Creation

File:A break in the clouds - Flickr - rachel thecat.jpg

25Then he [Jesus] said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. (Luke 24:25-27)

When Jesus walks with his followers on the road to Emmaus, he takes them back through the scripture to help them understand the fundamental witness of the Biblical writings. He is not proof-texting the resurrection, but opening their eyes to see that the fundamental narrative of the scripture concerns the sacrificial love of God – love that has its fulfillment in the cross and resurrection.

So the sermon series in which our parish has embarked has as its purpose not only to tell these pivotal stories in scripture, but to show how they bear witness to the God whose face we see in Christ.

As we developed this idea, our sanctuary arts people proposed placing a series of pictures in the sanctuary that related to the story of the day. That led to the production of a booklet that summarized the story and identified the pictures.

Here is the text of the booklet from week 1 on Genesis 1.  This Sunday we will talk about Genesis 2.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AA_break_in_the_clouds_-_Flickr_-_rachel_thecat.jpg By rachel_thecat (A break in the clouds) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

 

Genesis 1:1-2:3


“A wind from God swept over the face of the waters”


File:Wea00816.jpg

At the beginning of God’s creating, there is nothing but the breath of God hovering over a storm tossed sea.

And then God speaks.

It is God’s word that brings order, beauty and life. Before God’s word, apart from God’s speaking, there is neither order, beauty or life.

Speech is relational. It connects. It creates. It enlivens. For God to speak, means that God is relational. (When the author of 1 John writes that “God is love”, he is describing the kind of relationship God has with the world: God is faithful to us.)

Though our words can also create division and harm, God’s word creates community, goodness and life.

The Biblical account is set down in this form when Jerusalem has been destroyed and the leadership of the nation carried off into exile in Babylon. Those surviving peasants who hadn’t fled the war were left to farm the land. They posed no threat of resistance or rebellion. But the people of the city now inhabit the ancient equivalent of a refugee camp. They live in the aftermath of the chaos of war: grief, suffering, disease, dislocation. The temple and priesthood, symbols of God’s presence are destroyed. The sacrifices that were the means of grace and connection to God are lost to them. They are a people in the darkness of a storm-tossed sea.

But the Spirit of God is present.

And then God speaks.

North Pacific storm waves as seen from the M/V NOBLE STAR
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AWea00816.jpg by NOAA (http://www.photolib.noaa.gov/bigs/wea00816.jpg) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

“God called the dome Sky”


File:Milky Way over Devils Tower.jpg

God’s first act is to create light and to separate the light from the darkness.

The ancient world imagined darkness as a thing in itself, rather than the absence of light. So into the stuff of the world which is darkness God calls into being a new stuff: light.

And the light is good.

God gathers the light together so we can live in the light. There is now day and night.

Next God speaks into existence the dome of the sky. Imagine a glass bowl upside down in the bathtub: water all around, but a bubble of air under the dome. God has made a space in the midst of the primal, chaotic waters where goodness and life can happen.

A panoramic image of the Milky Way galaxy stretching across the sky over America’s first national monument, Devils Tower. 
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AMilky_Way_over_Devils_Tower.jpg by NCBrown (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

“Let the earth put forth vegetation”


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Now, God gathers the water together so that land appears. And the land is summoned to bring forth all the living, growing stuff we see.

The text calls these ‘days’ though there is yet no sun or moon or stars to mark the days and seasons. But the cycle of day and night suggests images of labor, God is working to call forth his world. And the language of days suggests time; God is building something that takes time. And time itself is moving towards its completion, towards Sabbath.


“Let there be lights in the dome of the sky”


On the fourth ‘day’ God calls forth the lights that span the dome of the heavens and appoints them “for signs and for seasons and for days and years.”

The ancient words for ‘sun’ and ‘moon’ were the names of gods. The lights in the sky were considered spirit beings, creatures of fire and light rather than earth, divine beings to be adored and called upon for help. But the Biblical author doesn’t call them ‘Sun’ or ‘Moon’; these are but lanterns in the sky, placed there by the word of God. We use them only to count days.

It is a startling claim for a people whose god has been crushed in battle by the (presumably) more powerful gods of Babylon. The Lord could not protect his own house, his temple. The Lord could not protect his household staff, his people. Yet here our writer proclaims that these powerful so-called gods of Babylon are no gods at all.

Flower of an Indian Lotus
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ALotus_flower_(978659).jpg by Hong Zhang (jennyzhh2008) [CC0 or CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

“ Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind”


File:A butterfly feeding on the tears of a turtle in Ecuador.jpg

Now God begins to summons forth the creatures of the earth. The waters proliferate with creatures and birds fill the skies. It is good. And God utters a blessing: “Be fruitful and multiply.”

