For many people, place is sacred. On macro and micro contexts, place is very important to most of us. From the rampant and sometimes troubling patriotism we witness in our country to the pride one takes in their neighborhood, we can see that place is significant emotionally, psychologically and spiritually.
The significance of place was most apparent when we lived in Bozeman, Montana. In a state with more cows than people, Montanans expressed their pride through their personalized license plates, their love it or leave it attitude and sometimes a downright rudeness towards outsiders, especially Californians, who were personally responsible for the inflation of house pricing and global warming. Quite literally, I heard someone say once that the reasons there was less snow in the Gallatin Valley was because of all the outsiders moving in.
I often referred to Bozeman as a place with competing realities. On the one hand, Bozeman had its tried and true, rugged individualistic, born and raised Montanans. These were the people that wouldn’t allow you to complain about the weather. These were the people who questioned my judgment and commitment to God when I suggested cancelling a church retreat because the weekend forecast high temperatures were -20 degrees.
Bozeman was also full of transplants that moved to Montana to escape the traffic, the freeways and the non-stop lifestyle. They loved Bozeman because of what it wasn’t. The loved Bozeman because it was an escape from other places, long ruined by freeways and skyscrapers.
And then there were the celebrities, movie producers, actors and actresses and professional sports players who bought up acres of land to build ranches and compounds—who came to town to shop at the Co-op where everyone would pretend not to notice them.
And then there were a few religious cults on the outskirts of the city, who sought out Montana because it provided a kind of disappearing act, no one was watching them in Montana and when they came to town to shop at the Co-op, everyone would pretend not to notice them.
The place was sacred and holy to many people, for many different reasons.
Consider the Keep Portland Weird campaign, a manifestation of the same kind of city pride that creates a communal identity.
Corvallis holds on to a kind of city pride of being a very livable, small city, a city that resists corporate interest and big growth, a city that manifests its pride through some of the most stringent zoning codes and permit processes. Corvallis is a city that takes a great sense of pride in keeping things small, keeping things local and keeping things livable. Yet, Corvallis is still trying to determine how we feel about other people noticing how great we are. If I were creating a slogan for this place, it might read: “Corvallis, the best city Oregon, but shhh, don’t tell anyone else.”
Place is sacred. Place is sacred because it gives us a sense of meaning in our lives, it connects us with a reality that is not really about the physical space at all, but an ethos. This ethos (or cultural identity) is found in the physical space such as the boundaries of the rivers and being able to names the peaks and mountains, but it is also about the meaning we ascribe to it. Corvallis, Portland, Bozeman—these are physical spaces that refer to geographical boundaries, but represent something much larger, something emotional and spiritual. Place is sacred.
Our stage in Scripture opens today on the city of Zion, a city in trouble, a city destined for destruction. There is perhaps no other place in the story of Scripture more important than Zion, with more weight and significance than the beautiful city of Zion.
Zion is a word that literally means fortress or citadel. Like many cities in antiquity, Zion was the center of the city, fortified by walls and armies, to keep people from destroying the capital. For the Hebrew people, that fortress, that citadel, that Zion was the Temple of God, Zion was fortified by walls, by guards and by the Almighty God. Zion is often interchanged with the city of Jerusalem, but is beyond Jerusalem. Zion is a place the signifies the supremacy of a chosen people, chosen by God, chosen to inherit this land called Israel, with Zion being at the center of all of it. The psalmist David sings about beautiful, beautiful Zion. A city of God! In times of foreign occupation or exile, then the story of returning to Zion represents a time when their place is restored, when their place becomes theirs again.
The adamant and insistent Jewish community who claim all of Israel as divinely theirs are often referred to as Zionists. Their philosophy of Zionism has been denounced as “racist, exclusionary and devastating” by a group of Presbyterians, who advocate for peace and prosperity in the land of Israel. Zionism and Zionistic thought is an academic field in of its own, one that would take much more than the time we have here to explain. It has everything to do with religious values, but often has to do with so much more. Zionism begins with this idea that place is sacred, something to live for, something to fight for, something to die for. Zionism, unfortunetly, is often equated with extremism, delusion and fundamentalism.
