That Awesome Otherness

There is dancing in the streets! King David is bringing the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. The ark, the ark of God, was a prized possession for the people of Israel. The scripture says that the ark "is called by the name, the name of the lord almighty, who is enthroned between the cherubim that are on the ark." (I sam.6:2)

What is being described is Israel’s foremost religious symbol. Tradition says that mosses constructed it to contain the two stone tablets of the Ten Commandments that Moses received from God. Although not exactly the presence of God, it was understood to be a physical extension of God's power. The ark and its contents were a physical testimony to God's claim upon the people. To be in its presence, to be near it, to worship it, was truly to be in the presence of holiness. It is obvious that this sacred box meant a great deal to the Hebrew people. For that reason, from time to time it became one of the spoils of war. When the Hebrews were defeated in battle by the Philistines, the Philistines took it as a prize.

Unfortunately, the holiness that was supposed to be connected with the ark did not bring blessings to the Philistines. It is said that they encountered all sorts of problems while they were in possession of the ark. In fact, they were scared out of their wits by its awesome power. "The Gods have come into (our) camp…who can deliver us from the power of these mighty Gods?" the Philistine priests ask. Eventually, and with great relief on the part of the philistines we might assume, the ark was returned to the Hebrews.

In our reading today, we pick up the story as we find the victorious king David bringing the ark to its new home, the city of Jerusalem.

As the writer of second Samuel tells us, king David and his friends were simply beside themselves with joy that the ark was being brought home. The reading says that they "celebrated with all their might before the lord" with songs and all sorts of musical instruments: harps and lyres and tambourines and sistrums and cymbals. They were having a party because the ark meant that much to them. It is this exuberance, this passion for God and all things Godly that we want to think about today, particularly as we ponder our own approach to worship and to the God who calls us together on a regular basis.

As I did some reading for today, I came upon a writer who poses what I think is a most intriguing question:

"Have we tamed the gospel? How passionate is our worship, how exuberant (is) our praise, how deep (is) our awe at what God is doing in our lives and in the life of the world? Do we know what it feels like to rejoice 'with all our might because God is present in our lives? Have we ever felt so full of exultation at who God is that we want to dance, right in front of our family, our friends and our community?"

Keeping this passage before us for a moment, I wonder if the most provocative questions for us to answer today are quite simply, "who is God to us? And how do we relate to this God?"

Is God the conscience that pricks our soul when we know we have done wrong?

Is God the voice of consolation for those who mourn, the spirit of hope for those who suffer, the inspiration for those who are struggling?

Is God the reassuring voice we hear in scripture, "yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me?"

Is God the one who prompts and pushes and prods us to voice our concerns about the condition of our world and those who suffer in it?

Are we talking about the God who not only forgives our sin, but the sins and transgressions of anyone who is sincerely repentant?

Is this the God who can change hearts, redirect lives, and perform wonders around us and in us?

Is God, as one writer suggests, a "nice friendly companion who comforts us and offers us a reward for our good behavior and our regular attendance at church?" Or is it the God Annie Dillard writes about in her book, "Teaching a Stone to Talk"?

"Does anyone have the foggiest idea of what sort of power we invoke (in the name of God)?" she writes. "Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning."

Evoking a by-gone era, she says,

"It is madness to wear ladies straw hats or velvet hats to church. We should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should be issuing life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews…"

Well, that's kind of a colorful and imaginative way of thinking about worship. But what I believe Annie Dillard is describing here is not necessarily a fearful image of a punishing God, but God's power and glory and might and mystery, what we might call God's awesome otherness. It's all about God's transcendent power, you see. It's about God's ability to be above and removed from our life, yet to be fully a part of our life, a God who is beyond our imaginations, a God who is so completely in control that he is able to keep the worlds and universes from spinning out of control yet who can be, as someone has written, as close to us as a heartbeat, and as gentle as a breath.

If we could even come close to imagining such a God, is it possible, as Annie Dillard suggests, that, even then, we still haven't begun to comprehend the breadth and depth of the power of God.

When it comes to personally encountering God, the word awe most certainly should come to mind. But so also should words like humility and subservience. Of course, then there's the matter of our sinfulness, how we act, and the ways we mistreat each other and our world. I would like to believe that when we are most honest with ourselves, a measure of gratitude for the beauty and the preciousness of God's grace just might begin to dawn in us.

Of course we haven't even mentioned our finitude, and the awareness of how small, vulnerable, powerless and mortal we are in comparison to the almighty God.

Do you remember what God said to Job?

"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundations? Tell me if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone - while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy…Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place…have you ever journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep? Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the vast expanses of earth? Tell me, if you know this." (job 38:4-7, 12, 16-18)

Who can answer questions like that, especially since it is God who is asking?

The point is, I believe, this one hour of worship should be unlike any other hour of our week. When, during the invitation to prayer, I say that we are putting aside the busyness and distractions of our daily life to center ourselves in fellowship with god, shouldn't that mean something? Shouldn't it mean that we really do understand what a powerful experience it is just to draw near to our god and creator?

King David understood, and that was one reason why he danced his way into Jerusalem before the ark. He danced because he couldn't not dance. He couldn't restrain himself because he felt this power, this rush of power and joy and jubilation because he was in the presence of holiness.

Wouldn't it be nice if each of us could feel the same way on Sunday morning? Not everyone may be comfortable with so much emotion, but doesn’t the Psalm encourage us to make a joyful noise, and to come before the lord with singing?

Of course the dancing is optional, but it does give us something to consider on a beautiful summer Sunday morning.

Amen.