Struggling with God's invitation
Commentary
Object:
God created us for God’s own reasons -- to walk with God, to tend the earth, to care for one another, to bring order out of chaos. We think. But God often acts in ways we cannot understand. God loves people we cannot love and tells us to love them anyway. Events occur that go against our understanding of God, and we wonder if God is love or if life is an experiment God is conducting with little compassion for the creation.
We justify ourselves, our actions, our motives, our hopes. We fear the unknown, people who look different, act differently, who believe differently from us -- even those within our own church. We are distrustful because we know that we ourselves have not been trustworthy, yet we are afraid to admit to God that we know our own failings. We are afraid to repent for fear that God will require us to go back and make amends.
This struggle is not unique to our time and place. Perhaps when life is tough and we are afraid, the best statement of faith we can make is “Where else can I go? I find strength in God as Jesus talked about God. I can only face life secure in my Lord.”
1 Kings 8:(1, 6, 10-11) 22-30, 41-43
This passage is about the establishment of Solomon’s temple, a fulfillment of the intentions of David which God had refused. This permanent building would replace the tabernacle, a tent that had traveled with the people while they were wandering in the wilderness. Once in the land, the people of Israel worshiped in their tribal areas and had sanctuaries in “the high places” -- groves of trees that were on higher elevations. Shiloh was the first of these [seeJoshua 18:8], but others, such as Shechem (where Abram built his first altar for YHWH [YHWH represents the four letters used in Hebrew to substitute for the name of God, which it was forbidden to pronounce -- when we see “LORD” in the Bible, it usually is standing in for this unpronounceable four-letter word]), Beth-el (where Abram settled and erected a second altar to YHWH), Ephraim, and Kedesh (designated cities of refuge) also were centers for worship of the Lord in those days.
The stories about David’s desire to build a temple in honor of God vary, as does the reason God refused permission. It is probable that the building of a temple was seen by the initial generation of Israelites as being too much like the temples built for the various gods around them. In one version David protests that he has a lovely house and thinks God should too, and God (through a prophet) agrees but then changes his mind and refuses [2 Samuel 7] permission.
In other passages, it is inferred that David is not worthy to build a temple for God. But God did give permission for “David’s offspring” to do so. As David neared his death, he saw to it that the various materials needed for the project were accumulated on the basis that Solomon had no experience in this sort of project.
It is clear from all of this that there is ambivalence in the nation about this project. God has traveled with the people, with the tent of worship traveling with them. The Ark of the Covenant, containing the stones on which God had written the ten words (Commandments), was likewise portable, being carried on poles that passed through rings on the corners of the Ark. As they are giving up their nomadic ways, it would be natural to build houses and a temple -- but that transition was not an easy one, just as today it is difficult for those switching from nomadic lifestyles to settlements. But these very human considerations are hidden behind the language of prophet and king and God in the scriptures. If God continues to dwell in a tent in their midst, he remains a God who can be worshiped anywhere the people are. But if God dwells in a building that cannot be taken down and moved about, it restricts worship of that God and defines the people in a very different way. The people of God now belong to the land God has given them, and so does God. They cannot leave the land without leaving the temple, and their God.
There was also fear, as they became more settled, that they would be tempted by the religions and customs of those they have defeated. There is plenty of reason for this, as even before the temple was built the people had begun putting up poles that represented the Canaanite female god of fertility alongside the altars of the God of Abraham. Archaeological finds over the past few decades include some of these poles and even manuscripts of prayers to Yahweh and “his consort.” As we read in Ezekiel 8, the interior of the temple even become decorated with the images that were common in Egypt and other lands around Israel.
All of this leads us to the dedication of the temple in today’s scripture. The building is described in great detail in the preceding chapters of 1 Kings. It has been decorated with gold and bronze, purple and red, with painted walls and cedar pillars. The worship area is largely open so that the sun streams in, lighting all the beauty and warming the cedar. It is magnificent by ancient standards.
But the one thing that it lacks is the presence of God. The people as a whole are involved in calling down that presence: there is an enormous slaughter of sheep and oxen, all furnished by the congregation. The priests play their part by bringing in the ark of the covenant, to be placed in the “holiest place” (in the older translations of the passage “the Holy of Holies”). Because it is placed out of the sight of all but the high priest, this is the last time any ordinary citizen will see it. The stones inside it had been touched by the hand of God, and therefore living in the temple brought God closer to the people, even if out of sight.
When the ark was in its place, the priests withdrew and “a cloud filled the house of the Lord.” This cloud, which had been seen to go before the people as they exited Egypt, had come down into the tabernacle when that space of worship had been dedicated and now in Solomon’s temple, signifying that God still lived in the midst of the people.
Solomon begins his dedication prayer by pointing out that “Adonai (the Hebrew word that is represented by YHWH in the text and translated LORD in most English language Bibles) has said that he would dwell in thick darkness” [v. 12]. This is something we need to pay attention to; the scripture talks about the “glory” of God, and we think of this as a brilliant light that symbolizes God’s presence. But for the descendants of Abraham, this cloud is a thick darkness (or even if the cloud is white, it hides the face of God). This image goes back before the Exodus to the time of Abraham, when he was instructed to construct an elaborate burnt offering to God [see Genesis 15:12-21] and a “deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him” [NRSV]. For the children of Abraham, who did not believe in a spirit of evil that operates in opposition to God, God contained all that there is -- darkness as well as light, curses as well as blessings. The cloud may be light or dark, therefore, because God is always unknowable to some degree, and is capable of changing.
Solomon considers that the House of David (Solomon’s father) and the House of the Lord are irrevocably tied together. As God rules the world, so Solomon rules Israel. This temple and the establishment of David’s line are the fulfillment of God’s covenant with David. The people can trust in both of these institutions because they are both God’s, created by God’s will and with God’s blessing [vv. 12-21].
The prayer that follows first thanks God for the covenant and asks God to keep his part, reminding God of the terms of the Davidic covenant, that there will always be a descendant of David on the throne of Israel “if only your children... walk before [you]” as David himself had [vv. 22-26]. It is clear that Solomon has a wider, bigger understanding of God than had previously been held; God is no longer simply the God of Israel, who can be carried along in an ark and lives only among the Israelites. God cannot be contained even on earth, let alone in a building. Still, he is bold to ask that God keep an eye on the temple and an ear on the prayers of God’s people [vv. 27-30].
