No Worship Without Justice

The fifth sacrifice described in the opening chapters of Leviticus is the guilt offering or restitution offering. Leviticus 5:14 - 6:7 gives three reasons why this sacrifice might be offered. 5:15 states the first reason: "If anyone commits a breach of faith and sins unintentionally in any of the holy things of the Lord...". Its not exactly clear what "a breach of faith" or "the holy things of the Lord" might mean. Many scholars guess that this has to do with the sacred items set apart for worship in the tabernacle. The second reason given in 5:17 is nearly as vague with the very general statement "If anyone sins, doing any of the things that by the Lord's commandments ought not to be done...". In contrast to this pattern, the third reason given in 6:1-5 is quite detailed.

"If anyone sins and commits a breach of faith against the Lord by deceiving his neighbor in a matter of deposit or security, or through robbery, of if he has oppressed his neighbor or has found something lost and lied about it, swearing falsely - in any of all the things that people do and sin thereby - if he has sinned and has realized his guilt and will restore what he took by robbery or what he got by oppression or the deposit that was committed to him or the lost thing that he found or anything about which he has sworn falsely, he shall restore it in full and shall add a fifth to it, and give it to him to whom it belongs on the day he realizes his guilt." 

We have here the first indication in Leviticus that right worship of God is bound up with our relationships with other human beings. The first four offerings have all been directed toward God and even some of the reasons for this offering has to do with "the holy things of the Lord." But now we also see that an offering is to be made to God even when another person has been wronged, the unspoken reasoning being that taking advantage of our neighbor is an offense to God. In fact, God takes this mistreatment of our fellow human beings so seriously that merely making an offering to God is not enough.  The offending party must make full restitution and add a fifth to what was taken. Additionally, this is the only sacrifice described in these first six chapters which does not offer a sliding scale where wealthier individuals brought larger, more costly animals while less prosperous individuals could bring smaller ones. The only proscription for the guilt offering is a ram; an animal which was probably second in cost only to a bull. Given the demand for a ram and the command to make a 120% restitution, this was one costly sacrifice which was needed to atone for the sin involved in taking advantage of one's neighbor.

Although this may be the first indication in Leviticus of the connection between worship of God and care for others, it comes as no surprise following closely on the heels of Exodus. We have already seen in the destruction of Pharaoh and the liberation of the people of Israel from their slavery how seriously God takes the oppression and injustice that human beings inflict upon one another. Likewise, we see in the giving of the Law at Mt. Sinai that more than half the ten commandments regard our treatment of each other. Of course, the Hebrew prophets are well known for their calls to practice justice and mercy and to remind Israel that offering sacrifices is no substitute for respecting basic human dignity and caring for the vulnerable.

Standing in this same prophetic tradition, Jesus rebukes the Pharisees for taking so much care in following their religious obligations that they tithe even a tenth of their spices but simultaneously neglect the weightier matters of the law, namely, justice, mercy, and faithfulness. Similarly, Jesus says that if someone is offering a sacrifice and they remember that they have wronged a brother they should leave the sacrifice and go set things right before completing that act of worship.

I know this is sort of basic Christianity. Anyone who has spent much time in church is probably familiar with the passages I mentioned in the previous paragraph not to mention the fact that Jesus says the two greatest commandments are to love God and your neighbor. 1 John tells us that anyone who says he loves God and hates his brother is a liar. James says we must show our faith by caring for others. Acts portrays the early Church as a community in which everyone's needs were met. This is a theme that is all over the Bible.

But sometimes...no, often... we need to be reminded of the basics.

Worship of God is not a substitute for loving our neighbor. Piety is not a substitute for justice and mercy. 

One of the stories I find most revealing in this regard is that of Jesus turning over the tables of the money changers in the temple. At first glance, this story is often read as a condemnation of business transactions taking place in this religious space but those who were selling and exchanging money in the temple-courts weren't just selling any old product. They were selling the animals necessary for sacrifice and they were exchanging Romans coins with images of the emperor on them for coins without an image so that faithful Jews could make an offering without bringing an idolatrous image into the temple. In other words, they were enabling Jews to carry out proper worship. But Jesus' words in this story tell us why this was a problem. He says:

Is it not written, "My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations? But you have made it a den of robbers."

That first line is a quotation from Isaiah 56:7, a chapter in Isaiah which describes the temple as a place of prayer not only for Jews but for the people of every nation on the earth who turn to God. In fact, there was a specific place in the Temple called the Court of the Gentiles which was to be a place of prayer for non-Jews. As you might have guessed, this is where the sellers and money-changers set up shop and by doing so they effectively eliminated the one space where non-Jews, foreigners, that is, religious outsiders could worship the God of Israel. The piety of the religious was preventing the prayers of those seen as less religious. 

