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Spiritual Toddlers in an Adult World

In this way you are to set the Levites apart from the other Israelites, and the Levites will be mine.
Numbers 8:14 (NIV)

In the tradition I was raised, the Reverend of our church was treated as a special class of spiritual person. He dressed different. He wore robes on Sunday. He was the only one allowed to serve Communion. His pulpit was the highest point in the Sanctuary so that he was elevated above us. Everything in the pomp and pageantry of the “high church” tradition wordlessly affirmed that he was spiritually upper-class compared to us every day working class sinners in the pews.

The entire paradigm of the “Priestly class system” is rooted in the Great Story. It’s what today’s chapter is all about. God establishes that if the holy Creator of the universe is going to be present in their midst in His traveling tent temple then they are going to have to understand that God ’s holiness is so overwhelmingly pure and powerful that it’s fatal to a normal, sinful human being. Therefore, everything God has arranged in this system of sacrifices, offerings, cleansing, and purification is established to both protect God’s people and to teach them. Aaron’s sons were the priests, and the only ones allowed inside God’s tent Temple. Even then, inside the tent was a thick curtain. Behind that curtain was the “Most Holy Place.” That’s where the Ark of God’s presence was. Only the high priest could enter the Most Holy Place behind the curtain, and even then it was a special ceremony held once a year for a special systemic purpose. The tribe of Levites were helpers to the priests and caretakers of the tent temple, but they couldn’t offer sacrifices or enter the tent. They were like a hedge of protection between the fatally pure power of God’s holy presence and the people.

The priests and the Levites were a spiritually special class in that system.

I have been constantly repeating that these events and God’s newly established relationship with humanity through the Hebrew people is the toddler stages of human development. In natural circumstances, humans don’t remain toddlers forever. We grow. We mature. Our relationship with our parents also matures and changes.

Fast forward thousands of years. God sends Jesus, His one and only Son, to become the once-and-for-all sacrifice. At the moment of Jesus’ sacrificial death, the curtain in the Temple was split from top-to-bottom. The same curtain that divided God’s presence from the people.

As Bob Dylan put it, “The times they are a changin’.”

Before, God’s presence was behind the curtain and there were priests to go into God’s presence on humanity’s behalf. Now, God tore down the curtain, poured out His Spirit to be present in the heart of every believer. Priests no longer necessary. Every believer, one with God and God’s Spirit dwelling within them, is now made holy.

“And by that will, we have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.” Hebrews 10:10 (NIV)

Peter goes on to explain that together, all believers make up a “royal priesthood.” Writing to all believers scattered abroad by early persecution, he writes:

“But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” 1 Peter 2:9 (NIV)

Every believer is a Most Holy Place, God’s Spirit dwelling within. The Kingdom of God going out wherever I go. I take it with me. My job, no matter how menial, is now a ministry as “whatever I do, I do all to the glory of God.”

At least, that’s what it says in the Great Story after Jesus’ death and resurrection, and after Pentecost. But, I’ve observed that we human beings don’t much like change. Plus, there’s still an enemy, the Prince of this World, who is motivated to keep believers from realizing the power of God’s presence in their lives and their Kingdom responsibilities. Thus, I’ve observed that we like the old toddler traditions like the tradition in which I was raised. Even both Peter and Paul recognized that believers were slow to grow into this understanding. Both of them used the metaphor of believers being like toddlers sucking on their bottles when they should be adults eating solid food at the table.

Please don’t read what I’m not writing. I appreciate and embrace all of the spiritual metaphors that exist in high church traditions. I don’t think they’re wrong. But metaphors are layered with meaning. The metaphors of the high church tradition in which I was raised communicated spiritual lessons that were part of the old spiritual paradigm of the Levites, not the new spiritual paradigm of the priesthood of all believers. I had to spiritually mature to discern the difference.

Granted, it’s simple and easy to believer there’s a special person, a special class of spiritual persons, who provide a protective hedge between God and us every day working sinners. They take care of being holy for us. They handle the holy God stuff while I just sit in the pew with no expectations other than showing up and asking forgiveness for my sinful self. It may not be intended that way, but in practice I’ve consistently observed that it’s the way things play out in the mind of most church members. And, perhaps that’s the crux of the issue. If I’m simply a church member and I’m not a believer, then there is still, spiritually, a big thick curtain between me and God.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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From Bricks-and-Mortar to Flesh-and-Blood

From Bricks-and-Mortar to Flesh-and-Blood (CaD Ex 26) Wayfarer

You shall hang the curtain under the clasps, and bring the ark of the covenant in there, within the curtain; and the curtain shall separate for you the holy place from the most holy.
Exodus 26:33 (NRSVCE)

When I was a child, I had a fascination with spaces that were off-limits to me. Perhaps it was simply part of my personality or the fact that, as the youngest of four siblings, there were so many places that were forbidden and so many things from which I was banned from touching, looking at, or checking out.

