Turning point
Commentary
There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
-- William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)
There are moments in life, as Shakespeare knew, when everything hangs in the balance: Caesar crossed the Rubicon and Italy went from Republic to Empire. Such extraordinary times may not come often, but they do occur with persistence and insistence. Franklin Delano Roosevelt identified December 7, 1941, as "a day that will live in infamy." October 29, 1929, lingers in history books as "Black Friday." September 11, 2001, stopped life in its tracks and demanded worldwide response.
So, too, today's lectionary readings. Each is a turning point, a watershed, a step beyond the point of no return. For Israel, under Solomon's leadership, a new era of political, social, economic, and religious strength was emerging, and the king hoisted the sail of all their futures to the winds blowing from ancient Mount Sinai and the pulsating firestorm of Yahweh's jealous care. Paul, when writing to first-century Christians in the Lycus River valley of Asia Minor, posited the choices of faith as the prelude for battle in a winner-take-all contest. And when John tells us of Jesus' strident call to decision, the crowds part and eddy away until the few left on Jesus' island seem almost foolish and feeble. The tide has turned.
C. S. Lewis reminded us that we are not sprung into this world as fully formed moral or religious creatures. Instead, choice by choice, opting for the right or the left, choosing the good or the gray, taking a well-traveled highway or negotiating the path through the wilderness, we become more heavenly creatures or more hellish demons. Today, as Billy Graham always noted, is the Hour of Decision. Any homiletic efforts that stop short of a volitional call has not wrestled well with these passages.
1 Kings 8:(1, 6, 10-11) 22-30, 41-43
At least two streams of history convolute at this moment. First, there is the main redemptive event of the Old Testament, the creation of the nation of Israel through a mighty exodus from Egypt and a fierce covenant marriage at Mount Sinai. Genesis and Exodus are tied together in their pursuit of a covenant relationship between God and the descendents of Abraham. When he first appears on our horizon in Genesis 12, Abraham is assured that all of the nations of the earth will be blessed through him. The vehicle for this extravagant expression of divine favor will be the nation of Israel, some 400 years later. Yahweh (identified to Moses from the burning bush as the God who will be there for you) battles Pharaoh (the proclaimed direct descendent of the sun god Ra) for the right to determine the destinies of the Israelite nation.
When the conflict is decided by the powerful plagues that attack the religious moorings of the Egyptians with increasing ferocity (cutting off their abilities to count on the Nile, the land, the usually friendly skies, the sun, and their sun god ruler) and a naval battle without ships, Israel is adopted by Yahweh as a unique partner in the divine mission to retake planet earth. At Sinai the deal is sealed with a covenant ceremony that binds Israel to Yahweh and Yahweh to Israel. The Hittites, who devised the formulary used to shape the Sinai covenant, always mandated two copies to be written, one to travel home to the royal palace in Hatti, and one to stay with the conquered, subdued, or allied nation. In the power and brilliance of the Exodus stories, two copies of the covenant between Yahweh and Israel are struck, but both are kept in the same place: the Ark of the Covenant in the Tabernacle or Tent of Meeting.
The implication is clear -- Yahweh lives with Israel. For centuries, now, that has been the case. Throughout the wilderness wanderings and on into the conquest and settlement of the promised land, Yahweh traveled with Israel, living in a tent like theirs and putting up with camping conditions. Yet during the times of the Judges, while the Israelites established a permanent society in Canaan, Yahweh's campsite at Shiloh was increasingly neglected and the tent tattered. Today, however, as Solomon stands before the altar of burnt offering in the spacious courtyard of this newly erected and magnificent temple, Yahweh's permanent home is dedicated and the journey ends.
The second major historical stream flowing into this event is the more recent covenant promise made by Yahweh to Solomon's father, David. It was through David that the petty fighting of the times of the Judges was put behind and Israel became a people of national solidarity. David attributed his success to Yahweh's leading and kinship, and wanted to build a permanent house for Yahweh. In 2 Samuel 6-7 the story of David's desire and Yahweh's response is told.
The outcome was that Yahweh appreciated David's good gesture but reserved the right to have the temple built by hands that were less bloodied by war. It would be a man of peace who would bring Yahweh into a permanent home. But David's appropriate desire did not go unrewarded. Yahweh declared a covenant blessing that history would never fail to have a descendent of David on the throne. So it was that despite David's later obnoxious sinfulness (such as the affair with Bathsheba) and civil strife within the family that spilled out in divisive conflict to the nation (Absolom's rebellion -- note that Absolom's name means "father of peace!"), a child of peace (Solomon) was able to stand and declare that the true ruler of Israel was Yahweh, and that this temple was really the royal palace.