The second line of Jesus' words are a quotation from Jeremiah 7:11, a chapter which describes the people of Israel as practicing every kind of injustice and oppression only to run back to the temple for protection. The thinking was that as along as the temple stood in Jerusalem it meant that the presence of God was still with Israel and they would be safe. In other words, they were literally treating the temple like a robber's den, a hideout, a lair to which they could return and offer a prayer for protection after committing their evil acts. By quoting Jeremiah, Jesus declares that the kind of worship which went on in the temple, a worship that paid attention to every pious detail while turning a blind eye to the oppression and injustice of the world, made the temple less a place a worship and more a place for thieves to hide from their obligation to their fellow human being behind a veneer of religion and piety. 

And to think that this was the one thing in all the gospels which really got Jesus' blood boiling. This is the one episode of outright anger that we ever see from Jesus. Think of all the sin Jesus encountered in the gospels, the demon possessions, the often clueless disciples, the complete misunderstanding of who he was, even the threats of death and ultimately his crucifixion! But in the midst of all those things Jesus is calm, steady, patient, gracious, and forgiving. But this temple turned den of robbers, this worship without justice, is the one thing that turns that calm and patient Jesus into a raving mad man. 

If ever there was a word of warning to the Church today, I believe this is it. There is no bigger danger for "good, religious folk" like myself and the people who attend our church than that we will become a people so caught up in the details of our worship that we will neglect the weightier matters of justice, mercy, and faithfulness, that we will become so enamored with points of piety that we will take what should be a house of prayer for all the nations and turn it into nothing more than a place where religious people can hide from the neighbor we are called to love. May the Spirit of Jesus come and overturn our tables as well if that is what it takes for us to be rescued from becoming such a place and such a people.

Sin Excluding Love

Last week I introduced Leviticus and described the practice of sacrifice in general terms. Having made that introduction, I think it is now important to point out that not all sacrifice in Leviticus is the same. There are actually five kinds of sacrifice described in the first 6 chapters of Leviticus. The first three are the whole burnt offering (1:1-17), the grain offering (2:1-16), and the peace offering (3:1-17). Each of these had different purposes and different procedures but one thing they all had in common is that they were all free-will offerings. There is no stipulation in Leviticus for when these sacrifices were to be made. Instead, they could be brought freely and willingly at almost any time by anyone in Israel.  Presumably this was done merely out of joy or thankfulness. These sacrifices were intended solely as acts of worship, as a response to the grace and salvation that God had provided for Israel. This is significant because I'm pretty sure that when most Christians think of sacrifice we almost always think of it in terms of something being offered because of sin.  At most, however, only half the sacrifices described in Leviticus are about sin (the sin offering and guilt offering in ch. 4-5 and the Day of Atonement offering in 16). Sacrifices could also be offered as a sign of deliverance (the Passover meal signifying the Exodus from Egypt) and provision (sacrifice at the Feast of Firstfruits and Feast of Weeks in relation to harvest). Sacrifice does not always signify sin.

Of course, there are times when it does. Leviticus 4:2-3 reads "If anyone sins unintentionally in any of the Lord's commandments about things not to be done, and does anyone of them... then he shall offer a bull from the heard without blemish to the Lord for a sin offering." Leviticus 4:1-5:13 goes on to describe the proper procedure for the sin offering to be brought by various people (for the sins of priests, leaders, the whole of Israel, etc.) whenever they have failed to keep God's law. However, even when a sacrifice does signify sin, I wonder if we still often miss much of what is going on here.

In a good portion of evangelicalism the reasoning for sacrifice often goes something like this:

God is a perfectly just God whose righteousness can not be impugned. Therefore, when God's perfect law is broken the offending party must be punished in order to keep God's justice and honor intact. God graciously provided the sacrificial system so that God's justice might be satisfied and his wrath averted by the blood of an animal. This, in turn, explains Christ's sacrifice on the cross. The Son absorbed the wrath of the Father so that we would not have to bear punishment for our sin.

 Aside from all the theological problems one might have with such a characterization of God (Why is this God so vengeful and blood-thirsty? Is Christ's death an instance of divine child abuse?), there is also the fact that this reasoning for sacrifice is never given in Scripture itself. It is a reading imposed upon the text by a certain idea of God and God's justice which is not necessarily in line with the character of God as it is revealed in much of the rest of Scripture. In fact, there is very little, if any, explanation or reasoning given for the sacrifices proscribed in Leviticus. They are simply proscribed. This means, of course, that any attempt to explain the "theology of sacrifice" in Leviticus will have to go beyond what Scripture says since it gives no explanation. However, in attempting such an explanation we can pay careful attention to the details of the rituals themselves and how they fit into the larger story of God revealed in Scripture.