As I grew up, I was keenly aware of the rites of passage I passed through. Some where public and institutional like church confirmation, getting my driver’s license, and graduation. Others were more subtle and social, like being an underclassman invited to a party with all upperclassmen, or my older brother letting me have a beer during my weekend visiting him at college. In each of these cases there was an understanding that I had reached a new level of experience. Things that were once off-limits had opened up to new possibilities.

In today’s chapter, God provides Moses with instructions for what is commonly referred to as the Tabernacle, or the Tent of Meeting. It was basically a large, portable temple that they could take with them as they wandered their way to the Promised Land and set up wherever they were encamped.

The design for the Tabernacle included three concentric spaces. There was an open outer courtyard. Then there was a smaller covered inner section known as “The Holy Place,” with a third even smaller section known as “The Most Holy Place” or “The Holy of Holies.” This smallest area was the most sacred, and it was where the Hebrews put the Ark of the Covenant. There was a giant, thick, and colorful curtain that separated this Most Holy space from everyone. Only the High Priest was allowed in this space, and that happened only once a year. It was exclusive. It was special. It was a sacred space that constantly reminded the Hebrew people of the clear divide between them and the divine.

Granted, all of the instructions for the design of this temple tent in today’s chapter are not the most inspiring thing to read. Nevertheless, I find a really cool and inspiring lesson buried in the blueprint. As with yesterday’s chapter, the lesson is hidden in the understanding of the maturing relationship between God and humanity.

An often overlooked detail recorded in Luke’s biography of Jesus is something that happened the moment Jesus died on the cross. Luke records:

It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon, while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last.

I find the curtain separating the Hebrews from God’s Holy Presence was like a parent telling their young child that there are some things that are simply off-limits. When Jesus died and rose from the dead, it was a spiritual rite of passage for humanity. The off-limits curtain was torn. The Spirit of God would be poured out for any and all. Now, the focus shifted from sacred space being a 16’x48’x15′ inner sanctum fixed in Jerusalem to the possibility that sacred space could be anywhere at any time.

Along my journey, I have sat in small corporate conference rooms while clients have shared with me some of the most intimate things. In that moment, it was sacred space. I was once in a humble Junior High camp chapel in rural Iowa when Holy Spirit poured out like at Pentecost. In that moment it was a sacred space. I have communed with God and received the Spirit’s guidance driving in the car, taking a shower, and while mowing the lawn. A Volkswagen, a bathroom, and a yard were sacred spaces. Perhaps most commonly, I have experienced sacred space around the dinner table just as I shared in yesterday’s post.

I have observed that for many in the generations before me this fundamental spiritual paradigm shift was never understood. For the majority of believers I observed in my childhood and youth, the bricks-and-mortar church building and inner sanctum of the church building’s sanctuary were treated like modern versions of the Tabernacle. After Jesus’ death tore the curtain and made it possible for sacred space to be any place at any time, it seems to me that the institutional church sewed the curtain back together and hung it back up in their Cathedrals.

I believe, however, that we are moving into a time when followers of Jesus are tearing the curtain once more and rediscovering the fullness of what Jesus meant when He told his followers, “I will destroy this temple and raise it in three days.”

A rite of passage for all of humanity. From bricks-and-mortar to flesh-and-blood.

“Old things pass away. Behold, new things come.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Priests, Protestants and Me

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Take Aaron and his sons with him, the vestments, the anointing oil, the bull of sin offering, the two rams, and the basket of unleavened bread; and assemble the whole congregation at the entrance of the tent of meeting.
Leviticus 8:1-3 (NRSV)

Aaron was Moses’ right-hand man, and it was Aaron and his sons who were chosen to be the priests in the sacrificial system of the ancient Hebrews. In today’s chapter, God through Moses takes Aaron and his sons through a ritual of ordination to become priests. It is a long ritual filled with metaphor from their priestly vestments to a little dab ‘ill do ya of blood on the ear lobe.

A priest is a mediator between God and man. A priest stands in the spiritual gap. The priest represents God to humanity and represents humanity before God. A priest is spiritually elevated and ordained to handle and serve the sacrifice, to carry our prayers into the presence of the Almighty, and to bestow forgiveness and absolution to the common sinner.

Among Christian institutions, the priesthood is one of the major differences between Roman Catholicism (and Greek Orthodox and Anglican) and the Protestant denominations. Protestants believe that since Jesus death and resurrection there is only one priest and mediator, and it is Jesus:

Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. Hebrews 4:14

“For there is one God; there is also one mediator between God and humankind, Christ Jesus, himself human, who gave himself a ransom for all….” 1 Timothy 2:5

Three of the four gospel writers report that when Jesus died the curtain in the Hebrew temple was torn in two. That curtain separated people from the area of the temple where God resided. Only the priest could enter. When the curtain was torn, the way was made for anyone to enter into God’s presence. Jesus was the sacrifice, the mediator, and the priest who stands in the gap.