Thus, Solomon prays as he does in the great prayer of dedication. It is not mere wishful thinking. It is not simply words of religious piety. It is not just the propaganda of a king who wishes to win the votes of the moral majority. No, this prayer is the acknowledgment that two covenants shape this nation and those two covenants bind it in marriage vows to Yahweh. This is like a 25th anniversary celebration in which the groom and bride repeat their vows and renew their commitments. On this day the marriage of heaven and earth is reforged on the windswept highland above Jerusalem.
Homiletically, this story can be communicated in several ways. First, there is the route of marking the meaning of vows. What is Israel promising through the prayer of Solomon? Fidelity, faithfulness, commitment, trust, single-minded devotion.
Second, there is the road of identifying the covenant promises claimed by Solomon on behalf of the people. What can Israel count on from Yahweh? Fidelity, faithfulness, commitment, trust, single-minded devotion.
Third, there is the amazing acknowledgment in Solomon's words that the marriage will always be one between unequal parties. Though Yahweh is faithful, Israel is sure to fail. Solomon's prayer is brilliantly realistic.
Fourth, it is also marvelously grace-filled. Solomon sees this building and this place as the focus of attachment between heaven and earth. By way of this permanent dwelling Yahweh takes up permanent residence in the community. So it is that even when Israel goes relationship wandering, even when the marriage bed is sullied, even when conversation turns into accusation and partners go humphing off into separate rooms, all who eventually turn their eyes to this place will find a way home again. This is not only true for Israel; it is also true for Yahweh.
This day is a turning point in Yahweh's and Israel's marriage. They have survived the early years with all their threats and breakdowns. Now as they settle in for the long run, they renew their vows and learn again to count on one another to be there in rooms whose doors haven't yet been opened.
Ephesians 6:10-20
Writing from house arrest in Rome, living under the watchful care of Roman soldiers, Paul is constantly impressed by their battle gear. In this circular letter to the churches of the Lycus River valley of Asia Minor (sent by way of Tychicus and Onesimus as the latter is returned to his master Philemon's care) Paul reflects on many things related to power and battle scenes. There is an unseen conflict of spiritual forces that is already won by Jesus (ch. 1). There is an ongoing tension between Jew and Gentile that can only be resolved through capitulation to Jesus' way of thinking (ch. 2). There is a wrestling for authority in the church that requires both Paul's assertion of his apostolic calling and a reminder of common submission to Jesus Christ (ch. 3). There is a cosmic combat between the world of the day and light and the disfigured country of the night and darkness (chs. 4-5) and it plays out in human social relations.
Here in chapter 6 it is the arena of personal, spiritual combat. Each child of God (cf. 6:1) is on the battlefield and needs appropriate tools to survive and thrive. Most commentaries and other studies can fill in the details with how each piece of battle gear would typically be used. Note, however, that the armor Paul mentions is primarily used defensively, not offensively. Furthermore, Paul challenges his readers to "stand firm." In other words, the spiritual fight is primarily defensive for two reasons. First, the offensive combat has already been wielded by Jesus. We are partners with Jesus, but the redemptive activity of the cross is his alone, and not ours.
Second, the antagonism fueling the feud between darkness and light is primarily generated on the evil side of the battlefront. We are to have righteous indignation about the effects of sin, but we are not to succumb to power trips that use the dehumanizing tactics of evil in order to wage the warfare. So we defend the good, but we do not become evil aggressors, even if there are spiritual battles to be won.
Paul's metaphor should not be viewed as quietistic, however. This is a battleground image, and those who understand are always on the turning point, always living in the circle of decision, always making a choice at a crossroads where important ways are blocked by spiritual adversaries. Jim Wallis, in one of his political sermons, said that when the South African government canceled a political rally against apartheid, Desmond Tutu led a worship service in St. George's Cathedral. The walls of the church were lined with soldiers and riot police carrying guns and bayonets, ready to close it down. Bishop Tutu began to speak of the evils of the apartheid system, and how the rulers and authorities that propped it up were doomed to fall. He pointed a finger at the police who were there to record his words: "You may be powerful -- very powerful -- but you are not God. God cannot be mocked. You have already lost."
