WHAT GOD WANTS...
Sermontelling 2 Samuel 7:1-17 (NL 307)
The following three stories pair well with the Narrative Lectionary passage for the coming week. They are followed by my sermontelling footnotes which explore the stories’ theological connection to the passage as well as insights into craft and performance. My advice is to read the story first before digging into the footnotes. These notes are best experienced in a browser or in the substack app. Subscribe to receive this newsletter in your inbox every week.
BIBLE STORY: The House and the Tent
3,000 years ago, in the newly conquered city of Jerusalem, on top of the holy hill, there stood two structures: a house1 and a tent.2
The house was no ordinary house. It was the House of David. The house was a Phoenician-style palace that had been built for King David as a gift by the King of Tyre. It was a perfectly square building. Its northern entrance was a beautiful colonnaded portico watched by a guard tower. Through the doors was an ornate entrance hall paneled with Lebanese cedar, leading to a large throne room. Adjacent to the throne room was an open courtyard which contained entrances to the living quarters and two staircases that led to the upper stories and to the roof, where David could view the whole city. It was a house fit for a King.3
Across the way from the house, on the other side of Mt. Zion, was the tent.
This was no ordinary tent. This was the Tent of Meeting. This tent was a replica of the one that accompanied the Hebrews in their wilderness wandering. It was a rectangular tent in the style of a Mesopotamian House of God.4 In front of its eastern facing entrance, there was a stone altar with horns and bronze basin. Inside the tent was the sanctuary which was furnished with lit menorahs, incense, and a table for shewbread. Then, just beyond a large curtain embroidered with stars and angels, in a room only the high priest could enter, was the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark was flanked by two cherubim whose wings met and formed the mercy seat: the LORD’s throne on earth. It was a special tent, but there was no getting around it: the King lived in a house while the LORD lived in a tent.
There was something very wrong with this picture and King David knew it. He was very bothered by the visual. What would visiting dignitaries think when they saw his grand house sitting next to the LORD’s meager tent? What would it say about this new Kingdom that they couldn’t properly house their deity? After all, a lavish house for its god was a monument to a nation’s glory.
But it wasn’t just the optics that bothered King David. He was truly troubled by it; David felt he owed the LORD better than a tent. The LORD had seen him through so much: he’d fought in battles, hidden in caves, mourned friends, danced in celebration, and now he sat enthroned at rest from all his enemies. And in all that time, the LORD had never left his side. David had gone from being a shepherd to King of Israel against all odds, and he knew that it was the LORD’s doing. He knew in his bones that he was the one who should be living in a tent and that the LORD should be in the house.
But it was more than that, even.
If he was truly honest with himself, King David didn’t like the tent because it seemed so impermanent. The tent was a constant reminder or the transient nature of this unseen God of desert wanderers. Housed in a tent, the LORD went from Sinai to Egypt, then back to Sinai again. At every stage in their journey, the Israelites packed the tent up and set it up at a new location. In David’s own lifetime, the LORD’s tent had moved from Shiloh to Gilgal. And here the Ark was in a new tent on top of Mt. Zion. Who's to say the LORD wouldn’t move again? As long as the LORD was in a tent, David felt, their relationship would be tenuous. After all, the LORD’s presence had left Saul; why shouldn’t it eventually leave David?
But perhaps if King David built a proper House of God, like the other nations had, then the LORD would stay with him forever and bless his reign.
One evening David was having these very thoughts. He stood on the roof of his house with his prophet, Nathan. And as they were looking into the distance at the tent of meeting, he finally said what was on his mind: “Here I am in a house of cedar and the Ark is in a tent…”
Nathan knew what the King was working up to. “Do whatever you have in mind,” he said. “The LORD is with you.”
So King David excused his prophet to go home for the evening, resolved that in the morning they would begin planning together a proper House of God. David slept like a baby that night.
But Nathan tossed and turned.
