What We Are Really Dealing with Here (2 Samuel 7:1-14)

Yoda is a Muppet. I mean this quite literally. The original trilogy version of Yoda is a puppet built and operated in the style of Jim Henson. George Lucas approached Jim Henson, himself, to take the lead on Yoda, but Henson had too many things going on. So, Frank Oz, voice of Ms. Piggy and Jim Henson’s key collaborator, voiced and operated the Jedi Master. Wendy Froud, a Muppet designer and sculptor, did a huge amount of the work building Yoda. He looks like a hungover Kermit with some giant ears attached and speaks like Grover from Sesame Street taking on an air of mystery. This design methodology sets up an awesome head fake. Yoda looks like just some weird, little guy, like a particularly wretched member of the Muppet Show ensemble, like Gonzo’s even weirder cousin. We don’t expect much from such a creature.

Luke certainly doesn’t expect much from him, upon first meeting Yoda. The wannabe Jedi has big problems. His ship crashed. He needs to find the last great and powerful Jedi, a “great warrior,” to get his required training, and up bumbles this swamp Muppet in rags, who offers to help and starts stealing food. Luke sees Yoda as some dumb yokel. The movie slowly rolls Yoda’s identity and Yoda’s ability. It culminates in Yoda effortlessly lifting Luke’s starfighter from the swamp by simply sticking out his hand and closing his eyes. Up to this point, the audience has never seen a Jedi do something so awe inspiring. Grover’s wizened alter ego turns out to contain capacity on a whole different magnitude. In calmly raising a multi-ton object, Yoda flexes on Luke, and we catch this glimpse of the actual amount of power that we are dealing with here. From a filmmaking perspective, Yoda’s enate Muppet-ness ups the power of that effect. We don’t expect anything from ancient puppets, and instead, we get the most powerful Jedi Master around. We witness and share in Luke’s reaction. Oh, we have encountered something else entirely.

Our scene from 2 Samuel 7 has a similar emotional impact, of tremendous and unexpected power getting flexed to make a point. King David rules the land, leads the Army, and gets the honor of God’s favorite guy. If he has a good idea, especially one at least outwardly aimed at worshipping God, he, as King, and us, as audience, all anticipate that idea rapidly coming to fruition. David feels like he shouldn’t have it better than God, so God should have a grand home – a Temple worthy of God’s greatness. Nathan sees the sense in it and knows that generally, God goes with this guy. Kings call the shots. God likes this king. The idea sounds like positive progress. David appears to have had a wonderful instinct.

God says no as a flex of the proper cosmic power dynamic.

Toward the end of Job, the long suffering titular hero takes his case to God, calling God out for his unending pain and demanding an answer. In God’s response, God offers no excuses, and instead, stresses the degree to which God is God, and Job is not.

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind:
‘Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up your loins like a man,
   I will question you, and you shall declare to me.

‘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 38:1-7 NRSV)

God continues in that same vain for a couple more chapters. God formed and contains the entirety of creation. Job doesn’t, so Job, as mere mortal, will never fully comprehend God’s actions. God rhetorically flexes to draw out the infinite power differential between the two sides of the dispute – a faithful, if over it, human and the divine creator of all things. Job gets that glimpse of what he’s really

dealing with here – a being and a logic capable of knitting existence together.

In 2 Samuel 7, David gets his own version. Speaking to the prophet Nathan, God denies David’s desire in all “I” statements. I brought the people out of Egypt. I appointed Judges. I have been with you. I have given you victories. I will establish your house forever. I will have a Temple built on my own timeline.

Go and tell my servant David: Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved about among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, ‘Why have you not built me a house of cedar?’ (2 Samuel 7:5-7 NRSV)

God didn’t request a Temple. God does the real work. God has the real power. Nathan gets instructed to remind David who has all the cards and who actually runs the show. David gets a reminder of who he’s really dealing with here – the true fount of the nation’s success and the one seated on the nation’s proverbial throne.

We only view God indirectly, by God’s works, creations, and actions. Much like Yoda, the Muppet Master, this lulls us into a false sense of reality. David got the incorrection impression that he could decide on a house for God. It allows us, as well, to misunderstand who we are dealing with. God is. God is absolute power. God is absolutely in charge.