Then, in a moment of unbearable tension, the bishop seemed to soften. Coming out from behind the pulpit, he flashed that radiant Tutu smile and began to bounce up and down with glee. "Therefore, since you have already lost, we are inviting you to join the winning side."
While the crowd roared, the police melted away and in the exuberance of the spiritually significant moment, the people began to dance.
This is the character of Paul's instruction here. It is not the clandestine conniving of terrorist subversives. Rather it is the confident standing firm of those who know the right and are unwilling to give ground to any who pretend to take it through bully force. Don't fear, Paul says. Put on your armor and dance. I am inviting you to join the winning side.
John 6:56-69
This is a hard passage. Jesus gives a difficult teaching. There are no easy ways through it or around it. It is probably good to develop sermonic communication that is apocalyptic and metaphorical in nature in order that the impact of Jesus' teaching is not lost through attempts, most likely unsuccessful, at trying to explain them rationally. This is not to say that Jesus' words are irrational, but rather that they are not best understood syllogistically.
Walking through the passage slowly, one might notice these things. First, this is the end of a long monologue in which Jesus ties his sixth "miraculous sign" (John's term for Jesus' miracles in the "Book of Signs," chs. 1-12), the feeding of the crowd from a very limited resource base, to the miracle of manna that provided survival for Israel during its wilderness wanderings. This connection is reiterated in verse 58. So the teaching needs to take into account both the Old Testament story, the gospel miracle, and the combined implication of our dependence on God for all that really matters.
Second, when Jesus gets to the nub of his teaching in these verses, he transfers the call to choice for his listeners from merely selecting an action or belief to a very personal challenge to absorb him into their very existence. The closest parallels to such a requirement come in human existence in marriage vows or parental commitments. No other investments of similar depth exist. That, of course, is the problem for Jesus' audience. He allows no intellectual affirmation or denial, no emotional attachment but instead raises the level of investment to that of committed bedtime partners and the children they bear. This heightened demand is the critical factor behind the intensity of rejection that closes the paragraph.
Third, Jesus accelerates the decision-making process by announcing that he is soon to depart the scene (v. 62). While this may seem to obfuscate matters for his listeners, John includes the comment for those who are getting the larger picture by way of his full gospel overview. As will become more apparent later, our encounter with Jesus is always limited and always critical. There is no long time for deliberation. This is always the moment of choice.
Fourth, John's high Christology is evident in this passage when John reports that Jesus knew what people were thinking and who would make the necessary choices (vv. 64-65). This helps us understand why Jesus can use such cryptic teachings -- they are obvious to insiders and foolishness to outsiders. This is not unusual in the language of any important organization. Certainly in many churches, from Sunday to Sunday, language is spoken which can only be immediately understood by adherents and insiders, and sounds a little strange to those who are not yet drawn into the circle. But John wants to remind us that grace is always prevenient, and that God initiates salvation. This mitigates the rejection notes that follow.
No one makes the right choice except by way of God's first move in their lives. This is not to make God the author of rejection, for that is the natural state of humankind in the darkness of this world. Rather it is a reminder that unless God initiates spiritual transformation, it cannot happen. This theme is consistently espoused through the fourth gospel. All are alienated, all are invited, but it takes a divine miracle to make the connection. That again is why Jesus places himself in the crux of the decision-making process. We do not consider theology. We do not select a form of moral behavior. Instead, we must look at Jesus and love him or hate him. In the words of the hymn:
I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew:
He moved my soul to seek him seeking me.
It was not I that found, O Savior true;
No, I was found, was found of Thee.
Fifth, there is clearly a bit of resignation in the response of Peter (v. 68). Sticking with Jesus is the tough course, the abnormal way. But this is only because the effects of the darkness are so deep and pervasive. It takes radical reconsidering of the meaning of human life (see Jesus' conversations with Nicodemus in ch. 3) in order to see and stay in the light.
Application
Woody Allen once remarked that humanity is at a crossroads: "One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness, the other to total extinction. Let us pray that we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
He is right and he is wrong. We are always at the crossroads, and most choices are poor alternatives. God, however, always injects a life-or-death direction in the mix, and whether we elect to go left or right, we also need to encounter Jesus. This is the real issue facing us.
Solomon prefigured this choice in the covenant renewal when he officiated at the temple dedication. Paul identified Jesus as the real issue in spiritual warfare. And Jesus refused to allow people to step around him when facing the choices of life.
