"Will God Dwell on Earth?"

St. Anne's Cathedral in Belfast (also called the Belfast Cathedral).
Source: http://www.irishviews.com/belfast-cathedral.html

August 26, 2012

Old Testament Reading: 1 Kings 8:22-24, 27-30, 9:1-5

Solomon’s Prayer of Dedication

22 Then Solomon stood before the altar of the Lord in the presence of all the assembly of Israel, and spread out his hands to heaven. ²³He said, ‘O Lord, God of Israel, there is no God like you in heaven above or on earth beneath, keeping covenant and steadfast love for your servants who walk before you with all their heart, ²⁴the covenant that you kept for your servant my father David as you declared to him; you promised with your mouth and have this day fulfilled with your hand.

27 ‘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! ²⁸Have regard to your servant’s prayer and his plea, O Lord my God, heeding the cry and the prayer that your servant prays to you today; ²⁹that your eyes may be open night and day towards this house, the place of which you said, “My name shall be there”, that you may heed the prayer that your servant prays towards this place. ³⁰Hear the plea of your servant and of your people Israel when they pray towards this place; O hear in heaven your dwelling-place; heed and forgive.

God Appears Again to Solomon

9When Solomon had finished building the house of the Lord and the king’s house and all that Solomon desired to build, ²the Lord appeared to Solomon a second time, as he had appeared to him at Gibeon. ³The Lord said to him, ‘I have heard your prayer and your plea, which you made before me; I have consecrated this house that you have built, and put my name there for ever; my eyes and my heart will be there for all time. ⁴As for you, if you will walk before me, as David your father walked, with integrity of heart and uprightness, doing according to all that I have commanded you, and keeping my statutes and my ordinances, ⁵then I will establish your royal throne over Israel for ever, as I promised your father David, saying, “There shall not fail you a successor on the throne of Israel.”

SERMON: “Will God Dwell on Earth?”

Churches can be incredibly uncomfortable places.  People either talk a bit too much or no one greets you at all.  You either know the responses by heart or it feels like you’ve suddenly entered another planet where everyone speaks the same foreign language.  In our fast-paced world, the notion of even sitting still for an hour can seem impossible. You’re either too hot or too cold (and sometimes both in the same service).  And let’s not even talk about these summer gnats!

One of the most uncomfortable experiences I’ve had was in a church.  A cathedral, actually.  It is called St. Anne’s Cathedral in Belfast, and is a Church of Ireland (Anglican) church.  A massive, ancient, stone structure, it was one of the few places a PCUSA gal could find a Good Friday service (Presbyterians in Ireland rarely observe Maundy Thursday or Good Friday). 

I decided to really give it my all: I went to a Service of the Hours, which was a three-hour ordeal in which we contemplated the last three hours of Christ’s life.  There were about a dozen of us in a sanctuary built to house five hundred.

Halfway through the first hour, my toes went numb with cold.  By the end of that hour, my teeth were chattering as I feebly tried to wrap my scarf more tightly around myself.  By the second hour, most of the liturgy was lost on me as my mind constantly repeated, “It’s sooo cold.”

But for some reason, I still sat there.  It was a time in my life when I was desperate for a concrete confirmation that God was with me.  I knew God was with me in subtle ways, but I was looking for a neon sign that the plans of my life were going to work out, that I wasn’t on my own. 

But neon signs and churches don’t exactly go together.  So I sat there, reading the assigned readings, praying the assigned prayers, all the while getting stiff and cold and just…plain…frustrated.

What did I expect to happen?  The Spirit to descend like a nice electric blanket and warm my soul and body?  A booming voice from heaven to confirm that I was on the right path?  I’m not sure I expected anything, other than inevitable frostbite.

I almost left after two-and-a-half hours.  After all, what was the use of another half hour?  I could have been warming up with hot chocolate in Starbucks instead of freezing in the name of some Silent God.  Perhaps it was because I was too stiff to move, but I stayed.  And then in the last five minutes, in that arctic cathedral, I got what I was waiting for. 

