Beauty in the Breakdown
Rev. Alison
Longstaff, March 16, 2014
Bath Church
of the New Jerusalem
2 Samuel 7:1-7, 11b -13, and Mark
13:1-8; HS 8165:2
(these readings are found at the end of the sermon)
In Swedenborgian
theology, we believe that the Bible contains the story of each person’s spiritual
journey from first awakening through to full enlightenment and integration.
You may already know
all this, being in George Dole’s congregation, but let me review it
anyway. It begins in Eden, a garden with
a tree of life and a big river, and all sorts of good fruits to eat. We begin
in a garden—a garden with only one way out and no going back once we leave—like
the womb, like the innocence of early childhood. There follows a lot of grief and bloodshed,
magic and miracles, mistakes and renewals in the middle of the story, and then
it ends in the Holy City, the New Jerusalem.
What a ride!
Now, the Hebrew
Testament describes our spiritual birth and childhood years. It then progresses
through our adolescent years, with our struggle to find identity and a
spiritual presence. Then it moves to the
more settled years of young adulthood, still with struggles and battles, but
with a “landed” identity. Then there is
a time of relative peace, (“relative”
is in italics) under King David. Finally
we reach a pinnacle in King Solomon—whose wisdom was renowned around the
world. King Solomon who had wealth and fame
and many, many wives.
I don’t know about
you, but in my upbringing, it was King Solomon’s reign that was the pinnacle of
the Hebrew Testament. He had ALL the
answers: “The wisdom of Solomon.” Solomon was IT. Solomon had arrived. In fact, after his
story, it is all rather down-hill, and nobody addressed that part in my
childhood. I guess the assumption was
that we would get to the Solomon
phase spiritually and not let things
all slide after that.
But if the Biblical
arc is the story of each person’s spiritual journey from first awakening
through to full enlightenment and integration, how can Solomon’s reign truly be
the pinnacle? If so, our spiritual story
is that we peak early, and then gradually become corrupted, broken, and
lost. And everything after that is an
attempt to regain what was lost and patch up what was broken. Well, that’s depressing! Maybe we need to take a deeper look. What else might Solomon’s story be
illustrating in the human psyche?
In our reading from 2
Samuel, we hear a conversation between God and King David. David is living in a stone and wood house,
and declares to God that he wants to build a stone and wood house for God
too. And what is God’s answer? Do you remember? God says, “I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up
out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place
with a tent as my dwelling. Wherever I have moved
with all the Israelites, did I ever say to any of their rulers
whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, ‘Why have you not
built me a house of cedar?'”
God’s response is
essentially, “No thank you. This whole
tent thing has really worked for me.” God
doesn't want a stone and wood house. He
does tell David that Solomon will build him a temple, but he never says he wants it, simply that that is what Solomon will do.
Think about it. When God’s house is a tent, it is right down
among the people. It travels to where it
is needed most. It is designed to be
taken down, moved, and set up again. It
is flexible. Soft. Not rigid.
It goes to the people where they are.
There is no security of place, perhaps, but in exchange for that
security, it moves, lives, and meets the people where they are. It is humble.
Once a temple is
built, the place of worship is well, literally
set in stone. From that moment on, the
practice of Israelitish worship changed profoundly. The priesthood no longer went to the people;
the people had to come to the priesthood.
Worshipers, no matter how far away they lived nor how poor they were, were
expected to travel to the temple location in southernmost Canaan to worship
“properly.” The center of worship no
longer moved around among the people according to God’s leadership, it was locked down to one place, and under the
priesthood’s leadership.
Because of this, worship
inevitably became about the place and the building itself, not about the
living, moving God. The temple itself and
its rituals became what was sacred. In
fact, when the temple was eventually torn down, the people no longer knew who
they were, nor how to follow God without
the temple. This is a common spiritual story,
yes? When we are sure we have IT—when we
think we have “arrived”—we stop learning. Religious certainty brings arrogance,
self-centeredness, spiritual laziness, and a disconnection from reliance on the
living God.
This inner shift happens
every time we let rituals and habits and external customs replace or serve as a
substitute for conscious, loving, attentive faith. It is when law takes over from gospel. It is
when formulaic answers take over from thoughtful reflection. It reflects the times and ways we get
attached to our traditions and “the way things have always been” and the
familiar comforting faces, and we stop hearing how God might be calling us to welcome
the stranger and be open to new spiritual life.