Alternative Application
1 Kings 8:(1, 6, 10-11) 22-30, 41-43. The Gospel Reading is hardest to preach, the Epistle Reading the easiest. But if you can do it right, tackle the Old Testament Reading and bring out with passion the marvelous interaction between God and Israel. Let the themes of Solomon's prayer shape a homiletic drama that explores the waxing and waning of trust over a lifetime. A book like Anne Tyler's Saint Maybe can be helpful research.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 84
So many things come down to perspectives or points of view, don't they? It begs the question about which eyes are reading a scripture such as this. "How lovely is thy dwelling place!" The sense of longing here suggests the viewpoint of one who knows what it's like not to have a dwelling place; someone who understands what it feels like to feel that lack of God's presence. It brings to mind that old saying, "You don't miss the water till the well runs dry."
Such depth of appreciation and wonder really can come only from an appreciation born of knowledge. Someone who has always lived in comfort and privilege will find it difficult to comprehend the motivations and actions of someone who is poor and homeless. Someone who has never been around the shattered homes and lives of a war- torn community can find it easy to ignore wars sponsored by their own government.
But it is only those who have been homeless and destitute who can truly appreciate a home when it comes. And none can savor the glories of peace more than those who have been the victims of war.
It is that the beauty of this psalm emerges from someone who has known and understands the struggle to seek, engage, and embrace the holy. Once found, once discovered, it is beyond wonderful. Happy are those who live in God's house! Happy are those who find their strength in God! This happiness, this joy, is infectious. It is the wonder of one who, after a long journey, discovers that it wasn't the destination that was important after all. It was the journey that mattered.
This psalm invites pilgrims on that journey. It sings to the spirit travelers and it encourages those who have no hope as can only be done by those who have known hopelessness. Isn't it true that pastoral care works best if the pastor has experienced the circumstances or situation that calls for his or her care? In this writer's case, it is certainly true. Having lost one's parents, it becomes an easier thing to walk with others when they lose theirs. In this deep sense, this is a pastoral psalm. Its singing reaches to those who may not be in God's house; those who may not know what it means to trust anyone, let alone God. It reaches with knowing hands.
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
-- William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)
There are moments in life, as Shakespeare knew, when everything hangs in the balance: Caesar crossed the Rubicon and Italy went from Republic to Empire. Such extraordinary times may not come often, but they do occur with persistence and insistence. Franklin Delano Roosevelt identified December 7, 1941, as "a day that will live in infamy." October 29, 1929, lingers in history books as "Black Friday." September 11, 2001, stopped life in its tracks and demanded worldwide response.
So, too, today's lectionary readings. Each is a turning point, a watershed, a step beyond the point of no return. For Israel, under Solomon's leadership, a new era of political, social, economic, and religious strength was emerging, and the king hoisted the sail of all their futures to the winds blowing from ancient Mount Sinai and the pulsating firestorm of Yahweh's jealous care. Paul, when writing to first-century Christians in the Lycus River valley of Asia Minor, posited the choices of faith as the prelude for battle in a winner-take-all contest. And when John tells us of Jesus' strident call to decision, the crowds part and eddy away until the few left on Jesus' island seem almost foolish and feeble. The tide has turned.
C. S. Lewis reminded us that we are not sprung into this world as fully formed moral or religious creatures. Instead, choice by choice, opting for the right or the left, choosing the good or the gray, taking a well-traveled highway or negotiating the path through the wilderness, we become more heavenly creatures or more hellish demons. Today, as Billy Graham always noted, is the Hour of Decision. Any homiletic efforts that stop short of a volitional call has not wrestled well with these passages.
1 Kings 8:(1, 6, 10-11) 22-30, 41-43
At least two streams of history convolute at this moment. First, there is the main redemptive event of the Old Testament, the creation of the nation of Israel through a mighty exodus from Egypt and a fierce covenant marriage at Mount Sinai. Genesis and Exodus are tied together in their pursuit of a covenant relationship between God and the descendents of Abraham. When he first appears on our horizon in Genesis 12, Abraham is assured that all of the nations of the earth will be blessed through him. The vehicle for this extravagant expression of divine favor will be the nation of Israel, some 400 years later. Yahweh (identified to Moses from the burning bush as the God who will be there for you) battles Pharaoh (the proclaimed direct descendent of the sun god Ra) for the right to determine the destinies of the Israelite nation.