Jesus’ suffering on the cross was finished with: “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”  We prayed a prayer that said that God held us completely.  And after three frigid hours of waiting, I heard what I already knew but would not have been able to hear anywhere but there.  I felt in my chilled heart that I was completely held by a loving God, and the worries of my mind gave way to that reality. 

I’m not sure why I had to be in that place to see that God was with me.  I don’t know why I needed to be so uncomfortable to accept God’s presence.  I just know that God was there – in the cold, in the waiting, in the frustration, even in my numb toes…in all of it.  

As I read this morning’s text, where we come back in conversation with that complicated, sometimes-wise Solomon, we hear his prayer for God to dwell in the Temple he’s built.  He prays that God would make that resplendent building more than just a golden shell by filling it with God’s very presence: God’s ears to hear the prayers of the people, God’s eyes to watch over them with care and steadfast love.  It is a bold prayer.  So bold that Solomon questions himself halfway through it:

‘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!

Will God dwell on earth?  In fire and cloud leading the people of Israel to safety, in the God-child born to re-define what living is all about, in the Spirit poured out on all at Pentecost, we see that the answer is yes.  But will God be contained by earth?  That answer is no.  If the highest reaches of heaven cannot contain God, neither can this world, or my opinions, for that matter.

This wild God answered Solomon’s prayer with a promise:

‘I have heard your prayer and your plea, which you made before me; I have consecrated this house that you have built, and put my name there for ever; my eyes and my heart will be there for all time.

This golden house was consecrated, set apart, made holy by God.  So is this house.

God’s eyes and heart dwell here.  But you only need to look at the eyes of one you love or hear the sound of rushing waves or feel the coolness of an early-autumn breeze to know that God dwells there, too.

So what makes this house so special?  Why come here to connect with God when God is so much beyond this place?  Does God dwell here more than in the rest of creation?  Is God present here in a way that God is not in other places?

This is a question many of my generation ask, and often the answer that arrives is something along the lines of being “spiritual but not religious”, where our faith in God is only personal and can happen as easily in Starbucks as in a traditional church service.  Or some days, more easily.

But if God wanted faith and worship to be acts of isolation, why call for the Temple to be built, why pour the Spirit upon a fragile, diverse Church?

No, God is not more present here in this building than anywhere else. But we are.  In a world where we pause only as long as it takes for the next text or email to arrive, this place is set apart for dwelling.  And dwelling is a radically counter-cultural act of patience.  We can easily spend Sunday mornings fishing or reading a great book and feel deeply filled by God’s presence.

But those fish and that book won’t sit next to us when we lose someone we love.  I can read the Bible on my iPhone, but it won’t bring those words to life in loving community.  And as friendly as I may be with the person who makes my coffee, he will not appreciate me sharing my deepest doubts and fears over and over again.

God dwells here, not to be contained by our tradition and theology, but so that we will learn what it means to dwell in a world where people mostly just hover through their days.

This dwelling place opens us up to what we would be unable to hear otherwise, what I could not hear in a Starbucks in Belfast but what had to be heard in a freezing cold, ancient church.  God holds us completely.  God dwells with us.

This is what God was saying in response to Solomon’s prayer for the Temple, that God would always hear the cries uttered in that place, always see the beloved community gathered there.  And God reminded Solomon to dwell with God and God’s people just as completely, following the ordinances to care for the orphan and widow, to walk with integrity and honesty. 

Whether we come to this place each Sunday out of habit, or to see good friends, or out of curiosity, we each of us are seeking something here.  I don’t know what word from God each of you are desperately listening for.  But I do know that you have come to the right place.

Will God dwell on earth?  God already does, but the question really is, will we?   Will we lay aside our to-do lists, obligations and appointments long enough to dwell with God and each other in this place?   Will we gather here in comfort and discomfort, in clarity and deep doubt, in times where our hearts are overflowing with joy and in times when they are breaking with sorrow? 

Will we come again and again to re-learn how to dwell in this world as our Savior did, bringing forgiveness, generosity and hope to a world desperate for community?  Empowered by the Spirit, filled with our common longing, we will, because somewhere deep within us, beneath the layers of cold and impatience, we know that this is home.  Amen.