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In the reading for today, King David calls the court prophet,
Nathan, to him to propose a building project. David considers it
unseemly that while he lives in a palace of paneled luxury, the
ark of the covenant is still in a tent. Now the ark of the
covenant, you should know, was a very important object. It was
essentially a box, carved and decorated, and fitted with long
pole-handles so it could be carried about from place to place as
the people moved. It was important because it was the prime
symbol of the covenant between God and the Israelites. The
covenant and the tradition surrounding it trace back to the time
of desert wandering accounted in the scriptures as Moses was
leading the people out from slavery in Egypt.
We can only guess that the ark of the covenant contained some
religious artifacts -- perhaps writings like the 10 commandments
and others of the laws that governed the people. But most
important of all it was the symbol of the agreement between
Yahweh and the people whereby God said, "If you will listen to my
voice and do my will, then I will be your God, and you shall be
my people." Of course there are always two parts to a covenant,
and the people agreed, "All that God has said, we will do."
Needless to say, then, the ark as a symbol of the identity of the
people was very important.

But now the people were not going anywhere. They were no
longer wanderers. They were settled down in towns and were
growing crops. True, the ark of the covenant had been carried
into battle, and it was assumed that so long as they kept
possession of the ark they would be victorious. But most of the
time the ark just sat there in its tent, as though ready to move
on to the next place. So David now proposed to build a house for
the ark.
Our scripture for today tells of a very interesting
conversation that ensued that night between the prophet Nathan
and the Lord, in which Nathan was told just exactly what to say
to David. "Would you build me a house to dwell in?" says the
Lord. It was not really a question to be answered, but one of
incredulity on the part of the Lord.

"I have not dwelt in a house since the day I brought up the
people of Israel from Egypt. I have been moving about in a tent
for my dwelling. ... Did I ever complain?"
--2 Samuel 7:6-7, paraphr.

And the confusion in our minds as to whether this is a house for
God or for the ark is, I think, central to the controversy. While
David's idea of building a house -- later called a temple -- for
the ark is a well intentioned idea, God does not need the house.
Surely there was a concern that in the minds of the people the
mere housing of that sacred reliquary would be mistaken as a
residing place of God, as in some of the other indigenous
religions of the area.
Then after reminding David of his call from being a shepherd
boy to become a great king and rule over a people, there is a
little play on words. "The Lord will make you a house." But the
meaning of "house" has shifted. David spoke only of making a
structure to house the ark of the covenant -- to protect it from
the weather and give it a more dignified and honorable place to
be than in a dusty wind-blown tent. But God's word through Nathan
was about something much

more important than a building, to the point that God will
establish his house -- or his dynasty or family line -- through the
faith of David and his people. God will do it! David need only
trust and be the willing servant.

I will raise up your offspring after you who shall come forth
from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build
a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his
kingdom forever. I will be his father and he shall be my son. And
your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me;
your throne shall be established forever.
--2 Samuel 7:12b-13

As it happened it was David's offspring, Solomon, not David, who
built the first Temple.
Perhaps David could not see the plan of God. Usually we
cannot. Like David we are aware of our plans and goals, and in
our own minds we tend to arrogate them to the status of divine
purpose. But also like David, we are asked to trust and be
willing servants.
The story in Samuel probably reflects a conflict in the
perception of what the Hebrew people ought to be. David's idea
suggests that a settled people ought to have a settled faith. The
building of a temple suggests a more institutionalized religion,
centered in a place -- even a building -- within a land which would
be equated with the land of God's covenant promise. In a sense it
was almost a throwback to the terrritorial God idea. And in a
practical sense it seemed to work out that way, that the
Israelites and later the Jews did tend to equate that real estate
with the land of promise, and do even now, as attested to by many
arguments put forth for Israel to be established in 1947 as the
Jewish homeland. David, in proposing a temple, was proposing an
idea that supported not just a religion centered in a place, but
a mindset that had "settled," and in a very important sense had
ceased its quest.
On the other hand there was the idea that the Israelites
should always be a pilgrim people, and always be in quest

of a land of promise that was not geographical, but mental and
spiritual. The ark of the covenant still in the tent bespoke a
people ready to move, in mind and spirit, if not physically, to
find a higher righteousness, and to retain a freedom to serve the
call of God.
We have a similar conflict in the church. There is always the
tension between building a bigger edifice and serving the needs
of the institution, and being free to move or to change to serve
God in new ways as the occasion arrives. Perhaps the church needs
to develop more of a tent mentality than a cathedral mentality,
with freedom to pull up stakes and answer the call of God in a
new place and a new way, and be a pilgrim people in quest of the
kingdom of God.
The danger lurking in David's good intent was that the
institution would harden and that God would have to break through
settled traditions and fixed thought and rigid opinions to
establish the tent mentality of a pilgrim people once again. The
institution did harden. So does the church. And God has to
continually break through in the thinking of a new thought or the
enactment of a new idea. Jesus continually struggled against the
aspects of Judaism that were "poured in concrete," but their
reason for being had been forgotten. That always happens when
people begin serving institutions instead of institutions serving
people.
God's message through Nathan to David was no mere playing with
words. It was a promise. It was the faithfulness of David, and
others like him, that would be established. It was the lineage of
faith that would become a "house" of God. And through the people
of the house of faith God would continue to break into the
history of humankind to put them on the move again to a land of
promise and a kingdom of God. David's part was to trust, and be a
willing servant. That is exactly what is asked of the house of
faith today.
In this season we celebrate what we regard as the ultimate of
break-throughs. Luke's gospel tells us how it began, with one of
those trusting and willing servants, a young woman whose name is
Mary. She is bethrothed to a man named

