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“How Lovely is Your Dwelling Place”

Rev. Dr. Marisa Laviola

August 23, 3009

I Kings 8:1, 6, 10-11

Psalm 84

 

Last October I first entered into this house of worship.  It was during my second round of interviews with your search committee.  Dave Bickford, the chair of the committee was with my family and me as we took that first step into the sanctuary.  I don’t remember if I showed my feelings openly as I entered.  Only David can tell you if I was openly smiling.  I know I was beaming on the inside.  From the moment I set foot through that door, I was deeply held by this space.  I was literally captured by the beauty of the windows—not only the exquisite artistry of the stained glass, but the meaning behind each pane, the dedication to God and to the people who have served God in this blessed place.  I was overjoyed by the arrangement of pews in a hint of a semi-circle.  Such an arrangement gives the feeling of an enveloping space of welcome, symbolic of the arms of God. 

During the first month of my ministry here, I would sit in one of the middle pews, scanning around, taking in the contour of the steel silver of the organ pipes, the lines of wood on the altar and the communion table, and the unique lighting of each stained glass frame as it reflected the winter sky.  I would study each glass frame.  I breathed in over 200 years of history, very little of it known to me at that time, but speaking clearly through the smell of wood and varnish, the colors of the rainbow, through the hushed tones of quietness and stillness where God’s whispering voice can be heard.

Ever since I was a child, houses of worship have had deep meaning for me.  Being raised in an old Catholic Church of brick and mortar, I came to love the interior with its scents and views—the wafting fragrance of incense and old wood, the prayerful glow of softly lit candles, Jesus’ presence made known in the stained glass remembrances of Jesus’ journey to the cross.  I must admit that I miss the smell of incense and the faint glow of prayer candles. 

And when I came here, when I knew this worship space would become my worship space, I felt like I had come home to a piece of my childhood.  Sometimes I’m tempted to light a few incense sticks just for the ambience.  And I just love the lighting of the candles by one of our children on a Sunday morning.

Since that first January month of my tenure, I come here at least once a week, other than Sunday, to tidy up this space, but I know I come to have any excuse to enjoy this space.  Since that first month, I know more of your history—I’ve heard some stories about the stained glass, but not all; I’ve heard about the floor dropping during a large worship gathering and it now being reinforced with steel beams, I’ve heard about Shaun’s predecessor Romaine who made the organ sing for 40 years. 

And every Sunday morning I reconnect with God whose presence fills this space.  Crosses have always been a special symbol and reminder for me of Jesus’ presence that is just a heartbeat away.  Before worship begins, I gaze at the crosses on the stained glass.  During worship, glances again help to ground me into God’s presence. And I’m certain every person who has graced this worship space has a unique story to tell of their experiences of God in this blessed place. 

Of course, we all know that God does not only reside here.  No building, no matter how blessed or loved can contain the presence of God.  Even the Israelite people for whom Temple was sacred understood that the Temple is not God’s permanent home.  After all, the temple was destroyed twice in Israel’s history.  The verses that Leah read from I Kings were written many years later out of the memories of a people whose Temple had been destroyed after their exile into Babylon.  In these verses, the people are recalling the time when Solomon builds the first Temple as a permanent dwelling for the Ark of the Covenant.  If you will recall from Hebrew history, the Ark had accompanied them ever since Moses brought the commandments to them from Mount Sinai.  The Ark, a temporary temple and home for God’s presence, housed the presence of God until Solomon built a permanent temple. And in the memories of the exiled Israelites centuries later, through verbal story and written scribe, they shared their belief that God was so pleased with the magnificent Temple that Solomon built, that God’s presence filled the Temple in the form of a thick cloud.  In these verses we read “Then the priests brought the ark of the covenant of the LORD to its place, in the inner sanctuary of the house, in the most holy place, underneath the wings of the cherubim.8:10 And when the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the LORD, 8:11 so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the LORD filled the house of the LORD.

Psalm 84, our psalm for today, is a fitting accompaniment to this imagery.  It speaks of the “dwelling place” of the Lord of hosts.  The psalmist longs for such sanctuary, where “Even the sparrow finds a home and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O LORD of hosts.”   The psalmist seems to appreciate that all creation, birds and humans, sing to God in this “dwelling place”, this place of sanctuary and protection.  Brueggemann suggests that the nesting of birds is a metaphor for the 'nesting' of worshipers who sing the happy songs of praise. The metaphor speaks of serenity, innocence, and trusting delight.   In any case, the image of "nest" suggests a place of safety, nurture, and home. 