In the morning, Nathan approached David in the great cedar paneled throne room of his house. After kneeling and being invited to speak, Nathan reported that the LORD had spoken to him in a dream.
“What did he say?” David asked.
“Well… he said, ‘No thank you.’”
“No thank you?”
“Yes. The LORD said, ‘No thank you, I don’t want a house.’”
David had never known the LORD to be that polite. He could sense Nathan was doing his best to give him bad news gently.
“Why doesn’t he want a house?”
“Well… the LORD said that he had never asked any of Israel’s prior leaders for a house, so why should he ask you for one? Further, he said he had not dwelt in a house since he led us up out of Egypt, and why start now?”5
This news made David uneasy. Was the LORD planning on leaving? Perhaps he figured David was settled and his work was done here. Maybe he would return to Shiloh or Sinai, or move to some other Kingdom that needed him.
Nathan continued. “The LORD also said this: ‘Tell my servant David not to worry. I took him out of the pasture and put him over all of Israel. I have been with him and will continue to be with him. I will give him a great name and I will keep his people free from oppression and let them live long in this land.’”
Nathan could tell by the look on the King’s face that he was not yet reassured.
“The LORD also said that he would build a your house.”
“My house?”
“Yes! Your family line: the House of David!6 He said: The LORD declares to you that the LORD himself will establish a house for you: When your days are over and you rest with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, your own flesh and blood, and I will establish his kingdom. And though I may discipline him, I will never abandon him as I abandoned Saul.7 He is the one who will build a house for my Name… Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me; your throne will be established forever.’”
Nathan looked at King, trying to get a read on how his message had been received. Was he disappointed? Sad? Angry?
After a long pause, David wiped a tear from his eye. He stood up from his throne. He removed his crown. Then he walked toward the entrance portico.8
“Where are you going?” Nathan asked.
“I’m going to the tent to pray,” said the King.
As he walked from his house to the tent, David couldn’t help but feel that he was unworthy of all the blessings and kindness that the LORD had bestowed on him. The sheer magnitude of the LORD’s grace humbled him. Who was he? He was a small man who lived in a small house. As David approached the holy dwelling place of the God of all creation, it seemed to loom larger before him than it ever had. And when he dropped to his knees and knelt before the entrance, the meeting place towered before him, consuming his entire field of vision. It truly was a tent fit for a king!
LIFE STORY: David Graybeard
Dr. Jane Goodall is a zoologist who spent her life studying chimpanzees.9 She was the first to observe them using tools and hunting in groups. She was able to make these observations because she gradually gained their trust.
In 1960, when Jane Goodall began observing chimpanzees in Tanzania, she would watch them from great distance. But knowing she needed to get closer, she began to feed the chimps so that they would let her stay close and take notes. She would find a chimp and hold out a hand full of red palm nuts, carefully bowing her head and not making eye contact, lest the chimp feel challenged and become hostile. Then, if they accepted her offering, they would take the palm nuts and eat them, and she would observe them for a while.10 But the chimps were always guarded around her and she could never be sure if they were acting as they would if she weren’t there. Goodall, recalls that it was a chimp named David Graybeard11 who first lost his fear of her and accepted her.
She named him David Graybeard because he was jet black with a silver patch of fur just below his mouth. And because he was the shorter best friend of the large Alpha chimp she’d named Goliath.
One day, Jane Goodall was observing David Graybeard and he disappeared into a tangle of vegetation in the jungle. She followed, expecting that she had lost him and would have to find him another day. But when she came to a clearing, David Graybeard was sitting there waiting on her.
Jane Goodall saw a red palm nut on the ground, so she picked it up and held it out to him.
Then David Graybeard turned his head away, to indicate he didn’t want the palm nut.
But she held out her hand again.
