The God You Meet - June 10, 2007
Galatians 1: 11-24, I Kings 17: 8-24I have a confession to make: when the whole world was getting all excited about the novel The DaVinci Code, I was in seminary, and didn’t really have time for reading much fiction. I was reading an average of 100 pages a day of academic ‘literature’, and felt as if a novel would be a frivolous use of my precious time. I was marginally aware that all around me book groups were discussing the book, television shows were asking the question: Is it true?
But I happily avoided the controversy, until the church at which I worshipped announced that a local scholar would be preaching at an upcoming worship service, using Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code as his text. Knowing that I could squeeze Sunday morning worship in to my tight schedule I thought to myself, “Now I can see what all the fuss is about.”
I was disappointed in the sermon, and walked away not only not knowing much about the book, but wondering why in the world someone would want to preach about it. The fact that Jesus is mentioned does not necessarily make a thing religious, in my jaded eyes.
The furor died down somewhat, and I put the whole matter out of my head, not really thinking about The DaVinci Code for a few years. Then this week the film popped up on a movie channel that we subscribe to (but seldom watch) and Pete recorded it on our DVR, and I agreed to watch it with him, just to really, for once for all, see what the fuss is all about. I will admit that part of what motivated me to watch it is that I know that certain parts of the story line really tweak some fundamentalist groups, and sometimes I have a slightly irreverent curiosity about whatever tweaks those groups.
So, now I’m part of that big group of Westerners who know the story of the DaVinci Code. And I’m still perplexed at what some religious groups find so awful, so sacrilegious, in the story. I don’t know if it is good theology—it probably isn’t—I was so amazed that the lead female character, played by Audrey Tatou, was able to tramp all round Europe over the course of a couple of days wearing high heels and a skirt and looked pretty fabulous doing it. I guess that’s Hollywood magic.
There was a moment, however, at the very end of the film that made the 2.5 hours somewhat worth it. The male lead played (as everyone knows) by Tom Hanks figures out the code in the final moments of the film. Everyone else believes that the code has led to a dead end, but he figures it out, and he goes to the place that the code tells him to go to, and he has a sacred moment there. It is as if his whole life has led up to him meeting God in this place, even though to some the fact that this place exists shakes the very ground of their faith. Did I say a few minutes ago that I wondered why anyone would use The DaVinci Code as a preaching text?
I began this week determined to preach about the audacity of God. I was led there by this story in 1Kings. Simply put, there are details of this story that trouble me. I’ve been trained to go with those instincts, to go down rabbit trails whenever something in a text peaks my interest or makes me ask questions, or acts as a pebble in my preaching shoe.
Elijah’s sudden appearance on the scene troubles me. The fact that earlier in this chapter of 1Kings he comes out of nowhere, pronounces a drought on Israel—a drought which will no doubt cause a chink in the armor of the very bad king Ahab, who is really just a crummy king in a long line of crummy kings—a drought which will also kill many innocent people as well. God protects Elijah by making sure he has a safe place to hide out after pronouncing the drought—a place with water to drink and ravens to eat. How convenient.
In the very next scene, Elijah meets a poor widow (which is really a redundancy, since all widows were poor) and asks of her a drink of water. I want the widow to tell Elijah where he can put his glass of water, but that’s not how the Bible works. Instead she goes off to fetch his water and as she does he calls out after her, “Could you bring me something to eat, while you’re at it?”
That is some audacious representation of God’s prophet, isn’t it? God’s got some nerve sending this person to turn Israel around, to change the course set by crummy king after crummy king. It is certainly not the God the widow expected to meet. We can understand her reluctance to get close to this prophet, can’t we?
Back in the 70s and early 80s there seemed to be a proliferation of televangelists who seemed to me to prey on vulnerable older people sitting at home hoping for a miracle. I’m sure that like me you heard stories of widows sending in their disability checks to these television preachers in the hopes of getting a “genuine blessed prayer hankie” or some other tchotchky in the last ditch hope that such an item would bring the almost promised—certainly implied—blessing of health or security or peace of mind. I remember feeling outraged when I heard those stories of the powerful taking advantage of the vulnerable. So I hope God will forgive me if I feel a little bothered by this part of the story of 1Kings. This is not really the God I want to believe in.
But I find that if I get tangled up in the details for too long, I might miss out on what else happens. What happens next is a story of abundance—of a jar of flour where there once was none, of oil that never runs out. It is the story of God showing up where God was needed, in the guise of a prophet we have reason to be skeptical about.
Just because God has shown up in the widow’s life does not mean that suddenly things are easy. They are well fed in the middle of a drought, but then the son becomes ill enough to be thought dead. Flour and oil are one thing—what will Elijah’s God do in the face of death?
Just like I knew that the DaVinci Code would end with somebody figuring out the code—otherwise the story would not make sense—we know deep down when we begin to hear this story that the son will survive. We are willing to overlook the audacity of a God who would take a widow’s last handful of food and give it to a well-fed prophet with a belly full of raven meat, if we can just get to the part where the son gets to live. That’s the God we want to encounter. That’s the happy ending we are rooting for. And we are rewarded with it, but not before we slog through all the rest of it.
It seems as if this Christian life we are called to live is a series of these vignettes, of slogging through some times to get to the sweet moments when we are looking at God face-to-face, caught off guard that God has shown up seemingly unannounced. In being willing to suffer a little righteous indignation once in a while, but by sticking with it nonetheless we are able to be present in that wonderful moment when the prophet, just after being insulted by a heart-broken mother, carries the son upstairs to his room, placing himself right on the sick boy—his hands on the boy’s hands, his face on the boy’s face, getting as close to the boy as his own breath, and meeting God there.
Sometimes maybe we give up too easily. Maybe the daily injuries and upsets (that are really honestly trying to us and would be to any reasonable person) stall us in our journey to the point that we don’t stick around to see how the story ends. God’s story with God’s people is a very long history, and we are smack in the middle of it. What makes the story beautiful, and worth sticking around to see how it ends, is that God keeps showing up. Sometimes God will ask of us that which we don’t really think we can spare. Sometimes we will see injustice right before us, and we will be sorely tempted to just take ourselves out of the story out of a sense of righteous indignation. Sometimes God will be right in front of us disguised as someone else—someone we never could have imagined as God. Sometimes God is in the details—a garden, a flood, a baby in the bulrushes, a Passover, a prophet, a manger, a temple, a cross, an empty grave. And sometimes to see God we must make a concerted effort to see beyond the details.
And sometimes God will be as near to us as our own breath, stretched out for us palm-to-palm and toe-to-toe. And that, my brothers and sisters is worth sticking around for. Thanks be to God!