Physically and
metaphorically, stones provide security and power. Stones make great foundations. (And they are great for hurling at other
folks, though perhaps that is not what we are meant to do with them.) Stones are just what we need to keep from
being washed away in a flood or blown away in a wind-storm. But stones are not flexible. They are not easily moved. And they make lousy tents. They are like bones—essential for support,
but never meant to replace flexible, living muscles.
What follows almost
immediately upon completion of the Temple in the Biblical story arc is division,
corruption, breakdown and collapse, disintegration and death. The final stories in the Old Testament are
all about the loss of integrity in the Davidic line, the steady, systematic
destruction of the great kingdom of Israel, and the eventual exile of what was
left of the Israelitish nation into Babylon.
Bit by bit, Israel loses its center until finally the temple itself is
destroyed. We are left with stories of exile,
and pages and pages of prophetic wailing.
Psalm 137 “By
the rivers of Babylon, There we sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion.”
“Zion”
is a metaphor for Jerusalem, for the temple, and the whole land of Israel. In our personal lives Zion represents the
center of all in which we have built our trust.
The center of our hopes and dreams.
The center of our universe. Our
spiritual and emotional foundation. When
we place our trust in something that is not spiritual, it is inevitable that it
will let us down.
The building, the
grandeur, and the eventual fall of the temple hold a metaphor about our spiritual journey. It is the story of the destruction of
inflexible, non-inclusive spiritual
attitudes in the human race, and in each human heart. God allows
us to build these inflexible doctrines and beliefs in our hearts if we insist. We do love security! But God cannot allow us
to continue in such rigidity, or all that is truly spiritual in us will
die. Though the Hebrew Testament ends
here, it is not the end of the story. It
is time for a paradigm shift. In our
spiritual hearts, the stone temples we have built must fall in order to set the stage for “Jesus” to come. God incarnate, living, breathing, and walking
beside us with a voice and a heartbeat wants to enter our story. For the living God to come, the old and the
rigid must be broken down.
God never commands us
to build a “temple.” God prefers to live
in our hearts in a tent. It is we who crave the certainty, the
stability, and the … well, laziness
we can relax into once we set our beliefs in stone—once we make church about membership
standards or what people should
believe—about buildings and rules, about in and out, about the right people and
the wrong people. We do this. Humans do this with religion. It is so
comfortable! And individually, we all
tend to cycle through phases of this in our own journey as well. That is why this story is in the Bible. We don’t have to do this, but most of us do do this at some time or another.
We find this metaphor
even within our human bodies. Born soft
and full of cartilage, with skull bones that float over the surface of our
brains, we begin to harden from the moment of birth. We ossify.
Much of this is necessary, or we would be too vulnerable and our bones would
be too soft to support our weight when we stand. But we continue to stiffen and
become increasingly rigid if we do not steadily work at our fitness and
flexibility. Unless we make an effort,
we will relentlessly devolve into spiritual and physical gristle and bone.
Keeping our physical muscles
fully flexible means we must constantly work to break down the adhesions and
small strips of scar tissue that inevitably build up within them. The breakdown of those hardening tissues can
be pretty uncomfortable at times. But
the breakdown is necessary if we are to continue to choose a full and flexible life. (Can you tell I do yoga?) This is true
spiritually too. Individually and as a
congregation, it can sometimes be uncomfortable—it can even hurt a little—to do
the stretching and moving we need to do to stay vibrantly alive as a spiritual
community. What were once dreams too
easily settle into old patterns and habits.
Those old habits and patterns will get in the way of our growth if we do
not regularly reexamine, renew, and revitalize our traditions and practices,
attitudes and ideas.
In the face of any pain,
the human tendency is to clench and to resist, not relax. We often hold our breath. Letting go is the
last thing we feel inclined to do. But
whenever we can breathe more deeply and let go just a little, we find relief
and growth. A few more fibers ease
up. A joint creaks open another
fraction. In fact we find increasing
ease of movement and joy in living when we repeatedly expose ourselves to any
intentional growth discipline. Despite the occasional discomfort, it is SO good
for us to keep moving, be it through a yoga class or spiritual growth group,
through running or Bible Study, swimming or psychotherapy.
