A house without walls
Commentary
It's a shame and a judgment on us that we have to limit our worship services in such a way that we often read only part of a significant text on a given Sunday. That surely is the case on this day and with this text. As Walter Bruggemann puts it, this chapter is "the dramatic and theological center of the entire Samuel corpus. Indeed, this is one of the most crucial texts in the Old Testament for evangelical faith." (Walter Bruggemann, First and Second Samuel, Louisville: John Knox Press, 1973, p. 253.) All of chapter 7 should be read. Failing that, the preacher should at the very least study all of it in preparation for this day.
Building a temple or its equivalent has always been a way of legitimizing a leader's reign. It still goes on today. Even a "presidential library," though built after one's time in office, serves the same purpose today. And how many church leaders, college presidents, and institutional heads have not looked at a building to give them that same sense of fulfillment? For David it is especially important. The ark of the covenant had been a sign of a God who was with them during times of mobility. Now they need a sign that they are a settled and secure people. We feel David's disappointment.
Nathan the prophet now appears for the first time. He withdraws the "building permit" and reminds David that the God of Israel cannot be held in one place. But then follows a very positive word from the prophet. In a play on words Nathan tells the king that though he is not to build a "house" for God, God will build a "house" for him. In a review of David's life, beginning with "I took you" in verse 8, Nathan gives David no recognition for what has happened. It was God's grace and guidance that had brought him to this place. And so it would be for the years to come. God will give something greater than David's "house" (a temple); God will establish David's "house" (his lineage).
The reason Bruggemann believes that this chapter is essential to evangelical faith is because until now God's commitments have been conditional -- "if" you do thus and so. Now with the reign of David it is not "if" but "nevertheless." In spite of acts of disobedience, God makes a commitment that cannot be broken by sin and unfaithfulness. "In this astonishing promise, Yahweh has signed a blank check ... and has radically shifted the theological foundations of Israel." (Ibid, p. 257.) Yes, there will still be expectations and sanctions. But now there is an unconditional element in the promise. There will always be tension between the "if" and the "nevertheless" -- as there is in our own lives. But the last word will always belong to God.
Ephesians 2:11-22
Like the lesson from 2 Samuel, this text needs to be connected with what surrounds it. The "so then" phrase at the beginning is a reminder that what Paul now says is inseparable from what he has just written. Ephesians 2:1-10 is a seminal text in the New Testament. The deliverance from darkness to light is all by grace. "By grace you have been saved." We have been "created in Christ Jesus for good works."
It seems quite apparent that the problem Paul addresses is that Gentile believers in the church at Ephesus have become so proud of their claim to be Christian that they now look down on those through whom the gift has come to them, namely, the Jews. So Paul reminds them of who they were before the Gospel came to them. To make sure his point is not missed he piles up one phrase on another: "without Christ," "aliens," "strangers," "having no hope," "without God." To be "without Christ" or literally "separated from Christ" is far more serious than being separated from their Jewish brothers and sisters. "Aliens" is probably a reference to the caste system in city-states where there were free citizens and resident aliens. "Strangers" may refer to those who did not even qualify as "aliens." To be "without God" is "a-Theos" -- in the Greek -- not necessarily a denial of God, but simply separated from God.
All that stands in contrast to where they are now -- "in Christ." The phrase "but now" in verse 13 stands in stark contrast to "at that time" in verse 12. This is always the way the picture is drawn in the New Testament. It is not a question of shades of difference between who one was and who one is now. It is rather a question of radical changes and complete conversion to a different status and a new outlook on life. The difference is in that phrase that recurs so often in this letter -- "in Christ Jesus."
Then Paul gets to the burden of his plea. Because of what Christ has done to bring about this change, it will make a difference in the way we relate to others. The walls that separate people in a secular society must not separate us in the Church. In this case, it is Jew and Gentile. They have been at enmity. But Christ "is our peace," he has created "one new humanity in place of the two," and through him "both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father."
The "wall of hostility" may be an allusion to the wall in the Temple in Jerusalem which separated Jew from Gentile. Gentiles who had been there or heard of it knew the stigma of feeling separated. Now that they are "on the inside" they may be tempted to "return evil for evil." But Paul contends that this cannot be so among believers in Christ. The vision of the New Testament is unity.