God will also speak this blessing over humans. They are among the living creatures. They are not creatures of the air. They are not spirit beings. They are part of the good world God calls forth in all its wondrous diversity.

The fish and birds are called into existence on the fifth ‘day’, creatures of the land and humans on the sixth day.

We are creatures. We are one with the creation and yet the crown of creation. The care of the earth is entrusted into our hands. We are blessed as the creatures are blessed. But we are also charged to exercise “dominion”, governance, stewardship, lordship. And the model of true lordship is not one of control and domination, but the God who provides and cares, and the lord who lays down his life for the sheep. St. Francis is correct when he speaks of the creatures of the world as our sisters and brothers.   The world is to be tended not plundered.

Two Julia Butterflies (Dryas iulia) drinking the tears of turtles (Podocnemis expansa?) in Ecuador. Turtles bask on a log as the butterflies sip from their eyes. This “tear-feeding” is a phenomenon known as lachryphagy.  
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AA_butterfly_feeding_on_the_tears_of_a_turtle_in_Ecuador.jpg amalavida.tv [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

“In the image of God he created them”


File:Heavens Above Her.jpg

The word ‘image’ in the ancient Greek translation of Genesis comes into English as ‘icon’. An icon was an image that represented the presence of another – like the United States planting a flag on Iwo Jima to represent the authority and presence of the nation. Humans represent the presence of God. Or, at least, we are supposed to so represent. We are the agents and signs of God’s presence, the agents and signs of God’s care, the agents and sign of God’s love. Or at least, again, this was God’s intention. This is our calling. This is our true identity.

Perhaps the ancients thought we shared the same physical appearance as God. But the truth is we have no other language or imagery to talk about a loving, speaking being.

These humans are given fruit to eat. And the grazing animals grass. In the beginning we did not yet kill and eat each other. It’s why the prophets say that in the end, when God’s creation is finally restored, the lion can lie down with the lamb.

Milky Way lying above a lady’s silhouette, at Trona Pinnacles National Landmark, California.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AHeavens_Above_Her.jpg by Ian Norman (http://www.lonelyspeck.com) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Sabbath Rest

“On the seventh day God finished the work that he had done.”


File:Paints of sunrise on Langtang National Park.jpg

So now we come to the final day, the consummate day, the goal toward which all things move: Sabbath. Rest. Completion. Perfection. Shalom. Peace. Wholeness. Harmony. This ‘day’ is holy, sacred, radiant with the divine. Jesus will call it “the reign of God.” St. John the Divine will call it the “New Jerusalem”.

The world is not complete in six days. It is complete with Sabbath.

And Jesus will declare that the reign of God is at hand, so it makes perfect sense for him to heal on the Sabbath. He is not working, doctoring; he is bringing that final Sabbath when all things are made new.

The Spirit of God that hovered over the face of the deep now breathes in all people. The promise of Joel is fulfilled (Joel 2:28-29). Pentecost has come (Acts 2). The Torah is written on every heart (Jeremiah 31:31). The heavenly banquet is begun (Isaiah 25:6-8). Swords are beaten into plowshares (Micah 4:1-3) and the lion eats straw like the ox (Isaiah 65:17-25).

It is all “very good.”

View from mountain pass Laurebina-la
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3APaints_of_sunrise_on_Langtang_National_Park.jpg  by Q-lieb-in (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons
 © Text by David K. Bonde, Los Altos Lutheran Church, 2017
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Bringing us home

Saturday

Isaiah 43:1-7

File:Heading Home, Yemen (9702169604).jpg6“Bring my sons from far away
and my daughters from the end of the earth.”

I can’t hear that voice without thinking about my daughter Anna. She was killed nearly 15 years ago. It is hard to imagine it has been so long. She is still and will ever be the bright, talented, compassionate, deeply spiritual young woman of 19 that she was the day a driver under the influence robbed the world of her life and the life of her friends.

The prophet is thinking about the Israelites scattered by war throughout the region of the Middle East. But I know there are more exiles than those in Babylon. There are more that are far from home than the children of the diaspora.

War is brutal in its impact upon the social fabric. The ties that bind family and community to a place and to one another are shredded. Hopes and beliefs are destroyed along with fields and buildings. Sons and daughters are lost. Fear and sorrow replace joy and trust. That sense of home and belonging perishes.

But it is not only war that separates us from one another, not only marching armies that decimates community. The modern world has made many rootless as they are moved from place to place. Divorce rends the ties of friendship and family. Poverty decimates neighborhoods and cities. Death and disease tear hearts and homes. Even our busyness separates us from one another, providing the illusion of a meaningful life but too often absent its real joys. We form new ties, build new lives, but we are scattered children and exiles. We have lost both village and faith that locates us in the world.

