I shared last week how I really wished
last week’s readings had been the one assigned for this week, the day when we
baptized Riley into the Body of Christ, the Church. I lamented that the reminder of that
wonderful blessing we are promised, the Lord
be with you, is conferred upon us in this act. In a bit, I will mark Riley’s head following
the baptism with oil and proclaim that she is sealed by the Holy Spirit and
marked as Christ’s own forever. You all
will affirm that promise and remind yourselves that the same promise and
anointing was made over you in your response of “Amen.” By virtue of that sacramental act and
anointing, you and I and all who are baptized into the name of the Father, and
of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit are adopted into the family of God. In ways we do not really understand fully on
this side of the grave, we become princesses and princes in God’s kingdom. As I shared last week, we are very much like
David. Hopefully, and by God’s grace, we
will have a heart like God’s; and, more importantly given our human nature, we
will repent when we do evil and try to follow God again. It’s a complex relationship, very much like
God’s relationship with David.
I dreaded heading into the sermon for this
week. For one, Carol reminded me I
needed to have a great sermon for her granddaughter. Now, Carol knows me well enough to tease me a
bit. She has been known to approach me
on the bicycle at the Y and in a voice a bit more NJ or Philly-filled that her
normal voice today, ask me some ridiculous theological question that, until I
turn around to see who is posing the question, causes me that moment of “you
have got to be kidding.” Then she
strolls off to her next machine or treadmill giggling. Plus, much of my week has been spent in
pastoral conversations with folks about General Convention . . . again. Baptisms run the risk of being perceived as a
local event only, but the sacrament has, presumably, been undertaken by all our
deputies at GC, even if their language and ideas are sometimes at odds with our
own. That means, in a real and mystical
sense, we are family. Little Riley is
getting baptized into this “Episcopal branch of the Jesus movement.” That means she is part of this family, even
as she is part of the wider family of God.
Luckily for her, this particular branch of the family of God that we
call Advent tries hard to put the fun in dysfunction. And, while bigger events seem at play in the
world that might cause us to question whether God is with us or has abandoned
us, I recognize that, for many Adventers, life has gone on this week. Folks have had accidents and illnesses, some
potentially serious. There are some
smaller family issues playing out as well, issues that have little fun in
them. And so, the task this week seemed
a bit more weighty than usual. . . and I had not yet gotten to the readings!
Now, take a second before I get going and
look at the readings. Keep in mind I
have learned that some Adventers actually keep my sermons for the child I have baptized. So look at my choices. Do I, hmmmm, preach on the decapitation of John
the Baptizer on the occasion of Riley’s baptism? It would have the advantage of being gruesome
and memorable, plus, it reminds us that we bear a cross and are dead to ourselves
and sin. But it might make mom and dad
and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles normal human beings cringe a
bit! Well, at least the reading from 2
Samuel just has Uzzah getting zapped! It
does not come with the gore that we probably imagine in the description of
John’s death. In fact, we are not told
if there was anything more than a pile of ash left where Uzzah was standing—we
are sort of left to our own imaginations to figure out what God does to Uzzah. The letter to the Ephesians and the Psalm
were better readings for such an occasion if it took place absent the cares and
concerns of us as individuals, the parish, the diocese, the church, the state,
the nation, and the wider Church. But
you all get an idea of what preachers go through on a week in and week out
basis.
Against my better judgment, though, I
found myself again drawn to the story of David.
Thankfully, poor Riley is too young to understand what’s happening
today. But in the event she one day
hears that her baptism sermon was all about the nuking of Uzzah, let me remind
her that I think the readings and her baptism serve as a bit of a counterpoint
to our readings and my sermon last week.
Last week, we focused rightly on the promise that God is with us. We know that, even though life’s
circumstances sometimes make us wonder or even doubt. If she is raised in the Episcopal Church, as
grandma especially hopes, little Riley will be reminded of the reality of that
blessing all the time in our “The Lord be with you. And also with you” asks and responses.
The danger that comes from remembering
that God is with us, His immanence to use theological speak, is that we
sometimes forget is wholly and holy Other, or transcendent to use the fancy
language of the theologians. The low
fruit of this danger is probably best exemplified by those Christians who
anoint our current President as a modern David.
There is a particular branch of the Jesus movement, to use PB Michael’s
language, that now finds itself with a larger voice than it has ever had before
in American politics. What has it done
in the estimation of many of its brothers and sisters? It has re-created God in its own image. Secular politics can certainly support tough
policies against immigrants, but does God?