First, we must take note of the only statements in this chapter which come close to an explicitly stated theology. After the ritual of the sin offering is described the text says "So the priest shall make atonement for his sin and he shall be forgiven." (4:26, 31, 35; 5:6, 10. 13) There is no mention here of God's wrath being appeased or justice being satisfied. Instead, the Hebrew word for atonement indicates the idea of covering over the sin that has been committed. The Greek equivalent of this same word in the Septuagint carries the idea of purging obstacles that might stand between the person and God. Even our English word itself, at-one-ment, speaks to the idea of being at one with God. The emphasis here is on maintaining the relationship between God and the people.

We find this same idea highlighted in the practice of the ritual itself, especially in the use of blood, which acts as a kind of cleansing agent in the sanctuary. In contrast to the whole burnt offering where the blood of the animal is merely splattered against the sides of the altar and then poured out at the base of the alter, here the blood is placed on the horns of the altar and, in the case of the priests and the congregation of Israel, sprinkled seven times in front of the curtain leading into the most holy place. Much as the Hebrew and Greek words communicate, the animal's blood is used to cover over and purge the effects of one's sin from the tabernacle. (So much so that many scholars believe this should be referred to as the purification offering rather than the sin offering.) To be sure, the individual receives forgiveness in accordance with the sacrifice but forgiveness is really only part of the problem. The bigger problem is that the stench of sin threatens to drive God out of the Israelite camp. When someone sins, it threatens to pollute God's house. In the case of priests and communal sins of the whole people, it seems the stink is so pungent that it reaches right up to the inner curtain, threatening to enter into God's very dwelling. The concern of Leviticus is less for God's justice and more for God's holiness; that God's wholly otherness, God's sacredness will be profaned by the common and impure. The biggest problem with sin isn't that it might invite God's punishment but that it might drive God away entirely.

This understanding of sacrifice and sin is also in keeping with the picture of God we are given in the rest of Scripture. There are certainly times when God sends wrath and punishment but often it serves the purpose of rehabilitation more so than retribution. God exhibits his wrath to get Israel's attention and to call the people of Israel back to God. Likewise, we've just seen in the book of Exodus that it is God's presence with the people which is the number one concern of Israel. Indeed, Moses says it is the one thing which distinguishes them from all the other people on the earth.

Sin is a troublesome word these days. To speak it is to almost guarantee that you will be misunderstood. But before we go blaming our "relativistic, amoral culture," we as the Church need to realize that sin is our word. It is uniquely a part of our faith vocabulary. If others misunderstand the meaning of a word that is uniquely ours to define, perhaps the problem is that our speech and our lives have not served as trustworthy dictionaries.

I believe that the sin offering described in Leviticus shows us that sin is a deadly serious thing and as such it is a word worth reclaiming. Perhaps Leviticus can also help us take the first step in knowing how to reclaim it - by reminding us that the real tragedy of sin is not the failure to keep what can sometimes seem an arbitrary moral code. The real tragedy of sin is that it threatens to drive the presence of God out of our lives. And conversely, if we can't say that something really threatens to distance us from God then maybe we should think twice about calling it sin. Sometimes Christians can become so absorbed with fleeing sin that we forget we should be running toward God.

It is not the narrative of an angry God which under-girds the notion of sin but the story of a God who is holy love; who will go to any length - even taking on our own flesh - in order to dwell among us. Sin is the name given to the things which keep this loving God out of our lives. On a blog to which I subscribed just earlier today, I happened across these words.

The man who keenly longs to escape his sin
Has first to forget about escaping sin.
What he requires instead
Is a role in a Larger, Better Story.
A Good Story.
A God Story.
And when he finds it, he will realize,
There is no escaping sin.
There is only learning Love.

Embodied Worship

This Sunday I begin a series from the book of Leviticus. If your first inclination after reading that sentence is to stop reading the rest of this post, you probably aren't alone. In fact, I thought a story from one of the commentaries on Leviticus I've been reading in preparation for preaching from Leviticus summed it up well. The writer said that he discovered that his children were working on reading through the entire Bible on their own. When he found out that his son was about to begin Leviticus he encouraged him to merely skim it rather than actually try to read it for fear that he would get bogged down and never make it past Leviticus. It is a pretty strong statement as to our general aversion to this book of the Bible when even someone who has himself written a commentary on Leviticus discourages his own child from spending too much time in the book. Surely Leviticus has to make the (very) short list for the most neglected books in all of the Christian canon.

