A Sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church
27 October 2024
First Readings: 1 Kings 5.1-5; 8.27-30, 41-43
Second Readings: Isaiah 2.1-3; Revelation 21.1-3, 22-26
Today’s scripture passage from 1 Kings is from our autumn lectionary series,
as we journey through the Hebrew Bible on our way to Advent and Christmas;
and it brings us to a significant moment in the history of Israel
as we encounter King Solomon dedicating the newly completed Temple in Jerusalem,
as a structure meant to be the centre of worship for the people of Israel.
It was a (literally) monumental achievement,
representing the fulfilment of a long-awaited promise
that David, Solomon’s father, had yearned for.
However, in his prayer of dedication,
Solomon offers a remarkable theological insight
that stretches far beyond the walls of the Temple:
He says:
“But will God indeed dwell on the earth?
Even heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you,
much less this house that I have built!” (1 Kings 8:27).
This acknowledgment
—that God cannot be confined to a physical structure—
sets the tone for a conversation that transcends boundaries,
both literal and metaphorical.
Solomon, standing in the newly constructed Temple in Jerusalem,
the building envisaged as God’s house on earth,
astonishingly suggests that God’s presence is not, in fact, restricted
to any one building, people, or nation.
Instead, he proclaims that the God of Israel, is also the God of all creation,
an insight that lays the foundation for what follows in verses 41-43,
where Solomon explicitly prays for the foreigner,
for the person who is not part of the Israelite community,
but who seeks to worship and know the same God.
For a congregation like ours,
situated in the heart of a diverse and bustling city like London,
this message could not be more relevant.
In a time where divisions based on nationality, race, religion, and identity
seem to grow deeper,
Solomon’s prayer reminds us
that God’s love and grace extend to all people.
The Temple, built by Israelites and for Israelites,
was also, according to 1 Kings,
always intended to be a house of prayer for all nations
—a space where inclusivity and openness are central to its very purpose.
In Solomon’s time, the Temple stood as a symbol
of Israel’s unique relationship with God.
But Solomon's prayer shifts the focus from exclusivity
to a broader, more inclusive understanding
of who belongs in the presence of God.
It’s not just the chosen people who are invited to encounter the Divine;
it is rather anyone—any foreigner, any outsider—
who finds themselves drawn to the worship of God.
This radical openness is echoed throughout the scriptures,
and it presents a powerful challenge to us today.
We live in a world that increasingly seeks to define
who is “in” and who is “out,”
who belongs and who doesn’t.
Whether it’s through the lens of national borders,
religious affiliation, or even political ideology,
the temptation to limit grace and favour to a select group is strong.
Yet, Solomon’s prayer speaks against this exclusivity.
The presence of God cannot be contained by walls,
and neither can the love of God be restricted by human categories.
Solomon’s vision invites us to imagine a different kind of community,
one where everyone, regardless of background, identity, or status,
is welcomed into the embrace of God.
In this moment, Solomon’s prayer
not only dedicates the Temple as a place for Israel
but opens the door for all humanity.
This inclusivity mirrors God’s universal mission,
seen from the promise to Abraham
that all nations will be blessed through his descendants (Genesis 12:3)
to the prophetic visions of a time when all nations
will stream to God’s holy mountain (Isaiah 2:2-4),
to the vision of the book of Revelation,
that the nations will walk by the light of the New Jerusalem.
This thread of universality is woven throughout the biblical narrative,
pointing us toward a future where the distinctions we sometimes hold so tightly
fade in the light of God’s all-encompassing love.
For us today, the challenge is clear:
how do we, as a community of faith,
reflect this expansive, inclusive vision of God’s love in our own lives?
How do we build spaces—both physical and spiritual—
where all people can encounter God without fear of exclusion or rejection?
In a world increasingly divided by nationalism, racism,
homophobia, transphobia, and xenophobia,
we are called to be a living testament
to the God who cannot be confined:
we are to be a people who open wide the doors of welcome.
Whether it’s through our acts of hospitality, or advocacy for the marginalized,
or simply the way we greet one another on a Sunday morning,
we have the opportunity to reflect God’s universal embrace.
This passage calls us to more than just tolerance
—it calls us to radical inclusivity,
to the kind of love that breaks down barriers and builds bridges.
Just as Solomon’s Temple was a symbol of God’s presence among the people,
so too can we be living symbols of God’s love in the world,
extending grace and welcome to all who seek it,
no matter where they come from or who they are.
It’s in this context that I want to turn to the issue of nationalism,
and particularly the phenomena known as Christian Nationalism.
In the current global landscape, nationalism is on the rise in many places.
Donald Trump’s current campaign for the presidency
has adopted a nationalist agenda which focuses on "America First,"
opposing immigration, and trade deals perceived to harm U.S. interests.
But he’s far from an outlier, rather he’s part of a global trend,
with leaders such as Narendra Modi in India pursuing policies
which emphasize national pride, economic self-reliance, and social conservatism,
particularly with regards to religious and cultural identity.
