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Our scripture lesson is a joyful snapshot of the Ark of God’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem, but just as Easter is misunderstood without Good Friday, David’s dance before the ark doesn’t seem to make sense without remembering the ark’s journey into exile and captivity. Our story begins in 1 Samuel 4. The Israelites leave their camp at Ebenezer (here I raise mine Ebenezer), which means “stone of help,” to meet the Philistines on the battlefield. They decide to bring the ark of God with them, so that the power of God would save them from their enemy. Eli’s sons, Hophni and Phinehas, those who earlier in Samuel had perverted their role as leaders of Israel, pack up the ark and send it into battle.
When the ark arrived there were loud shouts coming from the Israelite camp. The Philistine’s trembled with fear saying that the Lord who delivered these people from Egypt, who made a people out of slaves, is here. We must hold fast. We receive a brief glimpse of what both camps are thinking, and it turns out that the Philistines are the better theologians. They recall God’s work in Egypt. They remember what God had done for Israel in their youth. Conversely, Eli’s sons arrogantly pack up the ark, with no remembrance, no psalm, no prayer of deliverance, and parade it into battle as a trophy whose history has been forgotten. With shallow arrogance, the Israelites are defeated, Eli’s sons are killed, and the ark is captured.
This is a dark day in Israel’s history. When Eli hears of the defeat, he falls over and dies. When his daughter-in-law, Phinehas’ wife hears the news, she goes into labor and gives birth to a son. With her last breath she names the child, “Ichabod,” which means “The glory has departed.” “The Ark has been captured,” resounds five times in these few verses, as if the Israelites are having a tough time understanding its truth. YHWH is gone. God’s glory has left. There is no reason to worship, and little reason to live. We can only imagine what was happening in Israel after the defeat:
I am weary with my moaning;
Every night I flood my bed with tears.
I drench my couch with my weeping,
My eyes waste away because of grief;
They grow weak because of all my foes. (Psalm 6:6-7)
My tears have been my food day and night,
While people say to me continually,
“Where is your God?” (Psalm 42:3)
It is difficult to give voice to this kind of grief. They are experiencing God’s abandonment and exile. The Lord who brought them out of Egypt has been made a mockery by their own arrogance. This goes beyond guilt. It is despair. It is hopelessness. It is difficult to give voice to this feeling of nothingness. In our tradition, this is Friday, the day God was crucified in the person of Jesus Christ.
There is quite a different scene unfolding with the Philistines. There is celebration and rejoice. The enemy of Israel is throwing a party that should last for days. They place the ark next to their god, Dagon, to symbolize YHWH’s defeat and embarrassment. Then, during the night, something strange happens. When Dagon’s priests enter the sanctuary, they noticed that the statue of Dagon had fallen to the floor with its nose to the ground. At first they thought little of this, so they place it back on its high pedestal and continued the celebration. This is Saturday. Friday is the day of despair. Saturday is the day Rome rejoices because Jesus is dead. But Saturday is also the day in which God is doing the kind of work that can only be done in the midst of darkness. Ever wonder why Jesus compared the Kingdom of God with a mustard seed or a pearl or a treasure buried in a field? It is because they all must be buried into the darkness before revealing their beauty. Kingdom work happens in the midst of darkness, or rather Kingdom work is what dispels the darkness, but for a time, there is silence. Saturday takes time. Saturday is the difficult work of reflection and the offering of space for healing to happen. Friday is a day of suffering. Saturday is a day of silence because God is growing the mustard seed within the soil. God is forming the pearl in the depth of the ocean. God is unearthing the treasure, which has been buried.
The night does not last forever. Joy comes in the morning. On the third day the priests enter the Temple of Dagon to find that again the idol had been knocked of the pedestal except this time the god’s head and arms had been separated from it’s body. The Priests realize that if YHWH can do this with their god, what will befall them. So the ark is ultimately returned to the Israelites after an ill fated tour of Philistine land. God’s glory is returned to the people. God has not been vanquished; rather in the midst of defeat, God revealed truth. The glory of God departs. During the night, God destroys the enemy. On the third day early in the morning the glory returns. This story of defeat and despair and ultimate triumph should sound familiar.
This brings us to our text this morning. Years pass between the time the Philistines return the Ark and the time the Israelites bring the Ark into Jerusalem. David has remembered the former glory of God. He retrieves the Ark and brings it to the Holy City. It is met with fanfare and rejoicing. David makes sacrifices and dances. His dance was scandalous, but so was the cross. His dancing reminds us of Christ who was stripped of clothing on the cross, who later danced upon the grave of death as the hymn appropriately describes, “I danced on a Friday and the sky turned black; it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back; they buried my body and they thought I’d gone, but I am the dance and I still go on.”
Our story is the story of the cross, and that story happens over and over and over again. It’s as if creation is a pond and the Resurrection is the rock thrown into it’s center, causing ripples through everything—past, present, future . . . everything. Through Christ God has reconciled all things. Friday is real. Suffering is real. At times God seems silent during suffering. There is confusion and reflection. But joy comes in the morning. Our story does not end with suffering, but the scandalous dance of life. God’s glory has returned and is at hand. Will you dance? Amen!