The Lord Dwelled in My House

This is the sermon I preached on July 15th, 2012. It's based on 2 Samuel 6:1-13, in which David leaves the ark with Obed-Edom because he is afraid to bring it into Jerusalem. The sermon is a look at what Obed-Edom might have thought, a Philistine who had the ark in his care for 3 months.It's the first sermon I've preached without being behind the pulpit.
 

The Lord Dwelled In My House

Over the last couple of weeks I have spent a lot of time with our Old Testament text for today. And as I read this text, along with the others in the book of Samuel that we’ve been working through the last few weeks, I’ve begun to get to know the characters in the stories. I see David and his closeness with God, but also his ambition and sly political maneuvering. I hear Michal’s disappointment at being nothing but a political plaything for David to use for his gain, and how the humility and earnestness that she once saw in his eyes have become clouded over with calculation and pride.

            And I’ve started to notice minor characters as well. Ones whose stories don’t fit the narrative of David’s righteous rise to power. Uzzah, and Ahio, for example. Ahio’s name literally means, “his brother” his real name was long forgotten by the authors of our story. Oh, Uzzah, poor soul, he’s barely even a character . Just a tool of the author, put there to put the fear of God into David once more. As I begin to pay attention to these characters I wonder what they might have to say to us about our story, were they given voice to speak.

            So this is my take, on what one character might have said, had there been room in the official narrative for him. I speak to you as Obed-Edom, a Philistine who is given the ark for three months before it is finally brought into Jerusalem.  When David and those with him see God strike down Uzzah before their very eyes for trying to steady the ark, they are afraid, and move to get rid of the dangerous but holy ark as quickly as they can. Rather than risking God’s wrath himself, David leaves it with Obed-Edom, a resident alien, in Israel. This is what I imagine he might have to tell us, were the spotlight focused on him.

            When David and his 30,000 came to my homestead with the ark of the Covenant, I was afraid. No Philistine is ever all that comfortable surrounded by a Hebrew army. The ark stood before them. It was borne on a cart by two oxen, and none of them would go near it with a ten-foot pole. I wasn’t particularly excited about it either, when my people captured it from the Israelites many years ago, it made its way to Gath, and struck so many people with tumors and that eventually we sent it away. I couldn’t imagine what plagues it might bring to my door now.

            Then David came forward and declared that he was leaving the ark with me. He acted like it was a great gift, but I could see in his eyes that he was angry, and afraid. They tell you not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I asked anyway. What was it that cause them to abort their celebration and bring the ark here? 

            When I heard what had happened, that Uzzah had reached out to steady the ark and was then struck down, I was even more terrified at the ark. But I guess I was more afraid of the army behind it. They put it down in the courtyard. It was like they had placed an anvil above my head. That night as the sun set I watched it and wondered when it might crush me.

I didn’t know what to do with it, of course. I knew only that it was holy, and that armies trembled before it. I couldn’t think of anything else, so I knelt down and prayed. This became a rhythm for me. When the sun set, I would set myself down before it in prayer. And as the sun rose I would rise with it to pray before the ark. 

            At first I prayed in fear, but soon my fear turned into awe. I prayed in awe, and my awe turned into faith. I prayed in faith, and my faith turned into love. I prayed in love and was awakened to God’s presence. Each sun rise and sun set, I became all the more confident in God’s presence in my life. I found comfort, and peace, in the knowledge that God was here with me. I found confidence, for to love God is to trust that God is on your side, in feast and famine, however your lot may fall. I and my house prospered when the ark was with us. Like Abraham my faith was reckoned to me as righteousness, and I was blessed.

            Others noticed the blessings which I had received. They noted the confidence with which I walked, the comfort that I had in the knowledge that the Lord was with me. They saw my newfound generosity, the way no one went cold or hungry on my watch, the way I sought justice with fervor and gave mercy with grace. When word got out of my success, it was only a matter of time before David came to take it back. When he did he brought along another parade, and they went forth to Jerusalem with gladness and celebrations. I followed at a safe distance, quietly mourning as the nation cheered. God was coming to them, but God was also leaving me.

