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Sunday, March 13th, 2022 – Second Sunday in Lent
Philip’s Reflection: “Seeing God’s Goodness” (Ps 27:13)
“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you,
O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.” Amen
The Book of Psalms is one of my favourite books of the Bible and most Sundays we try
to include one of the Psalms in our morning worship. I love the Psalms and they are
never far away from me. By my bedside, I keep a little volume, published by the
Gideons, of the New Testament together with the Psalms. When you enter the church
office, the first thing you’ll see is a little flip calendar that contains a verse from the
Psalms for each day of the year, and a short prayer.
As you probably know, the book of Psalms is the longest in the Bible, with 150 Psalms,
and it’s a kind of anthology of the hymns and prayers of ancient Israel, collected and
edited in the fourth or fifth century before Christ. As one would expect in an anthology,
there are many different types of psalms including laments or appeals for divine help in
times of distress, songs of trust or thanksgiving, royal psalms and hymns of praise –
and some of them, like Psalm 27 that we read this morning, contain several different
types in a single psalm. The Psalms had many different uses in ancient Israel –
including personal or communal prayer, sometimes used in worship or as a source of
wisdom or instruction, and of course they have a timeless quality that makes them just
as valuable today, for use in worship or for personal devotion or a source of inspiration.
The Psalms were well known to Jesus; he studied and memorized and meditated often
on them and, for Jesus, the Psalms were central to his own self-understanding as (in
the words of Psalm 118) “The stone that the builders rejected [that] has become the
chief cornerstone” (Ps 118:22, Mt 21:42). From the cross on Good Friday, abandoned
and tortured, Jesus cries out in the words of Psalm 22, “My God, my God, why have you
forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1, Mt. 27:46). And with his last breath he prays to God from
Psalm 31:5 – “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit” (Lk 23:46).
I think of the Psalms, therefore, as the prayers that Jesus loved and prayed and I find
that thought a great source of strength and reassurance in times like these. The same
prayers that Jesus prayed. Last week, you remember, we asked ourselves the question
“What would Jesus do?” when confronted by injustice or violence, or the indiscriminate
bombing and shelling of Ukrainian towns and villages and larger centres of population
where now whole familes, whole communities, gather in bomb-shelters, seeking
protection from artillery shells and cruise missiles. What would Jesus do? And as
followers of Jesus what are we called to do?
Well, we can be sure that one thing Jesus would do would be to pray – not only in a
ritual sense, or even as a daily or Sunday routine, when we can close our eyes and say
the Lord’s Prayer together in the familiar or comforting words we have learned as
children – but praying as if our very lives depended on God hearing our words and
appealing to God with all our hearts and souls to act on them. Like Jesus, we pray
because we believe that God does hear our prayers and we pray together, as we did on
Thursday evening, because we believe that “where two or three are gathered in my
name, I am there among them” (says Jesus) (Mt 18:20) – and when Jesus is among us,
and hears our prayers, and prays with us, we believe that God hears our prayers more
clearly, for we view the resurrected Jesus as our divine Advocate.
I think Jesus would have wanted to pray the words of Psalm 27 for a day such as this –
the Psalm assigned to this Sunday by the Revised Common Lectionary - for it’s a Psalm
that might have been written for the people of Ukraine and I’m hoping that it might bring
some comfort and strength for them as it does for us, all these miles away from the
conflict, who experience this humanitarian disaster vicariously through the shocking
images on our tv screens, and as we see and hear the flash and fire and smoke of the
rocket attacks, and we hear the wailing of the sirens, and we see the fear and pain in
the faces of those seeking shelter or fleeing the bombardment, even from a maternity
hospital, and the injured and wounded unable to leave Odessa or Makariv or Mariupl
and, dear God, now the capital city of Kyiv.
And right at the beginning of Psalm 27, we hear this profound statement of trust – for a
time of distress or despair, when all seems dark, “The Lord is my light and my salvation,
whom then shall I fear?” and we affirm “The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom
shall I be afraid?” (27:1). It’s not a general statement about God; it’s not a declaration
you’ll find in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms; it’s an intensely personal
confession – my light and salvation, the stronghold of my life – God is for me.
And it is this trust in a personal relationship with God, the sense that God is “on my
side”, that can bring great comfort in this situation. Let’s read on -
“When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh – my adversaries and foes – they shall
stumble and fall.” (And)
“Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up
against me, yet I will be confident.”
‘Yet I will be confident.” But that’s easier said than done isn’t it and when we experience
loss, or needless suffering, or personal setback it’s easy to lose that confidence, that
certainty that God is on “our side” or even that God has heard our prayers. We lament
that God seems to be distant or absent or, worse, not to care? And we appeal to God,
(from psalm 130) “out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!” (Ps
130:1-2) and from Psalm 88 “O Lord, God of my salvation, when, at night, I cry out in
your presence, let my prayer come before you (Ps 88:1-2). And we’ve already heard
how Jesus experiences the same sense of abandonment on the Cross and we hear it
again in our Gospel reading today – as he laments the rejection and crucifixion that is in
his destiny – “Jerusalem, Jerusalem – how often have I desired to gather your children
together as her hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Is
there a more beautiful image of Christ than that of the mother hen who gathers her
chicks under her protective wing?
So it is understandable that in times of grief or fear or despair we lament -
“Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me!” (27:7)
and that we would cry out anxiously -
“Do not hide your face from me… do not cast me off… do not forsake me”
And in this despair, or self-doubt, the Psalmist turns again to pray for deliverance – as
we do now, for the people of Ukraine -
“Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path because of my enemies. Do
not give me up to the will of my enemies. For [liars] and false witnesses have risen
against me, and they are breathing out violence.”
And then, the Psalmist gives us this wonderful statement of faith - “I believe that I shall
see God’s goodness in the land of the living.” (27:13). And we too shall see God’s
goodness – for this is our faith, this is our confession, that we believe in a just and good
God who loves unconditionally and that, despite the dark clouds over Ukraine and other
war zones, God’s goodness will be experienced. We don’t need to search for it;
because God’s goodness has already found us.
From trust – to lament and despair – to prayer for deliverance – and faith restored, this
little jewel of a Psalm has it all. It largely speaks for itself. But there is one more verse to
come, and it’s in the Psalm’s final verse that I can hear the voice of Jesus, as he prays
these words, even now for the people of Ukraine – and for us too -
“Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (27:14).
And we do wait.