Reflections on Ezekiel 47

As part of our chapel series at Campus Edge on Hope for all creation, I gave the following short reflection on Ezekiel 47:1-12.

While I have grown to love the book of Ezekiel, I often find it strange. And this passage, despite the beautiful image of life-giving water that it presents, is no exception. It is filled with odd repetitions and details. Why does it matter to us, the readers, which directions the water is coming from? Why are we given measurements?

Going back a few chapters in Ezekiel, there are more measurements. Measurements of doors and walls and rooms and instructions for priests. These chapters look like building instructions for a temple, and many people over the centuries have interpreted it that way. If we build the temple, then Christ will return – and the vision presented here of the water that gives life – will finally come true. It’s one interpretation of Ezekiel 43, which says that these words are written so that people might be ashamed and turn to God, and then they must follow these instructions. And God will dwell among them. And who of us doesn’t want God to dwell among us?

I find something deeply appealing in the idea that maybe – if we just follow this formula or these instructions – then everything will be the way it should be. The water of life, as depicted in this passage, will overflow: "the fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing.”

Except experience and history have taught us that God cannot be contained or controlled. I – we - cannot do enough to make and ensure God will come to dwell among us. Any effort we might make to build the temple pictured here actually can't work: the text doesn’t give building materials, the dimensions are too large to fit on the temple mound, and probably most noticeable, it’s lacking a roof. The temple isn’t meant to be built. It isn't meant to be one more thing to do; instead it’s a vision of what already is. It’s a vision that is calling us to turn to God, to turn away from our own efforts to control God – or even try to control and run the world around us. The temple is a vision of God’s presence and another reiteration of God’s repeated refrain throughout Ezekiel – I will be your God and you will be my people. I will dwell among you.

God will dwell among us because that’s what God does. God dwells among us. Genesis 1 tells the story of creation but many scholars recognize that the language is more than just a description of the world coming into being. It is a description of a world that has been formed as a temple: God’s temple where God dwells. Since creation, God has dwelt among us, inviting us to see God through the beauty and power and wonder that creation instills in us.

Throughout the Old Testament, God’s presence was shown to the Israelites through the temple in their midst, but God’s presence was hardly contained to the temple. And this vision of a new temple here in Ezekiel makes that even more clear: no roof, after all, could hold God’s presence when God’s presence is throughout all of creation.

Because God’s presence is not always obvious, despite the beauty of creation, God came among us in the form of Jesus, and today God is present with us in the Holy Spirit. And we can take great comfort that it is not on the basis of our own efforts that God dwells among us, but simply because that is who God is. It is part of how God formed creation. And since then we have been given many gracious reminders of God's presence: a vision of life to its fullness, full of the water of life.


Text cross-posted on the blog from my work

Leaning into 'delighting'

One of the greatest gifts of Sabbath for me is delight. I feel like in Sabbath I'm given space and time to delight - as well as hope and joy so that my soul leans towards delighting instead of annoyance. As I practice delighting on Sabbath, I'm hoping that this will help me learn to 'delight' (or at least appreciate) the normal parts of my life in ordinary (i.e., non-Sabbath) time. I feel like so much of my life is focused on the 'I have to do this and get this done' instead of the wonder of getting to do this and being a part of that.' Even in my work of being a pastor I lean more often towards 'have to' than 'get to,' despite the fact that my work includes the honour of walking alongside people in their faith journeys (what could be more delightful and wonder-filled than that?).

In order to practice delight and Sabbath on a more daily basis, I've been trying to start my work day a bit differently. The beginning is usually getting ready, breakfast, and nudging Lydia so we can drop her off at day care. I'm trying to do that more patiently, recognizing that I do have time to dawdle with her (and this morning she helped me fold laundry, which is definitely worth her arriving later at daycare). Yet, after all the moving pieces involved in getting the little to day care and being faced with needing to figure out what most needs doing for the day, I often feel overwhelmed. Instead of trying to tell myself to get over my feelings (which, even on good days, is only moderately successful), I'm trying to give them space and allow myself to start the day more gently. And so I've been spending 30-45 minutes each day listening to a Bible text or a podcast while often playing simple computer games. It's a combination of allowing myself to do something 'fun' while also receiving words of hope and encouragement that can then give me strength as I go about the rest of the day. After experimenting with this for the last week or two, I have felt that I am more able to approach the rest of the day with delight in the work that I get to do instead of seeing it primarily as things that need to be checked off a list.