Solomon was known as the wisest ruler that even lived, and the verses that were skipped in the lectionary prove this, as Solomon raises up the possibility of the people turning away from God and asks in advance for a system of forgiveness, so that the people would know what to do when they realize that they are being punished for their collective sins.
Our reading ends on another interesting note: a prayer for the foreigner who might come to this temple, having heard of the glory of God, and offer up prayer. Solomon asks God to bless such a person to hear that prayer and to grant what the foreigner might ask for. He tells God that by doing so God’s fame will spread and he will be worshiped in more than this place and by more people than live in the land.
What wisdom we see here -- more wisdom than most of us have today. While it is a good thing, we know, to pray for others, how often do we really pray kindly for those who do not think of God the way we do? Especially in the contentious times in which we live today, would it spread peace if we were to pray for blessings on our enemies? We tend to think that Jesus was the first to ask us to pray for our enemies and kindness toward those who “despitefully use us.” But in this prayer of Solomon, spoken 2,500 years ago, we see him reaching out in that same way.
It is easy to distrust those who look different from us, to mock the accents of those who have yet to master our language and to ignore those who dress differently from us, even to actually abuse them. But here we have an ancient example for us to follow in which we ask God to hear the prayer of one who is not like us.
It is significant, for example, that despite many attempts to have Hispanic and Anglo congregants share the same building, conflicts arise that many have come to believe are inevitable due to differences in child-rearing practices, food preferences, and worship music, as well as language differences. And how many of us really have racially integrated worship services?
Even the mixing of elders and youth creates the problem of balancing worship style and music selections between them. It has been said that the question of what kind of hymns will be sung in worship has been and will continue to be the most divisive problem in our churches in the 21st century. And with the current cultural climate of disrespect for others, we find that too many pastors and congregations have simply thrown up their hands, leading to the decline in attendance that has many wondering if so-called Main Street churches have any future at all.
This does not have to be the case. But like Solomon, we need to pray -- and work for -- congregations that can welcome those “foreigners” who may come to us, hoping to work and worship together. We can and must, like Solomon the wise, prepare ourselves and our congregations for those who are drawn to us to find peace in their lives but have very different expectations from those who have worshiped here for years.
Ephesians 6:10-20
At the time of this letter Ephesus was a center of travel and commerce, one of the greatest seaports in the world. It also stood on the crossroads between Babylon, Laodicea, and Smyrna. Paul lived here for a while, working with Priscilla and Aquilla at their mutual business of tentmaking. Paul had not founded this congregation, but he had stirred up great animosity amongst those Ephesians who worshiped Artemis. Multitudes came here to worship at the largest and most beautiful temple in her honor, and like all pilgrims they wanted souvenirs of their trip. This supported a large number of artisans who made statues of Artemis out of silver. Apparently fearing that the conversion of many to Christianity would undermine the temple and their market share, they rioted, which culminated in Paul’s arrest.
This connection of Paul with Ephesus led to the acceptance of this letter as a genuine letter of Paul, as the collection of writing to be considered official was being established. However, there are many scholars today who say that the style of writing indicates that this letter is the product of someone other than the apostle to the Gentiles. The sentences are longer in this letter than those Paul usually uses; the Greek is different; there are 90 words in this letter that do not appear in letters that are undisputedly written by Paul; and finally, there are distinct differences in his ideas about marriage and what constitutes the church between this letter and his letters to Corinth. For example, Paul’s undisputed writings always say Christ is the foundation of the church, but here in Ephesians the writer says that the apostles and prophets are the foundation of the church.
Nevertheless, there is enough of Paul’s thought in this letter that some scholars think the differences are simply those of the apostle early in his career versus this letter, written about 58-59 CE. It may be that it was written by a student or a group of followers of Paul. And no one has ever suggested that it does not belong in the Bible.
Today’s passage is a favorite for many of our parishioners, even though we no longer have soldiers wearing armor. So it’s helpful to remember that this was in fact a military image for the readers of Ephesians. Like Solomon in our Old Testament selection for today, the writer of this letter is living in tumultuous times, and the hope of Christians expressed in this passage assumes that Jesus will be coming back soon. This belief, and the images used, are called apocalyptic -- the expectation of the end times. We need to note that the end times were not without danger and war. In fact, the writer expects war. That’s why he uses this imagery of “the whole armor of God,” which is meant to protect the believer in Christ.
First, we need to remember, as this writer does, that the power to overcome, the strength to persevere, is not our own but God’s. God is at battle in an unseen war against “cosmic powers of this present darkness.” Our part is to be aligned on the side of God and to “stand firm” in what we have been taught about Jesus and our salvation, and to remember that we are not fighting alone but as part of a people united under a common law, a common ruler, for a common cause -- in this case, the rule of love which we have come to know in Christ.
Karl Barth [pronounced “Bart”] -- considered by many the premier theologian of the 20th century -- talked about this battle that God is fighting as involving us only in that we are standing at the spot where the enemy is firing arrows at God. We need to put on the whole armor of God so that those arrows cannot do us serious harm. As the author of Ephesians says, “so that [we] may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.” The evil day he is referring to is the Day of the Lord, in which God takes up arms against every evil in order to vanquish all that makes our world unbearable. Paradoxically, it is also the day of hope, the day on which we are invited to “lift up our heads” and rejoice! The systems of the world must be destroyed in order for the system of God to be put in place, just as one takes down an old decrepit building so that a new, more functional or beautiful building can be built in its place.
We must “stand, therefore” and dress ourselves in the armor that God provides. This is not a physical reality, it is a spiritual one. Each piece of armor the average Roman soldier wore has a spiritual counterpart in this passage. When we have succeeded in achieving these spiritual gifts, we will be protected for the warfare the author anticipates.
First, we must put on the belt of truth -- that is, we must be loyal, steadfast, accommodating, and faithful. Our word must be dependable; we must not enter into false gossip or controversy. We must not be gleeful spreaders of whatever stories are “going around” about others, whether celebrities or those in our circles or our neighborhoods. Finally, we must be honest in our daily living, dependable and trustworthy.
