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Sunday, November 27, 2016

“You brought a vine out of Egypt…”



Thursday, 24 November 2016
Psalm 80



It is Thanksgiving morning and I am reading Psalm 80 as part of my morning prayer. It shows up, every fourth Thursday here in the Divine Office. And I have read it many many times.  And always it troubles me. Sometimes, I rush past the troubling in search of comfort, ease, solace. Other times I linger over it, confused and frightened even. Occasionally, I come to it with that sense of over familiarity which can cause us to not really look at something or someone; taking someone or something for granted, we too easily miss the truth or the beauty of it, of them.
            So, before pondering this psalm anew, I would like to take a moment and give thanks to God for so much that I too often take for granted; for the gift of His love, His Word, and for the grace of faith and the consolation of prayer. Thank you God for all the many gifts You have given me: family, friends, work, prayer. Even struggles. All of Your creation that awakens in me a sense of wonder and joy each morning –for this, O Lord, I thank You. The birds calling the dawn, the trees whispering with leaves, the clouds, the breeze, the sun, even the ants and the spiders and the rush of squirrels racing to work. O, Lord, for all this –and for the quiet of an early walk stirred only by shadows and occasional cat… I thank You.  And for my home, for my country, O Lord, I thank you.  You have planted us here, in this beautiful land, this fruitful, abundant land and You have made us flourish and grow.  And for so much more, Lord, I thank You.

        And perhaps this psalm is not so randomly arrived at this lovely Thanksgiving Day.  Here we have the psalmist telling of a glorious time in Israel’s history, when she was brought out of Egypt and flourished in the land and became, for a while, a mighty nation. The first part of this psalm seems very apropos for a Thanksgiving Day prayer.  God’s protection, God’s grace, God’s guiding hand, His design for our benefit is celebrate in the first part of this passage.  Employing the image of a vine brought forth and transplanted, the psalmist tells the story this way:

You brought a vine out of Egypt;
    you drove out the nations and planted it.
You cleared the ground for it;
    it took deep root and filled the land.
The mountains were covered with its shade,
    the mighty cedars with its branches.
It sent out its branches to the sea
    and its shoots to the River.
Why then have you broken down its walls,
    so that all who pass along the way pluck its fruit?
The boar from the forest ravages it,
    and all that move in the field feed on it.

The first lines of this passage seem like a list of glories and things to be thankful for. God guides, He protects, He plants us in a fruitful land, makes us thrive… And for these things we are naturally grateful.  They feel like blessings and seem signs of a loving God who must have some glorious design planned out for out for us.  Of course, we would be thankful.
            God brings us out of Egypt and plants us in His place, picked out for us; He even drives out other nations, clears out the spot just for us.  He makes it ready just for us.  Then, He makes us thrive there. Rain. Fertile soil. Sunlight. Cool evenings; warm days. We thrive.

And yet there is that last image of the broken wall and the ravaging beasts scavenging the beautiful deep-rooted bountiful vine of Israel.  That broken wall, for me, seems to be the eternal question. The piece of this psalm that I keep coming back to; the part that I get hung up on, the image that troubles me most.  And so, every fourth Thursday when this psalm shows up (Week II of the cycle), I read it and either skim right through it without thinking; oh, that one again! Or I stop and find myself snagged on this particular verse and unable to let it go; yes –that one again!  Why God? Why did that wall exist, why did you give us all this security and success if You were just going to break down the wall and let all this happen? Why do You build us up only to let every scavenging creature (man or beast) pluck our fruit and feed upon us?  If You truly love us, if we are Your children, why did You bring us out of Egypt, build us into Your mighty city and Your thriving people… then abandon us? Why would you break down the mighty walls You Yourself put in place?

Is it because, perhaps, He has a purpose? A design? And that the building up, the protecting and nurturing are a part of the purpose, and that the broken wall and scavenging beasts are part of that design?  And is it just possible, that all of this is a sign not that God has abandoned Israel… or that God has abandoned us… But, a sign of God’s boundless love?

When I begin to contemplate this question I tend to think of two things: first, the historical event of the exile and captivity of God’s people around this time.  I imagine the psalmist may even be speaking literally of these events. The confusion, the fear, the horror of these actual events; how the people suffering them must have felt abandoned by God. “You built us up and made us great –so, why have you turned on us, Lord? Why have You broken down Your wall of protection?” And then the diaspora –again an event that certainly felt like a curse in the moment. The beasts and the boar ravage Your vine O, Lord. All who pass by, pluck its fruit and carry it off!

But, then I wonder to what purpose?  Why would God allow His chosen people to be ravaged and plucked? Carried off into exile? Why would a loving God do that? Did He do it? And I think again of those birds and the squirrels that I give thanks for every morning.  When they pluck a seed or a nut or a berry from a vine, what happens? They carry it off and drop it somewhere. Perhaps they even eat it, then leave it somewhere in their droppings.  That is one of the ways the flowers, the berries, and the vines are spread. That is one of the ways the fruitfulness of the world is shared. One of the ways nature has for spreading her seeds. Certainly it doesn’t seem glorious to be plucked up from all security and safety and comfort and dragged into exile –but is it possible that God uses this as a way of spreading His seed, His grace—spreading His Holy presence in the world?

