“Cedar: Paneling or Pandering?”
2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Allen Huff
Jonesborough Presbyterian Church
6/1/14
“Before long, [David] made himself at home, and God gave
him peace from all his enemies.”
With all being as well as it has ever been for Israel,
their fledgling king, intoxicated by success, jumps into a kind of
hyper-drive. Taking note of his own fine
cedar home, he decides that he should get busy and build a splendid house for
Yahweh, too. It would express gratitude,
but David views it as an act of practical prudence, as well. Publicly credit God with victory, and maybe
“peace” will linger.
David recognizes a timeless truth: War never achieves real
peace. I don’t mean to sound grim or
ungrateful, but the witness of history has been relentlessly consistent. Violent triumph never accomplishes true
peace. It may bring much-needed
ceasefire, maybe even some sort of treaty – but never shalom. Somewhere, somehow,
some group who is not powerful at the moment is going to rise up and make a
play for independence or domination. And
those who succeed often attribute their newly-won power to the particular favor
of some deity.
David and Israel serve as a fine case in point. Having defeated the Philistines, David
nestles into his throne. Looking at his
home, he inhales the sharp, clean fragrance of cedar. Now, Versailles or Buckingham Palace this is
not. In fact, it may have been a corn
crib compared to the little house on the prairie. But David’s home is as fine as anything his
situation has to offer. That’s when he
remembers Yahweh. Here he is in his new
royal digs, and Yahweh, whom David credits for his success, remains packed up
in a chest?
The king stews on this for a while before calling in his
court prophet and saying, “Nathan, look at this. Here I am, comfortable in my cedar home, and God
is cooped up in a footlocker in a pup tent.”
Now, hold that thought for a moment, and let’s consider
Nathan. Nathan is a prophet and a
priest, but he’s a cabinet member, too.
That makes him part of the establishment. He knows that while David the man looks to him for spiritual guidance,
David the king expects him to be
sensitive to political realities. Nathan
knows that, at times, the administration expects him to play the loyal “yes
man.” And he knows that David’s matter-of-fact
statement about the housing situation is a backhanded request to build a
temple. The request, however, has more
to do with politics than spirituality.
Royal logic says, “Our
God should be housed and enthroned with grandeur at least to match that of the
king. If the nations of the earth happen
by and see the ark of God still camped out in a travel kennel, what kind of
press will that get? Would-be enemies
will see us and think that poorly god-ed means poorly guarded. The majesty of the presence of our God, Jehovah, ought to be
unmistakably splendid, and even intimidating.”
Nathan understands the royal logic. I imagine, too, that he wants to help his
king protect Israel's new-found autonomy.
And, as prophet and priest, surely he feels the inner conflict
building. Nathan knows that the king wants to flex his new muscles so
all the world can see him and hear him roar.
But Nathan also knows that Yahweh
wants king and country to humble themselves in grateful praise and trust.
In his heart of hearts, Nathan knows all of this. And weighing one side against the other he
finally says to David, “Go ahead with what you’ve got in mind. God is with you.”
‘God is with you?’
In context, those words basically mean that God is on board, and that
raises a bright red flag. To claim that
God is “on board” with our plans reveals a blindly arrogant, self-serving
religion, not a humble faith. David’s
house-building initiative seeks to ensure that God gets on board and stays
there. On the surface, his motives may
appear faithful, but underneath lies the assumption that a well-housed God
means a happy God. And a happy God means
a loyal God. And a loyal God means a
nation that is safe from every enemy.
Do you see the irony?
Israel is in danger of becoming her own worst enemy. The story gets more troubling when we
acknowledge that David’s concerns reflect our own. Haven’t we, too, associated military victory
with God’s particular blessings on us?
At King’s Mountain Battlefield in South Carolina the central monument
bears the revolutionary battle cry: “In God and our guns we trust!” Had England prevailed, they would have
claimed the same blessing of the same God.
It happens in virtually every conflict.
I think it should grieve and convict
us that to a deep extent, people of faith have yet to confess that we often
trade the God who creates the world and all that is in it, the God who not only
hears but who initiates prayer, the God who inspires scriptures, the God who
is, to us, revealed in Jesus of Nazareth, the God who is LOVE – we often
trade this God for gods who can be molded according to human fears and needs
for affirmation.
“God save the Queen!” “Allah Akbar!” “For God and country, Geronimo is dead!” Virtually all of us make that trade. And it has been that way for eons.
Since being used as a political tool
counts as a breach of at least the first three commandments, Yahweh steps in to
help David set a faithful example.
‘Nathan,’ God says, ‘go back to David
and say this. Say, David, this is about me, not you.
I’ve never lived in or asked for a house, and I don’t want one now. So, here’s how this is going to go: I brought you up from the sheep pens and made
you king in place of Saul, and now, from your descendants I will build for you
a house, an everlasting kingship. I’m
going to lay the foundation, raise the walls, and spread the roof. I’m going to plant Israel deep in this
soil. I will allow myself a place among
you soon enough, but it won’t be your doing.
You just keep worshiping, trusting, and leading. That’s your job. I’ll do mine.
Trust me.’
This promise is a watershed
moment. Like the Exodus and the covenant
at Sinai, it is a hinge pin of the Old Testament story. From this point on, God, who is carpenter,
farmer and Lord of Israel, lays eternal claim to the throne of David. As king, David is important, but he is not God.
Nor is he God’s protector, benefactor, or even God’s executive
secretary. Yahweh is wildly and
extravagantly free. Israel will be planted
and tended in Yahweh’s vineyard, not the other way around. And let’s remember: God’s promise is to all
the world through Israel. God is not “on board” with any one nation,
tradition, or individual. God calls us
to the work of spiritual discernment so that in getting on board with God, we may bear witness to God’s initiative
and grace in, with, and for the creation.
In our spiritual confusion, we often
miss God’s newness. We may even find
ourselves working against God, because the royal il-logic usually tries to guarantee a future by preserving some
past. To us Nathan says, ‘Stop! No more pandering! Don't build a thing. You'll just dam up the flow of God's purpose,
and that dam will break. God, who is
building and planting even now, does not want your pandering. You’re scrambling for success, and success in
this world is measured in houses of cedar.
It’s measured in numbers of dollars in the budget and people in the
pews. Trust and follow God. Expect
wondrous new things from God.’
What is God up to in our midst?
Lots of things: Sending Mallory to Haiti for the third time. Calling new officers to serve this
congregation. Involving us in Family
Promise, Appalachian Service Project, and other mission efforts. Deepening our sense of community and our
desire to love and care for one another.
Hosting us, in person, at this table today. The list goes on.
It’s a funny thing, though. Any of these worthwhile efforts become houses
of cedar when we approach them from self-serving angles. But when we empty and humble ourselves, when we
lay our hands on the hammers and plows that God sets before us, we build and
plant not for ourselves, but for God. We
build and plant for the betterment of our neighbors and for future
generations. That's how we not only proclaim
but inhabit the kingdom of God.
No comments:
Post a Comment