“If These Walls Could Talk.” That’s a phrase known to almost everyone, usually heard in the context of something secret, unmasking a conspiracy, speaking sotto voce, sub-rosa, being a fly on the wall. But there’s another way to think of walls “talking.” Imagine what these walls around us have heard, seen, maybe even felt, in the past 75 years.

This week marks the 75th anniversary of the dedication service of this sanctuary, which was bequeathed to us in 1930 by a small congregation that had been organized only three years earlier, in 1927. Forty-five years ago, in 1960, the initial sanctuary was enlarged by a rectangle easily imagined by bringing down one wall — and ever since we’ve been the lopsided congregation.

Seventy-five years. Imagine all of the Sunday services, namings and dedications, comings of age, joys and sorrows, marriage and commitment ceremonies, retirements, and memorial services. In the past 75 years there have been 3,900 Sundays. How many of you have attended all 3,900 services?

If These Walls Could Talk — they would pay tribute to so many who have participated, contributed, trusted, been inspired, been empathic, confirmed our common humanity, become better people via an uncommon faith that affirms all faiths.

If These Walls Could Talk — they would express gratitude for being only wood, nails, plaster, and cement, which have been transformed by our souls — all souls — into a sacred space.

In our meditation today let us and these walls be a mutual admiration society — thanking each other for yesterday, today, and tomorrow.