I was watching a television show last night about Jesus’ birth and childhood. As the narrator was describing Jesus’ first trip to the temple in Jerusalem, I was struck by his statement that the Jews believed that God actually lived in the temple. Of course, this is not new information, but somehow it penetrated my consciousness in a new way. Then this morning, I read in Psalm 11, “The Lord is in his holy temple,” always before such a worshipful phrase to me. Yet now, as I gazed out my window at the sun breaking over the horizon to flood our valley with light and transform the frosted grass into a silvery blaze of glory, confining God to the temple seemed much too small. As we move into Holy Week, we are aware of the many boxes in which the Israelites attempted to place their ideas and expectations of the Divine. We do the same today. But God and Jesus won’t fit in those boxes. God cannot fit into the box of the temple; Divine law was intended to be more than the tightly circumscribed list of do’s and don’ts practiced by the righteous; and Jesus most certainly didn’t fit into the box they labeled “Messiah.” He was crucified because he didn’t fit, in fact refused to fit, inside that narrow little box and do what the people wanted from him. Instead, he died, and rose again, breaking open the tomb, breaking open our hearts, and flinging wide the doors of heaven. And all the little God boxes are now lying in tiny splinters on the ground. Halleluia!
Enjoy the following poem as my gift to you as you make your own journey to the cross and beyond this week:
Little Boxes
How could they seek to
contain you, O Lord,
when they saw
how you break forth like the morning,
how your love expands
beyond the skies?
How could they imagine
a God so small
when your glory is so great?
How can we
seek to control you
with our petty prayers,
our desire for a neat and tidy
little life
when we witness your wild
Abandon,
your lavish and unruly hand
throughout your Creation?
Can we not dream bigger?
Can we not allow
our thoughts of you
to encompass more
than the small portion of the world
we can see with our eyes and
hear with our ears?
Is there not planted
within us
a blazing hope,
a fantastic imagination
that dares to consider
a greater possibility?
A God who surprises,
who breaks all the molds
humanity
has ever created?
O children of the Infinite,
of the reckless ruler of the universe,
let go.
Prepare to receive
the wild abundance
of God’s reckless Love.
A profusion of Love
©Sue Magrath 4/18/11
Dear Sue, I think your soul may be splintering boxes too. Thanks for your gift. Mary
Dear Sue,
Thanks for a reminder as I prepare to pack boxes once again to move to our new home in several weeks that nothing that we do can contain the love of God. Christ did not attempt to fit into a box and his love continues to flow even when i try to tidy every thing up. blessings to you this week-Roberta
Thanks, Sue, for being a purveyor of that wild, reckless abundance – Dawna
Beautiful, Sue, as always. Great thoughts for me to contemplate this week. Love you!
Your poem reminded me of King David’s dance or MIriam’s song…such wild abandon! Thank you for your insights and faithfulness — Have an amazing Easter!