Readings for Pentecost 7: Psalms 79, 13, 88
July 18, 2004
The Rev. Karen Siegfriedt
St. Jude the Apostle Episcopal Church, Cupertino,
CA
When I was in my early twenties, I was so excited and so idealistic about life. I felt that the whole world was before me, ready to be explored and celebrated. I believed in the goodness of humanity and that God had created a well-ordered universe. I believed that if I "kept my nose clean" and "worked hard," then all would be well. I felt I was invincible in mind, body, and spirit. In my understanding of the world, there was no place for evil to play havoc or for bad things to happen to good people. So when I experienced two traumatic events, (caused by no fault of my own), I was crushed. These experiences quickly moved me from a place of orientation to disorientation. In the dark night of the soul, I cried out: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me...I cry in the daytime but you do not answer." [ps. 22] Today I want to continue my sermon series on the psalms. In particular, I will focus on the psalms of disorientation: that time in our lives when the pain comes crashing in and darkness is our only companion. But first, let's go over some of the introductory material on the psalms that was preached last week.
The psalms are a collection of Jewish poetry, set to music, and written over a period of many centuries. Different people wrote different psalms for different occasions. 150 psalms were collected into one book of the Bible which we call the Psalter. In more ancient times, the Psalter was the hymnal and prayer book for the Hebrew people. For Anglicans, it is a very important part of our spiritual and liturgical life.
In his book, The Message of the Psalms,* Walter Brueggemann divides the psalms into three headings: Psalms of orientation, psalms of disorientation, and psalms of reorientation. Orientation is that time in life when things are going fairly smoothly; when the status quo is operating and one experiences equilibrium. This does not mean that there are no challenges in life but it does appear that the universe is operating in a well-ordered fashion. However, chaos can impinge upon this sense of equilibrium. Grief, loss, disappointment, pain, and alienation can raise their ugly heads. Suffering is the result. This is the phase of disorientation, when God seems to be silent. But then, the light breaks through the darkness, and out of the ashes of death and destruction, new possibilities arise. We call this phase, "reorientation." Most people experience these three cycles in their lives- not once but usually many times. Last week, I spoke about psalms of orientation and so now it is time to look at the season of disorientation.
It is very difficult for people in the United States to deal with extended periods of disorientation. As a people, we would much rather stick our heads in the sand, keep busy, or buy an SUV and a condo in Florida, in order to deny the pain and chaos of life. Since the Age of Enlightenment, we have "bought" into the myth that all problems are fixable; that if we just try harder, have more information, have more money, have more intelligence, have more power, become more self-sufficient, then all will be well. The American dream is based on the fantasy, that life is coherent, symmetrical, and at equilibrium; that hard work and good character will always lead us to that golden calf on the hill. In this fantasy story, there is no place for disorientation. There is no place for prolonged suffering and pain. Even the Church has a tendency to buy into this theology of prosperity. Many churches continue to sing "songs of orientation" in a world that is increasingly disoriented. As a result, there is a disconnect between our life experience of disorientation and the church's selection of psalms, biblical passages, and happy songs. No wonder we become so fearful when the cycle of disorientation strikes. We have not been given the tools to weather the storm nor do we know how to deal with God when our hearts are breaking.
Unfortunately, life is not as controllable and predictable as we have been taught. Life is hard and is marked by chaos, unfortunate circumstances, asymmetry, and pain. This is why the psalms of disorientation and the season of Lent are very important in the life of the believer. The psalms of darkness and the season of Lent give voice to the raw reality of human life and the suffering that is imposed by this reality.
The kind of psalms that give voice to this season of disorientation and darkness are called "laments." A lament is a complaint. It is a prayer for help. To lament means to cry out loud, to mourn one's pain: "Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord hear my voice." [ps. 130] "Save me, O God, for the waters have risen up to my neck. I am sinking in deep mire, and there is no firm ground for my feet." [ps. 69] "My humiliation is daily before me and shame has covered my face." [ps. 44] "Fight those who fight me, O Lord...Take up shield and armor and rise up to help me." [ps. 35] "O Lord...you have laid me in the depths of the pit, in dark places, and in the abyss." [ps. 88]
A lament can be a personal cry for help or a communal response to an act of destruction. In the United States, there is a tendency to restrict religious discourse from the public sphere. Religion in America is mostly a "private affair" This makes it more difficult to find an avenue for us to come together as a nation, to lament, to wail, to place our corporate prayer before God and then to wait and listen for God's reply. So when disaster strikes our nation, many folks are at a loss to deal with the darkness. For the people of Israel, communal laments were part and parcel of their religious life. The people of Israel did not deny their pain and the sense of powerlessness in the face of war, drought, and alienation. In times like these, they accessed the psalms as a way of expressing the hurt, the rage, and the injustices of life that they were experiencing in common.