I think it is helpful to begin by considering what it is we actually have in front of us in a book like Leviticus. It is essentially an instruction book. I know Christians sometimes characterize the whole Bible as God's instruction book on the Christian life but that's really not quite right, at least not in the way Leviticus is; not in terms of categories of literature. Much of Scripture is story (and a number of other genres too, of course) and while we may indeed gather instruction from those stories, the stories themselves do not come in the form of instructions. They, in fact, serve a much larger and more complete purpose than that.

But Leviticus is not like that. There are a handful of stories in it but the vast majority of this book is very detailed and specific instruction regarding things like sacrifice, purity, festivals, and harvest. In short, most of the book is an instruction manual for worship. A parallel today might be the Revised Common Lectionary which outlines passages of Scripture for each Sunday's worship or the Book of Common Prayer which provides prayers and orders of worship for certain occasions like weddings or funerals. In our denomination, we have the Manual of the Church of the Nazarene. It is a small book that outlines our church government, certain moral expectations, and even some rituals for certain parts of worship like communion, baptism, or the reception of new church members. Although the Manual is not exactly the same kind of literature as Leviticus, it is probably the closest modern parallel we have in our tradition.

Notice that none of the examples I mentioned above are books that you would read from cover to cover. This isn't out of laziness or the irrelevancy of the books themselves. Its just not what those books are designed for. Likewise, there is a certain sense in which Leviticus probably wasn't meant to be read like other parts of Scripture. The point of reading an instruction manual is not to become an expert on the instructions but to have successfully carried out what the manual describes. When we read Leviticus, we are reading something that ultimately was not meant to be read but practiced. In some ways, reading Leviticus is somewhat akin to reading a really detailed order of worship that might be written out for a worship leader or praise team. Obviously, reading the order of worship is not nearly as meaningful as having actually participated in the worship service it describes. I think this is part of the reason even faithful readers of Scripture often flounder on the shores of Leviticus.

Of course, saying that Leviticus is a book concerned with practices doesn't entirely let us off the hook from reading it because there is another sense in which it is a book that is meant to be read. By saying that Leviticus is Scripture, we are claiming that God speaks through the reading of this book. In fact, it has ceased to be an instruction manual, a book of practice for us as Christians since we carry out virtually none of its admonitions. How does a book written as an instruction manual, the instructions of which we don't follow, become Scripture for us? Does this book have anything to say to us or does it fully deserve the neglect it often receives?

Perhaps we can return to our earlier examples for help here. Let's say that one did sit down and read the Revised Common Lectionary from cover to cover. Although this is not the purpose for which the book is designed, one could still learn an enormous amount about the worship of a church which used it. For example, it would become obvious that a church which utilized the RCL thought that hearing Scripture was an important part of worship and also that it was important to hear from all parts of Scripture, not just favorite passages. It would probably also be a church that thought the seasons of the church year were a good way to keep the life of Christ at the center of its worship. Similarly, one could learn a lot about our beliefs concerning marriage, baptism, and church membership in the Church of the Nazarene simply by reading those written rituals in the Manual.

Likewise, we can learn something meaningful about ancient Israel's worship of Yahweh simply by reading Leviticus. One of the very first things you notice about the worship described in the book of Leviticus is that it is active, its demanding, its overwhelmingly physical, even costly. Worship in Leviticus is not passive listening, it is not merely attendance, and it is not primarily a mental or emotional thing. The vision of worship in Leviticus says there is work to be done here. The act of worship we hear described in most of Leviticus 1 involves bringing a farm animal (read: stinky, dirty, and I am going to assume not always cooperative), laying your hands on its head, shedding its blood, the priest splattering that blood on the altar, dissecting the animal so as to throw out the inappropriate body parts, putting the other parts on the altar, washing them to make sure they are free of excrement or undigested food, and finally offering what is on the altar by fire. 

Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? At the very least, it sounds like a lot more than is usually demanded of us in most of our worship services. So much so that for many of us our first reaction is probably something along the lines of "Thank God Jesus died for me so that I don't have to do all that." But I want to suggest that such a statement is at best only half right. 

To be sure, we believe that Jesus' death means that the kind of animal sacrifice described above is not the kind of response that Jesus demands of us. But let's be clear that Jesus still demands a response. And that response is not merely "belief." There is work to be done in the Christian faith, in Christian worship, as well. 

Often when we in the protestant tradition hear that word "work" in relation to our faith we automatically assume that someone is talking about earning their salvation. In fact, we often accuse the Jewish people of this; that their failure was that they thought they had to earn their salvation by following the Law. Nothing could be further from the truth. The people of Israel knew they were not earning their salvation by offering the sacrifices prescribed in Leviticus. God had already provided salvation for them in their exodus from Egypt before any law was ever given. The laws of sacrifice were an opportunity to respond to what God had already done and to continue to participate in the covenant which God had so graciously provided for the people of Israel. 