Secular politics can certainly support fewer safety nets for those
without means of support, but does God?
Secular politics can certainly point to material blessings as an
infallible sign of God’s grace, but does God share that same enthusiasm?
And, lest the political conservatives
among us this day feel like they are the ones being picked on, let’s look at
how we do things in our own branch of God’s people. We have a well-earned reputation for being
socially progressive when compared to the wider country and the other churches
in our country. But are we really
listening to God? Never mind the hot
button issues of GC these last couple weeks.
Anybody speaking against BCP Revision the last ten days has been
portrayed as what? Fearful. The discordant message that seems to have
been struck was that no one could have a logical opposition to BCP
Revision. The essential message is “you
are afraid and should have more faith in me and my ability to do this for you.” Read the FB comments, read the Twitter streams. There’s a real condescension flowing from our
Baby Boomer leaders to our Millenial leaders.
Both groups are deputies; presumably both are baptized. But the disdain is palpable. If that hits too close to home, let’s talk
clergy discernment. I have learned the
last couple years I am a rare breed in the church. I’m 50 with almost 15 years of
experience! I serve in and you all
attend a church that seems to specialize in second career clergy. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course,
but at what cost to our younger members and at what cost to our continuity from
generation to generation in our church?
Some Adventers have served on CoM’s and B &C’s and heard those in
the 20’s called “kids” and told “go get some life experience and then come back
so God can use you.” Somewhere along the
line, we assumed second career clergy were the only folks God could use to grow
His kingdom. And then we have the
audacity to wonder why “young folk” don’t want to be a part of us, even though
every major survey among faithful under 40’s presents a desire for Truth and a
desire for the mystical! Put in our
language, those in their 20’s, 30’s, and 40’s are seeking the Liturgy of the
Word and the Liturgy of the Sacrament!
And yet we insist on doing things our way, recreating God in our image,
and shrinking our numbers and our work.
And how have we grown? Ouch! I know.
That’s a hard one.
My conversations these last three years
with you have taught me that many of us at Advent recreate God in our own
image. Some of us are very concerned
about the sins of others in the world out there, but we are quick to excuse our
own sins as “understandable, given our circumstances.” Most are not blatant in their excuses, but
they are there. Deep worries about
“those people” have been expressed to me, and others, regarding potential
corporate ministries, as if “those people” are loved less than us by God and
have a more tenuous grasp of His grace.
And while we are not here to hammer ourselves today, let’s not forget,
during your search process, Adventers self-described as a country club. When pressed about the privileges of
membership, few had answers, but many acknowledged it was attitude that arose
naturally from the Brentwood Bubble.
Think of your response to my invitation to Luis about immigration and
refugee work. Were you excited about the
possibility that Advent could reclaim its historic role as a defender of those
attacked in our midst, much like we advocated for the poor and freed slaves in
the 19th century, and encourage those around us to enter into
meaningful dialogue? Or were you, are
you, worried that I had or have some secret agenda? I could go on and on with examples, but I see
the agitation. Good. Our hearts are not unlike those of ancient
Israel in the days of King David. We
have reshaped God in our image; we have forgotten the chasm that exists between
us and God because of our sin.
Look back at the lesson from 2
Samuel. I’m guessing that many of us do
not know the story. Saul used the ark of
the covenant as a good luck charm. A
thought arose in Israel that God would have to protect the ark in battle. After all, it was over the ark where God
appeared to Moses in the Tent of Meeting that travelled with Israel during the
Exodus. The ark was in the tent of
meeting and kept in the very center of the people during the Exodus. We understand that “good luck charm” aspect
of our faith pretty well. How many of us
mistakenly believe that the United States is God’s chosen country? How many of us truly believe that God will
protect us against all enemies because He has to, because He needs us to
accomplish His plan of salvation in the world?
It’s ok; you are not alone. The
Jews thought Rome could never destroy the Temple because it was God’s
home. Prior to that destruction, their
ancestors said the same thing about the First Temple. We know how well that worked out, or at least
we should.
Saul determined to battle the Philistines
even though the prophet said no. What’s
a king to do when he wants to fight and God’s prophet says don’t? Saul thought Take the ark. The ANE
believed that what happened on earth mirrored what happened in the heavens and
vice versa. Yahweh could not allow His
ark to be defeated in battle, so He would have to fight for Saul. Big mistake.
Huge. Guess who won the
battle? That’s right, the Philistines. They captured the ark and took it back home
with themselves. It was their way of
showing their god’s superiority over the God of Israel.
