Readings: 2 Samuel 6:1-2, 12b-19, Mark
6:14-29
The Ark of the
Covenant, whether the Indiana Jones version, or a 21st century impression by He
Qi of China or this thirteenth century rendition from the Morgan Bible, has
fascinated people throughout the centuries and across cultures. Where did it go? Did Jeremiah retrieve it and seal it up high
in the mountains before the destruction of the Temple, or did the Babylonians
take it with all the other treasure when they sacked the Temple? Others say it is in the care of the Ethiopian
Orthodox Church, that the Knights Templar have it in France or the UK, or that
it has been destroyed somehow. Whilst we
could speculate a great deal on the fate of the physical Ark, (and some people
have spent their lives doing just that) it seems to me that it would be more
useful for us to ask what this text might say to us of God. Samuel Giere[1], a US theologian
suggests this text provides a dynamic portrait of God's presence and power with
the people of Israel and speaks strongly of the danger and joy of being in
God's presence.
The
ark for David and the people of Israel was not a benign presence, a safe
harbour – anything but – ask Uzzah who, the passage says, simply touched the
Ark to stop it falling when the oxen stumbled and he was dead – nothing fair or
just or deserving about that. It goes on
to say “David was afraid of the Lord that day”[2] and he only came
back to escort the Ark into Jerusalem three months later. Being in the presence of God, he discovered, is
both a danger and a joy.
How
do we do that sort of tension? How do we welcome the presence of God into our
lives with great joy knowing that it can also bring an increased potential for danger
–because we are called to speak out about those things that are unjust and
unfair and unloving –in a culture that does not necessarily hold justice and
love and compassion as the number one priorities. When we challenge the status quo, we are
inviting trouble, failure, put downs, retribution and it happens – more often
than not. Perhaps not quite the trouble
that John the Baptist got into by speaking out against the household
arrangements of King Herod but trouble none-the-less. And it’s not just about
our intentional stands for social and political and economic justice that place
us in relative danger – it is also about the ordinary hand that life deals us, the
Uzzah moments in our lives where stuff happens – not because we deserve it or
don’t deserve it – it just is. Inviting the presence of God into our lives is
neither a ticket to safety nor to immunity from the sometimes harsh realities
of life for us. As it was for John – he not
only spoke out but he was also in the wrong place at the wrong time – a feast,
the largesse, a spontaneous generous oath taken literally, an opportunity taken
– all contributed to his untimely death.
So
we have increased danger from our speaking out and no less danger for being in
the presence of God – where do we find the will to dance with joy in
celebration of God’s presence? We can dance because we, like David, know that
there is a bigger story, a greater truth to be found in the presence of God. For
us that truth is found in Jesus Christ who came among us not only to heal and
reconcile but also to invite us into that bigger story, a life greater than we
on our own can perceive, where our lives and life of the world can be
transformed way beyond our imaginings or our individual realities, where in the
power of the risen Christ we are able to not only confront the powers that
abuse and exploit way and make a difference, but that we can also hold on to a
hope, a love that will not let us go in the midst of all that life throws our
way. That indeed is cause for
celebration and joy even in the midst of danger. Thanks be to God.
Margaret
Garland
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