In the same way, the work we are called to is not to earn our salvation but to respond to the salvation Jesus has already provided and to continue to participate in the new covenant which Jesus has inaugurated. But just because it is a new covenant without animal sacrifice does not mean there is not costly, sacrificial, very physical work to be done. In fact, the Epistle to the Hebrews, the very book which so carefully articulates why animal sacrifice is not a part of the new covenant Jesus has made for us, is also the book which so painstakingly defines "faith" as a work that must be lived. Hebrews 10:23-25 reads 

"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near."

Our faith is something we must work to hold fast to. It involves stirring up one another to love and good works. It means choosing to meet together and encouraging each other. And this is only the beginning for from here the author will go on in Hebrews 11 to describe those who lived "by faith" as those who did the work of faithful living: enduring persecution, actively trusting God, pursuing justice, righteousness, and peace.

Christian faith and Christian worship may not be as grotesquely physical as animal sacrifice but it is no less of an embodied faith. We are a people called into a covenant which requires the response of our whole selves. What if we showed up to our worship services with the expectation that the pastor wasn't the only one doing work that day? Or if instead of focusing on "being fed" we were focused on how we can actively contribute to the worship of the Church, our own spiritual growth, and the growth of those around us? Or if we left our church building knowing that our spiritual work week had only just begun?

Where God's Patience and Presence Have Prevailed

The book of Exodus ends with the completion of the tabernacle's construction. I've often thought that this was a really anti-climatic ending to such a marvelous book. How is it that this book that begins with the mighty work of God in Egypt, the very salvation of Israel, ends with the assembly of a tent? It has taken me preaching through the book in its entirety to realize how fitting an end the construction of the tabernacle actually is for this grand narrative. Some very important themes which have run the length of Exodus find their culmination in its final verses. 

God's Patience: The grace and patience of God have been on display from the beginning. We might have thought that after God exercised tremendous power and might in delivering the Israelites from their slavery in Egypt that they would have been eternally grateful for all God had done for them. Instead, what we have seen over the last several weeks is a story filled with grumbling, complaining, a repeated lack of trust, and ultimately idolatry. However, in each instance we also heard of a God who repeatedly responded with patience and provided deliverance time after time. To be sure, the golden calf was nearly the end of that patience but even in that instance God was patient enough to hear Moses and ultimately be persuaded by him. Now God's patience is on display once again as God has renewed the covenant with the people even after their act of idolatry and continues to journey with them. 

God's Presence: God's patience at this point in the narrative is primarily manifested in God's continued presence. The whole of Exodus has been a story of God's increasingly intimate presence with God's people. In the beginning of the story, God seems distant and un-involved, allowing the descendants of Abraham to be oppressed and mistreated.  But God is not so removed that the cries of the people go unheard. God manifests his power in Egypt in marvelous fashion and brings the people out of their slavery.  However, this deliverance is really more means than end for God has not only delivered them from their slavery but for life lived in the presence of God. So God not only delivers but also brings the people into covenant and gives them the Law to teach them how to live and ultimately makes the remarkable promise that God will dwell right in their midst. That promise of God's presence with the people is now fulfilled in the final verses of Exodus as the construction of the tabernacle is completed and the glory of the Lord fills the tabernacle. 

Israel's Transformation: Both themes above intertwine with another. Throughout this story, we've been waiting to see whether or not God's patience will ultimately pay off. Will Israel become the kind of people among whom God could dwell or not? For much of the story it seemed hopeless. It seemed that the scars of Israel's oppression and slavery ran too deep. They were too abused, too beaten by Pharaoh to ever really be a people capable of trust in an all-powerful God. It seemed their collective imagination was so hopelessly crippled by the propaganda of the empire that it would never be anything other than a factory for golden calves. 

But in these final chapters of Exodus we are given the first hope that perhaps Israel's future will be shaped by something other than the chains of its past. In the construction of the tabernacle there are hints that perhaps Yahweh's patience and presence have finally began to turn the tide against the lingering effects of Pharaoh's abusive power. For in these final chapters we see the community of Israel come together to construct not an idol but the tabernacle precisely as the Lord has commanded it down to the very last detail. We hear of a people once disobedient now freely working together to fulfill a common purpose. We hear that rather than making ungodly demands of their leader, Aaron, the people now acknowledge that Bezalel has been especially gifted by the Spirit for the tabernacle's design. We see a people once enslaved now working together to make a place where the very presence of God can dwell among them. 