Of course, God refused to cooperate with
the Philistines. They, their flocks, and
even their idols began to break out in painful boils. At some point, they wondered whether the God
of Israel was doing this to them, so they had a couple oxen pull a cart with
the ark out of their territory.
Eventually, the oxen stopped near the house of Abinadab, but, more
importantly to the Philistines, the painful boils stopped. They put two and two together, figured out
that God was not diminished by their victory over His people, and wisely
decided to let the ark stay right where it was.
Flash forward in history. David is now king of all Israel and ruling
from Jerusalem. He decides to bring the
ark to the new capital. So he gathers
with 30,000 men to transport the ark to Jerusalem. While we might understand David’s familiarity
with God—after all, David has had more than 20 years of walking with Yahweh as
His anointed—those of us who study the Bible must cringe at this decision. You see, God gave specific instructions
describing how to transport the ark and who should do it. David, though, just decides to transport it
like the Philistines did.
Not unsurprisingly, we skip this passage
in our readings this week. As the oxen
are pulling the cart, one stumbles, threatening to overturn and drop the ark
from the cart behind. What does Uzzah,
the son of Abinadab—the guy at whose house the ark has been residing since it
left the Philistines, mind you—do? He reaches
up to steady the ark. And God zaps
him. David is furious and terrified
about God. David is mad because God just
killed a member of his retinue for doing something reasonable. My guess is that Uzzah thought he was
motivated by piety; he did not want to see the ark fall! Who would?
So he reached out reflexively to steady it and the cart. In the adage of “no good deed goes
unpunished,” this might be the worst.
For his seeming good deed, Uzzah is zapped by God. In fact, Scripture says that God’s anger
burns toward Uzzah because of his irreverent act of reaching out to steady the
ark. David, for his part, is so angry
and scared that he leaves the ark where it is, near the house of
Obed-edom. David, the 30,000 men, and
the rest of Israel present go home.
We learn that the ark stays with the house
of Obed-edom for three months. For three
months, David wrestles with God and with what went wrong. Presumably, this wrestling eventually
involves studying the torah. We learn in
Exodus and it is reiterated in the torah that there is a specific way in which
the ark is to be moved. One family is
allowed to pass poles through the rings of the ark and carry it. No one else is allowed to touch it. No one!
To further complicate matters, sacrifices of thanksgiving and blood
offerings are to be made. It is an
exacting task, the moving of the ark.
Presumably, God’s grace was on the Philistines because they knew no
better. But David has no such
excuse. He has a twenty year journey
with God under his belt at this point.
He is the king chosen by God. He
knows he is supposed to teach the people to keep the torah. Though Scripture does not mention it, I
imagine that David somewhere in his wrestling with God realizes that he is the
one ultimately responsible for Uzzah’s death.
Had David done his duty correctly, Uzzah would not have been put in that
position. I don’t think it too far a
criticism to say that David failed as a shepherd of God’s people.
Now, that is not to say that Uzzah has no
guilt. Scripture calls his behavior
irreverent. We would say that Uzzah was
deficient in his respect or veneration of God.
How? He presumed to need to hold
up God’s ark. Uzzah forgot Whose ark it
was and that He needs no help from us.
Of course, the buck stops at the top.
David was not doing his job. It
was his responsibility to remind people what God expected of His people. I get David had a lot of other
responsibilities, but his chief concern should have been to make sure that the
people were obeying God’s instruction.
Once David determined to move the ark, and had the prophet’s blessing
that such was the will of God, he should have scoured the torah to see how to
move the ark. It would have been a great
idea to check with the prophet, too, to make sure God was ok with the way the Philistines
moved it. Whenever the king was unsure
of God’s will, to whom was he expected to listen? The prophet.
One can well imagine this wrestling
match. In the beginning, David is likely
vacillating between fear and anger.
Then, after emotions have cooled off, he realizes his culpability, his
guilt, in Uzzah’s death. To make things
a bit more challenging for David’s internal debates, God, we are told, blessed
Obed-edom the Gittite and his entire household because he takes the ark into
his care. David has this incredible
blessing available to him, but it must be handled just as God instructed. To use the language of Narnia: Aslan is like
God. He is good, but He is not tame!
Our story ends with David going up to the
house of Obed-edom with all the house of Israel. The ark is transported in the way that God
instructed His people. There is
celebration via shouting and music and even dancing! The ark makes it safely to its new
destination. There David finishes
offering the appointed offerings. David
blesses the people in the name of the Lord, and he distributes food to all the
people of Israel. Everyone gets bread, a
portion of meat, and a cake of raisins.