To a world in which it is possible to be homeless literally and spiritually, God speaks:

6I will say to the north, “Give them up,”
and to the south, “Do not withhold;
bring my sons from far away
and my daughters from the end of the earth–
7everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made.”

God is in the business of reconciliation, of gathering the scattered, of restoring the broken, of uniting the separated. God is in the business of ending our exile and bringing us home.

 

Photograph: By Rod Waddington from Kergunyah, Australia (Heading Home, Yemen) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Homeward

Saturday

Isaiah 40

Wyoming Prairie.  Photo credit: dkbonde

Wyoming Prairie. Photo credit: dkbonde

6 All people are grass,
their constancy is like the flower of the field.
7
The grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the Lord blows upon it;
surely the people are grass.
8
The grass withers, the flower fades;
but the word of our God will stand forever.

People are compared with the grasses of the field not because life is short, but because we are fickle. Perhaps fickle is too soft a word; we are unfaithful.

The word translated here as ‘constancy’ is the word ordinarily translated as ‘steadfast love.’ The underlying Hebrew word is ‘hesed’, a word that normally refers to God’s faithfulness to his covenant relationship. A lot of different words get used to translate this term when it shows up in scripture: kindness, mercy, goodness – but the core is the favor and kindness that flows from God’s faithfulness to his people.

It is uncomfortable to see the word here in God’s description of humanity. Life may be all too brief, but it is our faithfulness to God that is like the grass: springing up in the showers of spring, but fading rapidly in summer.

It’s a hard truth to admit. But God mentions it here not to judge or condemn; God mentions it in order to make clear the wonder of his goodness. Our love fades, but God’s love endures forever. We are led astray by fear and desire, but God’s promise stands firm. We betray God and one another, but God does not betray us. We stumble and fall, but God’s promise stands.

When the prophet declares: “the word of our God will stand forever” he is not speaking about the infallibility of the written text; he is singing of the reliability of the promise speaker. He is not claiming that nothing changes – indeed everything has changed, for God is doing a new thing. But God has not changed: God’s steadfast love abides. This remarkable, faithful, merciful God is coming to his people and opening the path that leads home from exile.

The journey home is a profound image. Even when our home was a place to flee, the idea of a homeward journey remains potent. It is a journey to what we all know home should be: a place of welcome, of safety, of warm embrace. It is a journey to our belonging. It is a journey to reconciliation and peace. It is a journey to all things made whole.

“’Comfort, O Comfort my people,’ says your God. ‘Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended…’”(RSV) The ‘term of service’ (NRSV) is her conscription in the armed forces. Her tour of duty is over. Her time on the battlefield is finished. Once more God is making a road through the wilderness. God is bringing us home from every exile.

Everlasting joy

Thursday

Isaiah 51

File:Happy face makes us happy.jpg

by Meghana Kulkarni from Pune, India

11 “The ransomed of the Lord shall return,
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain joy and gladness,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

In the song of the prophet proclaiming the return from exile we hear the song of all creation looking to the day of our redemption: the day when every marching army is disbanded, when every hate-filled voice runs out of words, when every angry passion is stilled; the day when every table has food to share, and every family overflows with kindness; the day when the name of God is invoked with joy rather than venom and lies; the day when children are safe and neighborhoods are safe and nations are safe; the day when our exile from the garden is over and perfect reconciliation reigns.

No more tears. No more weeping from hunger. No more weeping from fear. No more weeping for stolen children. No more weeping from bitter words.

No more shall the creation groan in travail.   No more shall it long for God’s children to become true children of God.

No more shall the holy be profaned, and the profane be regarded as holy.

We shall come to Zion. We shall come to the city of God. We shall come to the place where heaven and earth are joined. The New Jerusalem is described in Revelation as a vast perfect cube – thousands of miles on a side. A perfect cube, like the holy of holies, the most holy place of the temple. Humanity gathered shall be the sacred abiding place of God.

We shall come to Zion with singing. Our exile is over. God has come in the child of Bethlehem. In the man from Nazareth. In the risen and ascended Lord. In the Holy Spirit outpoured. God has done more than reach across time and eternity; he has traveled across it to dwell with us, to lead us to Zion with singing. Our exile is over. We can go home.

I love Thanksgiving. I love the family gatherings. I love the aroma of roasting turkey and homemade bread. I love the taste of gravy and mashed potatoes and the laughter of memory and story and wine freely poured. I love the football game (though today’s late game was painful) and the noise of children and the clacking of the old hockey game with the twirling men on the end of those sliding metal rods.

I know that not every family’s Thanksgiving is a day of joy – there are scars and fractures and immoderate words – and that even our best thanksgiving gatherings cannot escape the occasional sight or sound of bitter wounds. But that to which Thanksgiving aspires has been promised to us: “the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.”

And in the joy of that day we find our true freedom and life.