Monday, February 7, 2022 (today’s lectionary)
Put your hands on the cloak of Jesus
There was nothing in the ark but the two stone tablets which Moses had put there at Horeb, when the Lord made a covenant with the children of Israel at their departure from the land of Egypt.
Nothing else much matters. The Germans sought something more in that famous Indiana Jones movie. We all do the same thing sometimes, seek something more. What’s in that Ark for us?
All the people of Israel assembled before King Solomon during the festival.
We talked among ourselves. We knew how special this day was. I stood as straight as I could to get glimpses of the passing procession. Not every day does our family get to see priests and king in the same parade. Perhaps even prophets are attending this moving of the Ark.
I remember the story of Uzzah, dying when he touched the ark after it fell to the ground. The ground had never sinned, but Uzzah had, so his impure hands could not touch the Ark. No sinning hand could touch it. I felt my hands, rubbed my fingers up across my palms. O Lord, forgive my hands and protect me from your punishments.
King Solomon and the entire community of Israel sacrificed before the Ark sheep and oxen too many to number or count. Lord, go up to the place of your rest! Let us worship at your footstool.
My wife and children are in the crowd somewhere. I am tall enough, but I don’t see them. I hope they are not touching the Ark! I smell all this blood, and cringe at the bleating of the sheep and moaning of the cows, their throats cut by our usually benign priests. Now I see the work they sometimes are called to do, awful and ugly on earth but sweet scents of blood in heaven. Is that how it is? No, I don’t understand. Do you? What good is this shedding of the blood of the innocent?
May your priests be clothed with justice, reject not the plea of your anointed.
Priests and kings encircle God and try to keep Him under control with the blood. (I must not say this aloud, I must watch my pseudo-prophet tongue.) Is it true that the prophets sometimes turn away from the path polished into place by the priests?
“I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free” (Psalm 119:32). Such a simple statement, but every word demands definition.
I’ve found ways to worship God without the blood, but nothing seems complete. I sit in the morning sun, chanting my songs, lifting my hands up to the sky. I rise up and call all around me blessed. I give thanks for our simple meals, and laugh and pray with my children. My wife and I see the stars everywhere in the night sky, and pray ourselves to sleep.
What is missing? On this day of rejoicing I’m surrounded by others, receiving occasional glances from the priests and king. But in all this ritual and rigamarole, I feel alone, apart from God rather than near him.
When the priests left the holy place, the cloud filled the temple of the Lord.
What, Lord? What is wrong with me?
After making the crossing to the other side of the sea, Jesus and his disciples came to land at Gennesaret. As they were leaving the boat, people immediately recognized him.
Is there something here for me, oh my Father? This sudden splendid vision brings life into my heart and sweet breath into my lungs. In the cloud, in the temple, I see Jesus. Yes, his name will be called Jesus. And he will save us from our sins. My sinful hands, always loved by God, the hands You gave me, no longer afflict my soul. I rub my fingertips down my palms and laugh with joy. You have set me free! And I will run in the path of your commands.
Whatever villages or towns or countryside he entered, the people living there laid the sick down and begged him that they might touch only the tassel on his cloak; and as many as touched it … were healed.
(Drawing: Solomon praying in the temple in presence of the congregation of Israel, by Marc Chagall, 1956)
(1 Kings 8, Psalm 132, Matthew 4, Mark 6)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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