I wonder.  But, I don’t know.  I don’t know if God is making these things happen (for whatever reason) or just letting them happen? At times like that, I look around and ask myself:

Where is God in this moment?

Is He the hand behind it? Did He break down the wall of my protection? Is He the one who is putting me to the test? Trying me in His crucible? In His fiery furnace?  

Or is He the hand holding me up as I go through my trial?  Is He the strength by which I endure? Is He the grace that consoles me, even in my hour of despair?

Is it possible the psalmist is asking the wrong question? Is it possible he has seen an anaconda when all he was really looking at was a pair of red corduroys that fell off the laundry line?  I think one of the most important skills is the ability to actually see what we are looking at, and not to be distracted by our own expectations, our own blindness. We must see what is really there, and not what we expected to see. (Of course, that makes me wonder why I keep seeing anacondas… but that is a question for my therapist.)

I have eyes…
why can’t I see?

"Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands;
Your walls are continually before Me.”
--Isaiah 49:16


Sunday, November 20, 2016

Afflicted by the Word of God --Psalm 119: xiv [Nun]

Sunday 20 November 2016
Psalm 119: xiv [Nun]


“…Lord, I am deeply afflicted:
by Your word give me life…”


Sometimes, it seems to me, that the way God speaks to us is through our mistakes, our seeing first one thing and then realizing it was another.  This happens to me all the time. I will see what I am certain is a dog sleeping next to a fence only to discover as I approach that it is a crumpled piece of cardboard box or a cluster of leaves; a shrub bustling in the breeze, on closer inspection, becomes a small child squatting in the grass, what appears to be some dropped laundry is actually an anaconda curled up and resting in the sun –or was that someone’s dress shirts?  For me, the world is often not what it seems at first glance.

When I first read the psalm this morning, I was certain it said:
           
            “Lord, I am deeply afflicted by Your word, give me life….”

And I was caught off guard by the insinuation that God’s word afflicts us.  The idea that God’s word, His will, “afflicts” us, was wonderfully troubling to me.  And in the next verse, when the psalmist asks that his homage be accepted and that he be taught God’s decrees –I felt a puzzlingly insightful paradox:

You afflict me with Your word God –I praise You; please afflict me more.  It is Your affliction (Your laws, Your decrees) that set me free.  Your will is my heritage—it is the joy of my heart….  It reminded me of Donne’s “Batter my heart three-person’d God…”

Then, I caught sight of that colon. The one I had missed. And instantly the reading changed. it became more accurate, but certainly less my own.  And that distinction seems important.

In this morning’s Divine Office prayer the reading was from Ezekiel 36.  It is one of my favorites.

I will sprinkle clean water upon you to cleanse you from all your iniquities, and from all your idols I will cleanse you… taking from your bodies your stony hearts and giving you natural hearts… live by my statutes…observe my decrees… You shall live in the land I gave your fathers, you shall be my people, and I will be your God.”  --Ezekiel 36:25-28

Coming upon that reading in light of my own misreading of the psalm, I found myself pondering not the stony hearts and the cleansing (which I am usually drawn to) but the statutes and the decrees and finally that promise of God’s:  “You shall live in the land I gave your fathers…” And I began to wonder about the affliction of God’s word, the affliction of His decrees, His statutes…
By living God’s statutes, by observing His decrees –by being “afflicted” deeply by His Word, we live in the land of our fathers—the land of promise. The Promised Land --our Eden—is there where we live by God’s statutes, where we observe His decrees. 
How often do we hear the voices of the secular world today proclaiming that God’s laws and statutes, His decrees are nothing but afflictions?  They are rules imposed on us to limit our pleasures and our freedoms.  But are they? Does unbounded pursuit of pleasure and sensation, utter self-fulfillment truly lead to an earthly paradise?  Or does it merely lead to what the psalmist refers to elsewhere as “licking the earth?” An uncontrolled obsession with sensation: taste, touch, sight, to encounter and contain everything –if possible?  Is that paradise? Or is that same endless, insatiable appetite –in fact—what we mean by Hell?
Is it possible that God’s statutes and God’s decrees are meant not as limitations on our freedoms, but guidelines for our pursuit of real, meaningful, fulfillment and true joy? Is it possible that the “affliction” of God’s words, His will, is the path to real freedom and complete fulfillment? Is it possible that wherever and whenever we live those words, those statutes, wherever and whenever we observe those decrees with openness and love and compassion… that place, that moment IS the promised land –becomes, for us, a garden of life –a place of Paradise, a moment of Paradise.  We are afflicted, by the constant badgering of the world, the anxieties and fears and conflicts (petty and large) by physical and psychological… and the pressure to seek always some new earthly pleasure or distinction or distraction to escape from those same pressures. But, today… today let us turn away from those cares, those afflictions, and let us today make the Kingdom of God here on earth… let us, today be truly afflicted by the Word of God.