Commentary on 1 Kings 8:[1, 6, 10-11] 22-30, 41-43

One of my former colleagues, Randy Litchfield, has written and taught a great deal about the idea of place as something unique and distinct from a mere location. He writes that place is not a mere setting for self-expression or a background element of life’s drama, but it is “the fabric of drama itself, the unfolding web of relationships between God, humans, and creation.”¹ It is not a stagnant pool, but a flowing stream in which we live and move. I believe this idea is helpful for our reading of the lectionary text today.

First Kings 8 invites us into the scene of the dedication of the temple. This is an auspicious occasion, as indicated by the guest list: elders, tribal heads, and leaders of the ancestral houses of Israel. Verse 6 draws our attention to a critical moment of this chapter—the movement of the ark of the covenant to the most holy place within the temple.

The ark itself is a prominent symbol of the long journey and spiritual commitments of the children of Israel. It was commissioned during their 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, and it traveled with them as a tangible symbol of God’s presence and the relationship between them and God. The transition of the ark from tabernacle to temple evokes a sense of stability, grounding, and permanence. More than a dwelling, this is a true home.

I am reminded of the interpretive approach I learned from scholar and preacher Anna Carter Florence for reading through biblical texts. She encouraged me to try focusing on the verbs in the text and getting a sense of the movement and action of the people involved. First Kings 8:1, 6, 10–11 is all action—assembling leaders, bringing the ark, the priests coming out of the holy place and being unable to stand, the glory of the Lord filling the house. These actions establish a picture of the unfolding relationship between the people and God.

The temple has already been built, but it is now being dedicated. It is being occupied with the kind of intention and interaction that transforms it from a space into a place. The temple becomes the site for the active and ongoing embodiment of the covenant in real time. What we observe in these verses is a vision of divine and human partners embracing a sacred rhythm, moving in sync as the covenant lives and breathes through their dynamic relationship.

Verses 22–30 and 41–43 draw our attention to the words of King Solomon—excerpts from his prayers of dedication. It is worth noting that Solomon’s prayer begins in the temple before the altar. But his words are directed to the Lord who, according to verse 27, cannot be contained in heaven, much less in the house Solomon has built. This uncontainable power implies a ubiquitous reach and influence. Whether in the heavens or on the earth, the Lord hears and responds to those who keep the covenant. The bulk of Solomon’s prayer is an affirmation of the God who reciprocates faithfulness with a faithful people.

Furthermore, Solomon’s prayer in the temple is the fulfillment of God’s promise in verse 25: “There shall never fail you a successor before me to sit on the throne of Israel, if only your children look to their way, to walk before me as you have walked before me.”

The text suggests three sites from which people might engage the Lord: within the temple (verse 22), toward the temple (verse 30), and from a foreign land toward the temple (verses 41–43)—three different locations, all oriented toward the house of worship. What can we make of this? Recall that Solomon himself acknowledges that no space can contain the Lord. Yet, a house has been built, and this house becomes a focal point for the practices and petitions of many people.

Let us consider the common thread between these three locations: they are all sites of prayer. It is prayer that guides the attention and affections of those oriented toward God. It is not a matter of where they are, but where their hearts are focused. Prayer opens communication with God and allows for the transformation of any location and situation into a place where the alignment of divine and human activity can happen.

If God’s power and presence can be active anywhere, what makes the house built for God so important? What come to mind are the memories of my childhood, marked by visits to my grandparents’ house. I am reminded of the sound, feel, and sight of holiday gatherings, birthday parties, weekend barbecues, and family dinners. I felt a sense of anticipation and excitement whenever we arrived at the threshold of their front door.

Long after they departed from that house, I remember driving by that familiar address. The house still stands, but it hadn’t been their home for decades. It was the exact location but no longer the same place. If those walls could talk, they would tell the stories of multiple generations who gathered and broke bread, laughed and mourned, worked and played, all in the unceasing current of life together. The life that flowed through that space could not be contained by it, but the space was made significant by the fact that life happened there.

Without question, the temple building held symbolic significance. Yet, it was the gathering of the people, the movement of the priests, and the weight of the Lord’s glory that turned the edifice into a holy place. Brick and mortar, timber and stone: they offer structural reinforcement but not substantive relationship. The latter emerges when God, humanity, and creation gather together in living, moving agreement.

Notes

1. Randy Litchfield, “Purpose, Place, and Vocational Imagination,” in Roots and Routes: Calling, Ministry, and the Power of Place (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2019).