When the conflict is decided by the powerful plagues that attack the religious moorings of the Egyptians with increasing ferocity (cutting off their abilities to count on the Nile, the land, the usually friendly skies, the sun, and their sun god ruler) and a naval battle without ships, Israel is adopted by Yahweh as a unique partner in the divine mission to retake planet earth. At Sinai the deal is sealed with a covenant ceremony that binds Israel to Yahweh and Yahweh to Israel. The Hittites, who devised the formulary used to shape the Sinai covenant, always mandated two copies to be written, one to travel home to the royal palace in Hatti, and one to stay with the conquered, subdued, or allied nation. In the power and brilliance of the Exodus stories, two copies of the covenant between Yahweh and Israel are struck, but both are kept in the same place: the Ark of the Covenant in the Tabernacle or Tent of Meeting.
The implication is clear -- Yahweh lives with Israel. For centuries, now, that has been the case. Throughout the wilderness wanderings and on into the conquest and settlement of the promised land, Yahweh traveled with Israel, living in a tent like theirs and putting up with camping conditions. Yet during the times of the Judges, while the Israelites established a permanent society in Canaan, Yahweh's campsite at Shiloh was increasingly neglected and the tent tattered. Today, however, as Solomon stands before the altar of burnt offering in the spacious courtyard of this newly erected and magnificent temple, Yahweh's permanent home is dedicated and the journey ends.
The second major historical stream flowing into this event is the more recent covenant promise made by Yahweh to Solomon's father, David. It was through David that the petty fighting of the times of the Judges was put behind and Israel became a people of national solidarity. David attributed his success to Yahweh's leading and kinship, and wanted to build a permanent house for Yahweh. In 2 Samuel 6-7 the story of David's desire and Yahweh's response is told.
The outcome was that Yahweh appreciated David's good gesture but reserved the right to have the temple built by hands that were less bloodied by war. It would be a man of peace who would bring Yahweh into a permanent home. But David's appropriate desire did not go unrewarded. Yahweh declared a covenant blessing that history would never fail to have a descendent of David on the throne. So it was that despite David's later obnoxious sinfulness (such as the affair with Bathsheba) and civil strife within the family that spilled out in divisive conflict to the nation (Absolom's rebellion -- note that Absolom's name means "father of peace!"), a child of peace (Solomon) was able to stand and declare that the true ruler of Israel was Yahweh, and that this temple was really the royal palace.
Thus, Solomon prays as he does in the great prayer of dedication. It is not mere wishful thinking. It is not simply words of religious piety. It is not just the propaganda of a king who wishes to win the votes of the moral majority. No, this prayer is the acknowledgment that two covenants shape this nation and those two covenants bind it in marriage vows to Yahweh. This is like a 25th anniversary celebration in which the groom and bride repeat their vows and renew their commitments. On this day the marriage of heaven and earth is reforged on the windswept highland above Jerusalem.
Homiletically, this story can be communicated in several ways. First, there is the route of marking the meaning of vows. What is Israel promising through the prayer of Solomon? Fidelity, faithfulness, commitment, trust, single-minded devotion.
Second, there is the road of identifying the covenant promises claimed by Solomon on behalf of the people. What can Israel count on from Yahweh? Fidelity, faithfulness, commitment, trust, single-minded devotion.
Third, there is the amazing acknowledgment in Solomon's words that the marriage will always be one between unequal parties. Though Yahweh is faithful, Israel is sure to fail. Solomon's prayer is brilliantly realistic.
Fourth, it is also marvelously grace-filled. Solomon sees this building and this place as the focus of attachment between heaven and earth. By way of this permanent dwelling Yahweh takes up permanent residence in the community. So it is that even when Israel goes relationship wandering, even when the marriage bed is sullied, even when conversation turns into accusation and partners go humphing off into separate rooms, all who eventually turn their eyes to this place will find a way home again. This is not only true for Israel; it is also true for Yahweh.
This day is a turning point in Yahweh's and Israel's marriage. They have survived the early years with all their threats and breakdowns. Now as they settle in for the long run, they renew their vows and learn again to count on one another to be there in rooms whose doors haven't yet been opened.
