Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Dance Like No One Is Watching” 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19
In his first letter to Timothy, the Apostle Paul described God as eternal, immortal, and invisible, beyond the full understanding of us, mere mortals. Yet, we have all had moments when we have sensed that we are truly in the presence of the holy. During my first year in seminary, I often worshipped at the Rockefeller Chapel of the University of Chicago. The chapel is more cathedral than church, a cavernous stone space with soaring gothic architecture and somber-hued stained glass in shades of grey, blue, and purple. High above the chancel, though, is the “Light and Fire” window, a dazzling multi-colored stained-glass window, a gift of the class of 1928. Five tongues of flame surge forth from a swirling center of white and yellow, which seems to pulse against a sea of blues. To me, it looked like the moment that God sent creation hurtling across the multiverse with a big bang, or perhaps the burning bush that beckoned to Moses, or the light of Pentecost breaking forth upon waiting disciples. It invited me to a place of reverent awe, to a glimpse of the creator who lies both within and beyond creation.
I know some of you have similarly sensed the holy in creativity. You have been drawn into deep contemplation by Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling where the hand of God reaches forth to the waking Adam. Or, you have heard the voice of angels while listening Bach’s St. Matthew Passion in the heart-rending aria “Lord, Have Mercy on Me,” Erbarma Dich.
For others, the nearness of God is sensed in family and human connection. We know there is a God in the wonder of love and the mystery of two made one, who somehow become so much more. We marvel at the numinous in the birth of a baby or the sweet scent of our child’s neck when they reach up to embrace us as we tuck them into bed. We feel something holy when all the generations gather at the holiday dinner table and harmony abounds.
For many of us who call the Adirondacks home, we know the Creator in the creation. As I was writing this message, I looked out the window of my home study to see birch leaves rippling in the summer breeze and a blue heron flying above, wide wings languidly moving, long legs trailing elegantly behind. Praise the Lord. We have glimpsed God on the mountaintop with the Cascade chain of lakes stretched out at our feet, or while paddling our canoes on still waters to the scold of the kingfisher, or while pulling over to watch the sunset’s ebb over Lake Colby.
We may even feel the presence of God right here, in these pews that curve like an embrace. We feel the nearness of God in the sharing of joys and concerns and the offering of prayers. We sense God’s love in the love of a church family that blesses us with compassion in grief and hot meals in times of recovery. We know the faithfulness of God in the remembrance of those who have sat in these pews long before us and in the anticipation of those who will one day follow us.
God is, indeed, eternal, immortal, and invisible, beyond the full understanding of us, mere mortals. Yet we are not strangers to the holy. We all have stories that we could tell.
For our Israelite ancestors, God was known in the Ark of the Covenant. Built in accordance with the instructions that God imparted to Moses on Mt. Sinai, the ark was an acacia wood box, overlaid with finely wrought gold, that held the stone tablets of the Ten Commandments (Ex. 37:1-9). It was topped by the mercy seat – two golden cherubim with wings outstretched to meet in the middle. There, the Israelites believed, the eternal, immortal, and invisible God was enthroned.
The ark traveled with the Hebrew people through the wilderness, led them over Jordan, and circled the walls of Jericho until they came tumbling down. The ark was carried into battle, unleashing destructive power against the enemies of Israel. So powerful was the ark that, when it was captured by the Philistines, it continued to fight—unleashing a wave of plague so merciless that the Philistines gave the ark back. As peace found Israel, the ark’s military adventures came to an end, and it rested in a tent sanctuary, all but forgotten by the people.
David had ruled the united tribes for seven years. Together, they had finally won a decisive battle against the Philistines and were acknowledged as a growing military and economic power on the stage of the ancient Near East. The crafty David had forged alliances by adding wives and concubines to his growing royal retinue. He had fathered seventeen sons, and we’ll never know how many daughters. The City of David, Jerusalem, shone as a light on a hill, a symbol of just how far those former slaves had come since leaving behind the bondage of Egypt.
Today’s reading gives us a feeling for the gratitude that David felt. On the threshold of middle age, David took stock of his rise from youngest son and shepherd boy to the leader of a mighty nation. David knew that he had God to thank. And in a moment of deep spiritual understanding, David realized that the Ark of the Covenant must be at the center of the life of Israel. Only the ark could be a visible reminder that all they had and all that they were as a nation came from God alone, eternal, immortal, invisible, omnipotent.
