Next Sunday, for the first time since 1974, we are going to be displaced but this time by our own choosing. For 14 weeks - 14 Sundays - we will be out of this building. When we return on September 10, it will be like a new church.

There's both some sadness and excitement in our renovation plan. Over the last several months I have been quite touched by some of our long time members - those who were here in 1974 after an arsonist's fire forced the congregation into temporary meeting space: they have shared, in different ways, what this sanctuary has meant to them. I have been moved by the dedication of all those involved in the renovation process who have committed their time - in some cases it being years - to meetings, research, meetings, visiting other churches and more meetings. I have been impressed and we all are blessed by the commitment from so many of you to share your resources so that this project could be dreamed into a reality. We all know it hasn't always been a completely smooth ride - there have been the usual stops, turns and detours, we've heard tempers, exasperation and disappointments: capital projects of this sort are never bump-free. There are always challenges. And we will return - brighter, with a new look and with the same passion for community, faith and liberal religion.

What is it about this room that brings out such strong investments of feeling, money, time and opinion? Is it only a matter of aesthetics - over the kind and color of chairs and carpeting, what kind of sound system, what to do about the walls, windows, pulpit, lighting, and doors? Of course we want an aesthetically pleasing room and building. But why? I mean, what is it about this room that compels us to speak out and work for it to be just right?

It's a sanctuary. Now I realize it's gone by a lot of other names, and some of this depends on who's here and what the rooms are being used for. When the congregation chose to build a multipurpose room (instead of a dedicated space, that is, for church services only), maybe it wasn't understood (and then, maybe it was!) that it would also be a meeting room, play house, music hall, market arena, dance floor, political forum and I know I'm leaving out other uses. But right now it's a sanctuary, and that's how most of us have come know it and think about it.

A sanctuary, a safe place, a safe house; a space where we can escape from the pressures of our work-a-day routines, from the sometimes harshness of daily realities and be comforted or expand our horizons or be challenged without the background noise of family traditions and politics-as-usual. It's a sanctuary. This room is special - for over 30 years its been a special space, a space in which to grow and think and as Oliver Sacks says (in the Reflection), these are always wonderful and worth celebrating.

This sanctuary is a breathing space, a place to catch our breath - which means, an opportunity for growing, thinking, perspective and fellowship. In both Christian and Jewish traditions, the words breathe, wind, spirit and life all play off each other as if in a theological dance, something we miss out on understanding when reading only the English text. For example, like its counterparts in Hebrew and Greek, spirit(us) means breathe. Now I never studied Greek or Latin, but I did take ancient Hebrew. And there's a small word that is similar. Ruah is the word for wind. Often you will read in the Hebrew Scriptures about the ruah blowing in an area about to be holy or is holy. Ruah can also be translated as spirit. So when the spirit of God - the wind - is blowing about you, it is both ruah. (Isn't that fun!?)

Just as the air we breath is necessary to living, so too is the spirit vital to our life essence: as we must be filled with the wind in order to breath and stay alive, so too must we be filled with the spirit of life in order to know what is Holy. So when Carolyn McDade penned and we sang about "Spirit of Life, come unto me, Sing in my heart all the stirrings of compassion. Blow in the wind, rise in the sea; move in the hand, giving life the shape of justice. Roots hold me close; wings set me free; Spirit of Life, come to come, come to me" - with those words McDade and us are in a long tradition, maybe as long as 3000 years, of being filled with and breathing the life force of the spirit, which some have chosen to call God.

Which is how we come to the word enthusiasm from the Greek en-theo-ism literally meaning to be filled with God, as in to be filled with spirit, the spirit of the wind as in the air we breathe, as in Spirit of Life. Enthusiasm then is but a spiritual version of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and by now I hope you begin to see the valuing of our doing breathing exercises in this safe place called our sanctuary: it's a matter of life and death, just as breathing exercises should be and will be, always. It's a matter of enthusiasm which is what we must bring in and leave with each time we are here. To be filled with the spirit, with the wind, to be filled with God - this is what we expect when in this sanctuary, this has been the expectation of religious people for millennia, and this is why this room is so important to us, for whatever else has happened in this room, it is special, it is holy, it is a place for inspiration, it is a space for breathing. I believe that the renovation we are about to undertake will make our breathing space and exercises better than ever.

Every house of worship has a sanctuary - of course, it may go by a different name, but they all have a room that is their breathing space, a place to do their breathing exercises, a space and place of enthusiasm and inspiration. In our market-driven, e-commerce culture your choices of sanctuary are many - with whom you choose to do your breathing exercises and share your enthusiasm are numerous, dare I say overwhelming. So why here? What is it about our version of place, space, breathing and enthusiasm that brings and keeps you here? Why this sanctuary? Because our breathing room is one of odyssey and not orthodoxy.

Orthodoxy means right thinking or right belief, as in there is a right way and a wrong way of thinking and believing. While orthodoxy is used to describe those faith communities having elaborate rules, rituals and creeds, virtually all faith communities are orthodox in the basic sense that they have a creed and dogma that is paramount to their way of faith. This faith community of Unitarian Universalism is grounded not in orthodoxy but in odyssey. Let me tell you what I believe that means, because it brings a distinguishing quality to the way our breathing is done and the way we feel about this room.

