Our scripture for this morning from Hebrews is one of the great affirmations in the Bible. The author writes:

It has been testified somewhere, "What is man that thou art mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou carest for him? Thou didst make him for a little while lower than the angels, thou hast crowned him with glory and honor, putting everything in subjection under his feet." Now in putting everything in subjection to him, he left nothing outside his control. As it is, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him. But we see Jesus.

He quotes the 8th psalm in that passage, "What is man that thou art mindful of him...." He says, "It is testified somewhere." But it is the 8th psalm.

I take great comfort that the author of this monumental Letter to the Hebrews can't remember where certain passages are located in scripture. That happens to me all the time. It's embarrassing. Some young, earnest Christian comes up to me, and says, "Well, of course, it says in Leviticus 6:12...." I have no idea what they are talking about. I have to say, "Well, it says somewhere else...."

Besides that, not only does he not know where this passage comes from, he quotes it wrong. He says, "We are created a little lower than the angels," but in the 8th psalm it says, "We are created a little lower than God."

The author of Hebrews' imperfection brings great comfort to me, one who must live with imperfections. It yields great hope that you can communicate the message in spite of imperfections. And that is what he does in this passage.

What it says to us is that we are created for great things. For a little while we are less than the angels, but someday, at some time, in God's providence we will be greater than the angels. We are on our way as human beings to be something greater than we ever imagined we would be. There is, therefore, in each human life a potential for greatness.

It is that potential for greatness born in each one of us that gives birth to civilization. Great civilizations create great monuments to the human spirit, that which is in us that is a little lower than the angels.

You can see it in religion, the arts, and most recently, in science. The computer is a remarkable testimony to human powers. The computer is simply an extension of the human brain to dimensions greater than anyone ever imagined. Hebrews says that we are to have all things in subjection to us. We will accomplish that to a greater extent than ever before through the extension of the human brain over all of creation through the computer. The computer is the great monument to civilization created by science.

But 800 years ago, in the age of faith, the great cathedrals climbed higher and higher. Architects and craftsmen in an achievement that in every way was as marvelous as the invention of the computer chip, discovered how to allow walls and ceilings to climb to unprecedented heights, and to allow huge spaces within the walls into which you can place stained glass, and filter the light into this sacred space. The cathedral was for the age of faith what the computer has been to the age of science, a crowning achievement of the age.

Every so often somebody will criticize the construction of cathedrals. In fact, they do it all the time. They go to those countries where there are cathedrals, particularly in Latin America, and talk about how much money this has cost and how it could have been spent differently.

I have a friend who came into this sanctuary many years ago, looked up to this ceiling, sixty or seventy feet high, and said, "There is a lot of wasted space up there. You know, you could drop the ceiling, build a second story and rent it out. You could earn some money in here."

There was a period in architecture that said all spaces in buildings must be in human dimension. But what is the human dimension? What they meant was ten foot ceilings. What the Bible means by human dimension is infinite space.

It seems to me that if you confine human beings to finite space, you are saying something about what you believe about the dimensions of human life. You are saying that life is contained in this small, finite, limited space we experience now. That is what human life is all about. But if you build great cathedrals, you are saying human life is not bound by this space and time, but we can soar to dimensions beyond what we can see and experience here. We don't belong here only. We belong to something much greater than what we see and what we experience here.

Here's a test. Let me ask you this. Where do you feel most human, in a closet, or a cathedral?

Dorothy Thompson wrote an article many years ago about architecture. She noted that she had seen a government manual for the construction of public buildings in which it listed the specification that no ceiling in any public building should ever be above twelve feet, so no one would feel insignificant.

She took off from there. She recalled the days in the II World War when she was a war correspondent in Europe. She watched American soldiers visit those cathedrals in Europe. She said she saw them awestruck in Salisbury Cathedral. She saw emotion well up in them as they watched the liturgical procession in Canterbury. She watched them kneel and pray under the Great Dome in St. Peter's. She wrote, "They were not feeling insignificant. On the contrary, they were awakened for the first time to aspirations and dreams that they didn't realize they had."

What is the human dimension? "Thou hast created us for a little while lower than the angels." For a little while, because our final destiny is to be greater than the angels, to be greater than we could ever imagine.

