Their relationship remains unclear.
They may be unlikely brothers,
or perhaps like Oscar and Felix,
they are simply an odd couple
sharing the same high rise apartment.
But Elohim and Yahweh—
the two gods of Genesis—
have competing stories
about how they did it,
how they created all that is,
each one claiming the honor
and vying for our adoration and worship.
Elohim, a man of few words,
created the heavens and the earth
by the power of the spoken command.
“Let there be light,” he said
and there was light.
I imagine him seated in a director’s chair,
gesturing broadly with his hands
as he speaks clear and simple instructions
to the dark and formless void.
A firm believer in evolution,
Elohim has watched his simple creation
of a flat earth covered with a dome
become a vast expanding universe
of stellar clouds and dark matter.
Yahweh, in contrast,
always prefers a hands-on style,
sculpting creatures from the earth,
breathing life into muddy forms,
tending gardens,
planting orchards,
setting boundaries,
sewing garments,
and evicting disobedient tenants.
Elohim prefers the big picture,
the grand scheme,
the massive expanse of the untamed cosmos.
Yahweh, on the other hand,
believes that god is in the details.
A micro-manager of earthly affairs,
Yahweh spent centuries on a singular project
parting waters,
planning conquests,
dictating rulebooks,
demanding justice,
admonishing kings,
and controlling the destiny
of the Hebrew people
like tokens on a game board.
Today, many years later,
I imagine them in their retirement,
Elohim sitting at his telescope
watching the movement of the heavens
and Yahweh in his basement workshop
crafting a new species or two.
At the end of the day,
they sit together side by side,
Yahweh with his knitting,
and Elohim reading Carl Sagan,
bickering over the remote control.
(copyright © 2014 Kurt Struckmeyer)
Bethlehem Lutheran Church was built with a sanctuary that could hold 1,100 people. In 1895, it was the largest Lutheran church in St. Louis. In 2014, the congregation had only 150 members.
On Friday evening, April 11, 2014, much of one wall and part of the roof fell in. The school building which now houses the sanctuary and offices of the church, as well as Better Learning Communities Academy, a charter school, were undamaged. The historical structure which once was crowded with people in fellowship, worship and music is now in ruins.
A recent study found that in 2000, the median worship attendance at US congregations was 137; now it’s down to 65. As church attendance shrinks, small congregations make up a growing portion of the US religious landscape. In 2000, 45 percent of churches had fewer than 100 in weekly attendance. That has climbed to 65 percent. And aging sanctuaries which were built for larger crowds are becoming an increasing burden to maintain.
