have since been killed, some have returned, and others still await rescue or return. Many synagogues around the US have had extensive security systems for years now, unlike us, where we unlock the door and walk in. But in anticipation of possible harassment or worse on this anniversary, they have heightened security even more. So we hold in love our Jewish siblings.
Second story. Andy Fyfe of Asheville, North Carolina is standing with his neighbors using all his strength to try and keep their front door closed against the wall of water that Hurricane Helene is hurling against it. Andy has left his wife Chloe and one-year-old son Keleo at home in their attic, where they are safe for the moment. For a while Andy and the neighbors are able to hold that door, but ultimately the force of the water overpowers them. The door flies open, the waters rush in, and Andy says it is as if the law of gravity has been suspended inside the house. Everything that was firmly anchored is now up and moving around the room. A chest of drawers bumps someone in the shins. A marble countertop becomes a projectile missile.
Then the job is to force the back door open so the water has a way to exit the house. Eventually Andy and the neighbors are able to pull that door open, even against the weight of all that water. If they hadn’t been able to do so, the house might have floated away, as others did. Andy gets out of there carrying the neighbors’ dog on his back. He goes back to his own family just as he hears warnings that the dam above them is going to break in as soon as five minutes. He grabs his one-year-old son, puts him on his back, and holds onto those little feet for dear life. He and his family head uphill and get out of the path of the dam.
Andy has continued to help out wherever he can. “We’re just nonstop being there for neighbors,” he says. He notes that a local radio station, I Heart Radio, has become a dispatch connecting people in need with resources. And volunteers are just showing up to help however they can: mucking out people’s houses, moving toxic furniture to the curb, making sandwiches, delivering food and diapers, cutting up trees that have fallen over roads. Andy says, “It’s such a reminder of … kindness and care….People are sitting in their cars at night listening to their radio just to feel hope.”
Just to feel hope. I heard that in Tennessee volunteers are organizing themselves into work crews and doing the same: helping out wherever and however they can with the resources they have at hand. They’re not waiting for FEMA or insurance companies to step in. They’re not asking what political party people are or what they can pay. They’re just stepping up. Even though so many have lost the sanctuary or safe space of their homes, they are finding value and meaning in showing up for each other.
Third story. This week, Israel bombed a mosque in Gaza, killing at least 21 people. The mosque was right across the street from a hospital. Volunteers began pulling people, dead or alive, from the rubble. When they found someone who was alive, they would start calling out, “This one’s alive! Help over here!” People created gurneys and carried the wounded over to the hospital. The mosque, the place of worship, the place of community and refuge, is destroyed and may not be rebuilt anytime soon for fear it will just be bombed again. But the people continue to show up for each other. https://www.cnn.com/world/live-news/israel-iran-attack-war-lebanon-10-05-24-intl-hnk/index.html?t=1728188325906
Fourth story. Thirty or more years ago, the summer chum run on the Union River in Hood Canal was tanking. What had been an abundant species was down to practically nothing. Humans had diked the estuary, built farms and roads on the land, cut it off from the river, dumped pesticides on the land that ran into the water. The water was anoxic, and sealife there was suffocating. Salmon habitat restored on the river near Union leading into Hood Canal, having the best salmon run in years. Humans have restored that part of the larger “house of God” so that all there can thrive. But for over a quarter century now, the Skokomish Tribe, the government, and various nonprofits have been working together to restore the Union River. They all had the common goal of wanting to see the salmon run grow. And this year, the summer chum run on the Union River was the largest since 1975. In fact, it looks so good that there’s talk about taking this particular run of salmon off the endangered species list.
In Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer talks about asking her graduate students whether humans can ever be beneficial to the natural environment. Her students didn’t think so. We hear all the time about the damage that humans cause to God’s sanctuary, the holy creation. And yet, when we work with each other, we can restore a summer chum salmon run. We can recreate estuaries and pools that the salmon need to thrive. [https://www.seattletimes.com/seattle-news/climate-lab/wa-salmon-are-threatened-with-extinction-why-is-one-run-booming-in-hood-canal/]
So as we celebrate the return to our own sanctuary, we recognize that sanctuaries around the world are not so lucky and need help. On this World Communion Sunday, we broaden our gaze to take that all in and see where God is calling us to help, to be good neighbors to our fellow humans, salmon, and all of creation. There is a benediction by Kate Huey that I often use on communion Sundays, and it seems particularly apt today to close this sermon:
Whatever hunger and need we feel deep in our souls, God calls us to the table, feeds us well, and sends us out into the world to be justice and peace, salt and light, hope for the world. We can do it, if we keep our eyes open, our minds limber, and our hearts soft and willing to love. As God sent Jesus, God sends us, this day. Amen.