It’s interesting that people like to “rank” the seriousness of sins. Seldom do we rank lying at the top of the list. Yet when Jesus talks about Satan, he calls him “the Father of Lies.” It is the lie that separates Eve from the word of God regarding the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and Adam immediately lies to God about their situation. That original lie tainted the relationship of humans to other humans as well: when Cain kills Abel, he compounds his sin by lying to God about it, despite the fact that God’s first words to Cain are “Where is your brother Abel?” which certainly intimated at least that God had noted his absence and suspicion that Cain had a role in it.
The quality of righteousness is our “breastplate,” like the flak jackets of soldiers and police when facing armed conflict. Many people today, even within the church, hear “righteousness” and immediately think “self-righteousness.” Apparently too many of us have held ourselves to be righteous when in fact we were being judgmental, pointing to others’ sins that do not tempt us. But righteousness does not include judgment against others. It is simply the attempt to do the right thing in every instance.
The problem is that sometimes it is difficult to know what “the right thing” to do is. We want to be safe. We want to avoid violence. We want to be left in peace. So we don’t speak up when we really need to, such as when people around us are singing dirty or vile songs, calling people of other colors by derogatory names, laughing at those who are elderly or disabled, or even being violent. Being righteous means that we still have the ability to be shocked by racism, violence, sexual degradation, and exploitation of others. A righteous person is gentle, kind, and helpful, even toward those who are captives of their own addictions or character flaws. To be righteous ought to mean that we are trying to be like Jesus.
The shoes we put on as part of our armor in fact are “whatever will help you to proclaim the gospel of peace.” This is an interesting thing to say in the midst of preparing for war. But we should remember that Jesus, in the midst of being nailed to the cross, asked God to forgive them “because they don’t know what they’re doing.” God promises peace “to all who call on the name” -- who are God’s people on earth. So Jesus came in peace, knowing that we would probably kill him, as he kept warning his disciples. So we are called to put on our running shoes, our climbing boots, or our knee-high boots... whatever will help us to get out there and act peacefully.
Our shield will be our faith, which has to be flameproof for the battle we are called to. The note in The New Interpreter’s Study Bible for this verse says that Roman shields were made of leather and were soaked in water before battle so that flaming arrows would not set them on fire. Our faith also needs to be ready for whatever life is going to throw at us -- never an easy thing to be sure of until the day you lose your job and worry about how you’re going to pay both the mortgage and the medical bills that you have no insurance to cover.
It’s not our weapons that keep us safe in battle, it’s the armor we have -- armored vehicles and flak jackets are supposed to protect us from the fire of the enemy. Once we are wounded, our armaments are useless. First we must keep alive and stay unhurt. Then we can fight.
Our helmet in the fight is salvation. Now, salvation is not simply our faith that we will be with God when we die. Salvation is for this life as well. The root of the word is salve [sal-vay], a word we have simply incorporated in our own language: a salve is what makes a wound hurt less and heal completely. We put salves on bugbites to make them stop itching, and they draw poisons out of our skin so they don’t spread.
In the spiritual realm, salvation indicates healing: healing of the mind; healing of the heart; healing of the body. Jesus demonstrated the effects of salvation when he said to the paralyzed man, “Your sins are forgiven” [Matthew 9:2]. The Pharisees, standing around watching what Jesus was doing, complained, “Who is this, that he thinks he can forgive sins?” Jesus said, “Just so you know that I have the power to forgive sins, I ask you, which is easier -- to forgive his sins, or do this?” and he turned to the paralytic and said “get up and walk.” And the man did so. But we too often forget the connection between physical health and spiritual well-being.
I am reminded of the morning I was late getting to the hospital to be with a woman in my congregation who was undergoing surgery. When I got there it was just moments before she was due in the operating room. I apologized to the nurse, but insisted on seeing her before she was taken away. When I walked into the room where she was waiting, she was in tears. We talked about her extreme fear which had led to her tears, and we prayed together. I read to her one of the stories of Jesus’ healing powers, and when we were done she took a deep breath and said, “I think I can face this now.” I hadn’t heard the surgeon walk in behind me, but he placed a hand on my shoulder and thanked me for coming, and the effect on the patient. “If more pastors did what you did this morning,” he said, “my surgical success would be much higher.” Salvation is for the body and our well-being here in this world, not just the next.
Finally, after all of this preparation to keep as safe as one can be in battle, the writer says we should take the sword of the Spirit, “which is the word of God.”
Too many people think that they can go out on a street corner and simply hand out tracts or Bibles and that this will lead to the conversion of the world -- or at least the conversion of those passing by. But it is a rare occurrence that someone is converted this way.
Conversion comes from the interaction of the believer and the seeker. When people see us doing good and expecting nothing in return; when we apologize for hurting someone inadvertently; when we come back again and again to help someone when the cause seems lost -- it is then that people see the gospel in action, and then they may begin to ask the questions that lead to conversion.
There are also those who think that simply bringing people to give their lives to Jesus is all we are required to do. But there is a second step to the conversion process. It’s like the parable of the sower -- simply scattering seed isn’t enough to bring in a crop. The seed needs to put down roots, to take in the nourishment that God offers us. God expects us to bear fruit, and that cannot happen unless we continue to study, to mature, to cut off those things that hold us back. The mature Christian must help those less mature in their life choices.
Nor is it enough to convert people and help them to mature spiritually. We have a responsibility to the world in general. It’s a wonderful thing to bring a drug user to sobriety, but it takes society as a whole to make a peaceful world where people are not so stressed and frightened that they feel the need to dull their feelings with drugs. Jesus asked his disciples to make disciples of all nations. Until national leaders are willing to see that they have a responsibility to make a more loving, kinder world, nothing will change. So we have this charge to change the mindset of the world, to strive for peace, to speak out against torture, kidnapping, human trafficking and the societal conditions that lead to it, the binding of the poor to a permanent destitution, and the binding of the rich to the pursuit of power and pleasure.
That is why we need to put on all that armor. When we set out to change the world we can expect opposition, not just from individuals but from “the cosmic powers of this present darkness.” We should pray for those religious leaders we have, that they may preach truly and well, and that they may have people who will care for them as they speak out against that evil and darkness.