"In the beginning," writes Sam Keen, "is the question, doubt, the Unknown God." Keen's words remind me of the genesis story as told by Unitarian Universalist novelist Kurt Vonnegut. After God Almighty realized that the universe wasn't yet complete, She decided to make a human. From the clay, God shaped a human and breathed into it the breath of life (which is to say, spirit, enthusiasm!). When mud-become-human awakened, the first thing out of its mouth was a question: "What is the meaning, the purpose of all of this?" And God said: "Everything must have meaning, have a purpose?" "Of course," said mud-become-human. And then God replied, "Well then, I leave it to you to think of one for all of this." And she went away. And we have been thinking about meaning and purpose ever since - for one of humankind's distinguishing features is that we are meaning-making creatures, we are question-asking animals, we sing our hymns to an "Unknown God" (Keen).

The journey that is life is uncharted, which is why I call our way of faith an odyssey. The way of orthodoxy is well mapped: in the beginning was the word, the word was with God and God is known through revelation and recorded in holy scripture. But on our odyssey, there is no AAA up-to-the-moment current map - this odyssey of ours is an adventure.

Our way of faith is a bit like the story that Freeman Dyson tells. The Nobel Prize winning physicist remembers an office-mate that was busily writing and writing all day long. Every time Dyson came in, there he was writing and writing. Finally, it came time to leave and Dyson couldn't stand it any longer and remarked: "You've been working over there at your desk all day. If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing." "Preparing some notes," came the reply. Hmm, Dyson thought. "Notes for whom?" "Well, just in case anything should ever happen to me, these notes are for God." Dyson just shook his head and in disbelief said: "For God? God? Don't you think that God knows the facts." To which his office mate responded. "Maybe. But God doesn't know this version of the facts."

There's another chapter to tell this story: A Presbyterian church school teacher asks her class: "What little gray animal climbs trees, gathers nuts, and has a long busy tail?" A little boy replies: "I know the answer is supposed to be Jesus or God, but it sure sounds to me like a squirrel."

For the orthodoxy, there is one answer, one version of the facts. But for those of us on an odyssey, where religion is a quest, there will be doubts, questions, multiple versions, and a squirrel will almost always be a squirrel.

This breathing room called a sanctuary is also distinguished by openness and inventiveness. Where the orthodoxy often hold to a pietistic obedience that marks their sacred way, in this faith community we celebrate and live by breathing in the freedom of choice and creativity. I was reminded of these qualities when sitting in the dentist's office recently. For the children (and adults like me), the waiting area has the magazine "Highlights." In each issue is a picture puzzle where 15-20 different objects have been hidden in a larger picture. You have to find them. So there was this child doing just that. And like I used to do, she took the magazine and began by looking at it right side up, but when she couldn't find hidden objects, she started turning the picture on its side, or upside down - different views often give you a better look and then it's much easier to find the hidden. After about five minutes of this, her older brother said to their mother - "You know, she's doing it all wrong. You can't turn the picture around like that - that's not fair. You have to look at it right-side-up - that's the real way to play." I wanted to shout at the older brother: "Who says??!!" Well that's what the orthodox way of religion is like, where the way of odyssey not allows for, but encourages standing religion and faith on its head in order to get a better view, being creative with alternative ways and being open to the grander view.

Questioning and openness are qualities that distinguish our way of faith, features of our enthusiasm. Next is attitude or awareness. The orthodox talk about God's revelation - something that happens once and for all, revelations are a one shot event: boom! A revelation! The way of odyssey and quest is shaped by having our eyes wide open, it's in the attitude of awareness, our breathing is rhythmic and steady and everyday, it's ongoing. This is what I hope you heard in Harold Kushner's words (from the reading): looking at the world with the eyes of trust and love, rather than fear and cold-mindedness. Our way of faith, the way we practice our breathing exercises, is one of an open attitude - having the eyes to see and the hearts to feel everything that surrounds us and makes up our lives.

So it should not come as a surprise to anyone that the way of odyssey looks at more than just the sacred texts of the world's religions, we observe and think about ordinary moments and questions, we center our lives around our own experiences and those shared by others. For example, one of my favorite poets, Tony Hoagland, has a brilliant way of taking experiences from the profane of everyday, and making them transcendent and spirited. Listen to this poem entitled "Memory As a hearing Aid:"

Hoagland's poem holds up something very integral to our faith odyssey - "that this is not a test and everybody passes." Our breathing space doesn't separate saved and damned - we are one, and in covenant we promise and commit to share the adventure together. We recognize that we share the world described by Annie Dillard, a world that can sometimes overwhelm us with its volume and harshness - it can make us feel pretty insignificant. But in mutual trust and support, sharing our enthusiasm, we can breath together the Spirit of Life. We can come to this sanctuary, now and in September, knowing we are in a safe house where our faith of odyssey may be shared by some but will be honored and celebrated by all. Our way of faith is very different from the way of the orthodoxy. We know that. And that is why we are here.

Or wherever it is that we congregate: Our breathing exercises will continue all summer long, but next Sunday we will begin meeting at Congregation Kol Ami (at 10:00). We have done everything we can to prepare us for that first Sunday and all summer, and you can be sure there will be things we've forgotten. In fact, by September we'll probably have figured it all out! It will be an adventure, I'm sure!

In the meantime, keep breathing, keep breathing the Spirit of Life for it will come unto you, giving you both the wings to be free and the roots to hold you close. Keep breathing, with enthusiasm, and remember "that this is not a test and everybody passes."