Exodus 31 Wisdom Weaver —10/18/05

Prayer
Lord, God, creator of heaven and earth, weave your truth into our minds today. Stir our hearts to serve you with our special talents. Teach us to work according to the pattern of your glory and beauty. In Jesus' name. Amen.

When I was a teacher, I bought a gold fish. I thought it would be good for the kids to have a pet, and, besides, most other teachers I knew were providing pet opportunities for their kids. Some teachers had gerbils. Some had chicks. One guy even had a snake that he faithfully supplied with live mice. I figured if my colleagues could nurture everything from rodents to reptiles, then I could handle one little bundle of orange fins and gills.

So, I went to the pet store and spent $25.00. I got the fish, a little round bowl, a bag of the latest fluorescent green and blue pebbles, and a fake plant. I bought fish food. Thirty-two ounces, or so—enough for about six months. It was all very exciting.

I took my fish to the classroom, placed her prominently on my desk, and waited for the fun to begin. And, begin it did. The kids named my goldfish Goldie. (Surprise, surprise.) They peered at her, nose to fishy lips. They sang to her, talked to her, giggled to her. They drew picture after picture of Goldie, some with me smiling broadly in the background. That was day one.

On day two, I flushed a gold fish. At 7:25 in the morning.

Then, at 7:45, I had to explain an empty bowl. It was not a pretty picture. Later, somebody with more aquatic-creature knowledge informed me that I had probably suffocated Goldie, or toxified her with chlorinated water, or fed her 10 times her quota of food for an entire month (all in one school day). In any case, Goldie departed my plastic-plant paradise and I was left holding the bowl. I mention this, not to depress you with a funereal fish story, but simply to say, "Wow."

Wow. I couldn't sustain Goldie past breakfast time, but you, oh Lord, are

"before all things, and in [you] all things hold together." (Col. 1:16)

"how many are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of

your creatures." (Ps. 104:24) "By wisdom [you] laid the earth's foundations." (Prov.

3:19) you "made the earth by [your] power...established the world by [your] wisdom,

and by [your] understanding stretched out the heavens" (Jer. 51:15) "You are the

LORD, you alone; you have made heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their

host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them. To all

of them you give life, and the host of heaven worships you." (Neh. 9:6) "You are

worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created

all things, and by your will they existed and were created." (Rev. 4:11) "Holy,

holy, holy [are you] LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of

[your] glory." (Is.6:3)

These are the words of Colossians and Psalms, Jeremiah and Isaiah, Nehemiah, Proverbs and Revelation—and they're just a sampling. From cover to cover, the bible is full of praise and wonder for a God who, by the work of his "hands", designed a world through his great knowledge and wisdom.

As nature photographer Ric Ergenbright notes in his book The Art of God: The Heavens & The Earth, "the entire world is God's museum—the permanent venue for the display of His magnificent creations..." According to Paul, in Romans 1:20, these magnificent creations reveal God's "eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are". They reflect his glory and beauty. (cf. Ex. 28:2-3)

Sadly enough, as Romans also claims, we often ignore the message of creation. And, as Ergenbright notes, "it is commonplace for us to take God's art for granted, or even to believe the critic who says it's really not art at all, but rather something that just happened—a serendipitous accident that simply stumbled into existence through a mindless meeting of time and chance."

He then adds, "Were this said of the Mona Lisa or the Sistine Chapel we would think it totally absurd. [Yet] when even the simplest molecule in nature is infinitely more complex and perfect than these masterworks by da Vinci and Michelangelo...we give less credence to the higher art form and spurn its Designer and Creator."

A simple study of science lends weight to Ergenbright's assertion that God's creation is a high art form, infinitely more complex and perfect than anything we can create—full of glory and beauty.

Just think about this: most matter that we know of in the universe is made of exactly the same stuff, arranged in different patterns. The coffee we're about to joyfully gulp, the pink polyester and the baggy stockings that grandmother wears, the planet Mars and every Venus here who's counting the seconds 'til break time, and, yes, even the clock itself...

