For Sunday, November 17, 2024
Aloha, Keawalaʻi ‘ohana,
Thursday, November 14, 2024
In the Revised Common Lectionary, the Psalm appointed for this morning is the 23rd Psalm. I have known this Psalm since I was child. I have repeated it often at bedtime. I have held back tears while reading it in church at funerals for those who have passed on to the Other Shore.
But reading Psalm 23 this morning I heard it an entirely new way. How is this possible?
Today, I remembered that this is a poem. A poor poet myself, I gave my attention to the line breaks. Unlike prose, the way a poem is laid out on the page actually matters. Here is how the first four verses of Psalm 23 appear on the page in The Book of Common Prayer.
The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not be in want;
He makes me lie down in green pastures
and leads me beside still waters.
He revives my soul
and guides me along right pathways for his Name’s sake.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
The poem takes a sharp shift here after verse four. After these beautiful pastoral images of a shepherd caring for his sheep, watching over their comings and goings, making them rest, leading them to clean cool water, comforting them by his presence even during the threat of death, using his rod and staff to protect the sheep from predators and guiding, guarding all the way, the poem describes a table.
We have apparently moved indoors, out of the green pastures and still waters. A table has been set. But how can this be? Who has set the table? Why would a sheep be in a house, and how could a sheep sit and dine at a table, anyway? We have a clear sense that we are in the presence of poetic metaphor: the shepherding God has been caring for humans in the same way that a shepherd—may we say a kahu? –cares for his sheep: feeding his sheep, leading his sheep, protecting his sheep from danger. We realize that we are the sheep, and we are safely indoors, and that a feast has been spread for us, somehow. But then in verse five the narrator writes:
You spread a table before me in the presence of those
And we wait to see what comes after the line break: Who are those present with the narrator? We might have expected the narrator’s loved ones and friends to be at the table! Who else would we want to share table with if not our loved ones and friends? And then after the line break, we are surprised to see that the feast is spread for me in the presence of those who trouble me!
You spread a table before me in the presence of those
who trouble me;
you have anointed my head with oil,
and my cup is running over.
Surely your goodness and your mercy shall follow me all the days
of my life;
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
Older translations read “in the presence of my enemies,” but today I am thinking that “those who trouble me” is a better way to capture the meaning of the psalm. The translator has got the poem just right, and the line breaks are arranged perfectly.
Today I am seeing that “the ones who trouble me” may indeed have multiple meanings. Sure, they may be those who have turned into opponents, or even enemies, but they needn’t be. It’s quite possible that the narrator is at a feast with some folks he has been troubled about, folks who keep him up late at night with worry, yes even family! How often have I laid in bed worried and anxious for my children, or for some of us, our grandchildren! We have heard some bad news, they have gotten themselves into a fix, or maybe we are troubled because we are in the fix with them and may indeed be the source of the fix we’re in!
Either way, we find ourselves at a meal prepared for us! Notice that we did not prepare this meal. We are not the host at this meal. Someone else has prepared the meal and invited us to gather in the presence of those who keep us anxious with worry because of troubles we have known together.
What shall we do?
This is my body, Jesus said, giving his friends some bread to eat. He held out the cup to them and reminded them that his blood would be poured out for them very soon, now. He wanted one last meal with those who walked The Way with him through many dangers, toils, and fears.
He wanted communion, even with those who troubled him. We make a mistake in believing that Judas was the only one to cause Jesus trouble. Every one of his disciples fell away when Jesus came into the time of his trouble. Jesus walked that way alone, accompanied only by his father in heaven, and then, on the cross, in the psalm which precedes this one, Psalm 22, he felt the abandonment of God.
The crucified God.
The amazing thing about Easter to me is not so much the empty tomb, which is great, or the beautiful spring flowers, or the music, or the bunny or the eggs. The amazing thing is the fear of the disciples who had abandoned him during his troubles, who now receive word that he is back! In every other ancient myth, the hero come back from the dead comes to wreak vengeance on those who have betrayed him! But not in this story. No. We are told in John’s gospel that after his resurrection Jesus made a cookfire by the beach and grilled fish for his friends and served them. Once again, in the presence of those who had troubled him, Jesus the Good Shepherd has prepared a feast.
Perfect love casts out fear.
We are all invited to the table. No matter what we have done, or left undone, we are always in the presence of grace. We didn’t earn this banquet, and we certainly don’t deserve it, but Jesus calls all his friends to come to the table.
I grieve in my heart for those I have hurt in my life, in my family, and in my ministry. I confess that there are things that I have done and left undone. I’m often sad that I have not loved God with my whole heart or loved my neighbor as myself.
But I’m so happy that God forgives me and calls me to the table, though it won’t be the same until we are all there together. One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism, One Table to which we are all called.
Come friends. As another poet (Tennyson) wrote in a different era (19th century).
Come, my friends,
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
See you in church!
Kahu Gary