            I ate at the king’s feast in Jerusalem, one last meal before I returned home to my old life. All of the people went back to their homes, and I started the journey back to mine. The sun set as I passed the last gate on my way out of Jerusalem. Out of reflex, I dropped down on my knees and prayed.  I prayed in fear, fear that I would lose this presence that had come to fill my life so deeply. This far away from the ark, from God’s presence, I didn’t expect to feel much. But as I prayed my fear turned into awe, awe that God was present even here. And my awe turned into faith, faith that God will go with me wherever I go. And my faith turned into love, a love of God so deep that I will proclaim  wherever I go, that the God of Israel, the God of David, Abraham, and Jacob is my God, and God has blessed me with his presence whether his temple is near or far, whether I feel it or not.

            I don’t know what to tell you except to proclaim that the Lord lives, and in spite of the dangers we face, the fears we experience, the stress and the frustration and the exhaustion that life can bring with is, God’s presence is real, and it is available to you.  You need only to let your fear turn into love, let your awe turn into praise, let your faith turn into trust. Humble yourself before the Lord and you will come to know him as I have. The Lord dwelled in my house for three months, but I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Shaking off the Dust

I've gone way too long without posting, I guess I got a little bit distracted with my other work and haven't gotten around to putting up a sermon. I'll be trying to put up more in the next few weeks to catch up. This one is based on the text of Mark 6:1-13, and is called Shaking Off the Dust. 

Shaking off the Dust

            So after traveling around Galilee, preaching and healing, making a little bit of a name for himself, Jesus returns to his hometown. And he gets up to preach in the synagogue, and people are amazed at how wise they suddenly find him. They praise his wisdom, and wonder where it came from all of a sudden. But then, in nearly the same breath, they start cutting him down.

            This seems a little bit weird. I mean, if they are amazed at how wise he is, why are they so upset? Shouldn’t they be happy that he’s brought some of his wisdom to this synagogue? Doesn’t it make sense that they would be happy about his new place, delighted to hear his wisdom, and excited that he has come back, rather than moving on to bigger, better things?

            In order to understand their reaction, we have to learn a little bit more about how the society worked in antiquity. Theirs was not a meritocracy like the United States. People weren’t judged by their achievements, but by their family honor and reputation. You could call it an honorocracy.

            Depending on who your family was, you were born with a certain amount of honor. Well-born people had more honor to work with, and poorly-born people, (such as the bastard son of Mary) did not have much honor to work with. And everyone was expected to stay in their place. By behaving appropriate to your station, you could improve your family’s honor, and perhaps slowly raise your status in the community. Honor, was sort of like a credit score. Easy to damage it, slow to build it up, and everyone has one. Except that honor was public, and it was considered a limited resource. If your status went up, it was always at the expense of someone else.

            So now it makes a little bit more sense that the people were scandalized by Jesus’ newfound wisdom. He was clearly acting way above his station. Wisdom and power were the domain of other, more important people, and Jesus was just getting uppity trying to talk like he was something special. They knew where he came from. The bastard son of Mary who did some carpentry work a few towns over and now thinks he’s a combination between Ezekiel and Gandhi? And he wants them to stop listening to the priests and the Pharisees and give money to the poor and expect that to make God happy and the crops come in?  And so they attacked his reputation and his family, his sources of honor, reminding themselves and each other that he didn’t have any powerful patrons who allowed him to speak this way, no protection if he offended someone.

            But Jesus was having none of it. He had no interest in the family and kinship system that forced people to stay in their place. Everyone had to stay in line or else the whole family was punished.  The last time he came to town, some well-meaning friends and members of his family tried to get him to stop. You’re embarrassing us, they said, “don’t you realize that all your rebelliousness has an effect on all of us?” But Jesus would have none of it. He declared that there was something more important than protecting your family’s reputation. In fact, he went so far as to repudiate his own family. He responded to their concern with perhaps the most revolutionary statement yet at that point. “Who are my mother and my brothers?  Whoever does the will of God is my mother and my brother and my sister.”