This time, he took his hand and swept the palm nut out of hers. Then, with the same hand, he gently squeezed hers while maintaining eye contact.12
Jane Goodall knew from observation that a gently clasped hand was a chimpanzee’s way of offering reassurance. But she had only ever seen them do that to other chimpanzees. In this moment, she felt that David Graybeard was reassuring her of his acceptance of her. Non verbally, he was communicating to her that he didn’t care about the food she could provide, but only wanted her company.
From then on, Jane Goodall knew she was accepted by one of the chimps who would truly be himself around her. David Graybeard also gradually brought other chimps around to meet her and she was eventually accepted by the whole group. Her life among them began with a single expression of grace. To this day, Jane Goodall refers to David Graybeard as her favorite chimpanzee.
WISDOM STORY: Harold the Gardener
Once13 in a far away kingdom14 there was a very beautiful princess. Her father, the King, only wanted her happiness so when it came time for the princess to be married, he told her she would be allowed to choose a husband from among her suitors. The invitation was sent to three worthy suitors.15 And when they arrived, a great crowd gathered in the throne room to see which one she would choose.
To the first, she asked: “If I leave my Father’s palace and go with you, where will I live?”
The first replied, “My fair princess, I am a highborn prince. I have a castle in another Kingdom. It has strong walls that have never been breached and a moat with a drawbridge. Not only that, but I have an order of knights who are sworn to guard its walls and doors. And from them I would select the two bravest to stand outside your chambers protect you. So my princess, if you leave your Father’s palace and come with me, you will live in a castle all your days and fear for nothing.”
The princess replied, “I live in a castle now. One which you see is well fortified. And I have loyal bodyguards whom I trust. It seems you have nothing to offer me which I do not already have.”
To the second, she asked: “If I leave my Father’s palace and go with you, where will I live?”
The second replied, “My fair princess, I am a wealthy Lord. I have a mansion in the country. It has beautiful gardens, spacious rooms, and the finest furniture. It is staffed by servants who would attend to your every wish out of their great skill and my great fortune. So my princess, if you leave your Father’s palace and come with me, you will live in a mansion all your days and want for nothing.”
The princess replied, “I have gardens and spacious rooms here. I sleep on a luxurious bed and I have attendants who take good care of me. It seems you have nothing to offer me which I do not already have.”
To the third, she asked: “If I leave my Father’s palace and go with you, where will I live?”
The third replied, “My fair princess, I am a famous Captain. I have a great ship that goes to a new port every month. We would travel to distant lands with exotic cultures, wonderful food, and magnificent art. So my princess, if you leave your Father’s palace and come with me, you will live in the entire world all your days and experience everything it has to offer.”
The princess replied, “I have ships and sailors of my own. I am able to go wherever I please and experience all that I want. It seems you also have nothing to offer me which I do not already have.”
There was a hush in the throne room. Neither of the suitors: the prince, the noble, or the captain, had answered the princess to her satisfaction. The crowd that had gathered was disappointed and the King was embarrassed. Suddenly a voice came from the crowd.
“My princess…”
The crowd parted for a man in humble garb.
She recognized him immediately. It was Harold, the young gardener who trimmed the roses outside her window every morning. As Harold approached the princess, her body guards stood menacingly between them. The three suitors snickered, and the crowd began to shout at him to leave.
“Let him speak,” the princess said.
So the crowd hushed once more and Harold the Gardener spoke:
“My fair princess, I’m not highborn, or wealthy, or famous. And I don’t have a castle, or a mansion, or a ship. In fact, my quarters are here in your Father’s palace, so I have nowhere to take you or anything to offer you which you do not already have…
But, my princess, ever since I was very young, I have tended your garden. And in that time, if I would ever catch a glimpse of your beautiful face in the window, I would get butterflies and be unable to think of anything else for the rest of the day. But it is more than just your beauty that has captured me. Because from outside your window, I have overheard your honesty, your patience, and your kindness toward others. And it has inspired me to want to be more honest, patient, and kind, myself. And because I am your gardener I have endeavored to be the best gardener I can be. I have worked all these years to perfect my art, not so that others would think me a good gardener, but so that you would have beautiful flowers to look at. And I know that I cannot offer you security, or luxury, or adventure… But, my princess, if you let me come with you, I will leave my life behind and you will live forever in my heart.”
