The God Who Dwells Among His People

Today’s readings draw our attention to a central truth of our faith:
God chooses to dwell with His people.

In the first reading from 1 Kings,
Solomon gathers all Israel.

The Ark of the Covenant is brought into the Temple.

This moment marks the fulfilment of a long journey.

The Ark has travelled through the wilderness, been carried into battle,
and guarded the memory of God’s saving acts.

Now it rests in the Holy of Holies.

The cloud fills the Temple.

The glory of the Lord is so strong that the priests cannot remain to minister.

God’s presence is overwhelming.

And yet Solomon speaks with reverence and restraint:

“The Lord has said that he would dwell in thick darkness.”

God’s dwelling is real, but never controllable.

He is present, but never reduced to a possession.

The Ark contains only one thing now — the tablets of the Law.

No treasure.
No relics of power.

Only the word of God.

This prepares us for the Gospel from Mark.

Jesus arrives by boat.

Immediately, people recognise him.

They run through the whole region
bringing the sick on mats.

They do not need explanation.
They need nearness.

Wherever Jesus goes —
villages, towns, countryside —
the sick are brought to him.

And even touching
the fringe of his cloak
brings healing.

This is not magic.
It is faith responding to presence.

Notice the movement.

In the Old Testament,
the people go to the Temple
to meet God.

In the Gospel,
God goes to the people.

Jesus is the new Temple.

What the Ark signified,
Christ fulfils.

The cloud that filled the Temple
now surrounds a human life.

The holiness once confined
to one place
now walks among villages.

God no longer dwells
behind a veil.

He dwells among us.

This is not a contradiction.
It is a deepening.

The God who chose to dwell
in thick darkness
now reveals Himself
in the flesh of His Son.

And people respond instinctively.

They reach out.

They trust
that closeness matters.

That touch matters.

This Gospel reveals
the heart of sacramental faith.

God works through what is physical.

A cloud.
A Temple.
A cloak.

God meets us
where we are.

This is why the Church
takes place in real space,
with real signs.

This is why the Eucharist
is not symbolic presence,
but real presence.

The same Lord
who filled the Temple
and healed the crowds
comes to dwell among us here.

We sometimes forget
how extraordinary this is.

We approach the altar
as if it were familiar.

But the cloud filled the Temple
and the priests stepped back.

The crowds pressed forward
and were healed.

Both reactions
are appropriate.

Reverence
and trust.

Awe
and confidence.

Today’s readings invite us
to recover both.

To remember that God is holy —
and near.

That He dwells among us —
not because we deserve it,
but because He chooses to.

The God who once dwelt
in thick darkness
now gives Himself to be touched.

Not because He is small,
but because His love is great.

May we approach Him today
with the reverence of Solomon
and the faith of the crowds.

And may we never forget
that the God who fills heaven and earth
chooses still
to dwell among His people.