            He wasn’t just rejecting the family and kinship system that ensured that people stay in their place. He was declaring that there was a power bigger and more important than status and influence. That God demanded justice more than purity, generosity before retribution, and righteousness more than social status. He declared that he could forgive sins, and that people profiting from the cleansing business were parasites on the people. He ate with tax collectors and sinners, and showed how those who thought they were righteous because they avoided the unrighteous were hypocrites. He refused to fast when people went hungry elsewhere. He was insulting everyone in their name, upsetting people they depended on, soiling what honor the family had. 

            And when you bite the system, the system bites back. Jesus was rejected in his hometown. He was, in his own words, without honor, even among his own kin. This is what happens when you rock the boat. It’s what happens when you challenge the system. Wherever you go, someone benefits from the system, and the ones who benefit usually have the most power and the most interest in keeping that system the same. It’s like in the movie Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, when the idealistic country bumpkin arrives in D.C. hoping to make the world a better place, and the other legislators try to feel him out to figure out who’s pocket he’s in. When they discover that he doesn’t have any interest in the big bankers, the steel conglomerates, or the shipping magnates, they plot to get rid of him because he makes them all look bad. Or when Billy Beane threw out all the conventional wisdom in baseball, everyone who was conventionally wise tripped all over himself to declare Beane a lunatic.

            When it comes down to it, if you have a message that is revolutionary, you are going to catch a lot of flak if you tell anyone about it. You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. Now of course the corollary is true as well. If you are preaching what you think is a revolutionary message, and everyone around you is nodding their heads in agreement, then you might be missing something. You can’t put three uncracked eggs on a plate and call it brunch.

The word of God is wild, scary, and awesome. It is rarely what we expect it to be. It is jarring, frustrating, and if you spend any time in a room with it, it will leave marks. It demands of us more than we’d like to give, promises us more than we’d feel comfortable receiving, and challenges us to leave our comfort zone and take risks that will lead us in new directions. It asks us to give up climbing the ladder of success and judge ourselves by our devotion to the reign of God. But we have sought to tame it. To make it a little less wild, a little simpler to follow, a little easier to control. And in doing so we’ve drifted a long way from the mark. We’ve tamed it, restrained it, so that it makes a little more sense and a little less change. What we end up preaching, is a sort of Christianity Light ™. One that gives us all the benefits of feeling like a good person without ever having to push ourselves or each other for something better. One that promises eternal life without asking for more than a couple of hours on Sunday and a few dollars in the offering plate.

Jesus gave us a revolutionary message. He gave us a message that by itself intends to change the world. This message involved leaving the places in which we are comfortable, reaching out to people we’d rather not touch, and giving up privileges we’ve never lived without. It involves rejecting would-be powerbrokers of his world to declare that God is the only power in the universe that matters. It involves denying our selfishness and our sinfulness, taking up our crosses, and following Christ. 

What Jesus demonstrates when he returns home, is that we should expect rejection. While the Word we preach will sometimes fall on good soil, and bear fruit, speaking truth to power is a dangerous occupation. Our passage concludes with Jesus sending his disciples out into the world, to preach his message. And he warns them, that if they do it right, they should expect to be rejected. That if we really preach the kingdom of God, a revolutionary, demanding idea that challenges us to create a more just society, a more welcoming community, a more heavenly earth, then we should expect that the rest of the world will put all sorts of pressure on us to slow us down, wear us out, and restrain us.

But there is good news. In spite of Jesus rejection in his hometown, his ministry does not end. Immediately following his rejection Jesus moves on and increases his ministry, refusing to be silenced. And his disciples go out and cast out the demons that oppress us, that lead us to selfishness, violence, and hatred. And they bring healing hands and loving hearts to people who desperately need them.

We have been given the authority to change the world in the name of Christ. We have been blessed with a wild, crazy message that challenges the social structures that oppress and demonize, and bringing healing and hope to a broken world. We cannot do it without experiencing rejection. But nevertheless, we must move on, because our message is so important, so crazy, so powerful, that with God’s help we will be able to move past the bitterness and divisiveness of our world into a world of justice, mercy, and peace.