The princess was moved to tears. She smiled at Harold the Gardener and said: “You offer me the one thing I do not already have.”16
My own parable
The Sermontelling Circle
Stories are meant to be developed and told in community! So feel free to enter the circle and start a conversation. I’d love to hear your own sermontelling thoughts and tips. And of course your stories. I long to hear your wonderful stories!
I also appreciate your help widening the circle!
SERMONTELLING NOTES:
This retelling of the Narrative Lectionary passage is more or less straightforward. One thing it attempts to do is illuminate for hearers something that is often lost in translation: the multiple uses and meanings of the word bayit (house). Some translations obscure the repetition of the word house throughout this story, translating it alternately as palace, temple, and dynasty. That the one word has these three meanings is what makes this story so delightful. God in essence tells David, “You won’t build my house (temple); I will build your house (dynasty)!”
Typically you wouldn’t want a real long sentence like this in an oral story. It’s a mouthful for the teller and hard for the hearer to keep track of. But sometimes it works well at the beginning of a story, especially if you are zooming in. Zooming in is what I call it when you start a story with a panoramic view, and adjust the frame several times until you fix on a single point. It’s a way of giving the hearer the lay of the land before fixing their attention on a single point. Each part of the sentence brings the subject more and more into focus:
3,000 years ago,
in the newly conquered city of Jerusalem,
on top of the holy hill,
there stood two structures:
a house
and a tent.
If you take a slight pause at each break to allow the hearer to readjust the image in their head, then the sentence doesn’t read like a giant runon, but rather a series of short statements, one naturally leading into the other.
For this description, I consulted an article by Eilat Mazar for BIBLICAL ARCHAEOLOGY REVIEW. By the way, their entire back issue catalogue is digitized and searchable for subscribers. It’s an invaluable source for Biblical storytellers looking to fill out the world of the text.
We would of course say temple, and many translations do. But the Hebrew text uses the term bayit for temple. This is important to our story because it helps us see how a temple was conceived in the Ancient Near East, and thus how David would have understood its purpose: a house for the deity. Modern hearers tend to think of temples simply as an elaborate place of worship, analogous to a cathedral, and forget its role as being the locus of the divine presence. And while the Israelite conception of what their temple is will certainly change over time, the Israelites in David’s day certainly understood, for all else it might have been, the tabernacle (another word I have avoided in favor of tent) as the home of YHWH on earth.
The text simply says that Nathan reported to David all the words of the entire revelation. It doesn’t tell us how Nathan reported them. This affords us the opportunity to imagine how Nathan might have couched these words he knew David would not want to hear (which is famously his great skill). As a storyteller, it allows us to choose which parts of the speech to sum up and which ones to spell out.
This line is important for the hearer’s benefit. It helps them understand they are shifting from the understanding of house as a physical structure to the understanding of house as a dynasty.
All but this sentence is repeated verbatim from the NIV. I summarized 2 Samuel 7:14b-15:
When he does wrong, I will punish him with a rod wielded by men, with floggings inflicted by human hands. But my love will never be taken away from him, as I took it away from Saul, whom I removed from before you.
This is a little more succinct and it clarifies to the hearer what God is promising while sidestepping the language of love being taken away from Saul. Congregations rightly believe that God loves everybody and often have trouble with language that describes God as loving one and hating another. While it is important to address these passages and help your congregation think through what is actually being said, you may not have the space to do it in this particular sermon. To inadvertently bring up this theological tension while you are trying to resolve another might distract some from your message of grace. This is an issue I would sidestep unless I was planning to address it in the sermon. Your mileage may vary.
This could be a real moment of suspense. Slow down and wring every bit of drama from it!
