One of our hymns says, "The church is not a building…the church is made of people, the church is you and I." Nonetheless, we know this building is a part of our community and our faith. In the past couple of weeks we have moved our worship, turning as we always do with the seasons, expressing how our way of life is grounded in this world and the goodness of the Earth.

But we also affirm that life in this world is difficult. Thus we must raise tens of thousands to repair all the damage that rain and raccoons have done. That is what it means to be a UU congregation, to create a sanctuary for goodness, and to repair it when damage is done.

We are actually no safer "in the woods" than anywhere else, yet the church reminds us of our sources of security in the midst of insecurity, the sources of peace in the midst of storm, the power of reason in the face of fear and ignorance, the reality of inclusion despite deep divisions. Here we gather to celebrate community, knowing how alone we each can feel. We gather here, to be comforted and to be challenged to growth; in this way this space, as well as the song of tree frogs, and the shadow of a hawk’s wings on white bark, become part of the Beloved Community.

Because of what we do here, a building becomes part of the substance of things hoped for, an icon of what we love. Of course, if we lost our church home we would still find places and ways to meet and connect, celebrate and console, guide and encourage. In a world that trembles with tragedy, cruelty, and disasters, it is in community that we find sanctuary. And it is in community that we find the strength to build and repair a sanctuary in the woods.

Peace, Thomas