In the beginning as God created, a wind –the spirit of God swept— hovered—over the face of the deep.
The first people—Eve and Adam– “heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze…” A swoosh of grass? Crunch of leaves?
Abraham and Sarah are met by three travelers with news of a child.
Moses meets God in a burning bush. The consuming fire contained in a non-consumed shrub.
God liberates and then leads the people from Egypt as a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.
On the mount of Sinai, the people stand before God—with great fear and tumult.
Then Moses begins to go before God and report back from the meeting—at times even veiling because of the residue of the divine radiating with such intensity, such ferocity.
At the time of wandering in the desert, God gave instruction to build a tabernacle—a worship center that was mobile (though presumably heavy with all that wood and gold).
God moved with the people. Or the people moved with God. They moved together. If not nomadic then at least on the move. Eventually, however, the people and God arrive at the land promised. And though God is still worshipped formally, or primarily, in the tabernacle, it doesn’t move anymore. The people, now settled, begin to accrue the things of settled people. They move past the prophet, priest, judges set up for leadership to a king model (to be like other legitimate nations, of course). At times, the text records God’s explicit displeasure at these so-called improvements.
Previously we saw the movement of the ark of the covenant—the material signification of the presence of God—moved. With King David dancing in worship and celebration. The connection between political power consolidation and worship being hard to clarify or separate.
Today we continue with this unfolding story. David, now able to slow down and rest after a time of warring, has time to think. He, the second King of Israel, now lives in a house of cedar. Cedar, a luxury good, imported from Lebanon is a kingly residence. On reflection [timeline not indicated] David feels or appears to feel concern about the uneven reality of residences—the unequal lodging arrangements between himself and God—a glaring discrepancy. Perhaps a bit embarrassed he says, seemingly genuinely, to the prophet Nathan— “See now, I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God is in a tent.” The prophet appears to think this is a legitimate concern and valid idea. He does not challenge David for cynically wielding power or trying to contain the divine or anything like that. He says, “sounds good, the Lord is with you.” He gives his blessing—what one commentator calls a building permit.
However, that night God speaks a different word. God doesn’t challenge motivation or criticize but simply says—it isn’t you. David, you are not the one to build my temple. I’ve been moving around since you left Egypt and have not requested permanence or an upgraded dwelling. God says, your son will build me such a temple. Instead of you building me a dwelling—a house, I will grant and establish your house and your kingdom. Nupanga Weanzana notes, “God restrained David’s ambitions…David might want to do something great for God, but through God something great had already been accomplished.”1 Walter Brueggemann, considers this “the most crucial theological statement in the Old Testament.”2 The unequivocal blessing of David’s line. The desire to build a temple, a dwelling—or at least a meeting place—of God is not denied, just delayed. God’s presence, at once mobile, moves towards association with a particular place.
The technical theological term for the appearance and presence of God is theophany. We have the wild and unpredictable appearances of God. This is regularized and routinized as the scriptures progress. One might say that the process for interacting with God becomes more predictable—at least until Jesus. The people know what to do, when to do it, and where. While there are always criticisms of people equating doing the proper process while living with injustice, there is not, in general, a rejection of this worship infrastructure. As we prepared to begin meeting and worshipping in person this past summer, this story seemed to be thematically relevant. The church building isn’t a temple and there is no king and the church was built long ago—however, the consideration of a place designated for gathering in worship is on point.
What then are we to make of this passage in Ephesians?
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, 20 built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. 21 In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; 22 in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.3
Formed as we are in understandings of individualism, ahistoricism, mobility, consumerism, and work that, for most of us, does not relate to the land, we may read Ephesians as highlighting and reinforcing our disembodied presence—a dislocated presence. While we may live lightly—we also must live grounded and rooted. Palestinian theologian living in Bethlehem, Munther Isaac, writes, “By no means, however, does this Christo-centric interpretation of the land negate the importance of the land in Christian theology. Land is still important. Commitments to the goodness of creation, to the bodily resurrection of believers, and to the incarnational theology demand the commitment to place having significance”4
We rightly expect that God’s presence is not contained in a nation, a people group, or this building (or zoom). That we don’t expect that God to be limited to such places does not mean that God isn’t present there, here or that the place or building does not have a role to play. As some of us begin to regather in the physical address we have the opportunity to again consider our call and vocation at 337 N. Carolina Ave SE. This site, five blocks from the Capitol Building, has been the site of the Washington City Church of the Brethren building since 1899. Not only has the congregation been worshipping, serving, and bearing witness to peace with justice but it has housed the Washington Office (currently named the Office of Peacebuilding and Policy, which I direct) of the denomination for many years. From the Office of Peacebuilding and Policy, we advocate for policies that limit and reduce war, build peace, address the need for racial justice, increase food security, and many other topics articulated in denominational policy. This ministry and location put us in direct contact with those the world deems the most powerful as well as least powerful. We, like all followers of Jesus, have a vocation and calling linked specifically to where we are.
However, neither God nor our call to ministry is limited to this particular structure or community or city. There is a dynamic tension between being rooted in place and also free and bound to others across borders and identities. The Compelling Vision of the denomination reads,
“Together, as the Church of the Brethren, we will passionately live and share the radical transformation and holistic peace of Jesus Christ through relationship-based neighborhood engagement. To move us forward, we will develop a culture of calling and equipping disciples who are innovative, adaptable, and fearless.
These scriptures and this statement of vision invite us to listen to the Spirit and listen to others. Rediscovering our call and vocation wherever we are planted. This work of Jesus may not be quite what we hoped or expected.