When you are telling a story about a famous figure, it’s best not to assume everyone in the congregation knows who they are. A short biographical sketch at the beginning will ensure that folks who either haven’t heard of Jane Goodall or need reminding are caught up.
I have carefully described how Jane Goodall approached the chimps because later in the story, the details will pay off when David Graybeard reacts to this gesture in an unexpected way. In his wonderful book on storytelling, STORYWORTHY, Matthew Dicks calls this technique loading the backpack. The idea is that early in the story, you load the hearer’s backpack with certain expectations so that when a later moment comes, they will be preloaded with expectations about how it should turn out. Most people may not know there is danger in approaching a chimpanzee, even for an experienced zoologist. If you tell this ahead of time then you don’t have to stop the story to say, “Here’s why this is dangerous.” The tension will already be there because you have loaded the backpack before the journey.
Yes, the chimpanzee’s name is David. That is a happy accident. The reason I chose this story to pair with the 2 Samuel passage is that they are both about a transactional relationship being transcended in favor of genuine connection. David graybeard demonstrates that he doesn’t care about what Jane Goodall can provide, he simply wants her company. In the same way, God shows David that their relationship is not based on what David is able to provide but rather on God’s unconditional goodness. God dispenses with David’s offer and grants reassurance.
This gesture could become a silent motif throughout the sermon: holding out the left hand, sweeping it with the right hand, then gently clasping the two hands together. Repeating this motion throughout the sermon could be a visual reminder of God’s grace. You could say something like: “We come to God with our offerings, our efforts, our sacrifices and we hold them out and we say, ‘Is this enough? Will this make you love me? Will this make you stay?’ And God’s response is always…” (palm, sweep, clasp)
This is my own parable. I have a file of wisdom stories I’ve collected over the years that I like to draw from. Occasionally, though, I’m looking for a wisdom story that makes the point that I want to make, and realize that I need to create one. It’s actually not that hard to do and the rest of my notes will be devoted to giving pointers on how to create your own parable. Every parable starts with a simple theological truth. In this case, my simple truth is this: God doesn’t want to live in a temple; he wants to live in our hearts.
Once you have a message, you need a metaphor. Most parables are based on a comparison between something hard to understand and something easier to understand. Think of Jesus’ parables. Jesus describes the ineffable reality of his already and not yet Kingdom in terms of every day experiences. The Kingdom of God is like… a mustard seed, a banquet, a pearl of great price. One tried and true way to generate a parable is to take your simple truth and ask, what is this like?
If nothing immediately comes to mind, you can think of parables also in terms of genres. Here are some tried and true parable genres:
Animal Fables. Animals make great archetypes. Kingly lions, crafty foxes, industrious ants, loyal dogs, innocent doves, vulnerable sheep, predatory wolves… the list goes on. Animals are great for moral tales because they tell us a lot about ourselves. Animals are also timeless. Aesop’s Fables have been around since the 7th century BC and they are still taught to school children.
Fairy Tales. There is something about the world of fairytale that says ‘story time.’ These stories present us a simplified and heightened version of our own reality and people really do enjoy them. One factor that makes these stories work particularly well is that a King is a tried and true metaphor for God (one Jesus used in his own parables). These stories can help give the hearer a peek into the mysterious ways of God.
Anthropomorphic Objects. A great way to generate a parable is to imagine the thoughts and feelings of everyday objects. These work especially well in sermons that have these objects as their primary imagery. Try imagining an every day experience from the object’s point of view. For instance, what does a hunk of clay think and feel when it is put on the potter’s wheel? What does a seed experience when planted in the ground? Or a cluster of grapes when separated from the vine?
