august 16, 2009

Anna Blaedel
First UMC, Osage
08.16.09
Psalm 111
1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14

One Spring day, a young man, 29 years old, found himself walking outside, in the country. He saw the ocean of green in rolling hills and fields. He gazed at the blue dome of heaven, the expansive sky stretched over him. He saw the winding Avon River cutting through the green, flowing past the line of the horizon, into the blue of the sky. Overwhelmed with God’s creative brilliance, this young man sat down and scratched out a poem of thanksgiving. A song of gratitude for the beauty of the earth. When Folliot Sandford Pierpoint wrote the hymn we sang to open our time of worship this morning in 1864, he wrote one of the few hymns devoted purely to giving thanks. Folliot often mused that a strange thing about offering thanks and living in an “attitude of gratitude” is that we tend to exhibit it in reverse proportion to the number of blessings we receive. Sometimes, the more we have, the less thankful we are. He wanted to call attention to the beauty of the earth, the glory of the skies, for God’s love which from our birth over and around us lies.

The extraordinary poet Ralph Waldo Emerson invited us to imagine if the constellations of stars dotting the canvas of the night sky appeared only once in a thousand years, imagine what an exciting event it would be! But because they are there every night, we barely give them a look. How many of you have been slipping outside after dark to catch a glimpse of the Perseid meteor showers, radiating from the constellation Perseus, streaking through the sky? This annual meteor shower became visible sometime around July 17, but has been peaking these last few nights with as many as 80 meteors streaking the sky hourly. The view is stunning. The beauty, breathtaking. The heavens are telling the glory of God! And, a perfect form of entertainment in our current economic downturn—all that is required is the willingness to stop. To look. And to stand in awe. Being in the middle of nowhere helps. It begins by being willing to search for beauty. Being open to all that God offers. And then, by being willing to give thanks, for the goodness of God, the beauty of the earth, is already all around us.

Theologian Karl Barth wrote, “Gratitude is the precise creaturely counterpart to the grace of God.” Gratitude as prayer. Prayer as a response to God’s goodness. The psalmist teaches us how to pray.

Hear the echo of the psalmist’s exclamation: Praise God! I will give thanks to God with my whole heart! Great are the works of God! Great are the works of God, studied by all who delight in them! Full of honor and majesty, enduring forever! Holy and full of awe! Awe of God is the beginning of wisdom…

Which brings us to the second of our lectionary texts this morning. Perhaps above all else, Solomon is remembered for his wisdom. Israel’s famous king is remembered for his wisdom, a gift God gave him after he asked not for riches or wealth or long life but for help leading the people wisely and well. Solomon was a young man, probably about 20 years old, when he inherited his reign from Israel’s most famous king, David. The path to the throne wasn’t pretty for Solomon, and it was far from Israel’s finest moment. Solomon wasn’t actually supposed to become king; the title belonged to his older brother Adonijah. And, a number of enemies had to be eliminated to establish Solomon’s firm grip on the monarchy. Solomon suddenly had a lot to live up to, and a lot of work to do.

This morning’s lectionary text is missing part of the story. The tricky, perplexing, vexing part. Notice that our scripture reading jumped from a couple of verses in chapter 2, right on into chapter 3. We jump from David’s death and burial, “his sleeping with his ancestors” as the biblical writer put it, after a forty year reign as king, and Solomon establishing his kingdom, we jump from this right to Solomon’s love for God, his faithfulness not only to his earthly father, but to his heavenly Creator. While Solomon still worships other gods and still makes burnt sacrifices, he is wise. Wise enough to know that, when God comes to him in a dream and offers anything at all, Solomon faithfully requests only more wisdom, so that he might be a wise leader and a good king.

This is faithful and virtuous enough, wise enough already, especially since we haven’t had to wade through verses 13-47. In these verses, Solomon’s brother Adonijah schemes and fights for his right to the throne. He is jealous of the royal harem, these women now the property passed down from David to Solomon. Like most stories of warring kings, jealousy over land, power, and beautiful if subjugated women ensues. So Solomon kills his brother. He sends someone named Benaiah to do his dirty work. And then he banishes the priest Abiathar, the trusted priest of his father, for taking Adonijah’s side. Then, Solomon kills Joab, we aren’t even sure why, just that there is a long history of family fued. Solomon confines Shimei to house arrest in Jerusalem, and when Shimei violates his confinement in order to run after his slaves who are taking the opportunity to escape, Solomon has him killed, too.

Before we get to Solomon’s wisdom, we have a bloody rampage to wade through. Before we get to Solomon’s love for God, we watch as he marries Pharoh’s daughter, taking an Egyptian princess to protect against and prevent political wrangling or battle with Egypt. Before we get to Solomon’s piety, we have a pitiful effort to assert power in every way except the ways God tells us God’s kingdom will come. The contrast becomes clear…A human kingdom of power over foreign enemies rather than God’s kingdom of forgiveness. Of wealth rather than justice. Of violence rather than Shalom, peace, the root of Solomon’s name. Of jealousy and entitlement rather than generosity and sharing. THEN we get to chapter 3, verse 3, where Solomon loves God, and God visits Solomon in a dream, kind of like a genie, granting one singular wish.