Ephesians 6:10-20
Writing from house arrest in Rome, living under the watchful care of Roman soldiers, Paul is constantly impressed by their battle gear. In this circular letter to the churches of the Lycus River valley of Asia Minor (sent by way of Tychicus and Onesimus as the latter is returned to his master Philemon's care) Paul reflects on many things related to power and battle scenes. There is an unseen conflict of spiritual forces that is already won by Jesus (ch. 1). There is an ongoing tension between Jew and Gentile that can only be resolved through capitulation to Jesus' way of thinking (ch. 2). There is a wrestling for authority in the church that requires both Paul's assertion of his apostolic calling and a reminder of common submission to Jesus Christ (ch. 3). There is a cosmic combat between the world of the day and light and the disfigured country of the night and darkness (chs. 4-5) and it plays out in human social relations.
Here in chapter 6 it is the arena of personal, spiritual combat. Each child of God (cf. 6:1) is on the battlefield and needs appropriate tools to survive and thrive. Most commentaries and other studies can fill in the details with how each piece of battle gear would typically be used. Note, however, that the armor Paul mentions is primarily used defensively, not offensively. Furthermore, Paul challenges his readers to "stand firm." In other words, the spiritual fight is primarily defensive for two reasons. First, the offensive combat has already been wielded by Jesus. We are partners with Jesus, but the redemptive activity of the cross is his alone, and not ours.
Second, the antagonism fueling the feud between darkness and light is primarily generated on the evil side of the battlefront. We are to have righteous indignation about the effects of sin, but we are not to succumb to power trips that use the dehumanizing tactics of evil in order to wage the warfare. So we defend the good, but we do not become evil aggressors, even if there are spiritual battles to be won.
Paul's metaphor should not be viewed as quietistic, however. This is a battleground image, and those who understand are always on the turning point, always living in the circle of decision, always making a choice at a crossroads where important ways are blocked by spiritual adversaries. Jim Wallis, in one of his political sermons, said that when the South African government canceled a political rally against apartheid, Desmond Tutu led a worship service in St. George's Cathedral. The walls of the church were lined with soldiers and riot police carrying guns and bayonets, ready to close it down. Bishop Tutu began to speak of the evils of the apartheid system, and how the rulers and authorities that propped it up were doomed to fall. He pointed a finger at the police who were there to record his words: "You may be powerful -- very powerful -- but you are not God. God cannot be mocked. You have already lost."
Then, in a moment of unbearable tension, the bishop seemed to soften. Coming out from behind the pulpit, he flashed that radiant Tutu smile and began to bounce up and down with glee. "Therefore, since you have already lost, we are inviting you to join the winning side."
While the crowd roared, the police melted away and in the exuberance of the spiritually significant moment, the people began to dance.
This is the character of Paul's instruction here. It is not the clandestine conniving of terrorist subversives. Rather it is the confident standing firm of those who know the right and are unwilling to give ground to any who pretend to take it through bully force. Don't fear, Paul says. Put on your armor and dance. I am inviting you to join the winning side.
John 6:56-69
This is a hard passage. Jesus gives a difficult teaching. There are no easy ways through it or around it. It is probably good to develop sermonic communication that is apocalyptic and metaphorical in nature in order that the impact of Jesus' teaching is not lost through attempts, most likely unsuccessful, at trying to explain them rationally. This is not to say that Jesus' words are irrational, but rather that they are not best understood syllogistically.
Walking through the passage slowly, one might notice these things. First, this is the end of a long monologue in which Jesus ties his sixth "miraculous sign" (John's term for Jesus' miracles in the "Book of Signs," chs. 1-12), the feeding of the crowd from a very limited resource base, to the miracle of manna that provided survival for Israel during its wilderness wanderings. This connection is reiterated in verse 58. So the teaching needs to take into account both the Old Testament story, the gospel miracle, and the combined implication of our dependence on God for all that really matters.
Second, when Jesus gets to the nub of his teaching in these verses, he transfers the call to choice for his listeners from merely selecting an action or belief to a very personal challenge to absorb him into their very existence. The closest parallels to such a requirement come in human existence in marriage vows or parental commitments. No other investments of similar depth exist. That, of course, is the problem for Jesus' audience. He allows no intellectual affirmation or denial, no emotional attachment but instead raises the level of investment to that of committed bedtime partners and the children they bear. This heightened demand is the critical factor behind the intensity of rejection that closes the paragraph.
Third, Jesus accelerates the decision-making process by announcing that he is soon to depart the scene (v. 62). While this may seem to obfuscate matters for his listeners, John includes the comment for those who are getting the larger picture by way of his full gospel overview. As will become more apparent later, our encounter with Jesus is always limited and always critical. There is no long time for deliberation. This is always the moment of choice.
