July 12, 2009 - Proper 10, Year B (RCL)
Today
if you were in the Convention Center in Anaheim,
right across the road from Disneyland,
you would be able to attend the General Convention
Eucharist.
Imagine people gathering from all over the country, plus central America and Europe, and international guests, ten thousand or more
packed into an enormous exhibition hall,
choirs gathered from local parishes,
banners and kites and
three hundred bishops lined up in procession,
a sermon from the presiding bishop,
prayers for the church and the world,
baskets and ushers everywhere at the offertory,
and diocese after diocese coming forward
with their gifts for the United Thank Offering,
singing loud and joyful,
and the intimate moment
receiving bread and wine
and the sure knowledge
of Christ’s presence among us.
It’s our weekly eucharist magnified, a glorious experience
of worship and sharing,
something not to be missed
if you ever get and chance to go.
But to be honest, lavish and joyful as the General Convention Eucharist is,
I have a suspicion that what we read about today
in our Old Testament Reading,
the procession that brought the ark of the covenant
up into Jerusalem,
that procession
is probably more like
the parades going on across the road
on Disneyland.
Many of us have seen them,
or the equivalent ones in Disney world,
loud joyous music, drumming, spectacular dancers, floats with balloons, banners and confetti and of course, Disney characters.
Imagine it,
thirty thousand people
dancing along the road
with lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals
and trumpets
and at the heart of it all,
the ark of the covenant.
You remember the ark; we read about it last year. It was the exquisitely decorated box, covered in gold,
that held the two tablets of stone,
the one given to Moses
that had the ten commandments inscribed on them.
It had been carried at the front of the wandering Israelites
all through their time in the wilderness
as they traveled towards
the promised land.
But it was more than just a beautiful box;
it was the symbol
of the presence
of God, and not just the symbol,
but held within it a promise
of the uniquely certain
presence
of God.
Something like
our Eucharist,
except imagine
that in the whole of Christianity
there was only one piece of bread, one cup of wine.
It was as precious
as that.
But the ark had been lost,
or at least, not quite lost,
but hidden away in a corner
for twenty
years.
What had happened,
is that the people of Israel
had got into the habit
of carrying the ark
with them into battle,
thinking that if they put it out n front
God would protect them
and they’d be sure to win.
Well, it didn’t work.
What happened
was that the Philistines
captured it.
And they took it to one of their holy places,
putting it in a temple beside the statue of one of their gods.
And in the morning
the statue
had fallen over.
They propped it up, but the next morning, it had not only fallen over, but broken into pieces.
And next thing, the people of that area
developed tumors.
So they decided the ark was dangerous,
and sent it to another town.
And those people got tumors too.
So they sent it on.
And the same thing happened.
Until the Philistines decided
that it was safer
to send it back to Israel.
It was to much bad luck for them.
Though it wasn’t much better in Israel.
The first town it went to, some of the people didn’t want it,
and next thing they were dead.
So it got sent on
to Kiriath-Jearim,
and no one else died,
so they left it there
for twenty years.
Until David decided
it was time to retrieve it,
time to retrieve it
and bring it to what had become
the capital city,
Jerusalem,
placing God
at its very center.
And so the procession began.
Though it didn’t last long.
You might have noticed
that six and a half verses
were left out of our reading today.
That’s when
the oxen
that were pulling the cart
that the ark was on
stumbled
and the ark wobbled
and a man reached out his hand
to steady it,
and dropped dead.
This ark
was holy,
and they’d forgotten,
this wasn’t just
a religious symbol
but the very presence of God,
and no one
can touch
the holy God.
And the procession was cancelled
and it’s wasn’t until three months later
that they got up the courage
to try again.
And the procession continued
all the way up to Jerusalem
with music and dancing and great
celebration
Because God
was with them,
with them at last
with their new king, David,
and their new city,
and with all the people
of Israel.
It was a day for rejoicing, a day for giving thanks.
Though not everyone
was happy.
David’s wife, the very first one, remember her?
Michal, the daughter of ing Saul, who David had married
after his early victories over the Philistines,
the one who Saul had later married off
to someone else.
When David
took the throne
he also took her back, though by that time, he had other wives as well, and a number of concubines.
Michal was his first love,
but you know how it is with first loves,
sometimes
they don’t last the years.
And so when Michal looked out
and saw David
in the heart of the parade,
dancing around
and dressed
in some sort of abbreviated priest’s costume,
probably more like a loin cloth than robes,
she was embarrassed.
Worse than embarrassed,
mortified.
He was the king; how could he behave
like that?
Finally
the procession
made its way into Jerusalem,
until it arrived
at the place it was to stay, an elaborate tent.
And there
the party continued. They offered sacrifices
and blessings
and everyone was sent home
with meat and bread and dried fruit
to continue
the feast.
So I wonder what would happen
if David arrived with his ark
here in the middle of our service?
I have a sneaking suspicion
that most of us would be as embarrassed
as his wife Michal.
It’s just not the way we do things.
Episcopalians
are known
for the beauty and order
of our liturgy.
We tend to come to church
expecting
the same as always,
expecting to sing and pray and receive bread and wine,
all the same way
that we’ve always
done it.
Quietly, reverently,
but sometimes a little
complacently.
It’s no accident that Episcopalians are jokingly referred to
as God’s “frozen chozen.”
From the outside, you could almost imagine
that we take God
for granted.
Sometimes I wonder
if we’re not missing something.
Because it’s rare
that we get
excited about God.
It’s rare, I suspect
that we actually really expect
to meet God.
It’s rare
that we break out of our tradition
and allow God
to surprise us.
But sometimes, it seems
that our worship
tips over from dignified
to boring.
Here in the story of the return of the ark,
it’s clear
that dignity
is not the only criteria
for worship.
Here
we see excitement
and passion
and joy.
So what would it look like
if we allowed our worship
to take off a little.
If we relaxed
and let down our guard.
If we worried less about dignity
and more about celebration.
Imagine
that instead of mumbling, with our heads down in our books,
we said our parts of the service,
the responses
as if we really meant them?
What if
we joined in the hymns
whether or not
we have a good voice,
whether or not
we know them well,
knowing that God
delights in our praise?
What if those of us who play musical instruments - even if we’re not concert standard -
offered to play on a Sunday?
What if
we came to worship
expecting
to meet God
expecting
to be changed?
And what if
a group of us got together to plan our worship,
thinking about how we as a community
can celebrate God
together?
Please talk with me if you’re interested - no expertise
required, just a desire
to see us worship God
in a fuller, richer, way.
Sunday by Sunday
we come together
to worship God,
we focus our worship
around the sign of God’s presence
in the Eucharist.
It’s precious and holy, but it’s also a time
for great
celebration.
Come, let us worship the Lord!
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2009