Its not a bad picture of the Church when you think about it. We are a people among whom God's dogged patience has finally began to prevail; a community where the constant inundation of God's grace is starting to overwhelm the abuses and pain of our past. And as a result, we are beginning to see a differently reality, we are beginning to trust, we are beginning to respond to that grace and participate in the work that God wants to do among us. Although we were once slaves ourselves, now we are a people working together by the power of God's Spirit, each of us with our distinctive contribution, to become a place where the very presence of God can dwell. 

Wrestling for Presence

The people that Yahweh has delivered from slavery have just committed the very epitome of idolatry. By constructing this golden calf, they have forsaken God's deliverance, God's Law, and God's presence with them. Now, in the opening verses of Exodus 33, we hear that this act of idolatry is driving God away from God's people. Graciously, God still plans to fulfill the promise of a land for this people; an angel of God will go with them to drive out those who inhabit the land. But God's own presence will not abide with the people "lest I consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people."

But Moses won't have it. You can almost hear the accusatory tone in Moses' voice in v.12.

"See, you say to me, 'Bring up this people,' but you have not let me know whom you will send with me. Yet you have said, 'I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.' Now therefore, if I have found favor in your sight, please show me now your ways..."

Who talks to God this way? Where is Moses' deference? His respect for the Holy God? Then in v. 15 we hear: "If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here." Is Moses giving God an ultimatum? "God, if you aren't going to go with us then don't even bother sending your angel because I'm not going anywhere."

Perhaps what is even more remarkable than Moses' boldness is that God accepts it. In fact, Yahweh's course of action is changed. God was going to depart from the people but instead God now responds to Moses by saying "This very thing that you have spoken I will do, for you have found favor in my sight, and I know you by name." Like Jacob, Moses wrestles with God and wins.

But Moses doesn't even stop there. He's won. He's changed God's mind and gotten what he asked for but still he pushes things even further, almost to the absurd. Moses says in v.18 "Please show me your glory." Moses wants to see the very glory of God and God finds a way to (mostly) grant this request as well. God tells Moses that he can hide in the cleft of the rock on the mountain and God will cover him with his hand while all of God's goodness passes by Moses.  Then God's hand will be removed and Moses will be able to see God's backside as God passes by.  (That's right. God is basically "mooning" Moses. "Moses, you asked to see my glory but this the best you get bud." And you thought God didn't have a sense of humor.)

There are a lot of really fascinating aspects to this passage of Scripture but there is yet one more I find most fascinating of all. Maybe its just the pastor in me, the part of me that so desperately wants to see people changed and transformed, that causes me to read the story this way. But the part of the story I find most fascinating is the change in Moses himself.

Do you remember the Moses of Exodus 3? Is the Moses who, here in chapter 33, wrestles so boldly with God, really the same Moses who was so fearful and timid in chapter 3? The Moses who was afraid to look at God in the burning bush is now the Moses who says "show me your glory". The Moses who offered objection after objection to God's call to deliver the people of Israel is now the Moses who wrestles God into staying with those same people. The Moses who said "Oh, my Lord, please send someone else" now boldly says "Don't you even think about sending anyone else." In Exodus 3, God promises Moses "I will be with you" and that wasn't enough for Moses.  Now God's presence is the only thing that matters to Moses. Is this really the same guy? What has happened to Moses?

Ten Plagues. Exodus. The Red Sea. Water from a Rock. Manna and Quail. Mt. Sinai. The Moses of Exodus 3 isn't the same person as the Moses of Exodus 33 because this is a Moses who has seen what God can do. As I've been working through the book of Exodus, I've pointed out a number of times that even though the people of Israel have been delivered they have not yet had their collected imaginations converted; they have not yet had their slavery so removed from them that they are able to re-imagine what is possible with God. But Moses has and can. In fact, it seems he refuses to imagine life any other way. Moses has tasted the presence of God in his life and it has changed him from a scared and timid shepherd into a man who wrestles with God and having experienced the presence of this mighty God, Moses refuses to accept anything less. Earlier I compared Moses to Jacob but that's not exactly right. After receiving a blessing from God, Jacob let God go. Moses has received blessing after blessing from God but he recognizes the one thing he can't let go, the one thing that is really worth wrestling for, is the presence of God.

In v.16, Moses says

"For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people? Is it not in your going with us, so that we are distinct, I and your people, from every other people on the face of the earth?"

Moses knows that the only thing that sets Israel apart is the presence of God. Do we, the Church, know this too? What if we were a people who, having experienced the presence of God in our lives, fought with every fiber of our being to never let go of that presence? What if our our defining characteristic was our constant cry to God "Show us your glory!"

