Plymouth Congregational Church of Fort Wayne, UCC
August 23, 2009
Twenty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time

Scripture Lesson:  I Kings 8:22-30

 Dwellings to Ponder

"... But will God indeed dwell on the earth?
Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you,
much less this house that I have built."
I King 8:27

Prelude

Our scripture lesson this morning,

taken from the 8th chapter of I Kings,

is but a portion of a prayer

offered by King Solomon

at the dedication of the temple

in Jerusalem.

The construction of a house

suitable for the Lord,

the design of a dwelling fit and fashioned for Divinity,

appropriate and acceptable

for a people desiring to worship,

was first conceived by King David. 

The idea came as a flash,

a moment of insight.

David had built himself a fine palace, a real nice house.

But then he couldn't help but notice, compared to his digs,

the dwelling of God was looking

a little rough around the edges. 

At the time, the symbol of God's presence,

the abode of the Almighty,

the lodging of the Lord,

was the ark,

the receptacle that served

as container for covenant,

and the ark you may recall,

was housed within in a tent. 

God residing in a tent had a lot of positive values:

fluid, mobile, efficient, totally accessible,

reasonably approachable; and most suited

to be with the people, for the people.

God dwells, God is "tented"

within the encampment of the people. 

We might call this a KOA theology at work.

David, though, had moved beyond

having a tent for his domicile.

He had risen in status, and personally,

he had gone upscale; indeed, he was

seated upon a mighty throne. 

His house reflected his success. 

Yet the house of God lagged behind and did not keep pace.

Tents don't polish and shine all that well, I suppose.

The tent hadn't progressed or kept up with the times.

David was intent upon pulling off this project of

temple in place of tent.  Yet he was thwarted, checked,

denied by the prophet Nathan who raised an interesting

point:  Have I (God) ever asked for a new house?

Here is expressed reluctance over a new residence,

God not enthused over David's inspiration.

Yet Nathan kept the door open

and the project a possibility.  It was to fulfilled,

according to Nathan, by one of David's offspring.

Solomon retained memory of his father's scheme.

He offered some additional insight.  We pick up this

recorded conversation Solomon had with his

good neighbor, Hiram, the king of Tyre:

"You know that my father David could not build

a house for the name of the Lord because of

the warfare ... which ... surrounded him. 

But now the Lord my God has given me rest ..."

The "rest" enabled Solomon to spearhead a number

of building projects (his own palace was lush and opulent;

in addition we read of a Hall of Pillars, Hall of the Throne,

Hall of Justice; lots of "government stimulus" being injected

into Jerusalem and its environs; see I Kings 7:1-7).

And the grandest of the grand,

a dwelling for Divinity, the building of the temple!

Scripture helps set the scene:

Four hundred and eighty years

after the Exodus and deliverance from Egypt,

in the fourth year of Solomon's rule,

construction began (I Kings 6:1). 

Four hundred and eighty years

the Ark of the Covenant was "tented"

with the people.  And then Solomon said,

there is rest in the land,

we have come so far, progressed from

oppression and poverty to life, liberty, and

the promised land.  Now, it's time that we update

and bring the dwelling of God into this new day. 

So, we read, a free trade agreement

was forged with Hiram.  In exchange for lumber,

cedar and cypress from Lebanon, Israel shipped

wheat and oil, food for Hiram's people. 

And the temple took shape.

It was grand, glorious; it glittered with gold.

It was "an exalted house, a place in which

God might dwell forever" (I Kings 8:13). And deep

within the layers of costly stone and cedar,

bounded by images of lions, and oxen, and angels,

and undercover, a canopy

of the long, outstretched wings of two cherubim

(each ten cubits high and with a wing span of equal measure)

there was lodged the ark,

which contained nothing we are told, except

the two tablets of stone Moses had received

from the Lord on the holy mountain of Horeb (I Kings 8:9). 

The dedication of this temple was a great spectacle.

Billboards did announce and radios promoted it;

flags flew on all city lampposts;

trinkets and buttons were passed out as mementos

of the occasion.  And there was a grand march

marking the festival. They lost count of all the

sheep and oxen sacrificed.  All Israel assembled,

we read (I Kings 8:2); and the priests carried

the ark to its determined spot "in the most holy place."

And then, before such a vast assemply, Solomon did pray.

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Note:

(1) It is a long prayer. Politicians and their speechwriters,

pastors and their prayers, they simple are unable to exert restraint.

(2) It is an anticipatory prayer. It pleads for mercy,

for divine action to resolve conditions of human creation

that pose a threat to the people;

a. if someone sins ... then hear ...

b. when the nation sins ... then hear ...and forgive ...

c. if there is an affliction of drought ... if the people confess and

so turn from their sin ... then hear ...

teach them the good way to walk ...

d. if there is famine, plague, blight, a virus (H1N1) ...

then hear ... forgive ... and act ...

e. when a foreigner comes, as surely they will ...

do according to all the foreigner asks ...

f. if the people go to battle, maintain their cause ...

g. if any sin against you ("for there is no one who does not sin"),

yet if they come to their senses ... even if in a foreign land ...

then hear ... forgive ... maintain their cause ...

