Assembly 2012
Psalm Reflections for a
Written by members of the Eastern Synod
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada
Luther wrote of the Psalms that they are not only addressed to God, but are also the voice of the gospel, God’s good word addressed to God’s faithful people. The Psalms will help us understand anew the dialogical relationship God offers in the covenant – a relationship where we open our hearts to listen deeply, and where we express boldly our laments and petitions along with our gratitude and praise, for the sake of the world.
Debbie Lou Ludolph
The following Psalm reflections have been contributed by clergy and laity of the Eastern Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada. The purpose of this collection is two-fold. First, we want to offer Synod Assembly delegates a guide for their prayer and meditation of the Psalms in Keffer Chapel during Assembly, and following Assembly, to offer this guide to the whole synod to reflect in the quiet of summer days. Secondly, we hope to provide a broad representation of spirituality within the synod by hearing how the Psalms speak to each of us differently in our varied contexts and within the framework of the assembly theme: “Covenant People in Mission for Others”. It has been my joy and privilege to compile this project. I am so very grateful to all who have contributed their creative gifts. May all readers of this little volume be deeply blessed by the bold and touching honesty expressed here for the sake of the world.
Jennifer Wirt
Trial
Runner’s Psalm
Rev. Kimberlynn McNabb
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.
It’s been weeks since I have heard you.
I tie up my shoes to run away,
Sneakers running from chaos.
You have remained silent:
Quiet in the face of death, upon death
Funeral to funeral
You have stepped aside,
In crisis been invisible.
And the sneakers go, 5k
Angrily carrying me away:
Pray, pray, pray.
Silent you have been at home -
Teenagers rail as boyfriends change and life
decisions overwhelm,
The brunt of tears and anger fall to me,
parent.
And still there are no words, no comfort.
Where is the One who makes us lie down in green
pastures,
leads us beside still waters?
And the sneakers go, 10k
Thumping out the rhythm: pray, pray, pray.
Hear the prayers of the people, O God
Incline your ear to me, to us:
For those suffering, for those places, off prejudice and injustice
Hunger and pain
Darkness and malaise of the heart...Lord in
your mercy...
And the sneakers go, 15k
Pray, pray, pray.
In loving kindness, have mercy on me, O God
For I am stubborn, busy, driven...
Create in me a clean heart,
renew a right spirit within me
And the sneakers go, 20k
Pray, pray, pray.
And there you are in kilometer 21
Almost home, you find me in exhaustion;
Empty, prayed out.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me.
You sing for me a new song, envision a new race
And so I return home renewed,
Running in steadfast love, singing God’s faithfulness
forever.
A Reflection on Psalm 119
Sherry Coman
I always used to think of Psalm 119 as ‘that really long one’ that seemed to be all about obeying statutes and ordnances. Then one summer month I was on retreat at an American abbey where the psalms are canted five times a day. The various sections of Psalm 119 were on the rota and there was no avoiding it. As I dutifully (if unhappily) recited the verses with the monks, I heard them anew. I was helped by beautiful phrases: “Remember your word to your servant, in which you made me
hope.” (119:49) “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (119:105) The psalmist seemed to be saying that desire for God and obedience to God’s will are intertwined, a path continuously evolving. ‘Teach me your statutes’ he says, not just because persecution and enemies are encircling him, but because the earth is ‘full of God’s steadfast love’. In the cultures of antiquity obedience to law was not just a covenantal value, a ritualistic practice, but a way to find love for God. Love of God’s law is embedded in Jesus’ teachings in the Gospel. When I studied Hebrew, I discovered that the entire psalm was an acrostic: the letter of the alphabet that marked off each section was also the first letter of the word that started the section. In this way, the letters of the words, and the spirit of the law, were gracefully combined. “Let my cry come before you, O Lord; give me understanding according to your word.” (119:169)
Hope and Trust
A Reflection on Psalm 30
Steve Hoffard
Then you changed my despair into a dance—
you stripped me of my death shroud
and clothed me with joy.
That’s why me heart sings to you,
that’s why I can’t keep silent—
YHWH, you are my God,
And I will thank you forever!
Psalm 30:11-12
Psalm 30 was written by someone who has been to hell and back. It is a song of praise
to God to be sung by someone who has experienced the depths of life’s valley and been brought back out of it. As I reflect on it I realize my life’s ups and downs have been relatively smooth. I have not been to the pit of Sheol. I guess that is reason enough to sing a song of praise—a life that has had more rejoicing than sorrow. However, then I wonder—what about those who are experiencing a personal hell right now. How would they hear these words of the psalmist? It is my prayer that in these words those in the pit would see the movement. God’s grace does not leave us in the pit, our lives are not static. In this movement we find the core of the gospel—the old becomes new—our despair is changed into a dance. A dance of life—death is no more. May all God’s children be able to experience the gift of resurrection. May they be moved from
weeping to joy, from darkness to light.