John 6:56-69
Prior to this passage, Jesus has been having a debate with the Jews about what it means when he says “I am the Bread of Life.” (This is one of the seven “I am” sayings that John uses -- “I am the bread of life, the bread from heaven” [chapter 6]; “I am the light of the world” [chapter 8]; “I am the gate to the sheepfold,” “I am the Good Shepherd” [chapter 10]; “I am the resurrection and the life” [chapter 11]; “I am the way, the truth, and the life” [chapter 14]; and “I am the true vine” [chapter 15]. This does not include the times when Jesus says “I am he” when talking with the Samarian woman at the well, nor the “I am” sayings about his identity with the Father.) Jesus declares himself to be “the bread that came down from heaven,” a phrase that immediately brings to mind the manna that God gave to the Hebrews as they lived in the wilderness. This is why the people complain: “How can he say he came down from heaven? We know whose son he is, and that’s Joseph’s son!” (v. 42). In other words, “He can’t be the Messiah; he’s not from the right family!”
In response, Jesus says: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever” (v. 51). The manna that the people ate in the desert fed them for only one day (or two as they picked on the sixth day, so they wouldn’t have to work on the sabbath). But like the water Jesus says he gives to the woman at the well, this bread sustains us in every way, not just filling our stomachs but satisfying our souls.
This saying offended many because it would make Jesus superior to the gifts of God. But then he even goes one step further: he says that eating this bread involves “eat[ing] my flesh and drink[ing] my blood [in order to] have eternal life.” This goes beyond what anyone can tolerate. Even his own disciples are shocked at these words. What on earth can he be saying? Does he really intend them to indulge in cannibalism?
Magical cannibalism was not unknown in the ancient world. In many religions one brought animals to be sacrificed as burnt offerings to their god, including the Jews. They then sat down to eat the cooked meat. But unlike the Jews, many of those rituals included the idea that in feasting on the meat of the sacrifice you were feasting on the flesh of the god himself. Is this what the people thought Jesus was encouraging? This is no better than actual cannibalism, since it puts you imitating the “disgusting practices,” as the prophets called these rituals, of the ancient gods.
There is another practice, common in warrior societies: actual cannibalism -- the eating of the flesh of one’s enemies slain in battle. These societies would eat the flesh of their enemies who had fought particularly fiercely. In this way, they hoped to take in the qualities of their enemy that they particularly admired. They thought of this as a compliment of a magical kind, though it was hardly taken that way by their enemies, we can be sure.
There was a parallel idea amongst Roman troops. A leader might encourage the strength and loyalty of his troops as they came into battle by asking them “Can you drink my blood and eat my flesh?!” That is, can you do as I do and go into this battle with my courage, my determination to win? If his hearers had heard a Roman centurion exhorting his troops in this way, it would be little better than the cannibalistic thoughts that Jesus seems to be having. Now he is no longer calling up the practices of the ancient pagans, he is using the language of Rome -- hardly betterthan what they might otherwise be thinking. No matter how they might take what he is saying, the thought is disgusting to them.
Jesus’ statement would hardly be tolerated by us, if we were hearing it for the first time. One of the “lies” (really a misunderstanding) told by the Romans against the Christians was that we drank blood and ate flesh in our worship. The mere mention of such a practice could easily turn entire towns against the Christians in their midst, as we might imagine.
The shock of Jesus saying this, according to John, turned “many” (v. 60) of his followers against him that day. No surprise to that. But Jesus’ response to their shock really is not helpful: “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless.” This really does sound as though he is saying that once he is dead they can have his flesh, since it is useless.
This statement has been a bone of contention between the Catholic church and the various branches of Protestantism since the 16th century. The Roman Catholics say that the body and blood of Christ are truly present, physically present, in the bread and wine as the priest says Jesus’ words “This is my body... this is my blood.” This belief is transubstantiation. The Reformed churches strongly disagreed, saying that the presence of the Christ is symbolic, and communion is a memorial meal only. The Lutherans stood with the Roman formulation, but said that Christ’s body and blood are made available to communicants in the bread and wine, though the bread and wine are not transformed physically (consubstantiation). Christianity is still divided today over the words that made many of Jesus’ disciples turn away from him. Jesus then turns to the Twelve -- the original disciples that he personally invited to follow him -- and asks, “Do you also wish to go away?”
Our faith stands with Simon Peter (as John calls him): “Where would we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the holy one of God.” John believes (v. 64) that Jesus knew “from the first” who would fail as disciples, either by leaving him or betraying him.
Despite all of the ways we may interpret the words of Jesus in this passage, this affirmation on the part of Simon Peter tells us what we most need to hear: that it is not the theology of communion, central as that ritual is, that binds us together or separates us. It is in coming together as a community and walking with Christ that we finally begin to understand that God loves us, despite whatever we may have done or do.
This following after Jesus is not a soft way. It requires determination on our part to be what God intends life to be for us. We need to stay with God, even when we don’t understand God at all, or we don’t understand the words of the Bible. We need to maintain our faithfulness to working toward making the world a better, kinder, more peaceful place. Despite the differences that separate even the most faithful of believers, we have something to offer to a world where people are victimized every day. We need to be the people of God everywhere that God leads us.
But if our doctrines separate us, many will ask, what do we have to offer? Doesn’t it compromise our faith to allow others to believe differently from us? If we tolerate people who do and say things we don’t approve of, aren’t we allowing the church to slip down that slope that leads to being completely outside the will of God?
We never know for certain how our actions stand with God. All of us are sinners (Romans 3:23) in need of redemption. Sometimes we are unsure what to do, even when we know that the whole law is tied up in “Thou shalt love...” (Luke 10:27). So we hope. We do what we believe God wants us to do. But until we have prayed for those we strongly disagree with -- prayed for them in a situation where we might otherwise be gloating as though they deserve the problems that beset them -- we have not learned how to follow Jesus. The easier way is to judge others’ compassion as being a lack of faith, for example; or to criticize others for including “the wrong kind of people” in the congregation; or to criticize one another’s interpretation of scripture as turning away from God. How hard it is to accept that our understanding might not be perfect!
