Back to School Lesson 4

Like many good ideas, this wisdom can be traced back to the Bible.  Richard Rohr is a popular spiritual guide; I know that some of you read his daily online devotional.  This week he wrote about the idea of Order, Disorder, and Reorder.  He explains: “It seems quite clear that we grow spiritually by passing beyond some perfect Order, through an often painful and seemingly necessary disorder to an enlightened Reorder or “resurrection.”  (Rohr, Center for Action and Contemplation, Sunday, August 25).  I’ve told you in the past Walter Brueggemann’s theory that the Book of Psalms is can be divided in to three types:  Psalms of Orientation, Disorientation, and Reorientation, each suited to different stages on the journey of faith.  Plenty of other theologians and interpreters have made similar observations.  I’ve shared that the band The Grateful Dead used to plan concerts in this way—taking listeners on a journey from simple happiness through disorientation on the way to deeper joy at the end.  All kinds of depth, and certainly deep faith is formed not by avoiding trouble, but is forged through the crucible of living through hard times.

Psalm 34 is the text for today, it’s a Psalm of reordering, of reorientation, and of thanksgiving.  It’s based on a story from elsewhere in the Old Testament.  Tradition has it that this psalm is about the young man who would become King David.  It’s a story of resilience, a story about a young boy who is just coming of age.  After the story in which the boy David slays Goliath, a convoluted series of events takes place, and David falls on hard times.  Saul, who is king over Israel at the time, is at first overjoyed that this shepherd boy David slays the great warrior Goliath and sends the Philistines running in fear.  After that, David becomes a great hero, and is welcomed into the palace.  People forget about Saul the King, and Saul gets jealous and turns on David.  Saul’s jealousy makes him crazy, and Saul chases David out of the palace running for his life; Saul’s son, the Prince Jonathan, tries to help David, but Saul’s army has been ordered to chase him down, and Goliath’s Philistines are just across the border hungry for revenge, so safety is hard to find.  David somewhat miraculously finds his way through this mess, and as the story goes, when he is finally out of danger and has a chance to rest, he composes this Psalm, with its words of thankfulness for deliverance from harm.

It’s a rather dramatic story with its kings and armies and running for your life, but the Psalm that results has all kinds of applications.  Many of us have had the occasion to have narrowly escaped danger or ruin, perhaps we’ve even had a brush with death.  This psalm is about the car accident that should have killed you but didn’t, the terrible mistake at work that somehow didn’t ruin your career—or that did, but taught you a life-changing lesson.  This is a psalm for survivors of cancer, soldiers who made it home from war, addicts who got clean.  These are words sung by any person who has seen enough trouble to know that the world isn’t always safe, but they’re okay.  So there’s a real sense of gratitude here—a chance to take a deep breath, reconsider one’s old priorities, and try not to take for granted the second chance they’ve got.  It’s a Psalm about resilience.  Listen again:

I will bless the Lord at all times;
his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
2 My soul makes its boast in the Lord;
let the humble hear and be glad.
3 O magnify the Lord with me,
and let us exalt his name together.

4 I sought the Lord, and he answered me,
and delivered me from all my fears.
5 Look to him, and be radiant;
so your[a] faces shall never be ashamed.
6 This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord,
and was saved from every trouble.
7 The angel of the Lord encamps
around those who fear him, and delivers them.
8 O taste and see that the Lord is good;
happy are those who take refuge in him. (Psalm 34:1-8)

It’s a Psalm of resilience.  David sings that he was “delivered from fear” and “saved from trouble” and that he had “cried” and was answered.  There is no sense, in the Psalm or in the story, that David’s life was without trouble or struggle; God did not insulate or protect David from harm.  No, these things were real; David experienced them but lived through it.  David saw on the other side that God is not there to keep harm from ever reaching us, but David comes to know the presence of God in the midst of it, to call upon God in times of trouble, and to see how God’s love can bring us through it.  Children will not grow into functioning adults with no experiences of fear or danger.  Likewise, a mature person of faith will have times of disbelief, doubt, and struggle—and the faith found on the other side of such things, is deeper.