In my Protestant circles, we think very little of the role of a priest anymore. I have, however, observed along my journey that Protestants often like to unwittingly bestow priestly powers on our pastors and spiritual leaders. It seems there is something innately human about doing so despite what we say we believe.

This morning I’m mulling over my own understanding of the role of priests, the work of Jesus and what that means. The ultimate sacrifice has been made. The curtain is torn. The way is open for me to enter into God’s presence. I need no other emissary, or representative, or priest. I need only approach.

Will I?

 

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“Haves” and “Have Nots”

temple curtain tornSo he measured the area on all four sides. It had a wall around it, five hundred cubits long and five hundred cubits wide, to separate the holy from the common.
Ezekiel 42:20 (NIV)

We talk a lot in our culture about the “haves” and “have nots.” With a presidential election gearing up, we’re going to have plenty more inundation of pundits and politicos barking and bantering about social equality, racial equality, financial equality, and gender equality.  I believe the never ending struggle within to place ourselves above others, to suppress others, and to criticize and belittle those who look, think, act, and believe differently is evidence of what took place in the Garden of Eden. It is first and foremost a spiritual problem.

Religion also has its share of “haves” and “have nots.” The reality is that organized religion has proven over history to illustrate the very thing it says it’s trying to resolve. The sin problem manifests itself acutely in the very people and institutions who try to address it. We see a hint of the issue in today’s chapter.

The temple was arranged, by design, with areas for the “holy” and the “common” or “unholy.” Over time this separation of the “holy” from the “unholy” created social strata which resulted in all sorts of social issues. The Jews of Jesus’ day were notorious for taking on a mantel of holiness which publicly covered the darkness in their souls, and placing themselves above others. Jesus reserved his hottest, most righteous anger for the most religious people:

“You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You keep meticulous account books, tithing on every nickel and dime you get, but on the meat of God’s Law, things like fairness and compassion and commitment—the absolute basics!—you carelessly take it or leave it. Careful bookkeeping is commendable, but the basics are required. Do you have any idea how silly you look, writing a life story that’s wrong from start to finish, nitpicking over commas and semicolons?

“You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You burnish the surface of your cups and bowls so they sparkle in the sun, while the insides are maggoty with your greed and gluttony. Stupid Pharisee! Scour the insides, and then the gleaming surface will mean something.

“You’re hopeless, you religion scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You’re like manicured grave plots, grass clipped and the flowers bright, but six feet down it’s all rotting bones and worm-eaten flesh. People look at you and think you’re saints, but beneath the skin you’re total frauds.” Matthew 23:23-28 (MSG)

It was this problem that Jesus’ came to address. The parable of the Good Samaritan is core to what Jesus was about, which is to actually, tangibly love those who think, speak, look, act, and believe differently. To love even those who hate you and consider you their enemy. To place others ahead of ourselves.

In the Hebrew temple was a giant curtain that hid the “holy of holies” from the “holy place.” It was a place where only the high priest was allowed and only on certain occasions. Three of four of Jesus’ biographers (Matthew the tax collector, John Mark, and Dr. Luke) record that when Jesus died on the cross that curtain in the temple split right down the middle. No more separation. No more religious “haves” and “have nots.” Jesus came to be the sacrificial lamb, to pay the penalty for our sin, so that holiness would be available to anyone who wants it – not based on what we do or don’t do, say or don’t say, think or don’t think, but based on Jesus simply making it available as an undeserved gift.

It is what we do with that gift, or rather what it does in us, that makes the difference.

Chapter-a-Day Mark 15

This is a diagram of the Biblical tabernacle o...
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And the curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Mark 15:38 (NLT)

For those unfamiliar with the larger story of God’s Message, this obscure reference in the middle of today’s chapter makes little sense. When God gave Moses the blueprints for the Temple back in the book of Exodus, it included an inner room that was blocked off by a huge curtain. It was behind that curtain that God’s presence resided and it was considered so holy that only the high priest could go behind the curtain, and he could only do it once a year to make atonement for the sins of the people. The word picture was obvious and powerful. There was a separation between God and man and no man could stand before God in His holiness.

When Jesus died, that curtain was mysteriously and miraculously torn in two. Once again, the word picture is both obvious and powerful. With the death of Jesus, the sacrificial Lamb of God, the penalty for sin was paid once for all. There was no longer any separation between man and God – not because of anything man did to earn God’s favor, but because of what God did to pay the penalty of humanity’s flaws.

Today, as I look forward to Christmas, I’m thankful for God who sent his Son. A baby, born in the most humble of circumstances, who would eventually give Himself up to a cruel death to make a way for me to enter through the curtain of eternity.