St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
August 24, 2021
Year B, Proper 16: The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
1 Kings 8:1,6, 10-11, 22-30, 41-43
Psalm 84
Ephesians 6:10-20
John 6:56-69
Where God Dwells
I grew up in the Roman Catholic Church, and although I certainly take issue with some Catholic teachings and practices, for the most part I’m very grateful for the firm faith foundation I received over all those years of going to Mass and attending parochial schools.
But, when I went to seminary to prepare for ordination, I really hadn’t been an Episcopalian for very long, and the truth is that my Catholic background left me with some weak spots.
One of those weaknesses was music.
Growing up, I heard some very simple hymns in church – in my memory we sang the same five or six hymns over and over, and I guess I must have tried to sing at least some of them. But, I was never in a choir and I absolutely had never sung a solo in church.
That just seemed beyond the realm of possibility.
But, in seminary I was surrounded by many classmates who had sung in church choirs forever – they sounded like angels – and then there was me, croaking out the hymns, drawing more than a few sideways glances in chapel.
In our first year each of us had to audition for the music professor – David Hurd, a brilliant musician, composer of numerous pieces that are in our hymnal.
I worried about this for weeks, and when the dreaded day arrived, I remember standing in the hall outside the classroom where one by one classmates went in and sang. They all sounded impossibly great.
By the time my turn arrived, I was so worked up that felt like I was going to pass out.
Professor Hurd handed me a hymnal and said, “We’ll sing your favorite hymn.”
In my moment of terror, I froze. I could not think of what my favorite hymn might be and so as I looked around nervously, he said.
“If you don’t pick something, we’ll sing Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!”
I said that’s fine, let’s do that.
And so he started playing the piano and I started “singing.”
I think got as far as “glory to the newborn king” when Professor Hurd stopped playing, started waving his hands and said, “Stop. We have a problem here.”
I thought, “Please let me wake up from this nightmare.”
He had thought that I might be tone deaf, but after a few exercises he realized that I was just really bad – which doesn’t sound like good news, but came as a relief.
Anyway, he worked with me for months, getting me to chant well enough so that parishioners wouldn’t be running for the exits.
Another weakness – a more serious one – was I didn’t know as much Scripture as some others. I mean, I had been going to church most of my life so I was familiar with the big stories, but I quickly realized there was much of the Bible – especially the Old Testament – that I simply did not know. So, I tried to take as many Bible classes as I could to catch up.
When it came to the Old Testament, back then I was like a lot of Christians in thinking that it was pretty much just a bunch of mostly irrelevant laws, along with stories that seemed fantastical and had no bearing on life today.
And, like a lot of Christians, past and present, I wasn’t sure about the so-called “God of the Old Testament,” a God who seemed to be angry and even bloodthirsty, a God who was tribal, delighting in the defeat of Israel’s enemies. Based on the little I knew, this God didn’t look and sound much like the loving God of Jesus.
But, as I’ve learned more, I’ve come to cherish the Old Testament – the colorful stories, yes, but most of all the real “God of the Old Testament” – the God who called Israel and calls us to care for the poor and the strangers, to forgive debts – the God who calls us to be a light to the nations.
And, another thing I love about the Old Testament is that, unlike most nations past or present, Israel is so self-critical. Over and over, the Old Testament writers and the prophets highlight the failings of their own people – their faithlessness and idolatry – as well as the flaws and misdeeds of their leaders, very much including King David, who we’ve been hearing about over the past month.
And, the Old Testament writers and prophets are especially self-critical when it comes to the Jerusalem Temple, the dedication of which we heard in today’s lesson from First Kings.
It’s Solomon who built the Temple, but earlier, King David had proposed building a temple for God. To his credit, David had realized that there was something wrong with him living in a beautiful palace made of precious cedar while the Ark of the Covenant dwelled in a tent.
(The Ark was a wooden chest containing the stone tablets given to Moses – it was understood to be, in a sense, God’s presence.)
But, God declines David’s offer of a house. God points out that God has never lived in a house, that God has always been free and on the move.
God also rejects David’s offer because David has too much blood on his hands from all the wars he has waged.
Instead of David building a house for God, God turns the tables and promises to build David a house - not a house made of cedar, but a royal house, a dynasty that will reign forever.
But, now, as we heard today, during the reign of David’s more peaceful son Solomon, God goes along with the construction of a house – a very grand house, indeed.
The Ark of the Covenant will be placed in the Temple, which will become the center of Israel’s religious and cultural life for centuries.
But, even at this moment of great celebration – even during Solomon’s dedication prayer of the Temple – we hear some of that Old Testament self-critique that I mentioned.
In case people got carried away, and thought that somehow God could be contained by four walls, Solomon says:
“But, will God indeed dwell on the earth? Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you.”
Then, Solomon simply asks God to watch over this house, to hear the prayers of those who gather in this place.
And, Solomon asks that this Temple might be a light shining to strangers, bringing them all to God.
The dedication of the Temple is a great moment in Israel’s history, but throughout the Old Testament period and beyond, there will be a lot of ambivalence about the Temple.
On the one hand, it was believed to be the holiest place on earth, the place where, in a sense, God actually dwelled.
It was the place where the people of Israel prayed and made the sacrifices that helped to keep their end of the covenant.
On the other hand, the prophets will often criticize the Temple and its priests and all the rituals, reminding the people that the kind of sacrifice God really desires is caring for the poor, welcoming the stranger, and setting captives free.
And, as you may remember, Jesus himself offers a most dramatic critique of the Temple, overturning the moneychanger’s tables, seemingly furious that his Father’s house – this house of prayer for all people - had been turned into a marketplace.
Now, we might be tempted to dismiss this very old story of the Temple as interesting, maybe, but ultimately irrelevant for our lives today. But, as the Word of God these old stories contain eternal truths that still speak to us, here and now.
You know, I’ve been deeply involved in the church for about twenty years, and during that time I have heard many of our leaders say that the church is the people, not the building.
I’ve heard our leaders say that we need to take the church – take ourselves – out into the world – that God doesn’t just live here inside our beautiful temple but God is out there, dwelling in places that don’t seem to be beautiful at all – think of the meanest streets in places like Jersey City or Baltimore.
And, over the years, we sometimes heard that message and sometimes we took it to heart and sometimes we really did bring the church out of our temple and into the world, shining God’s light into some very shadowy places, sharing God’s special love for the poor and the suffering.
And then the pandemic came along and shook up everything, forcing all of us out of our temple for a time. And, today as unfortunately we move back into the Orange Phase, the pandemic continues to shake us up.
But, every crisis presents opportunities.
So, over the past few weeks, I’ve been having a series of meetings with leaders of various ministries here at St. Thomas’.
As we’ve talked, I have been so impressed by your creativity, dedication, generosity, and, most of all, your persistence. You have kept at it – kept serving the church – kept feeding the hungry – especially during these most difficult times.
And, what I’ve said to some of you I’ll say to everyone today:
Since the pandemic has shaken up everything, and since we are beginning a new chapter together, we now have the opportunity – the necessity, really – to look at everything we do with fresh eyes, and maybe even with a little Old Testament-style self-critique.
That can be hard, I know, but it can also be exciting to pray and to imagine and to plan for a church that that looks and sounds even more like what God has been dreaming about from the days of Solomon’s Temple to our beautiful temple today:
A church that shines even more of God’s light into the world.
A church that sings – don’t worry, it doesn’t matter at all if we’re tone deaf or just really bad – a church that sings beautiful songs out there – out there in our broken and suffering world, the world where God is waiting for us.
Amen.
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