And then they return to their homes.
What is the lesson for us today? Where is the Gospel in a message that involves
the zapping of a man whose actions we are tempted to excuse? How might this passage help us understand God
better as we renew our baptismal vows and, to use a bit of a metaphor, serve as
a launching point for little Riley as she officially begins her relationship
with God this day?
I have already pointed out how this
passage serves as a counterpoint or balance to the reminder last week that God
who is with us by reminding us that God is not at all like us. When we begin to describe God, we begin with
His easier-to-understand attributes, at least what we think are
easier-to-understand, when tend to describe Him anthropomorphically. Heck, in that use of a pronoun, I have tried
to make the God beyond our understanding into a “guy” of sorts, the Father,
really, but you get the idea. Each of
those descriptors we use about God makes Him more and more like us. We start with the attributes that we love
(God is love; God is justice, God is merciful; God is soooo big—for those
inclined toward a Monty Python theology), and then we move to those
characteristics about God that make us uncomfortable. Who likes to think of God as King in
America? How about Judge? How about Right Hand or Warrior?
The truth is that the descriptors of God
leave you and I a bit too comfortable with God.
We choose words we like, we think we understand. And then we begin to think that God is just
like us. At our sinful worst, when our
pride is a bit puffed up, we think God is fortunate that we have chosen to be
on His side, to have taken up His cause.
He should feel special that we have chosen Him when the reverse is what
is true.
CS Lewis, perhaps, in his books on Narnia
captured God best in his descriptions of Aslan to little Lucy. He is a good lion, but he is not a tame lion. God is a good God, but He is by no means
domesticated or tame.
What does that have to do with our story
today? What does Uzzah do? Uzzah was irreverent in that act of trying to
hold up the ark. It may seem a simple
thing to you and me, that Uzzah was well meaning, but Uzzah is living out,
incarnating if you will allow the term, the inner belief that he needs to
support God. Whether Uzzah’s
understanding came from too much time with the ark or was simply misplaced, the
result is the same. In believing that he
was necessary to support God, Uzzah forgot himself and his position before the
God of the ark of the covenant. He
forgot the “otherly” nature of God. He
presumed. He was irreverent, to use our
translation today.
Sitting there, you may wonder whether
Uzzah really knew these things. If he
did not, he should have. Could Moses
enter the Tent of Meeting when the shekinah of God was present? No.
Sinful humans could not be in the presence of God unless He made
provision, unless He made it possible.
Continuing with Moses for just a second, remember how the people
responded to Moses’ face reflecting that glory of God. Moses,
we need you to wear this veil because His glory radiating from your face
terrifies us. How do the people
respond to the voice of God at Sinai? Moses, you go listen to Him and then tell us
and we will listen to you because His voice scares us to death. Heck, even if Uzzah ignored history and the
torah, he still had the recent experience of the Philistines and Israel. God’s ark terrified the Philistines to the
point that they sent the ark away rather than keeping it as a spoil of their
most recent victory over Israel. And, I
know few of us remember this, that act of returning the ark caused some in
Israel to be careless, irreverent, toward God in the ark. When the ark made it to Beth-shemesh, just
over 50,000 men were killed for looking into the ark. Shocking, I know. You had no idea that Indiana Jones might have
portrayed the ark correctly.
We live in a world that tries hard to
domesticate God, just as it did 2700 years ago.
So many in the world want to believe that Jesus was just a wise sage who
had some good teachings. But they want
to say that He was no different, in the end, than other thinkers or other
religious leaders. It’s a nice thought;
it may even be understandable. But you
and I are called to reflect upon whether such notions are really true. This day, we remind Riley and ourselves both
that God is with us and that God is WITH us.
Yes, God is all those wonderful adjectives that we like to use to
domesticate Him in our minds. But He is
also a God who takes righteousness and holiness and sin seriously. He takes those negative behaviors so
seriously, in fact, that only He could provide a way to overcome the sin nature
in us and reconcile us to Him. He takes
our sin nature so seriously that He had to bridge the chasm that existed
between us; we could not build that bridge ourselves. And that we might know just how much He hated
sin, He came down from heaven and, by force of will, hung on that Cross for you
and for me and for little Riley, knowing how we would sin against Him,
repeatedly, despite knowing His will for us.