Perhaps the most serious event of disorientation that happened to the people of Israel, was the conquest of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in 587 BCE. This resulted in the destruction of the temple and the exile of the Jewish people to Babylon. The temple had been the symbol of life for the Jewish people. Its destruction created a profound sense of disorientation. The pain that they experienced from the loss of this center was similar to the pain a mother would feel while watching her child being killed. Psalm 79 is a psalm that addresses this pain. Let's take a closer look. [see BCP 701] Verse 1 begins with an opening address to God, followed by a description of the trouble. Verses 5-11 are like an inventory of God's person, asking him to mobilize every possible part of his power to effect a change. Vs. 12 is a call for revenge. It reflects the dark side of this community's piety and thirst for punishment. The lament ends with a yearning for a new orientation and a vote of confidence in God to come to their aid.
Communal laments like Psalm 79 are tools we need to add to our spiritual treasure chest. As a community of faith, as a nation in transition, as a world in turmoil, we need to come together, to cry out, to voice our complaint, to wait for God's response, and to articulate our commitment to a life of holiness. If economic collapse, strikes of terrorism, nuclear and biological threat, war, disease, and environmental degradation, were to hit our nation, what would it do to your relationship with God? The Biblical faith of the psalms is not romantic. It reckons that evil strikes at all that is crucial and precious. And it requires us to move beyond the venom, beyond revenge, to the Lord who is always present, even at the destruction of the temple.
Psalm 13 [see BCP 151] is a personal lament. Something is terribly wrong in the life of the speaker. This has caused great stress in the relationship between the speaker and God. Vs. 1-2 describe a situation of disorientation and fix the blame firmly on God. Vs. 3 &4 petition God and give God a motivation to respond to this time of distress. Vs. 5-6 state the petitioner's faithfulness despite this time of disorientation and ends with a vote of confidence and praise. In the midst of darkness, in the season of disorientation, we (like the psalmist) should not hesitate to cry out to God and demand healing. This means that we do not have to "suck it up" in order to be faithful. The laments are an entry into the larger world of faith where "the Lord of all seasons" reigns.
Finally, I want to talk about psalms that are problematic to conventional faith. First are the imprecatory psalms. To "imprecate" means to curse. There are many passages in the psalms that curse the enemy. Anglicans tend to remove these passages from the liturgy because they challenge our good taste and our positive theology. But the psalms are full of curses: "Happy shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock." [ps. 137] "Let his days be few, and let another take his office. Let his children be fatherless, and his wife become a widow. Let his children be waifs and beggars; let them be driven from the ruins of their homes. Let the creditor seize everything he has; let strangers plunder his gains." [109] Cursing comes from a place of fear and is part of our fearful human nature. The imprecatory psalms (i.e. the curing psalms) do not want to deny this part of human life. Neither should we.
Psalm 88 [see BCP 712] is the cry of a believer whose life has gone awry, who desperately seeks contact with God, yet is unable to evoke a response from God. What does a person of faith do, in the midst of darkness, when God seems to remain silent in the face of great suffering? Psalm 88 opens with an urgent appeal to God. The speaker is utterly helpless and lists his complaints verse after verse. He feels rejected, unheard, and angry. The psalm closes, not with a vote of confidence or praise, but with a word of darkness: "My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me, and darkness is my only companion." This psalm reflects those situations in which there are no resolutions that are forthcoming in the near future. These are words to be used in the limited times when God is not yet prepared to come to the rescue of the faithful.
So where do we go from here? I wish I could tell you that the world is always well-ordered, predictable, and fair. I wish I could tell you that if you get enough education, a good job, plenty of money, and a great partner, then you will be happy. I wish I could tell you that bad things don't happen to good people; that all you have to do is pray in order to have a peaceful life. I wish I could tell you that if you work hard and keep your nose clean, then you will not suffer. But if I were to tell you that, I would be lying. Disorientation is part and parcel of the human experience. We live in a sinful world where people and nations have the power to corrupt and destroy the creatures of God; where viruses have the freedom to infect innocent children; where cancerous cells have the freedom to reproduce. In times like this, we need to cry out to God. We need to depend on other people for support. And we need to remember that out of the ashes of destruction, new life can emerge. For with God, all things are possible. We call this movement from death into life, resurrection.
Resurrection faith is the conviction that the powers of darkness and destruction can not and will not have the final word. Resurrection faith is the affirmation that "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." [Romans 8]
* The Message of the Psalms, by Walter Brueggemann, Augsburg, Minneapolis, 1984.
| Updated 7/19/2004 |
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