In Mark 8:27-28, we hear Jesus turn expectations upside down. Challenging assumptions of what following Jesus really means. Approaching this passage Jesus has been healing. Doing that Jesus thing. He has been meeting the expectations of a Messiah. The highly expected one. One who would save and liberate politically—shake off the oppressive empire!—with divine power. And this, naturally, will be in support of the ethnic, religious, and political entity of Israel—the people of God. That their God, the one who brought them up out of slavery would liberate—and likely with force—made a great deal of sense—both practically and theologically. Though the crowds may not have been connecting the dots, the disciples were beginning to put 2 and 2 together.
So, he was healing and then…on the way. On the way to the villages of Caesarea Philippi, he asks a question of public perception—what do the polls say? Who do people say that I am? The disciples reference the latest data, responding with some names of notable prophets and saintly folk.
Then Jesus asks, what do you think? And Peter nails it! Great job Peter! Peter was not ashamed of Jesus or Jesus’ words. Peter was not ashamed and spoke boldly—with clarity. You are the Messiah. Shortly thereafter Jesus begins to speak of his death—a clear failure of expectation. If the hope and expectation are for a religious revival and military or political victory, this is a clear failure—abject even. Naturally, this is objectionable. And Peter, best in class, objects with confidence. Peter not only objects but takes him aside and rebukes him. Rebukes Jesus. Perhaps like a coach in a movie who rallies the faltering sports champion to be. “You got this! Don’t give up now!” Jesus, this can’t be!
This time, rather than nailing it, Peter is sternly rebuked. “Get behind me Satan.” Get behind me…Satan. Ouch.
Jesus flips expectations. “You must deny yourself and take up your cross and follow me.” “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words…. of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.5
This is not a general valorization of pain and suffering. My running through pain in a trail race isn’t this. It also is not to be misused by those in power or in comfort to those crushed and put down by abuse. In the US context African American commentators, theologians, and ethicists have importantly challenged the valorization—the glorification of suffering—turned towards those who suffer by the powerful.6
However, especially for those in power. For us in a place like DC in a church a few blocks from the US Capitol—the heart of the Empire. What does it mean for us—for me—to hear these words? Now, I don’t feel particularly triumphant. I don’t feel like I have gained the “whole world” nor that such a situation is imminent. But I wonder at times—how do visions of “success” shape my world? How do assumptions of power or access or education or salary or job security shape my vision of the world? And how should Jesus reshape these—mold these.
James chapter 3 challenges and upends these expectations. However, in the same way, it upends in a way that is not against life. It is not against life but for life. It isn’t a dour gloomy grumpy no fun no life-life. It may challenge our assumptions of life and consumption and security and ….and… but it is life. True life. Abundant life. Eternal life. Lively life. Life that is more for others than me. It reads:
Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly. 2 We all stumble in many ways. Anyone who is never at fault in what they say is perfect, able to keep their whole body in check…13 Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. 14 But if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth. 15 Such “wisdom” does not come down from heaven but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. 16 For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice.17 But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. 18 Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.7
See! See! It is what I said (I read the passages earlier in the week so I had an advantage). “Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.” Sounds pretty good. In our garden at home, we have ground cherries. A lot of ground cherries (at least for a tiny garden). Ground cherries grow relatively low to the ground and the plant looks a bit like a flat tomato plant. The fruit is quite small—maybe the size of a small marble with a husk that ¾ the size of a super ball from the 1990s (to be scientific). The husk is geometric but also round. When the fruit falls on the ground it is ripe—which makes the harvest like a daily Easter Egg hunt. Finding these little lantern-like globes around the bases of plants and mixed in the okra plants. The fruit is like a tomato but tastes like a tart pineapple. So, if a harvest of ground cherries is this good, a harvest of righteousness must be THAT good.
Though this passage begins with a challenge that may make the voice of a preacher quake, it ends with the glorious harvest of righteousness. And while this passage and others are quite serious, we see the consistent witness of scripture be that this is not simply a list of very super-duper strict rules to get right in order to pass the test but an invitation to life. An invitation to life—LIFE. This life invites seriousness and focus—the world is certainly full of serious and difficult things—but it is also a harvest of ground cherries and righteousness—a joyful with gratitude celebration of the gifts of the One who has created and sustains us.
This 20th anniversary of 9/11 is marked by pain—those lost in the attacks of that day and also the results of our government’s response. And as a congregation, we experience the joy and gratitude of our years with members who are moving away.
These, and many moments throughout our days, invite and urge us to stay (or get) focused on the one who gives life—a life defined by the Spirit, living in joy and courage and love. Living a radical call to peace and justice—embodying and building this concretely in our local and global communities. We’ve got work to do—life to harvest. Righteousness to harvest and peace to sow. “Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.” Amen.
- Nupanga Weanzana, “2 Samuel,” in Africa Bible Commentary, ed. Tokunboh Adeyemo, (Zondervan: Grand Rapids, 2006), 387.
- Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel, (John Knox Press: Louisville, 1990), 259.
- Ephesians 2:19-22, New Revised Standard Version (NRSV).
- Munther Isaac, From Land to Lands, From Eden to the Renewed Earth, (Langham: Carlisle, Cumbria, 2015) 354.
- Mark 8:35-38, NRSV.
- Katie Cannon, Black Womanist Ethics, (Scholars: Atlanta, 1988), 3.
- James 3:1-2, 13-18, New International Version.
Nathan Hosler is a pastor at the Washington City Church of the Brethren. For his employment, he directs the Office of Peacebuilding and Policy (the Washington Office) for the Church of the Brethren denomination. He has a BA in Biblical Language, MA in International Relations focusing on religion and peacebuilding, and a PhD in Theological Studies (working in theological ethics). Nathan likes to run long distances, bike commute in Washington DC, cook and try foods from around the world, and create and/or collect art.