But if we stay with Scripture, we will get to a promise of restoration, but we have to wait until next week. For now, there is a story and a warning—as we read the words of Isaiah, we may be tempted to hear words of judgment and condemnation, but I believe if we read closely, we hear grief. Isaiah is grieving the loss of a nation not yet lost. The beauty and pain of a prophet is the ability to forecast the future.
The complexity of the story of Zion is fascinating, because it represents both a place and an idea, both a past and a future. Both a powerful nostalgia and a utopian future. Zion was a place where the Temple was, a time when the Hebrew people experienced great joy under the time of King David and King Solomon and tells a story of hope for restoration and reconciliation, it is a story of a rebuilding, but is a story of God becoming real once again to a people of the promise.
Then it hit me—the story of Zion is the story of…the church!
And then I ran across this story in the book of Hebrews, a letter that Paul writing to the early Jewish Christians, Hebrews 12.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us (12:1)
12 So take a new grip with your tired hands and strengthen your weak knees.13 Mark out a straight path for your feet so that those who are weak and lame will not fall but become strong.
14 Work at living in peace with everyone, and work at living a holy life, for those who are not holy will not see the Lord. 15 Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God. Watch out that no poisonous root of bitterness grows up to trouble you, corrupting many. 16 Make sure that no one is immoral or godless like Esau, who traded his birthright as the firstborn son for a single meal. 17 You know that afterward, when he wanted his father’s blessing, he was rejected. It was too late for repentance, even though he begged with bitter tears.
18 You have not come to a physical mountain,[h] to a place of flaming fire, darkness, gloom, and whirlwind, as the Israelites did at Mount Sinai. 19 For they heard an awesome trumpet blast and a voice so terrible that they begged God to stop speaking. 20 They staggered back under God’s command: “If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned to death.”[i]21 Moses himself was so frightened at the sight that he said, “I am terrified and trembling.”[j]
22 No, you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to countless thousands of angels in a joyful gathering. 23 You have come to the assembly of God’s firstborn children, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God himself, who is the judge over all things. You have come to the spirits of the righteous ones in heaven who have now been made perfect. 24 You have come to Jesus, the one who mediates the new covenant between God and people, and to the sprinkled blood, which speaks of forgiveness instead of crying out for vengeance like the blood of Abel.
25 Be careful that you do not refuse to listen to the One who is speaking. For if the people of Israel did not escape when they refused to listen to Moses, the earthly messenger, we will certainly not escape if we reject the One who speaks to us from heaven! 26 When God spoke from Mount Sinai his voice shook the earth, but now he makes another promise: “Once again I will shake not only the earth but the heavens also.”[k] 27 This means that all of creation will be shaken and removed, so that only unshakable things will remain.
28 Since we are receiving a Kingdom that is unshakable, let us be thankful and please God by worshiping him with holy fear and awe.
(12:22-28)
And then I ran across this gem in John 4, where Jesus is talking to the woman at the well.
21 Jesus replied, “Believe me, dear woman, the time is coming when it will no longer matter whether you worship God on this mountain or in Jerusalem. 22 You Samaritans know very little about the one you worship, while we Jews know all about him, for salvation comes through the Jews.23 But the time is coming—indeed it’s here now—when true worshipers will worship God in spirit and in truth. God is looking for those who worship that way. (John (4:21-23)
Then, I began to see the foolishness of so many pastor’s battles who argued that the church is not the building or the steeple, but the people. Remember the children’s finger game? Here’s the church, here’s the steeple, open the doors and see all the ….
But truthfully, this place, this building, these walls, are a powerful memory of the past. Some of you have watched children grow up here, others of you got married here, some of you buried your loved ones and prayed over their bodies right here. The church is this place, is this sanctuary, is this history and it is so much more. Others of you found solace in this building despite being rejected in one that looked much like. The church is the story we tell when walk out of here, it is the place we come to breathe when we are all out of breath. It is the sanctuary for our souls when the weight of the world is crushing in on us. And it is a promise for future generations as we keep on saying, “You are welcome here, this is the body of Christ, his life poured out, for you.”
This is Zion. This is the promise fulfilled and the promise yet to come. And it is a gift that is uniquely ours, but also not ours. We are building, repairing, loving, sitting in a space that human hands built, but where God resides, a place where we claim ownership, but truthfully belongs to all those people who are outside these four walls. It is God’s space, where the love of God becomes real as we sing the songs, prepare our meals, live our lives in spirit and truth.