So, David traded his royal robes for the simple linen ephod (loin cloth) of the humblest of priests, and he led the people in an ecstatic rite of worship to bring the Ark of the Covenant from the forgotten margins of history to the very heart of the nation. With gratitude and awe, David poured out his soul, lifting his voice in song and allowing his feet to find the rhythm of praise. Soon, all of Israel followed along in a dizzying parade of thanksgiving. The blood of sacrifice was poured out, in seemingly endless libation. It was a scandalous, over-the-top, decadent display, so impassioned that it made the queen blush when, ten miles into the parade, she saw her battle-scarred husband, sweat-soaked, blood-spattered, nearly-naked, hobbling along and croaking songs of praise. The scripture says that everyone got blessed and fed. They returned to their homes remembering the goodness of God and the rightness of their thanks and praise.
We no longer have the Ark of the Covenant at the center of Jerusalem as a reminder of all that God has done for us. Some say it was carried off in the Babylonian invasion, when the Lord left Israel to the consequence of their sin and disobedience. Others say that it was hidden by priests somewhere, deep below the holy city and will one day be unearthed. Fans of Indiana Jones winkingly argue that the ark is in permanent storage, crated and long-forgotten in a government warehouse. Our assurance that God is with us no longer comes from the ark. It’s found in our Lord Jesus, who promised his disciples that he would always be with us, even to the end of time. It’s found in the Holy Spirit, who fills us with the sacred awareness that allows us to see beyond the ordinary to the extraordinary.
David’s story is a powerful reminder to remember that all we have and all we are is a gift from God. The almighty, eternal, immortal, invisible, and only wise God is everywhere and all the time. God continues to claim God’s place at the center of our hearts and our lives. Our ancestors in the Reformed Faith affirmed this in 1648, when they wrote the first question and answer to the Westminster Shorter Catechism, “What is the chief end of humanity? Our chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy God forever.” Indeed, the Reformers saw in our worship, here and now, a dim anticipation of the endless rejoicing that we will one day know in that far brighter light, on that far better shore.
May we hear David’s invitation to praise and give thanks for all that the Lord has done for us. We don’t have to strip down to our linen ephod. We don’t have to dance like no one is watching. We don’t have to sing ourselves hoarse. We don’t have to offer up bloody sacrifices. We don’t have to scandalize the neighbors.
Instead, we can take the time to notice, name, and rejoice in the goodness of God that finds us every day. We can shed tears of joy and reverence in listening to music that makes our spirit soar. We can hold the littlest member of the family close and dance around the living room. We can raise our arms at the mountain summit or the paddle’s end and wiggle our fingers in the jazz hands of joy or pump our fist in the acknowledgement of majesty. We can make a point of singing a daily doxology to the Lord, who sits enthroned upon the cherubim and finds a home in our hearts.
Let’s take time this week to praise and delight in the Lord, shifting God from the forgotten corners of our lives to the very center of our being, right where God belongs.
Resources
Richard Nysse. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 12, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary
Samuel Giere. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 15, 2018. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary
Amy G. Oden. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 11, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary
Klaus-Peter Adam. “Commentary on 2 Sam. 6:1-5, 12b-19” in Preaching This Week, July 14, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on 2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary
2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12b-19
6David again gathered all the chosen men of Israel, thirty thousand. 2David and all the people with him set out and went from Baale-judah, to bring up from there the ark of God, which is called by the name of the Lord of hosts who is enthroned on the cherubim. 3They carried the ark of God on a new cart, and brought it out of the house of Abinadab, which was on the hill. Uzzah and Ahio, the sons of Abinadab, were driving the new cart 4with the ark of God; and Ahio went in front of the ark. 5David and all the house of Israel were dancing before the Lord with all their might, with songs and lyres and harps and tambourines and castanets and cymbals. 12It was told King David, “The Lord has blessed the household of Obed-edom and all that belongs to him, because of the ark of God.” So, David went and brought up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom to the city of David with rejoicing; 13and when those who bore the ark of the Lord had gone six paces, he sacrificed an ox and a fatling. 14David danced before the Lord with all his might; David was girded with a linen ephod. 15So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet. 16As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal daughter of Saul looked out of the window and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart. 17They brought in the ark of the Lord, and set it in its place, inside the tent that David had pitched for it; and David offered burnt offerings and offerings of well-being before the Lord. 18When David had finished offering the burnt offerings and the offerings of well-being, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts, 19and distributed food among all the people, the whole multitude of Israel, both men and women, to each a cake of bread, a portion of meat, and a cake of raisins. Then all the people went back to their homes.
“Light and Fire,” Rockefeller Memorial Chapel, University of Chicago
Joann White 