The kingdom was strong. Solomon had been chosen by his father to rule.
His rivals were killed. Peace was at hand. The new king at first
remained faithful. Like David, he remembered how small is a man in
comparison with God. Later Solomon drifted away from Yahweh, consumed
Something was missing that the people had long awaited. The house of
the Lord. A place of worship. It took years and much expense.
Solomon built a great temple and called humbly upon God to dwell within.
The stones given to Moses were placed under the angel's wings. Here
the people gathered to pray, sacrifice, and sometimes shout for joy.
The rituals recalled God's covenant and boundless love. When the temple was
destroyed by their enemies, they grieved.
God, where do you dwell? You tell us to gather. Roll out
of bed and head for the place of rest. Pick up those who need a ride.
Don't worry about the weather. We are too much alone, especially those
who are always busy. Come to worship and shout for joy. We drag stones,
enemies, children, lovers, jobs, pain, and desire. Place them in the
sacred space under the angel's wings. Breathe in the word. Take
your flesh upon my tongue. Let my neighbor touch me kindly. You
dwell in our midst.
God, you come in the midnight hours, in the homework hours, around the kitchen
table, over the back fence, in meetings, on picket lines, tiptoeing past
sour colleagues, mourning our dead. Stretched out on the picnic table
to scan the sky for shooting stars. You come in clouds and in clear skies.
We reach out for healing. You have a way of finding us.