Scripture can be found here...
Again, in our project to read
across the story of scripture, we have skimmed over lots and lots of material
to arrive at today’s passage. Two weeks ago, we learned the story behind the
birth of the prophet Samuel, who anointed the first two kings of God’s people,
Saul and David. And today we are hearing a story of David’s son, Solomon, the third
king to take the throne, and the one, at last, to build a temple for God.
It feels odd to skate past David
in this way. For those of us who have been spending the past several months
with him in Bible Study, he is an endlessly fascinating, and, yes, flawed
character. But he is also clearly a man after God’s own heart, a towering
figure, and an important link in the chain that, for Christians, eventually
leads us to Jesus. But for now we are looking at the big picture of God’s
people so far, and that, I would describe this way:
God creates the world and all
that is in it.
God creates people and invites
them into a special relationship, a covenant.
God’s covenant promises that the
people will have a home, and that they will be fruitful, and that they will be
blessed, so that they might be a blessing.
God’s people find themselves
enslaved. But God remembers the covenant and provides release and rescue.
God’s people wander and stray and
test the boundaries of that covenant. Think of toddlers, who engage in
something developmental psychologists call “rapprochement.” They know that you,
the parent, are home base, you are the safe place to be. But you’re at the
playground, for instance, and they wander away, further and further, testing
the limits of your bond, until you think maybe you’ll lose them, or some other
terrible thing will happen. And then they come back. Because, you’re the safe
place, home base, the place they know they are meant to be. God’s people wander
and stray and test those boundaries in more or less the same way.
And then God’s people grow up
some more, and want some things that they think will make them really happy. Let’s
stay with the parenting analogy. Let’s say they want a car! And you, the
parent, say, “Well, sure, you want a car, to get around in, but here’s what
cars are good for: spending money. There are car payments, and there’s gas, and
there’s insurance, and that’s a huge responsibility that might actually feel
like a burden.” But they want a car, and they save up, and they get a car, and then
they learn firsthand what that grown up responsibility really means.
Except, in the story of God’s
people, what they want is a king. And God, the parent, says, “Well, I am your
king, but apparently you want a human king. Well, here’s what human kings are
good for: forced labor, taxes, harems, armies, war.”[i]
And the stories of the kings of
Israel and Judah demonstrate the truth of that statement, again and again.
In the passage we skipped last
week, David is finally, securely on the throne, and ensconced in his palace in
Jerusalem. And it occurs to him to build God a house—that is, a temple. But God
instead, informs David, “I will build you
a house”—that is, a dynasty. And the
project of building a physical “house for God” is left for Solomon, David’s
son.
This is where we pick up today.
In the first part of our passage, Solomon is conversation with a foreign king
about this impending project, the building of the temple. Then we skip to
chapter 8, but in the intervening verses, we learn in detail the materials and
décor of the temple. It is a grand project, and the process of building it
takes seven years. Finally, we come to the celebration: Solomon assembles all
the people of Israel, the leaders and the commoners, the laborers and the
rulers. Solomon dedicates the temple with a prayer.
I don’t know about you, but I’m
waiting with bated breath to hear what Solomon will pray. By this time in the
story, I’m a little nervous to hear what he’s going to say. The temple is
sounding suspiciously like a royal vanity project—there are tens of thousands
of forced laborers, and the prayer begins rather inauspiciously, with Solomon sounding
an awful lot like he is looking for a quid pro quo—“Keep me on the throne,
God,” he says, in so many words, “and my descendants after me.”
Thankfully, the wisdom for which
Solomon is legendary begins to make itself known.
“But will God indeed dwell on the
earth? Even… the highest heaven cannot contain you, much less this house that I
have built!” [1 Kings 5:27]. Solomon acknowledges that even the most gorgeous
of human efforts cannot “hold” God; God cannot be put in a box—even a beautiful
one that takes seven years to construct. “Hear the plea of your servant and of
your people Israel when they pray toward this place; O hear in heaven your dwelling
place; heed and forgive” [1 Kings 5:30]. Solomon’s prayer boils down to this
very simple, and very heartfelt plea: Hear our prayers.
Hear our prayers. And not only
our prayers, the prayers of your special people, your covenant people—but the
prayers of all. Aliens. Strangers. Travelers and wanderers. Anyone who ventures
into this place to pray, or even, who “prays towards” this place. O God, hear
our prayers.
God creates people and invites us
into a special relationship, a covenant.
God’s covenant promises that God’s
people will have a home, and that we will be fruitful, and that we will be
blessed, in order to be a blessing. For many of us, to have a home, and to be
fruitful, and to have and be a blessing, means that we are members of a faith
community.
Approximately 221 years ago, a
group of people with roots in the Dutch Reformed tradition began to worship
together along the banks of the Susquehanna River, not a quarter of a mile from
here. They worshipped in a log building, where the people lifted their voices
and hoped that God would hear their prayers. Today, the spiritual descendants
of those same people worship here, at Union Presbyterian Church. Today, we too
are part of God’s covenant, and together, we too lift our voices.
Hear our prayers. When we speak,
we do so in the fervent hope that God will listen. We want God to hear our
prayers. We want to be in relationship with God. It is tempting to call this
building God’s house, and—full disclosure!—part of my task, my intention today,
is to stir in you the desire to support the work we do together here through
your financial gifts in the coming year. We want to hold onto God, to put God
in a recognizable location, much like the people of Solomon’s day housed the
Ark of the Covenant in the Temple. But we can’t hold God. We can only let God
hold us.
To be a member of a church, a
place like Union Presbyterian Church, is to recognize that God is holding us.
God is our dwelling place, the safe place, home base, the place we know we are
meant to be. We are a part of God’s covenant. We too are called into a
relationship with God that promises us that God will be our home, and that we
will bear fruit in all kinds of ways we have not yet begun to imagine, and that
we will be blessed for the purpose of blessing others, blessed so that blessing
will flow through us and into God’s world.
Today I am asking you to
recognize that you have been blessed by pledging to be a blessing.
[i]
Rolf Jacobson, Podcast:
“Narrative Lectionary 051, Solomon,” October 21, 2012. http://www.workingpreacher.org/narrative_lectionary.aspx.
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