To illustrate his point Paul ends this text with three examples: a city in which all have equal rights of citizenship; a family in which all, including the adopted, are "members of the household"; and a building in which each part has the cornerstone as its reference point.
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The phrase "many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat" strikes a responsive chord in most of us. Life, as someone once observed, consists mostly of interruptions. And as it is true for us, so it is with Jesus and the disciples. In fact, a key to understanding the mind and mission of Jesus is to pay careful attention to what he did with interruptions. Rather than complain about them, or try to evade them, he used them for a good purpose. Today's text is a prime example. By this time in his ministry he is weary. He sees that his disciples desperately need a break. But commitment to the purposes of God often keeps one from that time of rest and renewal.
Andy Warhol is reported to have once said, "I still care about people, but it would be much easier not to care. I don't want to get too close, and I don't really believe in love." Anyone who chooses to get involved with other people will find that one cannot turn off the demands of others for your time and attention whenever you feel like doing so. The believer understands that one's relationship with Christ will soon shrivel up and die if one does not keep alive one's relationships with others. Indeed, Christ did take time to be alone and to renew his relationship with God. But when he could not avoid the crowds, he was willing to go the second and third mile.
Probably the more significant point in today's text is that Jesus reached out to those who were usually ignored. In a culture where it was assumed that sickness or disability of any kind was the just punishment for something one had done wrong, it was easy to excuse oneself from helping them. Jesus, however, is a revolutionary man with revolutionary ideas. He suggests that one cannot make so easy a judgment of those who suffer misfortunes in life. He crosses the barriers to touch the untouchable, to love the unlovely, to heal the sick, to feed the hungry.
Suggestions For Preaching
Are we still plagued with barriers in the church? Indeed we are! The military forces have made much more progress in integration than the churches. Sunday morning is still the most segregated time of the week in our society. In boardrooms people in high places still practice the most base kinds of discrimination. Rural communities, once thought to be the friendly places in America, are finding it as difficult to accept the refugee and the alien as the metropolitan centers. Churches tend to attract folks of similar economic status.
Do we need a Gospel that challenges the barriers we have erected? Do we need a word about the Christ who has called us into unity? And for the preacher: Do I dare speak a word of judgment against those in my congregation who so obviously practice these kinds of discrimination?
We might also say a word this Sunday about the artificial separation we often see between Gospel proclamation and works of mercy. There is no such thing in the ministry of Jesus. To preach the Good News of the Kingdom is also to heal the sick and feed the hungry. The issue is not even debated by Jesus. One simply does it.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Dorothy and her faithful dog, Toto, may not have been theologians, but you don't need a degree to recognize something primally human: there really is no place like home, whether in Kansas, Israel, or some other corner of the world. God, on the other hand, seems to like tents.
To a nomadic people who had wandered for as long as they had collective memory, the real promise of 2 Samuel 7 would be in verse 10: "... I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may live in their own place, and be disturbed no more...."
Nomads have their own forms of security. The routes get fixed with the seasons; the routines, fit together by long traditions of adaptation, set up like mobile concrete. Everything depends on staying in rhythm with the harsh realities.
Harsh may not be an adequate word. As tough, resilient, and clever as the human spirit can be, there is a vulnerability built right into creatureliness. Life always remains a gift born on the air breathed, the food ingested, the water sipped or gulped. The weather, supply troubles, old hostilities, any small thing can interrupt the flow of necessities, turning the normally harsh to the horrible.
God's people were ready to settle. After generations of wandering and then long-term contention with others who laid claim to the same land, they saw in David a leader capable of clearing out a place for them where they could set root and dwell. David had a house; the people, at long last, had their own space.
David assumed that the good Lord would also like to settle. But there's a difference between creature and Creator. With all the forces of life in hand, God is at home in vulnerability, at ease with the changing, untroubled by what drives every human ambition. So the One who has led Israel through all of its wanderings is happy to stay in a tent.
In fact, that's just the way it works. Nomadic or settled, creatures want routes, routines, rituals; institutions, structures, systems, anything to cut the percentages. The good Lord prefers to camp.