Fourth, John's high Christology is evident in this passage when John reports that Jesus knew what people were thinking and who would make the necessary choices (vv. 64-65). This helps us understand why Jesus can use such cryptic teachings -- they are obvious to insiders and foolishness to outsiders. This is not unusual in the language of any important organization. Certainly in many churches, from Sunday to Sunday, language is spoken which can only be immediately understood by adherents and insiders, and sounds a little strange to those who are not yet drawn into the circle. But John wants to remind us that grace is always prevenient, and that God initiates salvation. This mitigates the rejection notes that follow.
No one makes the right choice except by way of God's first move in their lives. This is not to make God the author of rejection, for that is the natural state of humankind in the darkness of this world. Rather it is a reminder that unless God initiates spiritual transformation, it cannot happen. This theme is consistently espoused through the fourth gospel. All are alienated, all are invited, but it takes a divine miracle to make the connection. That again is why Jesus places himself in the crux of the decision-making process. We do not consider theology. We do not select a form of moral behavior. Instead, we must look at Jesus and love him or hate him. In the words of the hymn:
I sought the Lord, and afterward I knew:
He moved my soul to seek him seeking me.
It was not I that found, O Savior true;
No, I was found, was found of Thee.
Fifth, there is clearly a bit of resignation in the response of Peter (v. 68). Sticking with Jesus is the tough course, the abnormal way. But this is only because the effects of the darkness are so deep and pervasive. It takes radical reconsidering of the meaning of human life (see Jesus' conversations with Nicodemus in ch. 3) in order to see and stay in the light.
Application
Woody Allen once remarked that humanity is at a crossroads: "One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness, the other to total extinction. Let us pray that we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
He is right and he is wrong. We are always at the crossroads, and most choices are poor alternatives. God, however, always injects a life-or-death direction in the mix, and whether we elect to go left or right, we also need to encounter Jesus. This is the real issue facing us.
Solomon prefigured this choice in the covenant renewal when he officiated at the temple dedication. Paul identified Jesus as the real issue in spiritual warfare. And Jesus refused to allow people to step around him when facing the choices of life.
Alternative Application
1 Kings 8:(1, 6, 10-11) 22-30, 41-43. The Gospel Reading is hardest to preach, the Epistle Reading the easiest. But if you can do it right, tackle the Old Testament Reading and bring out with passion the marvelous interaction between God and Israel. Let the themes of Solomon's prayer shape a homiletic drama that explores the waxing and waning of trust over a lifetime. A book like Anne Tyler's Saint Maybe can be helpful research.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 84
So many things come down to perspectives or points of view, don't they? It begs the question about which eyes are reading a scripture such as this. "How lovely is thy dwelling place!" The sense of longing here suggests the viewpoint of one who knows what it's like not to have a dwelling place; someone who understands what it feels like to feel that lack of God's presence. It brings to mind that old saying, "You don't miss the water till the well runs dry."
Such depth of appreciation and wonder really can come only from an appreciation born of knowledge. Someone who has always lived in comfort and privilege will find it difficult to comprehend the motivations and actions of someone who is poor and homeless. Someone who has never been around the shattered homes and lives of a war- torn community can find it easy to ignore wars sponsored by their own government.
But it is only those who have been homeless and destitute who can truly appreciate a home when it comes. And none can savor the glories of peace more than those who have been the victims of war.
It is that the beauty of this psalm emerges from someone who has known and understands the struggle to seek, engage, and embrace the holy. Once found, once discovered, it is beyond wonderful. Happy are those who live in God's house! Happy are those who find their strength in God! This happiness, this joy, is infectious. It is the wonder of one who, after a long journey, discovers that it wasn't the destination that was important after all. It was the journey that mattered.
This psalm invites pilgrims on that journey. It sings to the spirit travelers and it encourages those who have no hope as can only be done by those who have known hopelessness. Isn't it true that pastoral care works best if the pastor has experienced the circumstances or situation that calls for his or her care? In this writer's case, it is certainly true. Having lost one's parents, it becomes an easier thing to walk with others when they lose theirs. In this deep sense, this is a pastoral psalm. Its singing reaches to those who may not be in God's house; those who may not know what it means to trust anyone, let alone God. It reaches with knowing hands.