It's all made of the same stuff. Protons, neutrons, electrons. Sitting, whizzing, whirring, giving and taking, pushing and pulling, combining, in different numbers. And, most of this is couched by empty space, so that if we could, say, "take the space out of all the atoms that make up [something like] the Empire State Building, what [would remain] would be smaller than a bag of sugar".

And, savvy sugar shoppers would be shocked to discover that even if they'd brought a giant crane in their handbags, this crane wouldn't be able to lift the bag of Empire Sugar off the shelf, because it would weigh a whole lot more than five pounds. In fact, it would weigh the same as the Empire State Building. (Atoms & Molecules, p.6) Just thinking about the simple, yet highly complex, reality of atomic structure and activity, I hear God's voice in Job,

"Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?" (Job 38:4-5)

God seems to have a point. I mean, we domestic types can do chicken and broccoli 500 ways, but we can't come near the amazing complexity, beauty, and variety God has served up with just a few simple ingredients and a whole lot of nothing. This reality speaks of his great power, his infinite creative spirit, his astonishing intelligence, his magnificent glory, and his beautiful heart.

And, atomic structure is just one example. "Consider the lilies of the field..." (Luke 12:27) Or, a rainforest butterfly. A few weeks ago, I sat sandwiched between two giggly children at the Boston Science museum. I donned my funky 3D glasses and hoped that while looking so DEVO I wouldn't bump into the President or anything. And, I watched the sure-to-win-an Emmy show "Bugs", starring a little green caterpillar named Papillon and a mantis who seemed to be first cousin to Rambo.

There in the darkness, I learned that Papillon, inside his little cocoon bowl, became milky soup before he became Butterfly of the Day. Now, I know some of us can do wonders with beef broth, but who among us could turn that muddy liquid into a Spicebush Swallowtail by attaching it to the underside of a leaf for two weeks? I think E Coli, or something like that, would probably be the order of the day.

So, the rainforest butterfly flutters in to wake us from the dim fantasy that creation's wonders reflect a hapless "meeting of time and chance". The rainforest butterfly also gives us hope, as we consider how it reveals the metamorphosis-miracle-God, the Great Repairer and Rejuvenator of earth and its resident souls...the One who says, "I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water." (Is.41:19) Or, "I will...put a new spirit within you; I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."

Yes, God can take care of our every need for transformation, soup to nuts. And, even if we don't read the bible to tell us that, we can learn it from watching little Papillon. This is not my idea, as I said before. The bible tells us that creation is God's great evangelist, revealing his "eternal power and divine nature", shouting unabashedly, "Holy, holy, holy [are you] LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of [your] glory." (Is. 6:3)

Now if God were like you and me, some of whom can barely turn over a morning egg-scramble moment to our children, He might keep all the glory of talent to himself. He might reserve all the best art projects in His name. He might declare himself Master of Repairs and Rejuvenation and deny us any apprenticeship. But, thankfully, God is a generous Spirit.

So, we find that he takes us under his wing, to teach and guide us, to hand over wisdom and knowledge, to instruct us in how to weave the beauty of God-with-us and mend the devastation of us-without-God—which brings us to today's text.

Exodus 31 tells us that God fills Bezalel and Oholiab with the "Spirit of God, in wisdom, in understanding, in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship to design artistic works" (vs.3) for the tabernacle and all its contents. In this simple act, God shares the glory of his talent, the passion of his artistry, and the yearning for harmony that his natural creation reflects.

In fact, Bezalel and Oholiab, and "all the skillful women...whose hearts [move] them" (Ex. 35: 25-26) get a chance to weave the beauty of God-with-us and craft a mirror of Christ, who mends the devastation of us-without-God. What God's natural creation only suggests, the tabernacle and all its accoutrements spell out more clearly, as the Hebrew artisans carve and weave, bevel and shine according to the pattern God showed Moses on the mountain (Ex. 25:40). This pattern, Hebrews 8:5 tells us, was a "copy and a shadow of what is in heaven." So, the tabernacle on earth tells us something of God, just as the creation tells us something of God.