But even staying outside, God will show David and Israel the way to true certainty. Places are as vulnerable as the people who hold them. God's promise, a covenant extended once more, now to David and the people with him, depends exclusively on God's willingness to keep it. So it is certain, surer than sunrise. In fact, given the normal attrition of human claims to permanence, God's promise can make canvas look pretty good.
Building a temple or its equivalent has always been a way of legitimizing a leader's reign. It still goes on today. Even a "presidential library," though built after one's time in office, serves the same purpose today. And how many church leaders, college presidents, and institutional heads have not looked at a building to give them that same sense of fulfillment? For David it is especially important. The ark of the covenant had been a sign of a God who was with them during times of mobility. Now they need a sign that they are a settled and secure people. We feel David's disappointment.
Nathan the prophet now appears for the first time. He withdraws the "building permit" and reminds David that the God of Israel cannot be held in one place. But then follows a very positive word from the prophet. In a play on words Nathan tells the king that though he is not to build a "house" for God, God will build a "house" for him. In a review of David's life, beginning with "I took you" in verse 8, Nathan gives David no recognition for what has happened. It was God's grace and guidance that had brought him to this place. And so it would be for the years to come. God will give something greater than David's "house" (a temple); God will establish David's "house" (his lineage).
The reason Bruggemann believes that this chapter is essential to evangelical faith is because until now God's commitments have been conditional -- "if" you do thus and so. Now with the reign of David it is not "if" but "nevertheless." In spite of acts of disobedience, God makes a commitment that cannot be broken by sin and unfaithfulness. "In this astonishing promise, Yahweh has signed a blank check ... and has radically shifted the theological foundations of Israel." (Ibid, p. 257.) Yes, there will still be expectations and sanctions. But now there is an unconditional element in the promise. There will always be tension between the "if" and the "nevertheless" -- as there is in our own lives. But the last word will always belong to God.
Ephesians 2:11-22
Like the lesson from 2 Samuel, this text needs to be connected with what surrounds it. The "so then" phrase at the beginning is a reminder that what Paul now says is inseparable from what he has just written. Ephesians 2:1-10 is a seminal text in the New Testament. The deliverance from darkness to light is all by grace. "By grace you have been saved." We have been "created in Christ Jesus for good works."
It seems quite apparent that the problem Paul addresses is that Gentile believers in the church at Ephesus have become so proud of their claim to be Christian that they now look down on those through whom the gift has come to them, namely, the Jews. So Paul reminds them of who they were before the Gospel came to them. To make sure his point is not missed he piles up one phrase on another: "without Christ," "aliens," "strangers," "having no hope," "without God." To be "without Christ" or literally "separated from Christ" is far more serious than being separated from their Jewish brothers and sisters. "Aliens" is probably a reference to the caste system in city-states where there were free citizens and resident aliens. "Strangers" may refer to those who did not even qualify as "aliens." To be "without God" is "a-Theos" -- in the Greek -- not necessarily a denial of God, but simply separated from God.
All that stands in contrast to where they are now -- "in Christ." The phrase "but now" in verse 13 stands in stark contrast to "at that time" in verse 12. This is always the way the picture is drawn in the New Testament. It is not a question of shades of difference between who one was and who one is now. It is rather a question of radical changes and complete conversion to a different status and a new outlook on life. The difference is in that phrase that recurs so often in this letter -- "in Christ Jesus."
Then Paul gets to the burden of his plea. Because of what Christ has done to bring about this change, it will make a difference in the way we relate to others. The walls that separate people in a secular society must not separate us in the Church. In this case, it is Jew and Gentile. They have been at enmity. But Christ "is our peace," he has created "one new humanity in place of the two," and through him "both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father."
The "wall of hostility" may be an allusion to the wall in the Temple in Jerusalem which separated Jew from Gentile. Gentiles who had been there or heard of it knew the stigma of feeling separated. Now that they are "on the inside" they may be tempted to "return evil for evil." But Paul contends that this cannot be so among believers in Christ. The vision of the New Testament is unity.
To illustrate his point Paul ends this text with three examples: a city in which all have equal rights of citizenship; a family in which all, including the adopted, are "members of the household"; and a building in which each part has the cornerstone as its reference point.
