What follows is the text of my sermon yesterday

The "congregation" of the people of Israel are on a journey. We as a church are also on a journey.

The People of Israel are somewhere between the land of their slavery and the Promised Land, good, broad, and filled with milk and honey. We also are in between. We are between the place that was taken from us and a "place" that none of us can see. And they, like we, have no idea when they will see that promise fulfilled, or even if they will make it that far.

Somewhat frequently, the congregation of the people of Israel wonder if they would be better off back where they come from. The challenge -- for them and us -- is to see the journey in the wilderness as the place where God who is Love calls us to be.

In last week's episode, they faced death by hunger, until God provided them food in a most unexpected way, with exhausted birds blown right to their feet, and manna that just seemed to appear in the trees in the cool dawn.

This week, they have wandered far from the oasis of Elim, with its 12 springs. Their canteens are running out, and there is no water in sight. People can survive for a longer time without food than without water. They see death staring them in the face, and they lose sight of the God who saved them from the Egyptians, and brought them quails and manna.

And once again, God brings within the range of their eyesight what was there all along, in the rock.

So, what "water" do we need? New people? Our own sacred place? Are we looking for God or someone else to provide those things? Or are they already in our midst?

Take "place." We want a place that we can call sacred -- a place where we can meet the living God and his son -- a "sacred" place. What makes a place "sacred?" Is it stained glass? Hearty looking stonework? Sturdy rich brown wood? An organ in a church with high ceilings and good acoustics? Or is it people who are committed to feeding each other, and in that feeding, being fed by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?

What God wants is not, first and foremost, beautiful buildings, but the hearts of the people in those buildings. And where you have such faithful people, then any place can be holy and sacred. How about a restaurant? After all, where was the first Eucharist, but in a room set aside for people to gather and eat together? How about a school cafeteria, gathered around a table? How about a home? The first Christians met in homes.

Maybe, rather than trying to recreate "church," we just need to make space where we can be the Church, not the building. Perhaps, if we think about finding the place that best allows us to feed each other with manna in the trees and water from the rock, then perhaps the water that flows from us will become a river flowing through this neighborhood. Then our neighbors may see a sacred place where they can bring their hopes and fears. And when they bring those hopes and fears, they can find that love and that peace which is beyond all understanding.

Where is our Promised Land? I have no more knowledge of that than Moses did. But until we get there, let's look to each other for the water that is in the rock.