With its repeated references to “the Dwelling,” today’s reading from Exodus sheds light on the “already–not yet” tension in the experience of faith. The psalm is a fitting echo of that experience: we believe that God is with us wherever we are, and yet we seek our homeland. Our creaturely finitude impels us to undertake this journey of desire, wonderfully embodied in the celebration of Eucharist. As we taste God’s loveliness and long to dwell in God’s house, we learn to become pilgrims and psalmists ourselves:
In the majesty of Your creation,
in the peace of Your silence,
My soul beholds You in Your beauty,
O Lord, mighty God!
I look outside myself to find You,
but in these Your courts,
I remember that where You are is my home:
You make Your home among us, in me.
To dwell in Your house,
to live in Your kingdom,
I must love You with all that I am—
and love my neighbor as myself.
To love others truly, I must love myself
as Your dwelling place, Your holy temple—
This body that is home and yet mortal,
ark of Your promise.
Your church is a sacrament of Your dwelling
in all times and places;
Your Spirit guides us along our earthly pilgrimage,
in the cloud by day and fire by night.
You sustain us on the journey with water from the rock
and manna from heaven;
You dwell with us as our Emmanuel,
accompanying us to the land You have promised.
Upon its threshold we stand;
as we pass through the veil, we find—
You are that spacious land,
flowing with milk and honey.