It is a truly miraculous event we proclaim
this day when we baptize Riley and remind ourselves of our own baptism. God loves and loved us enough to die for us;
God loved us enough to bridge the chasm that existed between us because of our
sin. In that relationship that is sealed
today for Riley and reminded for each of us witnessing, we are promised that
just as we share in His death we share in His Resurrection! Whatever needs we have, He will meet. He may not meet them in the way that we want,
but He will meet them in the way that we need.
In return, of course, we offer that new life in thankful service of Him
and to Him. In His Name we feed the
hungry. In His Name we clothe the
poor. In His Name we proclaim freedom to
the captives and the enslaved. In His
Name we proclaim and live forgiveness to those who sin against us!
And we even agree to be treated by Him as
a beloved daughter or son. When the
world hears us claim we are sons or daughters or princes or princesses, it
hears privilege. You and I, of course,
know better. We serve a God who loves to
redeem suffering. We serve a God whose
Son died on a Cross before entering into glory; and so we agree to serve, to be
adopted, knowing that God will redeem the suffering that lies in our path. Make no mistake, what was offered to each of
us gathered here today on our baptismal day and what is offered to Riley this
day is not a privilege in the way that the world understands. There will be times when God’s grace will be
evident to her and our eyes and protecting her from all kinds of evil and
consequences of her sins. Similarly,
though, there will times when neither Riley nor us will see His grace present,
where she and we will wonder if He is still there, if He is, in fact, with
her. And, unless our Lord comes again
before He calls her home, she will one day, like our Lord, die. It’s not exactly a great sales pitch, is it?
But, by virtue of this sacrament, by
virtue of this water, this oil, and the Holy Spirit, we and she will know
herself to be sealed as Christ’s own forever.
In ways neither she nor we can ever explain fully, she and we are now
covenantally bound to God and He to us.
Just as she is bound to represent Him to the world around her and we are
bound to represent Him to the world around us, He promises to be with her and
with us and to redeem her and us and to vindicate her and us for choosing
Him. It is a glorious relationship and
promise, one made possible only through the love and mercy and grace of her and
our loving Father in heaven, and through the death, resurrection, and ascension
of our Lord Christ. And in a real but
mystical way, we understand now that the locus of His throne is shifted from
the mercy seat of the ark and into her and our hearts. But make no mistake, it is we who needed
Him! He invites, He woos; but He wins
whether we accept or reject Him on His terms.
One last note. Our reading ends today with David making a
fool of himself in the eyes of the daughter of Saul’s eyes. That in itself would be a great sermon for
Episcopalians. We have a reputation for
being stuffy and “the frozen chosen” when it comes to worship. I have reminded us all this morning of the
covenant that God makes with us in our baptism.
If I have done my job acceptably, all of us gathered have been reminded
of the otherness, the transcendence of God, and our standing before Him through
His response to Uzzah. I have shared the
weight and responsibility and, I hope, the promise and the hope we have in
Him. Notice, though, that God does not
desire us to live in terrified fear or anger or
. . . the overly seriousness with
which so many serve Him. Serving God is
serious hard work; but is also glorious and joyful. In a few short verses this morning, David
goes from a bit . . . petulant or fearful and refusing to bring the seat of God
into his city and his presence to a man who famously dances and sings and
shouts for joy to the Lord in front of all the people he rules or shepherds. It is a scene so undignified that it causes
one of his wives to despise him in heart.
But who better than David understands what
God has offered? Who better knows his
sins and his weaknesses and his need for God?
In the coming weeks we will remind ourselves of his, at best adultery
and at worst rape, of Bathsheba. We will
remind ourselves of his murder of Uriah.
Those who study the Psalms here on Monday will get immersed into any
number of David’s thoughts, feelings, and actions. By the world’s standards, he probably is not
the guy whom God should have made a covenant.
Surely someone out there was less of an adulterer or less of a murderer
or less of whatever sin of David you’d like to consider. Hopefully,
you and I know our sins, our weaknesses, and our need for His mercy and
grace. Knowing that He has sworn a
covenant with us similar to the one with which he swore with David, how can we
be any less joyful?! You and I know the
chasm that existed between us and God.
You and I know all the things that separated us from Him because we
committed the sins. Yet, despite
ourselves, despite our stubborn wills, still He redeemed us! Despite each one of us deserving God’s
response to Uzzah, we get something unfathomably hopeful and promising! The relationship which we remember this day
and pronounce every time we come to the Table ought to cause in us a thankful
joy, a joy becoming of ones redeemed!
In
Christ’s Peace,
Brian†
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