Exodus 35:4-29, 36:2-5
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
October 31, 2021
I think this might be the first time, in thirty-two years of ministry, that I have preached on this story of the construction of the tabernacle. Last week’s text—the construction of the Golden Calf—I have preached numerous times. Maybe it’s because the Golden Calf story is three drama-filled paragraphs long, and the description of the Tabernacle is six ponderous chapters. Perhaps it’s because the Golden Calf speaks of a truth we know all too well—our human inclination to use our creative gifts in destructive ways.
The tabernacle story isn’t nearly as dramatic. Still, it speaks an equally powerful truth about human nature. It’s a more hopeful truth; it may also be a truth that is harder for us to trust.
The positioning of these two stories in the book of Exodus highlights the connection and the contrast between them. The tabernacle story actually begins before the golden calf appears. When Moses is up on the mountain talking to God for forty days, he receives the ten commandments. He also receives elaborate instructions to bring back to the people—six chapters detailing how they are to build a tabernacle so that God can dwell among them. Before Moses has a chance to deliver those instructions, the people panic at his absence and construct a golden calf—a replacement of God rather than a dwelling place for God. After the dust settles, Moses brings God’s original instructions to the people, and in six more chapters, the book of Exodus describes the actual building of the tabernacle.
The golden calf story is right smack in the center—a single chapter in between six chapters of instruction and six chapters of construction. Even as the writers of Exodus highlight the reality of our golden calf tendencies, they devote much more time to the tabernacle. This story, they seem to be saying, is even more crucial to our understanding of who we are and how we are called to live as people of God.
At the heart of our faith is the belief that God is so much more than we can ever comprehend. God cannot be contained or controlled or even defined. This is a crucial belief, and a hard one for us to hold on to. It’s hard to devote our lives to an abstraction; it’s hard to trust in what we cannot see. In God’s initial instructions to Moses, God recognizes our need for tangible reminders of God’s presence, and so commands the construction of a tabernacle in the center of the community. The tabernacle is not a building made of brick and stone; it is a tent—a flexible, movable dwelling place. It is a vivid expression of God’s presence in their midst. With its fabric sides, it is an equally vivid expression that God’s presence cannot be constrained by walls. The contrast with the golden calf is striking: while the people fool themselves that they can create an object that will contain—or even replace– God, God calls them instead to create a tent to remind them that God will always be there and can never be contained.
Another striking contrast between the calf and the tent involves the way they are constructed. The calf is an impulse creation. The people are frustrated, and a leader exploits their frustration. They are told to give their valuables, and they obey. Aaron makes the calf, right then and there, presumably all by himself. The construction of the tabernacle is a much longer process, and it involves the entire community. No one is told to give anything; when they are asked, they respond with such enthusiasm there is a surplus. The people are yearning for an opportunity to give. The construction proceeds with great attention to detail, with a recognition that it is our small careful efforts that ultimately lead to something big. Everyone has a role, bringing their particular gifts to bear.
It doesn’t take much time or thought to do damage to the community. It takes a lot of time and thought to repair the damage and create something positive.
These vivid contrasts highlight the truth lifted up in the story of the tabernacle. When we are thoughtful, attentive and working together, we can use our God-given creativity in the service of healing and transformation.
This is a story we desperately need to hear right now. We are so deeply aware of how easily our human creativity gets twisted. We see the damage we do when we idolize money or power, security or a narrow concept of who matters. We are living with the results of careless, idolatrous abuse of our planet. With all the overwhelming evidence of our human destructiveness, we need this reminder that we are also capable of building tabernacles. We are capable of working together, of planning and paying attention to detail, of giving the best of ourselves in the service of God.
Our Wednesday Bible Study group has just begun to dive into the Gospel according to John. We began with the gospel’s opening poem, which includes the line “The word became flesh and dwelt among us.” Biblical scholar Cynthia Kittredge points out that a more accurate translation might be, “The word became flesh and pitched its tent among us.” The picture this poem paints highlights the connection between John’s understanding of Jesus and our reading from Exodus. In the Exodus story, God recognizes the people’s need for assurance that God is among them, and so has them construct a tent. John depicts Jesus’ life as another way God acts to help us know God is among us. This time it is not a tent but a person who teaches and lives God’s love. Through Jesus we know that God dwells among us—not only in that moment and place but in every moment and place where human beings teach and live God’s love.
This tabernacle story isn’t just about a tent. It is about our human capacity to use our creative gifts to make God’s love known. God dwells among us: that’s a lovely idea, but it’s not much use if it’s only an idea. God calls on us to make God’s presence known—not by building a tent but by constructing a community of love. God promises to be with us, to guide and strengthen and inspire us in this life-long creative project.
In recent years, there’s been a movement to celebrate “random acts of kindness.” I love the idea that an unexpected smile or a stranger who pays for your coffee can change your day. I love it, and this tabernacle story reminds us that God calls us to so much more than random kindness. God calls us to more than occasional spurts of giving; God calls us to make generosity a habit of living. God calls us to more than moments of creative genius; God calls us to the laborious and sometimes boring work of bringing vision to fruition. God calls us beyond our own personal wills to work together, for what we seek to create requires every single person’s gifts.
The Board of Wider Missions, also known as the Justice and Love in Action Team, is embarking on a long-term process of looking at the ways we use the generous contributions of our congregation. How do we find the balance between responding to immediate needs and investing in programs that transform our society? How do we build on-going relationships with organizations so we are genuinely working as partners? How do we use our time, talent and treasure to be God’s Justice and Love in Action? These are tabernacle-building questions. These are questions that call us to the on-going work of creating—or maybe being—a dwelling place for God, a dwelling place for love.
The golden calf story reminds us of what we know all too well: we so easily distort our human creativity in ways that damage our lives, our communities and our planet. It’s an important reminder, worthy of an entire chapter in the Bible. The building of the tabernacle is worthy of 12 chapters in the Bible—so we should pay even more attention to the truth it conveys. By the grace of God, with God’s help, we are capable of using our creative gifts to bring healing and hope, love and justice into our world. We are capable of sustained generosity. We are capable of focus and attention to detail. We can work together. We can use our creative gifts so all will know that God—that Love– dwells among us. We should remind ourselves of that truth at least 12 times as often as we remember the truth of the golden calf.
God dwells among us, always and everywhere. God’s dwelling is made known in our acts of compassion, in our habits of generosity and our thoughtful attention to detail, in our choice to give the best of ourselves and to work together to bring love to fruition. Let us work together that all may know love dwells here. Amen.