A Reflection on Psalm 91
David Malina
“He will spread his wings over you and keep you secure. His faithfulness is
like a shield or a city wall.”
Psalm 91:4
Driving along Charles Street on a May morning in downtown Kitchener, suddenly my eyes spot something unusual on the pavement ahead of me. Something moving, living, and strangely out-of-place against the backdrop of concrete cityscape.
Approaching and slowing, I see Mother Duck, and a bunch of tiny ducklings tightly following Mom as they purposely cross the street. I slow to a stop. Another car from the other direction stops. And together we watch the goslings obediently follow their protecting Mom waddle across the street.
We pause in the midst of feverish rushing, to savour a quiet moment, to behold a picture of God’s faithfulness.
What better place is there, than under God’s protective wings, leaning into God’s loving embrace, basking in the warm light of God in whom we live and move and have our being?
This is what gives us courage to cross whatever “street” before us, to be the neighbour we’re called
to be, to reach out and do what needs doing so that God’s light can shine. Like the tiny ducklings unsure about the noisy rush of metal, engine and rubber on hard concrete, we who are unsure, scared, hesitant, can nevertheless find the courage to follow where Mom leads, not sure exactly where we’re going, but only that our God’s wings encompass us, and push us forward.
A Reflection on Psalm 131
Ann Krueger
O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.
Psalm 131:1-2
But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like a weaned
child that is with me.
I have always loved the images in this psalm. But now I am a grandmother, and so the images – well,
they are no longer images but lived experiences.
I hope that you too can remember the feel and touch of a sweet faced little child – what it feels like
when chubby little arms wrap themselves around you, and how you both melt into blissful contentment. It is enough just to touch and love.
In moments like that, my heart is bursting with gratitude and joy. To be so loved!
There are times when I pray that I imagine myself leaning against Jesus, sitting on the floor, leaning
against his knee. And in my mind, I just rest there, feeling peaceful, connected, loved.
Somehow, I’ve never put those two experiences together, until just now. But I wonder, could it be
possible – in those moments, could God also feel joy?
Lament
A Reflection on Psalm 130
Sherry Coman
In the daily devotional I use, the central lines of Psalm 130 are among the first words I speak aloud in a day: ‘I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning”. In these phrases, I hear the patience and attendance of all who spend time in the dark nights of life’s path, either ‘watching for the morning’ in their own crises or
in the crisis times of others. It calls to mind the nightly sojourns of Jesus to the mountain during his months of teaching, and in the final hours of Gethsemane, and it also allows me to imagine the waiting and watchful hours of Mary and the other women disciples, for a dawn that might allow them to return to their beloved Lord at the tomb and anoint him. In the Mishnah, there are guidelines for when to do the morning and evening prayers, and the quality of light in the sky is described. The
rising from sleep, the return of the new day, the greeting of dawn with prayer was a way to give thanks for the renewed presence of creation, and for the God who is always present, even in the long night. As the watchman breathes a sigh of relief with the first light of dawn, so we are grateful for signs we find at any time of day, that God never left us, and was there all along.
A Reflection on Psalm 130
Allen G. Jorgenson
“Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.”
Out of the depths I cry to you, you who draw me
ever deeper into the mystery of life,
You who shatter my sense of certainty in allowing
me to sink to that place where
my carefully crafted answers to the whys of
life are seen to be folly.
You, Holy One of Israel, draw me down,
down to the depths of a darkness that I now own,
a darkness that describes
on the one hand, my utter unknowing, and on the
other, my unwillingness to know
how I hurt myself, others, the world, and you
with my refusal to see that your love
will not let me go.
But yet, because this love will not let me go, you flow
words through my mouth:
faltering phrases that amaze me with raw
honesty –
the depth being that place where birthing cries
rise to the divine ears that
both hear and create what they hear.
Yes, even my cries are born in you. What am I to do
with this love?
I will hope.
I will hope for a healing of the cosmos.
I will hope for peace among peoples.
I will wait in silence knowing that stillness is the soil that sustains the sprig of speech that hails the dawning of that day when peace and justice kiss, when steadfast love and faithfulness meet. I will cry, I will hope, and I will wait because you create – in even me – faith, hope, and love.
A Lament adapted from Psalm 115
Matthew Anderson
OK.
Not for us, nor for our sake -
Do you hear O God?
No.
But to your OWN name give some meaning.
For the sake of your loyal love and faithfulness!
If you won't do anything for us
Be faithful to yourself ,
to the covenant which YOU initiated,
God of our fathers and mothers.
Now,
now. Now.
Now is the time.
Why does the world say
"Where is their God?"
Our God is here -
God can do anything, anytime.
Their dollar-bill, never-have-their-fill, American idols
are just silver and gold -
reputations made with human hands
gadgets from China and Japan,
These things have mouths, but they can't speak,
eyes, but they can't see,
ears, but they can't hear.
They have no senses,
no hands, to really feel