I would hope that you would feel something of that when you come into this sanctuary and you see that as a church, there is a mission fulfilled in just placing this sanctuary here in the midst of the city. We are stewards over this sacred space. Just the church structure being here should say something about who we are as human beings. We are people born as children of God, with great dignity and with great potential. Therefore, when we leave here we ought to behave that way, and we ought to treat other people that way as well.

This was reinforced for me last week when I read an architectural review of the new Catholic cathedral that is going to be constructed in Los Angeles. The diocese of Los Angeles hired the Spanish architect Jose Rafael Moneo to be the architect. They had the ground breaking a couple of weeks ago at the downtown site for the cathedral. They hope it will be completed by the millennium.

There were models of the cathedral at the ground breaking. On the basis of the models this writer wrote a review of the cathedral. He said, "Moneo is creating an alternate world to the everyday world that surrounds the cathedral, a testimony to the grandeur of the human spirit, an antidote to a world that is increasingly spiritually empty."

Then he used this phrase. "The cathedral, set in the midst of the secular city, will be an enclave of resistance." That should be a part of the mission statement of every church in the city, an enclave of resistance against all that diminishes human life. We are here to testify by our community, by the proclamation of the word, and by our very architecture, that we are born to great things. We are created a little lower than the angels, and one day, in God's time, we will be greater than the angels. Coming into church ought to remind you of that.

As it has been announced, there will be a ground breaking following the 11:00 service this morning for another structure on these grounds, the Memorial Garden. A group of people have worked for over ten years to bring this to pass, under Rev. Davis' leadership.

The project began with a letter written to me by David Fulcomer, who at that time was the chairman of the Family Life Committee in this church. He was also on the sociology faculty at San Diego State, in charge of their program in family life.

He spoke to me about something very dear to his heart, the depersonalization and the anonymity that characterizes urban life today. He said that the church was "an enclave of resistance." He didn't use that phrase, I just picked that up last week, but he said the same thing. The church should be an enclave of resistance against this dehumanization of modern life, because here in the church you will find a community, an instant community, a fellowship that enriches you and encourages the human spirit. Here you will hear the testimony that we are all children of God. Here you will hear of faith that says, we are created for greater things than can be contained and confined in this world.

He also wrote that until recently, the graveyard was always next door to the church, on the church grounds. He remembered his childhood in New Jersey, and how that was the way the church was in those days, and what that meant to a young boy growing up, to realize the generations that had given their service and their lives to that church.

He said that the separation of the church from the graveyard coincided with the dehumanization of life in the cities. He said that he and Marge, his wife (and my secretary for many years), wanted to be buried in a place where their faith was nurtured, week after week. A place that had deep meaning for them, their home in the city. They remembered the home that they grew up in, but this was now home for them, their spiritual home, and they wanted their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren to remember them by coming here, to a community that nourished their life.

That is how this memorial project began over ten years ago. Today it is culminated by the ground breaking and the beginning of construction.

This passage from Hebrews is especially appropriate for such a Sunday, for it reminds us that we are created for a life that is greater than the one we see now. We cannot see yet what we will be. But we can see Jesus, the Pioneer of our faith, who became like us, became for a little while lower than the angels, and experienced death so that we might rise with him into a new and greater life.

Hebrews doesn't use common titles for Jesus as the other scriptures do. It doesn't call him "Lord," a "Messiah," or "Son of God." Hebrews calls him, "Pioneer." He is the Pioneer who has been sent to us to show us the way through this life and into the next. It is Hebrews, more than any other scripture, that affirms that we are pilgrims here. "Here on earth," it says, "we have no continuing place." Our true home is someplace else. That is why we sang Isaac Watts' great hymn, "Come, We That Love the Lord."

Then let our songs abound,
and every tear be dry;
we're marching through Emmanuel's ground,
to fairer worlds on high.

This Sunday is also World Communion Sunday, emphasizing our spiritual oneness with Christians all around the world. For the mystery of the sacrament not only creates a table that encircles the world, but also one that extends into the heavens to include the saints, those who are already seated at the great banquet of the Messiah, celebrating the triumph of life over death, the victory of our Lord.

We have no "low-ceiling" faith. Our faith is as vast as the heavens. It says that we are created to be greater than the angels. We don't see it now, but we can see Jesus, the Pioneer of our faith. And because we have seen Jesus, we build cathedrals, and we gather at his table with Christians around the world and in heaven, and we remember those who have gone before, for "we're marching through Emmanuel's ground, to fairer worlds on high."