Or Viktor Orbán in Hungary, who takes hard-line nationalist and populist stances,
particularly on issues such as immigration and the European Union.
Or Marine Le Pen in France emphasizing French identity,
anti-immigration, and Euroscepticism.
All of these nationalist agendas create the possibility
for a dangerous intersection with faith,
where Christian nationalism
—the belief that a country’s identity is uniquely tied to Christianity—
threatens to distort the gospel’s inclusive message.
Christian nationalism often promotes the idea
that a specific nation, race, or culture is divinely favoured,
usually at the expense of others.
It has its origins in the fusion of Christianity and the Roman Empire,
which took place under the emperor Constantine in the 4th Century;
and whilst Christendom as a defined religious and political entity may have passed,
its legacy lingers on much of the ideology that continues to shape our world.
But this stands in stark opposition to the message of 1 Kings 8:41-43,
where Solomon prays for the foreigner
and acknowledges God’s concern for all nations.
Christian nationalism, as a worldview,
blends patriotism with an exclusionary version of Christianity.
This leads to an “us vs. them” mentality
that sees outsiders, whether immigrants, people of different religions,
or those from different backgrounds,
as threats to a “Christian” identity.
By fusing a person’s religious faith with their national identity,
it narrows the gospel’s expansive vision of love, justice, and inclusion
into a political agenda that seeks power and control
rather than service and compassion.
Solomon’s prayer, however, paints a different picture of God’s kingdom.
In his vision, the Temple, built in the heart of Israel,
was not just for the Israelites.
It was meant to be a place where even those from other nations
could come, worship, and be heard by God.
This universal vision directly confronts the idea
that any one nation, people, or group
has an exclusive claim to God’s favour.
God’s love knows no national borders.
In modern times, Christian nationalism often leads to policies and rhetoric
that marginalize and oppress those considered “other.”
Whether it’s the rejection of refugees, the demonization of immigrants,
or the insistence that certain groups must conform
to specific national or religious identities to belong,
this ideology contradicts the gospel’s message.
Jesus himself consistently reached out to those on the margins
—Samaritans, Gentiles, and other outsiders—
demonstrating that God’s kingdom is far more inclusive than we often allow.
Solomon’s prayer for the foreigner
speaks powerfully against the temptations of Christian nationalism.
We will be exploring this topic further in our online group this week,
and I do hope you will be able to join us for this on Weds evening.
In a context such as ours, where many people come
from different countries, cultures, and faith backgrounds,
our calling is to embody the inclusivity of God’s kingdom.
We are called to resist the narrative
that Christianity and national identity are intertwined,
and instead embrace a faith that welcomes all people.
As Christians, our primary allegiance is not to any nation or political ideology
but to the global and inclusive kingdom of God.
We are called to challenge systems and ideologies
that seek to restrict God’s grace to any one people or place.
Solomon’s prayer reminds us that God hears the prayers
of the foreigner, the outsider, and the marginalized.
Our role is to create spaces—both in our hearts and in our churches—
where all are welcome to encounter the love of God,
no matter where they come from.
Let us be a community that resists exclusion
and instead reflects God’s radical love for all nations and all people.
This means cultivating a culture where all voices are included in the conversation
—whether that be people of different nationalities, races,
genders, sexual orientations, or faith perspectives.
Our congregation can be a model of what it looks like
to be a faith community that welcomes diversity
not as an obstacle but as a gift.
In practical terms,
this might mean ensuring that our worship
reflects the cultural and linguistic diversity of our congregation.
It could involve intentional efforts to partner with organizations
that serve marginalized communities,
whether they be refugees, the homeless, or those who are differently-abled.
It also means cultivating spaces for interfaith dialogue and cooperation,
recognizing that in our diverse city,
we share common concerns with people of other faiths
—whether it’s caring for the environment, advocating for social justice,
or working for peace.
All of these are part of who we are as a church,
and my challenge is for more of us to become involved.
Turning up at things is the first step to being part of them,
and we have some amazing opportunities here at Bloomsbury
to turn our beliefs into action.
We also have a responsibility to engage in advocacy.
Solomon’s prayer for the foreigner challenges us to think
about how we, as a community, can speak out
against exclusionary policies and practices in society.
Whether it’s advocating for more just immigration policies,
standing against racial injustice,
or supporting the rights of LGBTQ+ individuals,
our call is to be a prophetic voice for inclusivity
in a world that often seeks to divide.
Solomon’s prayer reflects a vision of God’s temple
as a place where all people can come to experience God’s presence.
For us, this means creating a church
that is not just for people who are like us,
but for everyone who seeks spiritual connection, healing, and justice.
It is about living out the gospel in a way that makes room
for all people to find their place at the table.
In conclusion, this passage invites us to examine our own hearts
and practices as a congregation.
Are we truly living out the inclusive love of God?
Are we creating spaces where all are welcome,
or are there barriers—whether visible or invisible—
that prevent people from fully participating in the life of our church?
Solomon’s prayer calls us to be a community
that reflects the boundless love of God,
embracing all people with open arms,
and working for justice in a world that desperately needs it.
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