Perhaps, like Simon Peter, the best we can do is say: “Where can I go where everyone believes exactly as I do? But you, Lord, have the words of life. You have shown me how to live, rather than requiring perfect understanding.”
We justify ourselves, our actions, our motives, our hopes. We fear the unknown, people who look different, act differently, who believe differently from us -- even those within our own church. We are distrustful because we know that we ourselves have not been trustworthy, yet we are afraid to admit to God that we know our own failings. We are afraid to repent for fear that God will require us to go back and make amends.
This struggle is not unique to our time and place. Perhaps when life is tough and we are afraid, the best statement of faith we can make is “Where else can I go? I find strength in God as Jesus talked about God. I can only face life secure in my Lord.”
1 Kings 8:(1, 6, 10-11) 22-30, 41-43
This passage is about the establishment of Solomon’s temple, a fulfillment of the intentions of David which God had refused. This permanent building would replace the tabernacle, a tent that had traveled with the people while they were wandering in the wilderness. Once in the land, the people of Israel worshiped in their tribal areas and had sanctuaries in “the high places” -- groves of trees that were on higher elevations. Shiloh was the first of these [seeJoshua 18:8], but others, such as Shechem (where Abram built his first altar for YHWH [YHWH represents the four letters used in Hebrew to substitute for the name of God, which it was forbidden to pronounce -- when we see “LORD” in the Bible, it usually is standing in for this unpronounceable four-letter word]), Beth-el (where Abram settled and erected a second altar to YHWH), Ephraim, and Kedesh (designated cities of refuge) also were centers for worship of the Lord in those days.
The stories about David’s desire to build a temple in honor of God vary, as does the reason God refused permission. It is probable that the building of a temple was seen by the initial generation of Israelites as being too much like the temples built for the various gods around them. In one version David protests that he has a lovely house and thinks God should too, and God (through a prophet) agrees but then changes his mind and refuses [2 Samuel 7] permission.
In other passages, it is inferred that David is not worthy to build a temple for God. But God did give permission for “David’s offspring” to do so. As David neared his death, he saw to it that the various materials needed for the project were accumulated on the basis that Solomon had no experience in this sort of project.
It is clear from all of this that there is ambivalence in the nation about this project. God has traveled with the people, with the tent of worship traveling with them. The Ark of the Covenant, containing the stones on which God had written the ten words (Commandments), was likewise portable, being carried on poles that passed through rings on the corners of the Ark. As they are giving up their nomadic ways, it would be natural to build houses and a temple -- but that transition was not an easy one, just as today it is difficult for those switching from nomadic lifestyles to settlements. But these very human considerations are hidden behind the language of prophet and king and God in the scriptures. If God continues to dwell in a tent in their midst, he remains a God who can be worshiped anywhere the people are. But if God dwells in a building that cannot be taken down and moved about, it restricts worship of that God and defines the people in a very different way. The people of God now belong to the land God has given them, and so does God. They cannot leave the land without leaving the temple, and their God.
There was also fear, as they became more settled, that they would be tempted by the religions and customs of those they have defeated. There is plenty of reason for this, as even before the temple was built the people had begun putting up poles that represented the Canaanite female god of fertility alongside the altars of the God of Abraham. Archaeological finds over the past few decades include some of these poles and even manuscripts of prayers to Yahweh and “his consort.” As we read in Ezekiel 8, the interior of the temple even become decorated with the images that were common in Egypt and other lands around Israel.
All of this leads us to the dedication of the temple in today’s scripture. The building is described in great detail in the preceding chapters of 1 Kings. It has been decorated with gold and bronze, purple and red, with painted walls and cedar pillars. The worship area is largely open so that the sun streams in, lighting all the beauty and warming the cedar. It is magnificent by ancient standards.
But the one thing that it lacks is the presence of God. The people as a whole are involved in calling down that presence: there is an enormous slaughter of sheep and oxen, all furnished by the congregation. The priests play their part by bringing in the ark of the covenant, to be placed in the “holiest place” (in the older translations of the passage “the Holy of Holies”). Because it is placed out of the sight of all but the high priest, this is the last time any ordinary citizen will see it. The stones inside it had been touched by the hand of God, and therefore living in the temple brought God closer to the people, even if out of sight.
When the ark was in its place, the priests withdrew and “a cloud filled the house of the Lord.” This cloud, which had been seen to go before the people as they exited Egypt, had come down into the tabernacle when that space of worship had been dedicated and now in Solomon’s temple, signifying that God still lived in the midst of the people.
Solomon begins his dedication prayer by pointing out that “Adonai (the Hebrew word that is represented by YHWH in the text and translated LORD in most English language Bibles) has said that he would dwell in thick darkness” [v. 12]. This is something we need to pay attention to; the scripture talks about the “glory” of God, and we think of this as a brilliant light that symbolizes God’s presence. But for the descendants of Abraham, this cloud is a thick darkness (or even if the cloud is white, it hides the face of God). This image goes back before the Exodus to the time of Abraham, when he was instructed to construct an elaborate burnt offering to God [see Genesis 15:12-21] and a “deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him” [NRSV]. For the children of Abraham, who did not believe in a spirit of evil that operates in opposition to God, God contained all that there is -- darkness as well as light, curses as well as blessings. The cloud may be light or dark, therefore, because God is always unknowable to some degree, and is capable of changing.
Solomon considers that the House of David (Solomon’s father) and the House of the Lord are irrevocably tied together. As God rules the world, so Solomon rules Israel. This temple and the establishment of David’s line are the fulfillment of God’s covenant with David. The people can trust in both of these institutions because they are both God’s, created by God’s will and with God’s blessing [vv. 12-21].
The prayer that follows first thanks God for the covenant and asks God to keep his part, reminding God of the terms of the Davidic covenant, that there will always be a descendant of David on the throne of Israel “if only your children... walk before [you]” as David himself had [vv. 22-26]. It is clear that Solomon has a wider, bigger understanding of God than had previously been held; God is no longer simply the God of Israel, who can be carried along in an ark and lives only among the Israelites. God cannot be contained even on earth, let alone in a building. Still, he is bold to ask that God keep an eye on the temple and an ear on the prayers of God’s people [vv. 27-30].