The breaking down of
our attachments can really hurt. But it
is necessary. And according to the
Bible, it is breaking ground for something better.
You see, the arc of
the Bible ends in the Holy City. It is a
city with twelve gates, all open wide, where everyone can enter and no one need
leave. And look! the tree of life is
right there in the center, and so is the River, and there are all sorts of
wonderful fruits to eat…. It is as if we
never really left Eden at all. Or maybe
Eden was the foretaste or promise of
what awaits us at the end of our journey. Maybe God has had a plan all along.
Are you struggling
with dying dreams and stiffening hopes? Just
let go. Breathe. Trust. God may be breaking down your dying
tissues so that you can live again. Remember,
the Temple must come down for Jesus to be born.
And the loss of Jesus leads to the Holy City. So just let go. You don’t need to know what
is being broken down nor what is coming next.
Just keep breathing. Keep showing
up, and keep letting go. There really is
beauty in the breakdown.
Revised
from a sermon preached Aug 22, 2010
When things go wrong, it's natural to wonder
What celestial rule did I break?
When things go right, it’s logical to ponder
What credit can I take?
But the truth is so much easier
I don't need a master plan
I can live here in the moment
'Cause my life is in good hands
(chorus)
I don't need to know where the wind blows
'Cause God knows
I don't need to know what the future holds
'Cause God knows
I need never know how pain ends
How my heart mends
I can just let go
'Cause God knows
But still I find I'm crying out for answers
Guess I'm still craving control
And still I find I'm afraid of taking chances
As if I could damage my soul
But at this moment, I remember
It comes so clear to me
That the minute I surrender
I'm as safe as I could be
(chorus)
The Readings
2 Samuel 7:1-7, 11b
-13
When King David was
settled in his palace and the Lord had
given him rest from all the surrounding enemies, 2 the
king summoned Nathan the prophet. “Look,” David said, “I am living in a
beautiful cedar palace, but the Ark of God is out there in a tent!”
3 Nathan replied to the king, “Go ahead and do
whatever you have in mind, for the Lord is
with you.”
4 But that same night the Lord said to Nathan,
5 “Go and tell my servant David, ‘This is what
the Lord has declared:
Are you the one to build a house for me to live in? 6 I
have never lived in a house, from the day I brought the Israelites out of Egypt
until this very day. I have always moved from one place to another with a tent
and a Tabernacle as my dwelling. 7 Yet no matter
where I have gone with the Israelites, I have never once complained to Israel’s
tribal leaders, the shepherds of my people Israel. I have never asked them,
“Why haven’t you built me a beautiful cedar house?”’
“‘Furthermore, the Lord declares that he will make a house for
you—a dynasty of kings! 12 For when you die and are buried with your
ancestors, I will raise up one of your descendants, your own offspring, and I
will make his kingdom strong. 13 He is the one who will build a house—a
temple—for my name. And I will secure his royal throne forever.
Mark 13: 1-8
13 As Jesus was leaving the Temple that day, one of
his disciples said, “Teacher, look at these magnificent buildings! Look at the
impressive stones in the walls.”
2 Jesus replied, “Yes, look at these great
buildings. But they will be completely demolished. Not one stone will be left
on top of another!”
3 Later, Jesus sat on the Mount of Olives across
the valley from the Temple. Peter, James, John, and Andrew came to him
privately and asked him, 4 “Tell us, when will all
this happen? What sign will show us that these things are about to be
fulfilled?”
5 Jesus replied, “Don’t let anyone mislead
you, 6 for many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I
am the Messiah.’ They will deceive many. 7 And
you will hear of wars and threats of wars, but don’t panic. Yes, these things
must take place, but the end won’t follow immediately. 8 Nation
will go to war against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be
earthquakes in many parts of the world, as well as famines. But this is only
the first of the birth pains, with more to come.
Heavenly Secrets 8165:2 Each
person's power is limited, and when temptation stretches you to the absolute
limit of your power, and you cannot stand up to anything further, you let go
and begin to fall. Only then, when you have let go and started to fall, can the
Lord catch you, lift you up, and deliver you from your despair. Frequently a
person is then brought into a clear state of hope and comfort, and even into a
state of bliss. Swedenborg,
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