Joseph, who just happened to be part of the family descended from
that now ancient king, David. It was probably an arranged
marriage, as was the custom. Extra-biblical tradition holds that
Joseph was considerably older than Mary. That often happened,
too. A bride price was surely paid, and Mary may or may not have
even seen this man, Joseph, whom she would marry. As she was
nervously awaiting her marriage this disturbing angel visitation
takes place. She is afraid, but she does not protest. Notice that
she asks none of the "why me" questions. She only wants to know
"how." In trust she gives her "yes" by saying, "I am the
maidservant of the Lord. Let it be as you say."
Notice that her answer is not one of great confidence in her
own fitness for her part, but one of trust that God does not ask
the impossible of us. What we may ascribe to Mary as innocence we
might better call obedience. A maidservant does what is asked of
her. Asked, mind you, not demanded. She could have protested,
carried on, cried and thrown a tantrum, but obediently she said
"yes." With her affirmation the stage is set for God to break
through to humankind in a most ordinary and yet most unexpected
way; the birth of a child.
Have you ever wondered about the selection process for Mary?
What I really wonder is if that angelic emissary of God had tried
any others first. Was she top of the list, or perhaps third or
fourth? Of course we do not know, but it is interesting to
speculate that God's breakthrough might have been frustrated for
a while by other young maids not so readily trusting as this one.
And what if she had said "no?" What then? Would that have ended
it all and changed the course of history? Would God have had to
break through some other way? But what we do know is that this
one was willing, and trusted. And she said yes.
I have never understood people who always seem to say no even
to requests that are not very demanding. "I don't have time." Few
of us have as much time as we want. "I don't have enough energy."
Who has? "I wouldn't know what to do." Would anyone ever become a
parent if they had to know all

about child raising at the beginning rather than learning along
the way? We don't know where our yes will lead, but then, do we
ever? In marriage? In business? In the pursuit of any worthwhile
adventure?
In fact most of our yeses are rather easy ones. They are
because we have some confidence in those who ask, and who have
confidence in us. In this Advent season we try to cultivate a
fresh openness to the possibility that God has something for each
of us to do. But God must break through to us before God can
break through through us. Perhaps God needs each of us as a means
of bringing new life to a church which has become insular and
settled, and needs to get on the road again.
You see we are asked to trust that we can play a part in the
purposes of God, and that there is an intent that the best in
life will be furthered through us -- but only if we are willing.
Our willingness and trust are necessary to the fulfillment of
God's intent. That's what this young woman did. The story Luke
tells us shows no reasoning out of the possibilities, no weighing
of the pros and cons, no indecision. She apparently instinctively
trusted in the word from God. So, in time a child was born, and
once again God broke through in something that seemed small and
insignificant, at least as the world measures events. And because
of Mary's willing trust the promise of God to the ancient
shepherd-king, David, was fulfilled in a new time in the birth of
Jesus. At least that's the way the gospel writer sees it. Do you
remember the promise? "I will make YOU a house." God will make a
house, more grand than any earthly temple, of the household of
faith.
Could she have even suspected the magnitude of her role as an
enabler of God's purpose? Surely not. Nor can we know the impact
of our own part in the cause of God to which we are invited.
We'll never be ready enough, wise enough, knowledgeable enough,
have time enough, or energy or skill enough. But fortunately God
usually invites us at the small end of the task. For some even
that may be terrifying enough, but don't say no. Our part is to
be the willing servant, and trust. That's faith.

The philosopher George Santayana's poem suggests the answer to
our often too reluctant and hesitant faith.

O world, thou choosest not the better part!
It is not wisdom to be only wise,
And on the inward vision close the eyes,
But it is wisdom to believe the heart.

Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine
That lights the pathway but one step ahead
Across a void of mystery and dread.
Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine
By which alone the mortal heart is led
Unto the thinking of the thought divine.1

In six days Christmas is upon us once more. Christmas is God's
affirmation that there is something about humanity worth saving
and giving a most precious gift. It is the gift we call Emmanuel
-- God immanent -- "God with us." It is a gift we can claim for
ourselves every day of our lives and in every situation of life.
Inwardly we confess our sophisticated skepticism that God
could or would do such a thing. Perhaps we question that the God
who enlisted a shepherd boy to be king, and who enlisted a young
bride to fulfill a promise to humankind, would seek to enlist us
also. Possibly the greatest gift we can receive this year is the
realization that God has some purposes in mind for each of us and
is trying to break through to us. It is a good season to think
about that, for somehow God seems closer and more real to us this
season. And perhaps in the season of Emmanuel, God with us, each
of us may discover a new trust within ourselves, and the courage
to answer with a young maid named Mary, "Behold, I am the Lord's
servant. Let it be done according to your word."

1-Irwin Edman, ed., The Philosophy of George Santayana.