From Idolatry to Imagination

I mentioned in my sermon on Exodus 25 yesterday that I think part of the reason so much detail is given in the instructions for constructing the tabernacle is that God didn't want any of it left up to the imagination of the Israelites. That's not because God considers imagination a bad thing but because imagination is not a neutral thing; it is shaped by our experiences and Israel has just had their collective imagination shaped by 430 years of oppression and slavery.  That is not an imagination which is prepared to produce a healthy representation of God. 

Exodus 32 is a case in point. While Moses is on Mt. Sinai with Yahweh, the people at the foot of the mountain decide that they need to make gods for themselves. The construction of this idol is presented in direct contrast with the construction of the tabernacle. Whereas the construction of the tabernacle was initiated by God, this action is initiated by the people totally apart from any consultation with God. Whereas the tabernacle is constructed from gifts freely given by anyone who wished to contribute, here Aaron commands all the people "Take off the rings of gold that are in the ears of your wives, your sons, and your daughters, and bring them to me." Whereas the instructions for building the tabernacle were orderly and well thought out, the construction of the golden calf is hasty and impetuous. In fact, in one of my favorite lines in all of scripture, Aaron portrays it as almost accidental explaining to Moses "So they gave it to me, and I threw it into the fire, and out came this calf."  Seriously Aaron? My four year old comes up with more clever explanations for her behavior. I'm pretty sure some ancient manuscripts of this verse add "And Moses rolled his eyes."

In addition to being an affront to the construction of the tabernacle, the actions of the people are also a direct violation of the first two commandments given so recently at this very same mountain.  Not only that; the people even minimize the liberating work of Yahweh in the exodus, their very own salvation, in that they say upon seeing the calf "These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!" In this one act of idolatry, Israel has forsaken the salvation of God, God's law, and God's presence with them. In fact, if we listen closely we will likely even hear echoes of Genesis 3, the original act of idolatry, in this story. Like Adam and Eve, the people are eager to trust a voice other than the voice of the one who has provided for them.  Like Adam, Aaron passes the blame for his wrong doing. And just as there are serious consequences in the garden, so there are serious consequences here in the camp. Moses gives orders that lead to the death of 3000 Israelites (and its not absolutely clear that he was acting out of God's guidance rather than his own anger) and God strikes the camp with a plague on top of that. This is not just any story of any sin. This is the story of sin in Israel's self-identifying narrative. The very telling of the story is itself a confession. It says this is a part of who we are; a people prone to idolatry. 

It is often said that the first step to correcting a problem is admitting that you have a problem. Maybe that is how this story can function for us as Christians.  When we claim the Hebrew Scriptures as our Old Testament, we are saying that Israel's story is our story. Their failings are our failings too. If we are to read Exodus 32 as Christian Scripture then we must confess that we also are a people prone to idolatry.

With that in mind, I find it fascinating that this disastrous story, this paragon of sinfulness, begins with nothing more profound than a failure of patience.

When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered themselves together to Aaron and said, "Up, make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him."

Moses takes a little longer than expected on the mountain and from there everything else begins to rapidly unravel. I don't find that scenario fascinating because I think it is unusual or extraordinary but because I think it is such an apt description of the times we are most vulnerable to our idolatrous tendencies. It is precisely when God seems absent or quiet, the times when we can't perceive God doing anything, that we are are most likely to make God in our own image. I think this is one of the greatest temptations for the Church in America. It is so rare that we experience a genuine movement of God in our churches that rather than doing the hard work of continuing to seek God we decide to create our own God experience with our worship bands and our clever outreach programs and by doing so we threaten to make God even more absent in our lives. Every pastor find themselves tempted to do what Aaron does. When the people complain that they haven't seen God in a while, its much easier to ask the people to give more of their gold so that we can construct our best facsimile of God's work among us than it is to keep asking people to seek God.

I think we are so quick to fill that void, so ready to put something, anything in the place of God's absence because deep down we fear that maybe God won't show up. We are prone to idolatry because one of our greatest fears is that all that time seeking for God, waiting for God will turn up nothing and we would rather have something rather than nothing, even if its fake.

At its root, I think this failure of patience is also essentially a failure of memory. So quickly the people of Israel forgot who it was that delivered them from Egypt. I think the antidote to our failures of patience is to remind ourselves over and over again of what God has already done for us. I began this post by pointing out that our imaginations are shaped by our experiences. This might be the most important reason why we gather to tell the story of our faith week after week, why we must keep hearing the stories of scripture and telling our own stories of God's faithfulness. It is the hearing and telling of those stories which shape our imaginations and, like the Israelites, we are a long-enslaved people in desperate need of having our imaginations reshaped so that we might see what is possible with God.

The God Who Tabernacles

Before you read this post, you should read Exodus 25-26. OK... if not read it, at least take a glance at it. I'm pretty sure this passage isn't anyone's "life verse." In these chapters we hear God's instructions, ones which are approaching obsessive in their intricate detail, to Moses for constructing the tabernacle, the tent where God's presence will dwell with Israel as they journey through the wilderness.