Solomon was known as the wisest ruler that even lived, and the verses that were skipped in the lectionary prove this, as Solomon raises up the possibility of the people turning away from God and asks in advance for a system of forgiveness, so that the people would know what to do when they realize that they are being punished for their collective sins.
Our reading ends on another interesting note: a prayer for the foreigner who might come to this temple, having heard of the glory of God, and offer up prayer. Solomon asks God to bless such a person to hear that prayer and to grant what the foreigner might ask for. He tells God that by doing so God’s fame will spread and he will be worshiped in more than this place and by more people than live in the land.
What wisdom we see here -- more wisdom than most of us have today. While it is a good thing, we know, to pray for others, how often do we really pray kindly for those who do not think of God the way we do? Especially in the contentious times in which we live today, would it spread peace if we were to pray for blessings on our enemies? We tend to think that Jesus was the first to ask us to pray for our enemies and kindness toward those who “despitefully use us.” But in this prayer of Solomon, spoken 2,500 years ago, we see him reaching out in that same way.
It is easy to distrust those who look different from us, to mock the accents of those who have yet to master our language and to ignore those who dress differently from us, even to actually abuse them. But here we have an ancient example for us to follow in which we ask God to hear the prayer of one who is not like us.
It is significant, for example, that despite many attempts to have Hispanic and Anglo congregants share the same building, conflicts arise that many have come to believe are inevitable due to differences in child-rearing practices, food preferences, and worship music, as well as language differences. And how many of us really have racially integrated worship services?
Even the mixing of elders and youth creates the problem of balancing worship style and music selections between them. It has been said that the question of what kind of hymns will be sung in worship has been and will continue to be the most divisive problem in our churches in the 21st century. And with the current cultural climate of disrespect for others, we find that too many pastors and congregations have simply thrown up their hands, leading to the decline in attendance that has many wondering if so-called Main Street churches have any future at all.
This does not have to be the case. But like Solomon, we need to pray -- and work for -- congregations that can welcome those “foreigners” who may come to us, hoping to work and worship together. We can and must, like Solomon the wise, prepare ourselves and our congregations for those who are drawn to us to find peace in their lives but have very different expectations from those who have worshiped here for years.
Ephesians 6:10-20
At the time of this letter Ephesus was a center of travel and commerce, one of the greatest seaports in the world. It also stood on the crossroads between Babylon, Laodicea, and Smyrna. Paul lived here for a while, working with Priscilla and Aquilla at their mutual business of tentmaking. Paul had not founded this congregation, but he had stirred up great animosity amongst those Ephesians who worshiped Artemis. Multitudes came here to worship at the largest and most beautiful temple in her honor, and like all pilgrims they wanted souvenirs of their trip. This supported a large number of artisans who made statues of Artemis out of silver. Apparently fearing that the conversion of many to Christianity would undermine the temple and their market share, they rioted, which culminated in Paul’s arrest.
This connection of Paul with Ephesus led to the acceptance of this letter as a genuine letter of Paul, as the collection of writing to be considered official was being established. However, there are many scholars today who say that the style of writing indicates that this letter is the product of someone other than the apostle to the Gentiles. The sentences are longer in this letter than those Paul usually uses; the Greek is different; there are 90 words in this letter that do not appear in letters that are undisputedly written by Paul; and finally, there are distinct differences in his ideas about marriage and what constitutes the church between this letter and his letters to Corinth. For example, Paul’s undisputed writings always say Christ is the foundation of the church, but here in Ephesians the writer says that the apostles and prophets are the foundation of the church.
Nevertheless, there is enough of Paul’s thought in this letter that some scholars think the differences are simply those of the apostle early in his career versus this letter, written about 58-59 CE. It may be that it was written by a student or a group of followers of Paul. And no one has ever suggested that it does not belong in the Bible.
Today’s passage is a favorite for many of our parishioners, even though we no longer have soldiers wearing armor. So it’s helpful to remember that this was in fact a military image for the readers of Ephesians. Like Solomon in our Old Testament selection for today, the writer of this letter is living in tumultuous times, and the hope of Christians expressed in this passage assumes that Jesus will be coming back soon. This belief, and the images used, are called apocalyptic -- the expectation of the end times. We need to note that the end times were not without danger and war. In fact, the writer expects war. That’s why he uses this imagery of “the whole armor of God,” which is meant to protect the believer in Christ.
First, we need to remember, as this writer does, that the power to overcome, the strength to persevere, is not our own but God’s. God is at battle in an unseen war against “cosmic powers of this present darkness.” Our part is to be aligned on the side of God and to “stand firm” in what we have been taught about Jesus and our salvation, and to remember that we are not fighting alone but as part of a people united under a common law, a common ruler, for a common cause -- in this case, the rule of love which we have come to know in Christ.
Karl Barth [pronounced “Bart”] -- considered by many the premier theologian of the 20th century -- talked about this battle that God is fighting as involving us only in that we are standing at the spot where the enemy is firing arrows at God. We need to put on the whole armor of God so that those arrows cannot do us serious harm. As the author of Ephesians says, “so that [we] may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm.” The evil day he is referring to is the Day of the Lord, in which God takes up arms against every evil in order to vanquish all that makes our world unbearable. Paradoxically, it is also the day of hope, the day on which we are invited to “lift up our heads” and rejoice! The systems of the world must be destroyed in order for the system of God to be put in place, just as one takes down an old decrepit building so that a new, more functional or beautiful building can be built in its place.
We must “stand, therefore” and dress ourselves in the armor that God provides. This is not a physical reality, it is a spiritual one. Each piece of armor the average Roman soldier wore has a spiritual counterpart in this passage. When we have succeeded in achieving these spiritual gifts, we will be protected for the warfare the author anticipates.
First, we must put on the belt of truth -- that is, we must be loyal, steadfast, accommodating, and faithful. Our word must be dependable; we must not enter into false gossip or controversy. We must not be gleeful spreaders of whatever stories are “going around” about others, whether celebrities or those in our circles or our neighborhoods. Finally, we must be honest in our daily living, dependable and trustworthy.