There are political implications of using the word Zion to describe the church, implications I’m not willing to associate myself with. The story the though of Isaiah is a story of with broad implications as we seek to understand our own Christian story. As I have said before, I am not certain that Isaiah is talking about Jesus of Nazareth, born some 800 years later, but it certain that Jesus is listening to the words of Isaiah as he proclaims and presents his vision for the world.
Our Bibles are divided into two testaments. There is often this misunderstanding and inaccurate characterization of the Old (or Hebrew) Testament as a story of judgmental and wrathful God and the story of the New (or Christian) Testament as the story of love and peace. The truth is we can “prooftext” and take out of context stories of judgment, fear, wrath, anger and love, grace, peace and forgiveness from both Testaments.
Here’s the thing: we have to look at the complete picture of the Bible. The scripture story begins thousands of years ago, as stories told over a campfire long before they were written down, songs sung in the Temple, laws memorized by rabbis, prophecies preached on street corners, correspondence between churches. I believe the big picture of Scripture is not Old versus New, nor is it judgment versus love. The story then is about the story of God expanding and contracting. Another way to consider it is the story of God broadening and narrowing. Consider the following:
The story of God in the lens of Scripture is a story that begins big, a story of a God who loves the world, who creates the heavens and the earth and proclaims, “It is all good.” As the Hebrew Bible find themselves in this story, it begins to sharpen and come into focus for them, the tantamount even being the Exodus story, deliverance from slavery into a desert and eventually into a promised land. But there is hope, because a careful read of the story, we will see that in their Exodus there were God fearing Jews, but many outside the tradition that came with them. As their community grew and rose in power, the vision of God became narrower and quite literally put in a box, the Arc of the Covenant and later the Temple of God quite literally becomes an attempt to create a residence for God. As the prophets like Isaiah and Micah begin to understand God, they begin to understand that this narrowing is inadequate, God is much bigger and the mystery of God cannot be contained that easily. The next chapter is Jesus, who tells the story of love, one that is far reaching, far expanding, far broadening of the story. And here is where the story takes a dramatic turn, the death and resurrection of Jesus creates a paradigmatic shift. All of the sudden, God is nowhere, but God is everywhere. “You are the body of Christ,” the apostle Paul says, “each one of you is a part of it.” At the time of the early church in the 1st century, the diversity and broadness of God was exploding. The story of God was being told in many place, through many lenses, all telling a slightly different story that often corresponded with cultural identities.
Over time, the institutional church, other religions, political parties, kings and queens have all done their part to try once again narrow the story of God.
But here’s the exciting part, I believe the world is waking up to the big picture, the big story of God, the expansive worldview that takes into account the many stories and shapes of God in our worldview. Exclusive worldviews are no longer in style and extremism is seen as dangerous. The broad, wide circle of God is a story that we are beginning to hear once again, a story that includes all of creation, both the heavens and the earth, both humanity and nature. We must celebrate the story of God, in its broadest and fullest reality. The truth is, we can no longer contain God in a box, we cannot be the sole bearers of the truth. And I believe this is one of the most exciting times in history. We have never lived in a time like the one we live in before, and I believe our church is at the cutting edge of a spiritual evolution that welcomes and celebrates all of God’s children. We have access to information, resources, people, places and spiritual wisdom from around the globe. Instead of narrowing the vision of God, we could and must broaden that vision.
The beautiful city of God may be closer than we think.
I want to leave you with words from Marcus Borg, who passed away this week, someone who for me taught me about this ever expanding vision of God and Christianity. He tells the story of Christianity as the home we come home to. In his book, The Heart of Christianity he tells the story of faith being our home. He articulates the Christian faith as a home:
We do not need to feel our home is superior to every other home in order to love it. Home is about more than familiarity and comfort. We sometimes sentimentalize home. “I’ll be home for Christmas,” “There’s no place like home for the holidays,” “Home, sweet home.” Home is that. But home is also about growing up, about maturation, about learning and living a way of life; that is its heart. To be Christian means living “the path withing this tradition. As the heart of Christianity is the way of the heart—a path that transforms us at the deepest level of our being. At the heart of Christianity is the heart of God—a passion for our transformation and the transformation of the world. At the heart of Christianity is participating in the passion of God.” (The Heart of Christianity. Marcus Borg, pp 224-225)
AMEN.
