What it means to be a place of sanctuary

The word "sanctuary" has deep roots in our faith tradition. This is why the doors to churches are traditionally, red. It was a sign of sanctuary. It means a holy place, a refuge, a space set apart. In medieval times, churches offered literal sanctuary to those fleeing persecution. Today, our calling to be sanctuary is both practical and spiritual.

These are anxious times. Whether we open our news feeds or simply listen to the people around us, we sense unease about the future, worries about the economy and careers and fear about what comes next. Some feel vindicated in their political hopes; others feel afraid. Our nation's mood is divided, and that split runs through our communities, our families, and yes, even churches.

In times like these, I find myself returning to Jesus's words in the Gospel of John, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid."

This seems like a tall order, but we need to be reminded that Jesus doesn't promise the absence of trouble. He offers peace in the midst of a troubled world. Emmanuel this is our calling—not to pretend everything is fine, but to embody a peace that cannot be manufactured or legislated.

Practically, we are called to care for one another regardless of how we voted or what we fear. When a member of our community faces uncertainty about their job, we respond with support. When families are anxious about changes in government policy that affect them (like for example my fear of the pending cuts to sooner care and the strain this will put on charitable funds as church discretionary funds and nonprofits will be called upon to fill the gap), we listen with compassion. 

Spiritually, sanctuary means creating space where our ultimate allegiance is clear: we belong first to God, and only secondarily to any political party, ideology, or identity. At the communion rail, we kneel side by side with people who have all sorts of opinions but all of us are equally in need of grace and mercy.

Being sanctuary requires us to…

• Show up for one another. In practical ways—meals, phone calls, help with job searches, childcare, or simply sitting with someone in their worry or their joy.

• Listen without fixing. Sometimes the most healing thing we can offer is presence without agenda. Not every conversation needs to be resolved or every difference reconciled immediately.

• Pray together. When we don't know what to say or do, we can always pray. We can bring our fears, our hopes, our anger, and our confusion before God together.

• Choose gentleness. Anxiety makes us reactive. Sanctuary means consciously choosing patience, assuming good intentions, and speaking with kindness even when we disagree.

The world outside our church walls offers many things: outrage, certainty, sectarianism, the satisfaction of being right. What it cannot offer is the peace of Christ. That peace is ours to share, ours to embody, ours to offer as sanctuary to a hurting world. This might not be the best time to be a keyboard warrior. At least think about it before you post.

This doesn't mean we check our convictions at the door or pretend we have no opinions. It means we hold our convictions in light of a larger truth: that every person is made in God's image, that Christ died for all, that we are called to sacrificially love even—especially—those with whom we disagree.

In these anxious times, let us actually be the church. Let us be sanctuary. Let us practice the radical hospitality of Jesus, who welcomed the last, the lost and the least to his table and offered peace that surpasses all understanding.

People are watching to see if our faith makes any real difference.

Let's show them that it does.

See you in church,

Fr. Tom +