Lent Day 10: One Thing I Ask

Grapevine window, Union Presbyterian Church, Endicott, NY, ca. 1907

One thing I ask of the LORD; 
   this I seek:
to live in the house of the LORD
   all the days of my life,
to behold the beauty of the LORD,
   and to inquire in his temple.
~Psalm 27:4

From the first time I heard this psalm (sung, as I mentioned yesterday), this was the portion that grabbed my heart and gave it a squeeze. I don't know whether that was before or after I experienced my very memorable call to ordained ministry (it involved an Amy Grant song, a drive on Route 128 outside Boston, and an interview with the first Protestant woman minister I would ever meet). I believe that, for most of my life, I've felt this call, but there were many roadblocks. The chief of these was that it seemed to be a call outside the church I loved, in which I was nurtured, where I learned my faith, and where, for years, I served.  Fourteen years passed between that call and the day of my ordination.

So, what is the psalmist referring to? Specifically? They are singing of the temple in Jerusalem-- the first temple, which scripture and tradition tell us was built by Solomon, the son who succeeded David on the throne. David had wanted to build the temple, but God had sent David an urgent message via the prophet Nathan: this was not David's work to do. It would go to his successor. 

The temple was considered the literal home of God on earth. The holy of holies--the space which contained the Ark of the Covenant--resided in the temple. The presence of the Covenant was connected with  the presence of God in the wilderness sojourn when Moses conferred with God on a regular basis. Now, it was in the most sacred space--accessible to humans only one day each year, when the high priest would enter to make offerings on behalf of all the people, for the forgiveness of their sins.

To be in the temple was to be near God. Elsewhere, the psalmist sings, 

For a day in your courts is better
   than a thousand elsewhere.
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God
   than live in the tents of wickedness.
~Psalm 84:10

All God's covenant people were called upon to travel to the temple as frequently as possible, to make offerings and to experience the great festivals there, the greatest of which was Passover. To this day the traditional ending of the Passover seder is, "Next year, in Jerusalem,"in every home where it is celebrated. Love of the temple wasn't reserved for the anointed priests; all God's people loved the temple. All God's people desired to be near God.

It's hard for those of us in mainline Christianity to relate to this deep love of a single place of worship. Muslims understand it, they who are called to Mecca each year. Latter Day Saints have a greater understanding of it, as they have a their most beloved temple in Salt Lake City, Utah. Roman Catholics probably have a closer understanding, with Vatican City as the home to the Pope, their great spiritual leader. 

We love our churches, but we don't consider any of them the sole locus of God on earth (nor do Muslims or the LDS or Catholics).  We do, however, understand that when we gather, the body of Christ is present, because we are that body. In our churches we can and do experience the presence of God. We experience it in one another. 

But God has been set loose on the earth. God is everywhere, and we can also experience God's presence in a blazing sunset, in the deep darkness of a forest, on the summit of a mountain, or gazing upon the first crocuses in our garden or savoring our first cup of tea or coffee. We can experience the presence of God in soul-stirring music, in the hand of someone offering us comfort, in the bonds of love with other human beings. God is everywhere--thank God! 

God is Love.

 

Lent Day 1: Ash Wednesday

You desire truth in the inward being;
therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
~Psalm 51:6

David's Psalm 51--which our Bibles tell us was written after the Bathsheba/ Uriah fiasco, and God had caught David out--is the psalm appointed for Ash Wednesday. It is passionate, self-recriminating (appropriately), and also filled with gorgeous nuggets of wisdom. 

This verse is a little tricky for the translators, but contains a deep truth about being human. I think "hidden places" might be a good way to think about "secret heart"... as in teach me wisdom in my secret places. The places I hide, even from myself. 

I think David is in shock because he now knows he is a person who could do that--take a woman, without her consent, rape her, and then kill her husband to cover up her pregnancy (by marrying her real quick). A sin against Bathsheba, against Uriah, and against his people, because he is the king, and he bas broken faith with them in a devastating way. And, because each person is made in the image of God, a sin against God.

David knows, now, the only way out is through--he has to change from the inside out. Trying to hide didn't do it. Sacrifices won't do it. A thorough change of heart, his essence, is the only way.

We often come to Lent as though it were a massive self-improvement project, and I am sure I am at least partially culpable for that as a preacher. But this year I am embracing a simple plan (with the help of the exquisitely wise and funny Kate Bowler*). Lent is a time to acknowledge that we are human. That's certainly what the ashes are all about: our mortality, our finitude. But humanity is larger than simply the boundaries God has placed on our lives. Our humanity endows us with the ultimate dignity: we are made in God's image. We are God's beloved children. 

So let's start there. We are human. We are beloved. These forty days are not about the pounds lost or the mileage covered in our Bibles, but about what it means to be human. By all means--embrace a Lenten discipline if that is helpful to you. But never forget the first, essential sign of the ashes: We are dust. But what beautiful things God can do with that dust. 

*Go find Kate Bowler's Lenten Devotional ("Daily Guide") here. You won't regret it!