             No doubt, the psalmist is speaking from exile, grieving for the temple in Jerusalem that is no more.  It would be like if this blessed worship space were destroyed and we no longer had this space to gather for worship. 

And yet, the psalmist also appears to understand that it is not necessary to have a physical space of wood or stone or mortar in order to have a place for God’s presence.  The psalmist tells us “happy are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the ways to God.”  The psalmist is hinting that God travels with each of us, everywhere we journey.  The psalmist claims “As they go through the valley. . . they make it a place of springs;. . .They go from strength to strength” with God as their shield.  Although the psalmist grieves for the sanctuary of the Temple, the focus of worship; the psalmist also realizes that God is where one’s heart is.  Even in the deepest valleys, in the most barren areas, God’s presence is full and rich and strong, a shield in the wake of every danger.

Why then do we see the sanctuary of a temple or a church as "sacred ground"? Perhaps it is in human nature to need a place where we can be free to worship and to gather in Godly fellowship with others of similar spiritual beliefs.  Perhaps it is part of our God-created human nature to desire a place of sanctuary, a place to call home, that is sacred and revered; a place where our senses draw us to God‘s side:  the sights of candles and altar, pulpit and table; the sounds of organ and choir, voices raised in hymnal praise; the smells of old wood and burning candles, the fragrance of bread and the fruit of the vine.     

Walter Brueggemann states that the Temple as dwelling place wasn't God's permanent home but instead a place along God’s journey.  Certainly buildings can be destroyed and can deteriorate over time.  If a worshipping body needs to find another building, God travels with them just as God traveled with the Hebrew people in the wilderness and into exile.  The psalmist reminds us that God travels with us into the hardest part of the journey, into the dry and barren valleys that all of us experience one time or another.  And yet, in the same verse, the psalmist claims that springs pool together in the midst of that valley.  Even in our darkest moments, God is with us, beyond the farthest reach of the temple or the church.

Certainly, no place, no town, no country, not the whole world, can contain God, can have the corner on God’s presence.  Perhaps the church sanctuary, our worship home, provides us with a needed focus point, a spiritual base, a sanctuary for us to experience and to share with each other our deepest joys and our deepest needs.  Perhaps, as Brueggemann suggests, the church may be ". . .an access point to the reality of God,"  Perhaps in the presence of sanctuary, in the midst of worship, we touch God in ways that we cannot touch God elsewhere.  And perhaps the physical surrounds have much to do with that experience of touch:  the soft hues of light coming through stained glass imagery, the rich color of wood contrasted with the brilliant sounds of the organ, the enveloping arrangement of pews. 

But--God is always and everywhere with us. Our very lives are sacred ground, holy ground. Thus, we too can "go from strength to strength" (v. 7), for wherever we are, we are "at home with God.”  And as the psalmist reminds us, even the sparrow, even the birds of the air, are nested and at home with God. 

In our post Christendom, secular era, the meaning of church and sanctuary have different meanings to different people.  For some, this blessed space is where they meet God, in ways that are nurturing and uplifting; where they learn of God’s overwhelming love, where they learn of God’s will and God’s ways.  For some, coming to church is not a priority.  Economic factors force people into 6 and 7 day work weeks.  Emphasis on secular activity draws people to sporting and other events as their sanctuary either through attendance at such events or activities, even through TV and the internet. 

Some people tell me they do not need to come to worship on a Sunday morning in order to believe in God.  And they certainly are quite correct.  Some people tell me that they only meet God in this space on Sunday morning.  And I am grateful they meet God here.  Some say they come to worship not to meet God for they are not very religious.  They come for the fellowship with people, their family.  I believe they are meeting God through the meeting with their church family. 

             Whatever reason folks come to this blessed space, this sanctuary, God is here.  Perhaps God is even more reachable here in this quiet place of prayer, in this joyous place of praise through song, in this searching place of learning through word, in this nurturing place of spiritual food--more reachable perhaps than in the cacophony of the busyness of our hectic lives.  This blessed space and this blessed time, I pray, is conducive to discovering God and coming to know God more and more.  But must it only be here?  This is home to so many of us, and we welcome so many more, but God is not contained here.  This is a stopping place for God’s along God’s journey.  Yes, God precedes us here and is with us here.  But God also leaves with us and stays with each of us, deep within our hearts all of the time.