So what's your honest reaction to a passage of scripture like this one? Boring? Irrelevant? Why all the bother with such detail?

I'm sure at least one of the reasons it can be difficult to stick with reading chapters like these is that its just not easy to get excited about the construction blueprint of... well, any blueprint isn't exactly edge of your seat drama but especially the blueprint of a building that we've never seen and isn't a part of our everyday life. But I think there is also a theological reason why we often fail to recognize the truly great significance of the tabernacle at this point in Israel's story.

As modern Christians, I think we pretty much take the presence of God for granted. After all, along with being all-powerful and all-knowing isn't God also ever-present? There is no place that God is not.  Furthermore, we believe that God's presence is always among us as a church.  We believe that God's Spirit goes with us in our everyday lives. Of course, I believe those statements to be true but I also think that in a world of fast food and faster computers where everything is available to us at our convenience we have come to think of God's presence in the same way: always readily available to us and therefore not particularly special.

This was not the experience of the Israelites. We must remember that it was not so many chapters ago in this story that the Israelites were still enslaved in Egypt. The experience of a slave - the experience of 430 years of slavery- is not the experience of a God who is near but of one who is distant and dispassionate. What is the cry of the abused and oppressed if not "Where is God now?" or "Is there a God at all?". Even once God has delivered the people of Israel and even as God is giving these very laws to Moses, the people's experience of God is still one of distance. This is the God who envelopes the mountain with smoke and storm and says that anyone who comes too close will die.  This is the God of whom the people essentially say to Moses "That's close enough! You speak to God for us!".

It is within this story of a God who is so tremendously and wholly other that this transcendent One begins to give instructions for how his house should be built. A house! A dwelling for God! A place where God's presence can reside with the people of Israel. Its not enough that God delivered this battered and abused slave nation.  Its not enough that God has covenanted with these people and promised to be their God and they be God's people.  Now God is going to shack up with them as well! And not even on some high mountain but in a tent right in the middle of Israel's camp that can go with them where they go. God is drawing up plans to be present right in the midst of God's people.

But the tabernacle is even more than that. It also is another step in God's rehabilitation project with these former slaves as God continues the work of transforming them into a free and holy people. I believe that is why instructions are so obsessive in their detail.  Although we are not told the explicit purpose or symbolic nature of every instruction, we are told that Moses was instructed to build everything according to the pattern he had seen on the mountain. This tabernacle was not to be modeled after temples of Egypt or any other culture or left up to the Israelite imagination which was still largely held captive by the realities of Egypt. The tabernacle was to be by God's instruction alone, every last a detail a reminder that this was not any God but the liberating God of the exodus who was dwelling with these people. The tabernacle itself was to become a means of converting Israel's imagination from the way of Pharaoh to the way of Yahweh.  Like stain-glass windows telling the story of Jesus for illiterate church-goers in the middle ages, the tabernacle would be a beautifully ornate and tangible picture of the God who had delivered them and continued to dwell with them.

In the first chapter of John's gospel, we hear that "the word became flesh and dwelt among us." The word translated as "dwelt" in this verse is the very same word used to describe God's dwelling in the tabernacle, the clear sense of John's words being that Jesus is now the place of God's "tabernacling" with    his people. Likewise, in Mark's gospel we see at Jesus' baptism that God's own Spirit descends upon and into Jesus in the form of a dove. Each of the gospels and Acts also tell us, each in their own way, that Jesus would also pour out this same Spirit on his followers. Paul goes so far as to call the Corinthians the "temple of God," the very place where God's Spirit dwells. And in his first epistle, Peter calls the churches of Asia Minor "living stones...being built up into a spiritual house." Hebrews describes Jesus as the pioneer of our faith who has opened up and new and living way for us into the holy of holies, that is, into the very presence of God.  And Revelation reaches the apex of its vision of new creation when it says that in the new Jerusalem there will be no temple because God has finally made his dwelling fully and completely, directly and unmediated with God's people for all eternity.

The consistent witness of scripture, even with its many voices and varied images, is that we serve a God whose goal throughout all of eternity has been and will be to dwell among us. The instructions for the tabernacle in Exodus remind us that this is no small thing. This is a holy God whose presence is not to be taken for granted. But we also believe that presence is no longer limited by tabernacle or temple. It was made available to us in the beautifully ornate and tangible presence of Jesus who helps us to re-imagine what is possible with God in this world and thereby shapes us into a people where the Spirit of God tabernacles until that day of new creation when we will dwell fully and completely in the presence of our liberating and tabernaling God.