For Sunday, July 19, 2009

"A Dwelling Place for God"
Once upon a time, when David was king, he was talking with Nathan, the man of God, about building a house to replace the tent in which (so it was thought) God was currently residing. Nathan agreed that it was a solid idea.
But it turns out, God was offended by the idea. God never asked for a house, and God certainly didn't need David to build him a house, as if God were one of David's wives. God was not going to be "kept" by David.
David's mistake was thinking that God was somehow limited to the tabernacle (the God-tent), that God's presence could be carried around in the ark of the covenant (the God-box). But it was a common mistake, one that the people in the biblical stories make again and again. It's written that way because that's the way people are-- we constantly need reminding, that God does not live in a box. Or a Tent, or on a Mountain, or in a Temple or in a City... though God can be experienced in any or all of these places.
We forget, that God is not limited to our side of the border. That we cannot claim to have God on our side, because God is not going to put up with that kind of talk. As if we were God's keepers.
Paul, in his letter to the church folk in Ephesus, reminisced about how he used to think of Ephesians as foreigners, aliens, nobodies. But he no longer thought of them that way. "You are no longer strangers," he wrote. Once he would have thought of them as filth, but he wrote to them to remind them that they were "a dwelling place for God." And God's presence is not filth.
We worship in special buildings we call "churches" or "temples" or "congregations" or "sanctuaries." Sometimes people refer to their church as "God's house." I remember my mother scolding me for kicking the pew in front of me when I was particularly bored, she said something about it not being polite to kick the furniture when you are a guest in someone's house. I laughed, derisively as only a 6-year-old can, and said, "but this isn't anybody's house!"
"Yes it is," she replied, solemnly. "This is Gawd's house and that is Gawd's furniture."
I was, naturally, horrified. I haven't kicked a pew since (not on purpose anyway). I can not commend my mother's parenting style, but it did have the desired immediate effect.
We call it "God's house" (and perhaps even "God's furniture") to signify our respect for the place, and for the purpose to which it is dedicated, but, let's make this perfectly clear: God is not kept in any kind of box, not a wood-frame church in the vale, not a cathedral, crystal or otherwise.
In fact, God is so beyond any of our boxes.
God is so beyond the limits of language that anything we say about God is inadequate, and inaccurate. Including this.