             Perhaps we can find God elsewhere in our everyday lives; in rare, quiet moments of solitude, as we ask God to reveal God‘s presence more fully, to reveal God’s love more deeply:  in our commute to and from work as we gaze at the beautiful scenery; in our walks to and from our destinations, in that moment in our driveway after we turn off the car and before we open the door to enter our home; as we watch our child sleep or as we rock our child to sleep, as we fix a meal in the kitchen.  In those times perhaps we can take a moment to just breathe in and out and thank God for life.  In those times perhaps we can take a moment to ask God to help us to worship and praise right then and there.  In those times perhaps we can take a moment to ask God to remove the obstacles that block our experience of God that would give us strength and courage.

             This blessed place is God’s dwelling place where we come together to worship and to know the God we share, to share the love we know, to enjoy God and one another, to learn of God’s ways and how God wants us to share in the ministry of God’s purposes for the sanctuary and blessing of all God’s people.  And when we go out from here, into our daily, busy lives, God stays here. 

             And--God also goes from here, nestled in each one of our hearts.  As we open ourselves to God’s presence every day of our lives, wonderful things can happen.  We can grow in love with God and one another.  We can grow in love with our family and friends.  We can grow in love with our neighbors.  We can grow in our desires to do God’s ministry in the world.  Let us all pray to know of God’s presence more truly and richly this week.

“No Matter What, God”

Psalm 37:  3-7, 23-24; I Kings 2:3-12

August 16, 2009

Rev. Dr. Marisa Laviola

 

             In this short vignette about King Solomon, we see a profound snapshot of a young person, barely 20 years old, who is quite aware of the implications of his young age:  He says to God “you have made me your servant king in place of my father David, although I am only a little child [and] I do not know how to go out or come in.”  Solomon is a very young person with an exceedingly formidable task of leading a nation; a young person with an incredibly formidable task of following in the footsteps of his father King David; a young person, who despite his youth, brings to life for us the words of our Psalm for today, psalm 37, which is traditionally thought to have been written by his father David.

             We hear the words in psalm 37, “Trust in the Lord and do good; take delight in the Lord who will give you the desires of your heart.”  Trust and delight, believe fully that God loves you and wants what’s best for you, and enjoy that deep knowledge and presence completely--and your God will give you whatever you ask.  We hear these words about Solomon who, at this point in his life indeed trusted and delighted in God.  “Solomon loved the Lord, walking in the statutes of his father David.”     

So close was Solomon’s and God’s relationship, so closely did Solomon know this trustworthy and steadfast God, that he received God’s presence in a dream, in an unconscious moment where heart speaks most clearly to heart, perhaps; where spirit calls most clearly to spirit, perhaps.  So open was Solomon to God in those moments that he heard a clear statement from God, a statement without qualifiers, with no list of can haves and can’t haves.  God said simply, “ask what I should give you.”    

Solomon’s answer would likely be influenced by his knowing that God was committed to providing for him what he most needed, as he possibly learned from his father David to live in commitment to God.  Even as the psalmist writes, “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in God who will act”, Solomon reflects on how deeply God was committed to his father David.  We read Solomon’s words “You have shown great and steadfast love to your servant my father David, because he walked before you in faithfulness.” 

And in these verses we see Solomon who knew God’s steadfast love as well.  He understood God’s ways well enough to patiently wait upon God, to open his heart to God, to open himself in humility, to acknowledge his need for Godly wisdom.  He was not puffed up, not proud as a young ruler may have been.  He already had enough innate wisdom to know that he needed God’s wisdom in order to succeed. 

And God is pleased.  God is pleased because Solomon has responded to the eternal love with intimate trust.  God is pleased because Solomon has acknowledged, humbly, his need for the gift of God’s discernment, God’s hand of guidance in the formidable task of leadership.

             In this short vignette about the life of King Solomon, we see a profound snapshot of a young person who, at this moment in the third chapter of the first book of Kings, has an incredibly close relationship with his Creator.  Lest we are too quick to put Solomon on a pedestal, especially the kind of pedestal that says, “I could never have such faith or such a relationship with God”, let me help us to take him right off that pedestal.  You see, Solomon, like his father David, was not always so wise or so willing to walk in God’s will and in God’s ways.  If we were to read the complete story of David, we would soon come to see that although David was considered a man after God’s own heart, it was not because he stayed very close to God all of the time.  David knew his share of deceit, adultery, murder, and abuse of power.  If we were to read the rest of the book of I Kings, we would discover that as Solomon grew older, his wisdom was often replaced by questionable decisions, abuse of power, and treachery.  His love for foreign women led him to worship their gods and to stray from his God.  It is recorded that his father David turned back to God in sincere repentance when he would fall away.  Sadly, we have no recorded account for Solomon.  In fact, it appears that Solomon’s sincere and well meaning request for wisdom may have been short lived, as he showed less and less wisdom as he gained more and more power.