We can read more about the patterns of this tabernacle in Exodus 35-40, but many of us will be puzzled. What does it all mean? Blue, purple, and crimson cloth woven with cherubim designs, hung on poles and rings. A gold mercy seat, overshadowed by winged angels. Twisted-linen priestly garments woven with gold leaf. Stones of remembrance set in gold filigree on the priest's ephod. Twelve rows of precious gems, like turquoise and emerald, sapphire and amethyst, set into a priestly breastpiece. Pomegranates and bells, sashes and linen headdresses. A golden lamp stand and altar. Cozy goat hair coverings and a curtain to separate the holiest place from the outer court.

Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm at the Waldorf Astoria or something. But, with even richer detail and more exquisite taste—a dwelling fit for a king. Dizzy with details, we might be tempted to skip right through this tedious Exodus ending and check the book off our reading list.

But, in all the description of the tabernacle, there are high points worth mentioning. So, let's kick back and relax a little in these final pages of Exodus. First, let's think about the tabernacle as an experience of God-with-us.

Right off, we notice that the tabernacle is mobile, thus it's pole and curtain construction. Wherever the wandering Hebrew slaves stake their tents, the tabernacle is raised and pegged down in the center of camp. It's a visible statement of God-with-them, complete with hovering God-cloud at the entrance.

Second, we observe that the tabernacle is absolutely exquisite, with its expensive royal colors and designs. To any passerby, it speaks of the riches, mystery, beauty, and preciousness of God. It's the kind of place you'd probably want to hang out in forever, if they'd let you in past the foyer.

The problem is, they wouldn't let you. Only the priests had entry privileges, and even they had to bring special sacrifices. No one could lounge out, snuggle into the goat hair with a good book and a Snickers. Like my mother-in-law who said she'd like to live at the Met in the grand, gold-gilt, French hotels section, you'd be out of luck if you tried to set up camp in the tabernacle. Buzzers would go off and the guards would surely get you.

Which leads to the next point. The tabernacle was also a mirror of Christ, who would mend the devastation of us-without-God, and secure for us a permit of permanent residence in the dwelling place of God.

In the New Testament, John tells us that Jesus did this by "[becoming] flesh and liv[ing] among us." (1:14) A more descriptive translation, based on the original language, says that Jesus pitched his tent among us—just like God pitched his tabernacle among the wandering slaves. Hebrews 9:11-12 tells us that "when Christ came as a high priest of the good things to come, then through the greater and perfect tabernacle (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place [behind the curtain], not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood [to sprinkle on the mercy seat], thus obtaining eternal redemption." And, from Matthew we know that "when Jesus breathed his last...the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom." (27:50-51)

Like I said, Christ secured for us a permit of permanent residence in the dwelling place of God. And, way back in the desert, Bezalel, Oholiab, and other Hebrew men and women were commissioned by God to weave a preview of the Big Event.

So, what has all this to do with you and me?

By the works of his hands, God "made the earth by his power...established the world by his wisdom, and by his understanding stretched out the heavens" (Jer. 51:15). And this creation speaks of his "eternal power and divine nature" (Romans 1:20) that is with us day by day.

By the works of their hands, instructed by God's wisdom, the Hebrews made a tabernacle that was a visible experience of God-with-us and a mirror of Christ, who mends the devastation of us-without-God.

By the works of our hands, instructed by God's wisdom, what should we do? It only makes sense that we should do the same. Taking the shuttle in one hand, while steadying our loom with the other, we must set out to weave experiences of God-with-us and, according to the pattern shown us in Christ, mend the devastation of us-without-God. How do we do this?

Let me suggest four golden threads:

1. Know the needs. 2. Know thyself. 3. Know the pattern. And, 4., know that God provides materials and instruction.

So, first, know the needs. When the walls of Jerusalem were breached in 586 B.C., and Judah was carried off by invaders, the city lay in ruins. Years later, a man named Nehemiah requested permission to go back and rebuild the walls. His first task was to survey the damage. Says Nehemiah, "I went out by night by the Valley Gate past the Dragon's Spring and to the Dung Gate, and I inspected the walls of Jerusalem that had been broken down and its gates that had been destroyed by fire." (Neh. 2:13)

There are myriad Jerusalems in our lives. From the breached wall of a child's damaged dignity, to the burned gates of a foreign rainforest drenched with toxic waste: the needs for weaving God-with-us and mending the devastation of us-without-God are many. So, how do we choose where to set up our loom?