It’s interesting that people like to “rank” the seriousness of sins. Seldom do we rank lying at the top of the list. Yet when Jesus talks about Satan, he calls him “the Father of Lies.” It is the lie that separates Eve from the word of God regarding the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and Adam immediately lies to God about their situation. That original lie tainted the relationship of humans to other humans as well: when Cain kills Abel, he compounds his sin by lying to God about it, despite the fact that God’s first words to Cain are “Where is your brother Abel?” which certainly intimated at least that God had noted his absence and suspicion that Cain had a role in it.
The quality of righteousness is our “breastplate,” like the flak jackets of soldiers and police when facing armed conflict. Many people today, even within the church, hear “righteousness” and immediately think “self-righteousness.” Apparently too many of us have held ourselves to be righteous when in fact we were being judgmental, pointing to others’ sins that do not tempt us. But righteousness does not include judgment against others. It is simply the attempt to do the right thing in every instance.
The problem is that sometimes it is difficult to know what “the right thing” to do is. We want to be safe. We want to avoid violence. We want to be left in peace. So we don’t speak up when we really need to, such as when people around us are singing dirty or vile songs, calling people of other colors by derogatory names, laughing at those who are elderly or disabled, or even being violent. Being righteous means that we still have the ability to be shocked by racism, violence, sexual degradation, and exploitation of others. A righteous person is gentle, kind, and helpful, even toward those who are captives of their own addictions or character flaws. To be righteous ought to mean that we are trying to be like Jesus.
The shoes we put on as part of our armor in fact are “whatever will help you to proclaim the gospel of peace.” This is an interesting thing to say in the midst of preparing for war. But we should remember that Jesus, in the midst of being nailed to the cross, asked God to forgive them “because they don’t know what they’re doing.” God promises peace “to all who call on the name” -- who are God’s people on earth. So Jesus came in peace, knowing that we would probably kill him, as he kept warning his disciples. So we are called to put on our running shoes, our climbing boots, or our knee-high boots... whatever will help us to get out there and act peacefully.
Our shield will be our faith, which has to be flameproof for the battle we are called to. The note in The New Interpreter’s Study Bible for this verse says that Roman shields were made of leather and were soaked in water before battle so that flaming arrows would not set them on fire. Our faith also needs to be ready for whatever life is going to throw at us -- never an easy thing to be sure of until the day you lose your job and worry about how you’re going to pay both the mortgage and the medical bills that you have no insurance to cover.
It’s not our weapons that keep us safe in battle, it’s the armor we have -- armored vehicles and flak jackets are supposed to protect us from the fire of the enemy. Once we are wounded, our armaments are useless. First we must keep alive and stay unhurt. Then we can fight.
Our helmet in the fight is salvation. Now, salvation is not simply our faith that we will be with God when we die. Salvation is for this life as well. The root of the word is salve [sal-vay], a word we have simply incorporated in our own language: a salve is what makes a wound hurt less and heal completely. We put salves on bugbites to make them stop itching, and they draw poisons out of our skin so they don’t spread.
In the spiritual realm, salvation indicates healing: healing of the mind; healing of the heart; healing of the body. Jesus demonstrated the effects of salvation when he said to the paralyzed man, “Your sins are forgiven” [Matthew 9:2]. The Pharisees, standing around watching what Jesus was doing, complained, “Who is this, that he thinks he can forgive sins?” Jesus said, “Just so you know that I have the power to forgive sins, I ask you, which is easier -- to forgive his sins, or do this?” and he turned to the paralytic and said “get up and walk.” And the man did so. But we too often forget the connection between physical health and spiritual well-being.
I am reminded of the morning I was late getting to the hospital to be with a woman in my congregation who was undergoing surgery. When I got there it was just moments before she was due in the operating room. I apologized to the nurse, but insisted on seeing her before she was taken away. When I walked into the room where she was waiting, she was in tears. We talked about her extreme fear which had led to her tears, and we prayed together. I read to her one of the stories of Jesus’ healing powers, and when we were done she took a deep breath and said, “I think I can face this now.” I hadn’t heard the surgeon walk in behind me, but he placed a hand on my shoulder and thanked me for coming, and the effect on the patient. “If more pastors did what you did this morning,” he said, “my surgical success would be much higher.” Salvation is for the body and our well-being here in this world, not just the next.
Finally, after all of this preparation to keep as safe as one can be in battle, the writer says we should take the sword of the Spirit, “which is the word of God.”
Too many people think that they can go out on a street corner and simply hand out tracts or Bibles and that this will lead to the conversion of the world -- or at least the conversion of those passing by. But it is a rare occurrence that someone is converted this way.
Conversion comes from the interaction of the believer and the seeker. When people see us doing good and expecting nothing in return; when we apologize for hurting someone inadvertently; when we come back again and again to help someone when the cause seems lost -- it is then that people see the gospel in action, and then they may begin to ask the questions that lead to conversion.
There are also those who think that simply bringing people to give their lives to Jesus is all we are required to do. But there is a second step to the conversion process. It’s like the parable of the sower -- simply scattering seed isn’t enough to bring in a crop. The seed needs to put down roots, to take in the nourishment that God offers us. God expects us to bear fruit, and that cannot happen unless we continue to study, to mature, to cut off those things that hold us back. The mature Christian must help those less mature in their life choices.
Nor is it enough to convert people and help them to mature spiritually. We have a responsibility to the world in general. It’s a wonderful thing to bring a drug user to sobriety, but it takes society as a whole to make a peaceful world where people are not so stressed and frightened that they feel the need to dull their feelings with drugs. Jesus asked his disciples to make disciples of all nations. Until national leaders are willing to see that they have a responsibility to make a more loving, kinder world, nothing will change. So we have this charge to change the mindset of the world, to strive for peace, to speak out against torture, kidnapping, human trafficking and the societal conditions that lead to it, the binding of the poor to a permanent destitution, and the binding of the rich to the pursuit of power and pleasure.
That is why we need to put on all that armor. When we set out to change the world we can expect opposition, not just from individuals but from “the cosmic powers of this present darkness.” We should pray for those religious leaders we have, that they may preach truly and well, and that they may have people who will care for them as they speak out against that evil and darkness.