Absurdities. These work well to point out our spiritual follies by showing how absurd it would be if we behaved in other areas of our life the way we behave in our spiritual life. A husband who marries his wife and never talks to her again can illustrate the silliness of Christians who don’t pray. A scientist who invents a lifesaving cure but doesn’t tell anyone about it because he doesn’t want to bother them can lampoon our reticence to evangelize. Or how about this: a group that meets together and studies IKEA instructions, but they sit on the floor because they have no furniture…
Family. The relationships people know the best are familial ones. Parables that play out on the stage of family relationships can be particularly impactful because it is likely to make the hearer think about their own families. Look no further than the parable of the prodigal son. This genre works especially well when exploring our Heavenly Father’s love for his children.
These of course aren’t the only genres possible. Parables can involve super heroes, cowboys, ghosts & goblins, doctors & patients, teachers & children— you’re limited only to your imagination!
For this particular parable, I chose a fairytale setting. But rather than cast the King in the role of God, the Beautiful Princess is the deity and the suitors are the would be worshippers.
The rule of threes is one of the most well known rules of storytelling. The reason why this phenomenon works so well is beyond the scope of this newsletter. It just does. We preachers get it inherently. If we provide only two examples of something, it feels half baked. If we provide four examples, we can feel ourselves boring people. Three, to quote a famous story that relies on this rule, is just right. In storytelling, the first two occurrences of something sets the pattern and the third occurrence either reinforces, subverts, transcends, or synthesizes the first two.
A lesser known scheme in storytelling is three plus one. The way three plus one works is that you have three occurrences that turn out exactly the same. This gives the hearer an impression that things are hopeless. After all, if the storyteller were going to break the pattern, she would have done it on the third occurrence. The fact that that three occurrences have gone by and the result has been the same must mean that the pattern is inalterable. That’s where the plus one comes in. In this scheme there is some kind of distress after the third occurrence and then something unexpected occurs: there’s a surprise fourth occurrence.
This parable uses the three plus one scheme. We are told at the outset that there are three suitors. This sets the expectation that it will be the third suitor who is truly different and will win the Princess’ hand. In fact, this almost seems to be true. Whereas the first two suitors are offering to keep the princess in safe buildings, the third suitor is offering her the world. It should be surprising and disappointing when the princess rejects him as well.
It seems the story is over and done with until a voice comes from the crowd and an unexpected third occurrence presents itself. Once you know this pattern, you begin to see it everywhere. You’ll be watching a movie and feel your hopes dashed when the hero fails the third test, only to have them revived when an unexpected fourth test reveals itself. Recognizing these patterns can help you design effective parables.
The central realization of this parable is that there is nothing we can offer God that God does not already have. God is the creator of all and the giver of all. Why should large offerings and elaborate worship services impress God? What God is after is the one thing God does not already have: our very selves. When writing a parable, we don’t want to get so wrapped up in the storytelling that we forget the simple truth we are trying to convey. Harold the Gardner’s pitch may sound like a simple declaration of love but it doubles as a description of the kind of devotion God is after. Harold is inspired by the Princess’ goodness and example to be good himself. His love inspires him not to try and trap the Princess in a box but to do things which delight her. He knows that she cannot follow him; he must follow her. On that note, the first two suitors can be seen as church builders, and the third as a missionary, but all three are making the same mistake: they believe they can take God with them. If you keep an eye on your simple truth, then your parables will be stories to which people continually return to find new meaning.
Hey Danny. Great work, as usual.
This passage (about David's desire to build a temple) always reminds me of the story of St. Francis, who heard God tell him to "rebuild the church." In his humility, took this to mean that he was to repair the ramshackle ruins of San Damiano, which he set about almost single-handedly, begging bits of stone from the townspeople. In the process he brought about several layers of church renewal in his region and in the Church at large. There's a magical scene in "Brother Sun, Sister Moon" in which Francis' lifelong friend Peter Catani is talking to Francis about his own spiritual struggle and his desire to live more like Francis. During this talk, Francis appears to be staring into the fire. As Peter finishes his impassioned speech, Francis extends his hand towards an irregular piece of cut stone laying near the fireplace. "That would make a worthy cornerstone..."