02 August 2020

Sermon, Pentecost +7 (A)

         The scriptures this morning take us on a bit of a journey - a literal and spiritual one, at times!

         Jacob - back in Genesis - yes, this is ankle-grabbing/over-reaching/master Chef Jacob has left Beer-Sheba (meaning well of the oath - highlighting both water and the covenant - this is the place where his family is, and he's going as his father Isaac has blessed him and directed him to find a wife form his cousin Laban).

         And he heads some 500miles for Haran (meaning a parched land - it's the ancestral home, where Esau - who has just retaliated by taking Ishmael's daughter - his father's niece - as another wife). Yes, more family drama. Anyway! Jacob is barely out of Beer-Sheba when he stops "at a certain place" - this is traditionally understood to be Mount Moriah, which will be the future home of the Temple.

         Now - he stops there, because he knows that the family has always stopped there to pray. It's open, undisturbed, a safe space where you have full vantage points on all sides. Wide open desert. So he stops there, near the village called Luz, and immediately - almost supernaturally - it's sunset.

         Some interpretations highlight the spiritual significance of this - most travelers know when it's going to get dark, and avoid being out unprotected - but alas, there he is; so stone pillow it is. Dusty bed. Not comfy; but he's got no other options.

         And BAM. The dream of the ladder - more likely a ramp, really, definitely not a staircase as most modern art depicts it. But a connection piece between two realms; not a literal stairway to the clouds, but the basic depiction that Jacob could understand.

         And heavenly messages are going up and down - for that's what angel means - aggelos - messenger. These are divine carriers of messages - transporting casually and comfortably between this realm and the next.

         Lovely, yes? Comfortable. Peaceful.

It's like they knew it well - for they were always there. That's their patch, as it were - this hidden information highway ...

that connects to:

nowhere.

         The middle of nowhere, in fact. A dusty field, where waylaid travelers can't even find a hut or a shed, but sleep on the dirt with a stone as a pillow.

         Hmm. Weird, yes? But this is not some divine error or oversight in the geography: quite the opposite, in fact.

         Because Jacob - like so many of us - is accustomed to going from one city to the next: one destination to another. And he overlooks the journey: the in-between, the unattractive, the dusty normal land.

         Yet: in the unremarkable - Jacob sees the remarkable.

And - not only this - but he is promised that he will have this land! This dusty, uninhabited, unimpressive piece of terra firma - as though God was going to fold it up like a blanket and stuff it in his carry bag.

         And how else could one respond to that vision, that revealing, than to make such a declaration: How awesome is this place!

         Immediately, the name Beth-El comes out the House of God.

         Now, this seems unlikely for us, in the here and the now. In our communities where we associate 'church' with a particular time and space - that the House of God - BethEl - would be a vacant, dusty field.

         That the place where God would reveal a constant and comfortable covenantal connection would be - not in the midst of the city, with glory and lights and hundreds of witnesses - but with Jacob alone, humble, vulnerable, transient.

         Yet. There it is. Jacob is given the gift of knowledge of God's constant presence - and holy messengers active in his life - that are happening regardless of where he is, or what time it is, or what he has to offer.

         And what a message it is: that God wants Jacob to know that the connection between heaven and earth is truly a relationship - a continual interchange between realms. A celebration of knowing and being known; of speaking and listening; of giving and receiving.

What a gift to recognise the House of Prayer in worship, Word, and sacrament! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         It's the message of the Psalms, where the person praying knows the intimate nature between themselves and God - as though God has a permanent highway to the very centre of their being. So whether in the busy times or the spiritual deserts, God is there - comforting, communicating, blessing - knowing.

What a gift to be known by God! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         It's the message of the epistle, then, too - as Paul highlights the significance of being part of the family of God. Adopted. Chosen. Intentionally selected; permanently. Loved. Wanted. Known. Eternally hope-filled: knowing that the connection - like an unseen ladder - remains in the relationship.

What a gift to be chosen by God! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         It's the message of the Gospels, too, where Jesus assures his friends that nothing - nothing - is ever all good or all evil. Even themselves; and in the reality of this world: there will be times when they - WE - can be tainted by the one who sows discord and nastiness and invites us to turn from God. Yet: they are to not worry about what "weeding out" needs to happen, as God trusts them to support the wheat - the spiritual growth in the world - the righteous - the believers in the Kingdom - until the messengers appear again to do that weeding.

What a gift to be trusted by God! What a gift to share the blessing.

 

         So here we have our own opportunity - to look around US. To examine our lives - our homes - our ministries. To pause and really take in the Good News:

That we are known - intimately - fro the time we were knit together and loved into being.

We are chosen - as heirs - as family - as loved into relationship.

We are entrusted - not to judge but to focus on our own growth; to reject the forces of evil

         And we are welcomed: to the House of God. To beth-el; to the place where a stone pillow becomes an anointed pillar of prayer; to a dusty nowhere that becomes sacred ground; to a place where the dust is not to be shaken form the feet but embraced as a heavenly symbol of abundance.

         For from the dust come descendents; from the dust came our creation; from the dust comes the growing wheat.

         And even in our dust - the messy, ordinary reality of our lives, we can declare wherever we are and whenever we pray:

 Surely God is in this place.

 


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