This brings us to our second golden thread. Know thyself. What moves your heart? What stirs you? What dreams keep you up at night? Focus on these things. In a world that clamors for attention at every turn, this can be difficult. But, remember Bezalel, Oholiab, and the women. They were artists, and they used their skills to reflect the glory and beauty of God.

So, use your special skills to weave a tapestry of God-with-us and mend the devastation of us-without-God, and don't let the world pressure you, with its value judgments about which skills are more important or "more spiritual" than others. Do what stirs you, as the tabernacle builders did. If you can sing, sing. If you can draw, draw. If you can rock a baby, do it. If you can balance a budget, or resolve conflicts, or write, or play soccer, or cook a darn-good lasagna, do it.

And, when you get tempted to do something that's not really you, remember my little fish, Goldie. (May she rest in peace.) For, Goldie reminds us that we can spin our wheels trying to do things that are better left to someone else. And, such wheel-spinning is not a pretty picture for the goldfish of the world, or for our own emotional buoyancy.

As you focus on your special skills, consider golden thread number 3. Know the pattern. Let Jesus be your Master Tapestry. Open the gospels often to see his humble weave and color. And, choose the threads of your actions according to his texture. You might be thinking, how does this apply to something like making lasagna?

Well, believe it or not, food is a huge issue that's linked not only to health but also to justice. Just open a book like The Food Revolution, and you'll see what I mean. The reality is that every act, whether related to food or accounting, purchases for our children, or care for our lawn, is, in the end, done in the context of a local and world community. So, we must test what we do and see if we are busy weaving our own flattering mantle or busy weaving a tapestry that reflects God's glory. What is his glory? Exodus defines it in terms of certain qualities: merciful, gracious, slow to anger, loving, faithful, forgiving, and just. (33:6-7)

Finally, as we use our special skills, we must remember that God will provide us with nimbleness of hand and discernment of eye, over time and circumstance. I think particularly of the story of Joseph. He began with talent and a coat of many colors, which for many years seemed to rot in the slave pit, the dungeon, the servant's quarters, but, in the end, God showed him how to use the ragged threads of his life to weave a great story of mercy and love. All of us, like Joseph, go through refining stages, where God teaches us to put aside the weak and colorless threads. And, in this process He apprentices us to become wise weavers whose tapestries reflect his glory and beauty.

On this note, I leave you with a final story. In April, my daughter Sara had a medieval birthday party. We planned food and costumes, games and music. And, using designs from medieval tapestries in books, we painted a table-size "tapestry" on brown butcher paper. Later, in the summer, we went to the Cloisters and Sara got a bird's eye view of the famous unicorn tapestries. She stood quietly, as if before some kind of god. "Oh, these are so much more beautiful and intricate than mine," she said solemnly. I put my arms around her and whispered through her black hair, "Yours is beautiful, too."

We will never create exquisite worlds, as God has done by the work of his hands. We will never, like Bezalel and Oholiab, build the desert tabernacle. Nor will we wear the garments of High Priest, as Christ did when he walked into heaven's tabernacle with his own blood in sacrifice. We work on brown butcher paper with tempura paints. We drip and splotch and wish we had more golden thread.

Nevertheless, we can create what reflects God's beauty and glory. We can weave pictures of God-with-us and mend the devastation of us-without-God. He has stirred our hearts to do so. And, I believe that Wisdom, who clapped her hands and danced for joy when God "marked out the foundations of the earth", rejoices before us, as it "rejoiced before Him...delighting in the human race." (Proverbs 8:30-31)

Prayer
On the eve of your betrayal, Jesus, you prayed, saying to the Father, "I glorified you on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do...I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world (Jn. 17:4,6). Teach us to be like Jesus, glorifying you on earth by finishing the special work you give each of us to do. May we make your name known to those whom you give us from the world. May we weave wisely and boldly, each using our special skills, according to the beautiful pattern we see in Jesus. In His Lovely Name we pray, Amen.

© L.L. Barkat 2005. Do not reproduce without permission.