John 6:56-69
Prior to this passage, Jesus has been having a debate with the Jews about what it means when he says “I am the Bread of Life.” (This is one of the seven “I am” sayings that John uses -- “I am the bread of life, the bread from heaven” [chapter 6]; “I am the light of the world” [chapter 8]; “I am the gate to the sheepfold,” “I am the Good Shepherd” [chapter 10]; “I am the resurrection and the life” [chapter 11]; “I am the way, the truth, and the life” [chapter 14]; and “I am the true vine” [chapter 15]. This does not include the times when Jesus says “I am he” when talking with the Samarian woman at the well, nor the “I am” sayings about his identity with the Father.) Jesus declares himself to be “the bread that came down from heaven,” a phrase that immediately brings to mind the manna that God gave to the Hebrews as they lived in the wilderness. This is why the people complain: “How can he say he came down from heaven? We know whose son he is, and that’s Joseph’s son!” (v. 42). In other words, “He can’t be the Messiah; he’s not from the right family!”
In response, Jesus says: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever” (v. 51). The manna that the people ate in the desert fed them for only one day (or two as they picked on the sixth day, so they wouldn’t have to work on the sabbath). But like the water Jesus says he gives to the woman at the well, this bread sustains us in every way, not just filling our stomachs but satisfying our souls.
This saying offended many because it would make Jesus superior to the gifts of God. But then he even goes one step further: he says that eating this bread involves “eat[ing] my flesh and drink[ing] my blood [in order to] have eternal life.” This goes beyond what anyone can tolerate. Even his own disciples are shocked at these words. What on earth can he be saying? Does he really intend them to indulge in cannibalism?
Magical cannibalism was not unknown in the ancient world. In many religions one brought animals to be sacrificed as burnt offerings to their god, including the Jews. They then sat down to eat the cooked meat. But unlike the Jews, many of those rituals included the idea that in feasting on the meat of the sacrifice you were feasting on the flesh of the god himself. Is this what the people thought Jesus was encouraging? This is no better than actual cannibalism, since it puts you imitating the “disgusting practices,” as the prophets called these rituals, of the ancient gods.
There is another practice, common in warrior societies: actual cannibalism -- the eating of the flesh of one’s enemies slain in battle. These societies would eat the flesh of their enemies who had fought particularly fiercely. In this way, they hoped to take in the qualities of their enemy that they particularly admired. They thought of this as a compliment of a magical kind, though it was hardly taken that way by their enemies, we can be sure.
There was a parallel idea amongst Roman troops. A leader might encourage the strength and loyalty of his troops as they came into battle by asking them “Can you drink my blood and eat my flesh?!” That is, can you do as I do and go into this battle with my courage, my determination to win? If his hearers had heard a Roman centurion exhorting his troops in this way, it would be little better than the cannibalistic thoughts that Jesus seems to be having. Now he is no longer calling up the practices of the ancient pagans, he is using the language of Rome -- hardly betterthan what they might otherwise be thinking. No matter how they might take what he is saying, the thought is disgusting to them.
Jesus’ statement would hardly be tolerated by us, if we were hearing it for the first time. One of the “lies” (really a misunderstanding) told by the Romans against the Christians was that we drank blood and ate flesh in our worship. The mere mention of such a practice could easily turn entire towns against the Christians in their midst, as we might imagine.
The shock of Jesus saying this, according to John, turned “many” (v. 60) of his followers against him that day. No surprise to that. But Jesus’ response to their shock really is not helpful: “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless.” This really does sound as though he is saying that once he is dead they can have his flesh, since it is useless.
This statement has been a bone of contention between the Catholic church and the various branches of Protestantism since the 16th century. The Roman Catholics say that the body and blood of Christ are truly present, physically present, in the bread and wine as the priest says Jesus’ words “This is my body... this is my blood.” This belief is transubstantiation. The Reformed churches strongly disagreed, saying that the presence of the Christ is symbolic, and communion is a memorial meal only. The Lutherans stood with the Roman formulation, but said that Christ’s body and blood are made available to communicants in the bread and wine, though the bread and wine are not transformed physically (consubstantiation). Christianity is still divided today over the words that made many of Jesus’ disciples turn away from him. Jesus then turns to the Twelve -- the original disciples that he personally invited to follow him -- and asks, “Do you also wish to go away?”
Our faith stands with Simon Peter (as John calls him): “Where would we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the holy one of God.” John believes (v. 64) that Jesus knew “from the first” who would fail as disciples, either by leaving him or betraying him.
Despite all of the ways we may interpret the words of Jesus in this passage, this affirmation on the part of Simon Peter tells us what we most need to hear: that it is not the theology of communion, central as that ritual is, that binds us together or separates us. It is in coming together as a community and walking with Christ that we finally begin to understand that God loves us, despite whatever we may have done or do.
This following after Jesus is not a soft way. It requires determination on our part to be what God intends life to be for us. We need to stay with God, even when we don’t understand God at all, or we don’t understand the words of the Bible. We need to maintain our faithfulness to working toward making the world a better, kinder, more peaceful place. Despite the differences that separate even the most faithful of believers, we have something to offer to a world where people are victimized every day. We need to be the people of God everywhere that God leads us.
But if our doctrines separate us, many will ask, what do we have to offer? Doesn’t it compromise our faith to allow others to believe differently from us? If we tolerate people who do and say things we don’t approve of, aren’t we allowing the church to slip down that slope that leads to being completely outside the will of God?
We never know for certain how our actions stand with God. All of us are sinners (Romans 3:23) in need of redemption. Sometimes we are unsure what to do, even when we know that the whole law is tied up in “Thou shalt love...” (Luke 10:27). So we hope. We do what we believe God wants us to do. But until we have prayed for those we strongly disagree with -- prayed for them in a situation where we might otherwise be gloating as though they deserve the problems that beset them -- we have not learned how to follow Jesus. The easier way is to judge others’ compassion as being a lack of faith, for example; or to criticize others for including “the wrong kind of people” in the congregation; or to criticize one another’s interpretation of scripture as turning away from God. How hard it is to accept that our understanding might not be perfect!
Perhaps, like Simon Peter, the best we can do is say: “Where can I go where everyone believes exactly as I do? But you, Lord, have the words of life. You have shown me how to live, rather than requiring perfect understanding.”