             So what’s the point of this story?  As I present the entire story of Solomon, it appears to have a tragic ending, at least by human standards.  What’s the point of preaching on a figure that looks so good in his youth only to fall so hard as he ages? 

             Perhaps the point of this story is found in psalm 37, traditionally attributed to David’s authorship.  The psalmist has been encouraging the reader to trust God, to delight in God, to commit to God and to wait patiently for God.  And then in a twist, the psalmist appears to realize that people don’t always follow that path.  We read:  “Our steps are made firm by the Lord, God delights in our way; although we stumble, we shall not fall headlong, for the Lord holds us by the hand.”  This psalmist, perhaps David speaking from experience, knows that human beings stumble, turn away from God, don’t always trust or delight in God.  And when our steps falter, God is still there.  God’s status with us does not change.  God is right there holding us by the hand, preventing our feet from going out from under us.  No matter how much we humans mess up, God still delights in us, holds us up, and doesn’t allow us to fall flat on our faces. 

             Maybe the point here is that we can look at these figures in the Bible and say, gee, as great as they seem, as great a King as David was, as wise a young man as Solomon was, they were, after all not much different than you or me.  We as well as they have the same God who invites us into a trusting, loving relationship; who longs for us to enjoy God’s presence, to live in God‘s ways, to ask for God‘s guidance.  But most of all, we as well as they have a God who holds us fast and sure when we don’t trust, when we don’t commit to God’s ways, when we turn away and stumble.  We never fully fall headlong because God has us firmly by the hand. 

             Such a day to day relationship with an invisible deity can be hard for flesh and blood human beings to grasp, especially in our post modern world of “seeing is believing.”  We don’t quite share the belief in the mysteries of the supernatural that our ancient ancestors in faith shared. 

             I believe Jesus gives the most meaningful example of such a relationship.  Jesus tells the parable of the prodigal son.  This son leaves home, ignores his family for years, turns away from his moral upbringing, and squanders all of his father’s money.  And he decides to return home only after he has no more money to squander.  When his father sees him coming from a distance, his father runs to him and embraces him with ecstatic unconditional love and joy.  The father has no idea if the son is repentant for what he has done.  He has no idea why his son is coming home.  None of that matters to the Father.  He doesn’t wait for his son’s apology.  He doesn’t wait to see if the son is just coming for a visit or to ask for more money to squander.  All he cares about is embracing his beloved son with welcoming arms and unconditional love.  We who are parents know some of that feeling, the feeling of welcome when a child has strayed from home and comes back.  Multiply our parental feelings by Godly perfection, by God’s perfect love, and we have the picture of our God that Jesus paints.  This is the same God who holds the psalmist’s hand tight; the same God who received David over and over again, the same God who freely granted Solomon wisdom, the same God who lived among us in the person of Jesus Christ--Emmanuel God with us, who lived intimately among human pain and suffering and held and healed until it hurt.  That same God runs to each one of us and throws welcoming and loving arms around each one of us.

             Maybe the real point here is that no matter where we see ourselves in relation to God:  close to God and receiving messages in prayers or in dreams-- or distant from God and unsure who God really is; open and willing to receive God‘s gifts to be bestowed upon us-- or cautiously staying at a distance; wanting to come back to God or to grow closer to God---or wondering if we’ll ever turn toward or back; knowing that God is working actively in our lives--or not really sure if God is nearby at all; let us consider what David knew, what Solomon knew, what the prodigal son knew—no matter where we see ourselves in relation to God, God is right here, God runs to you, God holds you by the hand, God’s loving arms are around you.  We can experience those arms when we dare to open ourselves to the possibility of God.  We can  know God’s hand firmly gripping ours when we dare to open ourselves to the desire planted in our hearts for God.  But no matter what our state, no matter what our experience, no matter what our life situation, God is here, God’s hand holds each one of our hands, God’s arms envelop each one of us, all of the time, each and every moment of our lives.

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