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The phrase "many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat" strikes a responsive chord in most of us. Life, as someone once observed, consists mostly of interruptions. And as it is true for us, so it is with Jesus and the disciples. In fact, a key to understanding the mind and mission of Jesus is to pay careful attention to what he did with interruptions. Rather than complain about them, or try to evade them, he used them for a good purpose. Today's text is a prime example. By this time in his ministry he is weary. He sees that his disciples desperately need a break. But commitment to the purposes of God often keeps one from that time of rest and renewal.
Andy Warhol is reported to have once said, "I still care about people, but it would be much easier not to care. I don't want to get too close, and I don't really believe in love." Anyone who chooses to get involved with other people will find that one cannot turn off the demands of others for your time and attention whenever you feel like doing so. The believer understands that one's relationship with Christ will soon shrivel up and die if one does not keep alive one's relationships with others. Indeed, Christ did take time to be alone and to renew his relationship with God. But when he could not avoid the crowds, he was willing to go the second and third mile.
Probably the more significant point in today's text is that Jesus reached out to those who were usually ignored. In a culture where it was assumed that sickness or disability of any kind was the just punishment for something one had done wrong, it was easy to excuse oneself from helping them. Jesus, however, is a revolutionary man with revolutionary ideas. He suggests that one cannot make so easy a judgment of those who suffer misfortunes in life. He crosses the barriers to touch the untouchable, to love the unlovely, to heal the sick, to feed the hungry.
Suggestions For Preaching
Are we still plagued with barriers in the church? Indeed we are! The military forces have made much more progress in integration than the churches. Sunday morning is still the most segregated time of the week in our society. In boardrooms people in high places still practice the most base kinds of discrimination. Rural communities, once thought to be the friendly places in America, are finding it as difficult to accept the refugee and the alien as the metropolitan centers. Churches tend to attract folks of similar economic status.
Do we need a Gospel that challenges the barriers we have erected? Do we need a word about the Christ who has called us into unity? And for the preacher: Do I dare speak a word of judgment against those in my congregation who so obviously practice these kinds of discrimination?
We might also say a word this Sunday about the artificial separation we often see between Gospel proclamation and works of mercy. There is no such thing in the ministry of Jesus. To preach the Good News of the Kingdom is also to heal the sick and feed the hungry. The issue is not even debated by Jesus. One simply does it.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Dorothy and her faithful dog, Toto, may not have been theologians, but you don't need a degree to recognize something primally human: there really is no place like home, whether in Kansas, Israel, or some other corner of the world. God, on the other hand, seems to like tents.
To a nomadic people who had wandered for as long as they had collective memory, the real promise of 2 Samuel 7 would be in verse 10: "... I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may live in their own place, and be disturbed no more...."
Nomads have their own forms of security. The routes get fixed with the seasons; the routines, fit together by long traditions of adaptation, set up like mobile concrete. Everything depends on staying in rhythm with the harsh realities.
Harsh may not be an adequate word. As tough, resilient, and clever as the human spirit can be, there is a vulnerability built right into creatureliness. Life always remains a gift born on the air breathed, the food ingested, the water sipped or gulped. The weather, supply troubles, old hostilities, any small thing can interrupt the flow of necessities, turning the normally harsh to the horrible.
God's people were ready to settle. After generations of wandering and then long-term contention with others who laid claim to the same land, they saw in David a leader capable of clearing out a place for them where they could set root and dwell. David had a house; the people, at long last, had their own space.
David assumed that the good Lord would also like to settle. But there's a difference between creature and Creator. With all the forces of life in hand, God is at home in vulnerability, at ease with the changing, untroubled by what drives every human ambition. So the One who has led Israel through all of its wanderings is happy to stay in a tent.
In fact, that's just the way it works. Nomadic or settled, creatures want routes, routines, rituals; institutions, structures, systems, anything to cut the percentages. The good Lord prefers to camp.
But even staying outside, God will show David and Israel the way to true certainty. Places are as vulnerable as the people who hold them. God's promise, a covenant extended once more, now to David and the people with him, depends exclusively on God's willingness to keep it. So it is certain, surer than sunrise. In fact, given the normal attrition of human claims to permanence, God's promise can make canvas look pretty good.