(3) It is an instructional prayer.

a. it recognizes God's promise that comes by covenant;

b. it recognizes limits in any effort to contain divinity:

How important the question: "But will God indeed dwell on the earth? 

Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain (God),

much less this (temple) (I Kings 8:27).

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Solomon's prayer constitutes a huge shift

in the unfolding drama of the Bible. 

It seems to be a great accomplishment,

this blending of faith and state

over which Solomon presides. 

But I hope we can sense and see the tension.

There is both a gain and loss.

Comparing

tent to temple,

temple to tent,

doesn't seem fair. 

Yet we need to be careful of the "appearances" 

and not be overwhelmed by the temple glitz

and glamour. By design, the temple was to convey

"thick darkness" in which the Lord might dwell.

The "ark" gets buried, we might say;

Moses and the law, which is to be written upon our heart,

becomes obscured.

The edifice, whose purpose is to reveal divinity,

in part serves to conceal. 

Externals get in the way of the essentials. 

The God with whom we sojourn

(the God-in-tent), becomes the God with whom

we need schedule an appointment (temple).

The question comes: in the complexity of this dwelling,

in the system that surrounds and sustains it,  

where is God to be found?

Baptism is bright light, not thick darkness.

Baptism brings clarity to our confusion.

Baptism serves to restore a right understanding of

divine dwelling.

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Solomon is a strange point player in all this.

The appearance is one of harmony, sophistication,

eloquence.  We project this on the text.

Yet the text is clear:  there are strong,

indeed raging undercurrents in this narrative. 

We need to know what the storyteller, the historian, knows.

I find it curious, the scripture clearly states

the Lord appeared but twice to Solomon.

The first time was not in Jerusalem,

but in Gibeon (north and little west of Jerusalem)

in a dream.

There's a dwelling to ponder ... God making approach,

coming to us in a disarmed state of slumber.

And on that occasion the Lord did speak:

"Ask what I should give you." 

Solomon made his memorable request for

"an understanding mind,

able to discern good and evil ..." 

This did please the Lord (I Kings.3:5).

The second appearance comes after the temple is built

and has been dedicated; post the prayer

we heard in morning lesson.  Solomon's long prayer

is acknowledged, but God dares assert certain conditions

that will govern divine resolve to abide in the abode

Solomon constructed.  If you forsake me, I can always

take flight.  You can't pin me down to this one place.

In fact, if you desert me, you will forfeit the land (I Kings 9:7).

This is what the storyteller knows:

Solomon for all his wisdom and ability,

is not able to sustain his high approval ratings in the polls.   

Solomon was a builder; he delighted in building the temple;

we might say he had an "edifice complex."

In fact, his love for God was like his love of woman.

he never was quite satisfied with one. 

What meaning has this for us? In baptism is an

ascertain of what is unconditional in God's promise

of presence:  I was, I am, and I will always "be"

there in your where. 

We celebrate the grace, goodness, mercy of God.

While we enjoy the blessings of space (edifice)

and community; we have not been presumptuous,

but we have trusted in the love, not that we have earned,

but the love we have been given and which is entrusted to us,

that dwells in us.  We have prayed and dedicated a temple:

not of bricks and mortar, but one of flesh and blood,

a child of spirit, so fragile and vulnerable, yet who carries

the best of our faith, hope, and love.

We pray, do we not, that she inherit

what is best in that which we profess. 

We pray, do we not, that she will be blessed,

because we have served as a blessing.

We pray, do we not, that she will experience faith in God,

love in Christ, not as thick darkness, but as light revealed;

and whether she opts for worship in tent or temple,

God be praised!

We pray, do we not, that she will find herself

by losing herself in the love that is exalted,

but never exhausted, here (in this dwelling).

We pray, do we not, for the rare thing

that resides deep within us.    

H. Richard Niebuhr once commented:  "... faith in

the God of Jesus Christ is a rare thing and faith

in idols tends forever to disguise itself as

Christian trust ..." (The Meaning of Revelation, p. 34).

It is a startling statement to me, a reminder that we

all live by grace.  In such grace, may all so live.

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A final word:

I finished a wonderful little book this past week by John Dominic Crossan,

entitled The Dark Interval - Toward Theology of Story.  At the very end,

he mentions that people are fond of discussing two types of religion:

the factual, the fictional;

the historical, the mythical.

He proceeds to suggest that this distinction really isn't very helpful.

He proposes instead a different scheme and distinction

between religion that promises comfort (the mythical),

and religion that inspires courage (the parabolic).

He closes with this:  "Which do you prefer, comfort or courage?

It may be necessary to make a choice."

I know, for myself, that which is my desire.

I'm hooked on both! 

Yet both do not the same end serve.

And if necessary, if pushed,

I pray we opt for courage.

Courage for lovers of God.

Courage for servants of Christ.

Courage for those baptized, anointed,

filled with Holy Spirit, for all

with whom God is pleased to dwell.

Amen.