I want to comment on a couple of specific verses:  The first words of the Psalm are a bit surprising, they read, “I will bless the Lord at all times.”  Most of us think of a blessing as something that God does, rather than us.  David’s story does suggest that God blessed David; but then David’s Psalm expands our understanding: speaking of blessings as our work as well.  What is a blessing, anyway?  A blessing is the offering of an encouraging and uplifting word to someone else.  A blessing is anything one might say to another that serves as a reminder: that you are gifted, and valuable, that your life is sacred.  Clearly God is not the only one who can offer such words—we can do it too.

Offering God our blessing takes it a step further.  To bless the Lord is to name God as the source of everything in life that is valuable and sacred. In David’s case, he discovers God’s presence in his struggle, and he is so grateful that he cannot keep silent.  Many of us can hear echoes of that in people we’ve met; people who have felt God’s presence and feel compelled to talk about it:  “I can’t take any credit for how I got through that; I didn’t know it at the time, but God was watching me.”  “I sought the Lord and he answered me,” says the Psalm.  “God delivered me from all my fears.”

I also love the words of verse 8:  “O Taste and See that the Lord is good.”  Because of what has happened in his life, David has a new appreciation for the beauty of the world and the importance of little things.  He can taste God’s goodness in a way he never could before—it has become so vivid and immediate.  Most of us know people who can see this as well.  The world, though it is full of trouble and struggle, is also just dripping with beauty and goodness.  The ripe end-of-summer tomato, the coolness of a jump in the lake, the simple perfection of reading to a child…  Sometimes life just kind of sings it:  “O taste and see that the Lord is good.”

Of course, there’s a theological risk to a text and a story like this one.  There is the chance that survival or good fortune becomes a sign of God’s love.  But what about when things don’t work out?  Is that a sign that God blesses some and not others?  Well, at least as far as this psalm goes, God’s love might be even deeper when things don’t work out.  I’ve witnessed that, sometimes, God’s love is felt even more deeply by those who are still struggling, and that is the last place I want to go this morning, to an idea that has something to do with resilience, but is much deeper still.

I had an experience this week I’d like to tell you about; I’m sharing this story with permission.  Plenty of you know Judy Rymer, a member of our congregation who is dying of pancreatic cancer.  Judy is in her mid-80s, and has made an intentional decision to decline treatment.

The short number of weeks since have been full of surprises.  She has been surrounded by friends from this community who love her.  She has shared important letters and conversations with her dearest friends.  And she has told me on several occasions that her sense of spirituality has come to life like never before; she is in fact a more spiritual person than she knew.  And none of this changes the fact that her earthly journey is almost at its end.

This past week Judy and I had an experience that, I am grateful to say, I have had plenty of other times in the past.  Which is to say it is a story about a miracle, but the kind of miracle that happens all the time.  I took Communion to Judy in her home, where she is in hospice care.  There is nothing fancy about home Communion.  I have a little traveling Communion kit that looks a bit like a child’s chemistry set.  I took out the little cups and the bread, sat on the bed at her side, her husband Glenn and her dear friend Deanna joined us.  I began to recite the words of the liturgy, just as I do once a month here in worship; when I did, I noticed that Judy’s eyes brightened and sharpened, she was intensely focused and listening deeply, not just with her ears but with her heart; the Holy Spirit was alive in the room.  And after we had shared the bread and cup, she remarked, “I’ve heard those words so many times; but they’ve never been so powerful as they were just now, speaking as if directly to me.  Thank you.”

Of course it was not me she was thanking, but God.  I was blessed just to be there.  And I was glad when she told me it would be alright to share that story with all of you today.  God is present all around us; sometimes we discover it on the other side of a path to resilience; other times we find God right in the middle of the struggle.  None of us will cheat death.  Judy does not have many days left, and she knows how this will end.  And yet the presence of God is expansive in her life at this time.  Too often we fail to speak of God’s power in our lives because we are waiting for all our troubles to be over; we often wait for a funeral to say the things that are most important, or we don’t say them at all because we are scared or embarrassed, or just unsure.