Against this backdrop, I can better understand why Solomon didn’t ask for more land or more money or a longer life or the slaughter of his enemies. He already has it all—the title of king that should have gone to someone else, all the land amassed by David, and a new wife (in addition to his inherited harem) who happens to be the princess of Egypt. He has already killed or banished all his enemies, so there isn’t much need to ask God to do this dirty work. Now, what he needs more than anything, is the wisdom to know what to do next. How to do it differently. How to become a good leader, discerning between good and evil, knowing what is right and then following this path of righteousness.

This wish, of course, pleases God. God in turn tells Solomon that indeed, since he already knows he needs to do something differently, since he recognizes that wanton slaughtering and banishing and smiting isn’t going to get him anywhere, since he really does want to learn to be a just and fair and faithful leader, God will guide him, and give him wisdom.

This lectionary reading ends well. Solomon has his chance for transformation. He will go on to build the First Temple in Jerusalem, and he continues to have great wealth and power. But ultimately, commentators seem to agree that the books of 1 and 2 Kings not only tell a story…they provide a lesson in failure. Solomon is a king whose turning away from God leads to the kingdom being torn in two. Solomon fails to do God’s work. He builds his own kingdom, but fails to bring God’s kingdom to this world.

Solomon isn’t the only king guilty of forgetting God’s power and plan in light of his own. The Hebrew people wanted a king, and they made this request before God many times. And scripture offers a relentless 500 year documentation proving that the demand for a king was about the worst thing they could ask for. Rather than the glorious account of people flourishing under wise and good leadership, the stories from this period of Israel’s history compile a sad story of split kingdoms, rivalry, war, and a disasterous exile in Bablyon. The people want a faithful leader so they themselves don’t have to step up. They want a wise king, so they won’t have to seek wisdom, and then do the hard work of acting wisely.

The people think they know what they want, but they don’t want what God wants. They want power over other people. Riches. A nation unrivaled in military power. A leader who will think for the people, and then tell them what to do. But God doesn’t want what they want. This kind of kingdom just doesn’t mesh with the kind of kingdom God is ushering in.

This text offers an opportunity to examine what kind of kingdom we are creating. This text also offers an opportunity to examine our prayer life. Bill Cotton, a recently retired United Methodist pastor in Iowa, talks about being a young man, younger even than Solomon, and struggling with his faith. At fourteen, Bill believed prayer was like magic. Prayer took the form of asking God to make exceptions. A form of making personal requests of God. God, please don’t let my mom find out it was me who left that bruise on my brother’s arm. God, please let me pass this test. God, please don’t let me get a speeding ticket. God, please bless us…us in this family, or us in this church, or us in this country, with more land and more riches and more political power and longer lives…

Theologian Albert Outler taught that it was okay to pray this way only if you also tell God exactly why you should be favored more than others who have the same needs. Such action, Outler said, will shorten the prayer list considerably. He spoke of seeing prayer as something like a cosmic drink dispenser into which you put your money, select your potion, push the button, turn a lever and there you have it—complete with correct change. This kind of prayer assumes a division of labor. We send in an order, and God fills it. Making some allowance for items not in stock, both parties are reasonably satisfied with the deal.

Prayer, Abraham Heschel reminds us, is no substitute for action. Praying for wisdom is empty if is it not joined by continued attempts at the difficult work of acting wisely. Praying for peace is empty if it is not joined by continued attempts at studying war no more. Praying for an end to hunger is empty if it is not joined by continued attempts at feeding the hungry, and asking why people are hungry to begin with. Praying for forgiveness is empty if it is not joined by continued attempts to forgive. Praying for love is empty if it is not joined by continued attempts to love our neighbors, whoever our neighbors might be. Praying that God will give us more—more beauty, more gifts, more grace, more joy—is empty if it is not joined by continued attempts at giving thanks for the beauty, the gifts, the grace, the joy already poured out in and around us. Praying for God’s kingdom to come, on earth as it is in heaven, is empty if it is not joined by continued attempts at building God’s kingdom, here and now, over and against the earthly kingdoms standing in the way.

Wisdom, knowing how to live and lead faithfully and justly, is Solomon’s wise response when God offers him anything he wants. Gratitude is to be our response for the grace God already, always, offers. May we be like the psalmist, praising God with our every breath, with our whole hearts. May we have the wisdom to see God’s work, and to know God is merciful and gracious, ever mindful of our covenant. May we learn from Solomon, from his wisdom and from his failings. May we live in awe of God, for this is the beginning of wisdom and understanding. And may we join our awe and praise of God by continued attempts to create God’s kingdom here on earth.

May it be so. Amen, and amen.