For those who want a change from the Gospel

2 before Lent – Psalm 104

Today’s Psalm passage comes from one of the longer Psalms, 104, and as usual I want to take a look at the whole thing, not just the odd verses plucked, somewhat illogically, from the end of it in our lectionary. The first thing to note about the Psalm is that it looks like a piece of plagiarism! We have a poem which was found in the tomb of Egyptian Pharaoh Ay, who ruled briefly in the 14^th Century BC. It is usually thought to have been written by predecessor Pharaoh Akhenaten who began his reign around the 1350s BC. Akhenaten was a great religious reformer, and he championed the worship of the sun-god Aten. The poem, called ‘The Great Hymn of Aten’ is a hymn of praise to him, and this photo, taken at the time, shows him and his family worshipping the sun.

The text shows such a striking resemblance to Psalm 104 that they cannot possibly be unrelated. There is also a close link with the first account of creation, in Genesis 1.

This raises interesting questions about the relationship between these two poems. The Psalm is usually classified as a Nature Psalm, or Hymn to God the Creator, and although we don’t really know when or by whom it was written, it is not impossible that it came from David himself, and therefore quite early in the big story of Israelite worship. If that is so then the Gen 1 account of creation could well be dependent on it, and it might be the case that both of them drew inspiration from the Egyptian poem, but replacing Aten with Yahweh. After all the Genesis 1 story does the same thing with a Babylonian creation story called the Enuma Elish which is at least 1500 years older than the Hymn to Aten. The biblical writers, of course, insist that it was Yahweh, not Marduk, who cut the sea monster in half and created heaven and earth from the two bits. So we needn’t be worried by our faith borrowing or recasting ideas from other faiths or myths: it goes on all the time. We all know, for example, what is meant by Pandora’s box, and the story tells us an important truth without requiring us to believe in Pandora.

So what does this Psalm tell us about God the creator? It begins as the psalmist calls himself to praise in the common phrase ‘Praise the Lord, my soul’. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves to bow before the majesty of God, and much of our hymnody does this job: Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven is perhaps the best example. But the Psalm moves on address God personally, and in particular his power as the founder of the world, in terms which we have said reflect Gen 1. The different species he creates are listed, and then as we come to our fragment we are reminded not just that God created, but also that he sustains what he has made. All creation is nurtured from the hand of God, and the terrible picture of what would happen if he hid and refused this nurture are described. In him is the power to renew or to destroy.

The final verses express the praise of the worshipper, a commitment to praise and rejoice all his life, and a final curse on those who disobey him, or refuse to join in with the worship. Like a closing bracket round the whole Psalm, he calls himself back to praise.

Whilst the literary origins of the Psalm are interesting, I was particularly struck, this time I read it, by the Psalmist’s need to call himself to praise, not once but twice. Indeed there is ample reason for gratitude to God spelt out in the Psalm and evident in the beauty of the world around us, but still it seems that he has to remind himself to be thankful. I can remember going with my vicar when I was a curate to an ecumenical prayer meeting with, among others, a bunch of New Church leaders. As soon as someone said ‘Let’s pray’ they were off, with shouts of praise, muttered ‘Hallelujahs’ and speaking in tongues, while we Anglicans sat quietly waiting for our turn to articulate a prayer. I said to my boss afterwards ‘They’re so emotional, aren’t they?’ to which his reply was ‘No, we’re emotional; they’re committed!’. We were sitting quietly waiting to feel moved into some kind of prayer, while they were going to pray come what may. That kind of commitment to give thanks to God, and even to live lives of gratitude 24/7, is something which the Psalmist recognised, and as a liturgist (one who writes wors for others to use) he encourages us all to remember who God is, what he has done, and what he is doing among us now. And as Christians we’d also want to praise with thanksgiving for what we know he is going to do in the future in the new creation.

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Candlemas – Psalm 24

I’ve chosen to use the readings for Candlemas today, as I reckon many churches will celebrate this festival, when our attention turns from what has been happening over the Christmas period to what will happen at Easter. The Psalm is a well known one, but its original meaning is hard to decipher. There are two questions to ask of it: is it a literary unity, in other words was it written as a complete Psalm or collected together from three fragments, and when might it originally have been used?

It does fall neatly into three sections, each of a slightly different genre, but there is an overall logic to it too. V.1-2 are a short hymn which celebrates Yahweh as the creator, v.3-6 form what has been called a torah or law setting out the conditions for entry to worship, and v.7-10 are what has been called a ‘gate liturgy’ which looks as though it was used antiphonally between two groups of people, perhaps priests and congregation. The mention of ‘ancient doors’ suggests a date during the monarchy, between the time of Solomon, when the first Temple was built, and its destruction in 586 BC. In the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the OT, the Psalm is headed with a direction for its use on the first day of the week, but that would have been added some time later.

Two possible suggestions have been made for its original setting, both of which have problems. The first is that it was composed for the bringing of the Ark of the Covenant from the house of Obed Edom into the Temple, as recorded in 2 Samuel 6 and 1 Chronicles 13, and the second is that it was used as a processional liturgy for the Ark, which symbolised the presence of Yahweh, as it was returned to its place in the Most Holy Place. However, we have no evidence that once it had been placed in the Temple, it was ever carried about or used in processions again. So really we just don’t know.

But what we do know is that it is somehow about the presence of Yahweh coming to the Temple, where he could be met and encountered by worshippers. So the logic of the Psalm seems to be a reminder of who God is, seen in his creative power and his lordship over all that he has made, a reminder of his moral qualities and therefore the kind of people who may appropriately meet him in worship, and finally the arrival of his presence, or his glory, among the congregation. As such, it forms a good checklist for us as we come to worship, and ties in with the Candlemas theme of God suddenly appearing among his people, both for judgement and consolation.

For worship-leaders it’s not always easy to know how to begin services, and different people, as well as different occasions, demand different setting-off points. A joyful Easter shout of ‘Alleluia! Christ is risen!’ works less well on Good Friday! Some like to begin with silence to focus on God, others with a section of upbeat praise. But maybe this Psalm provides a helpful reminder of what is really important. Before we let God into our presence it’s good to focus first on who he is, and then on who we are, probably in that order. To remind ourselves that we come into the presence of a mightily powerful God, who made and sustains all that exists, is not only good for us but also subverts all those voices which would seek to marginalise our faith as a hobby for a few weird people who happen to like that sort of thing. It restores our perspective. And then secondly we come conscious of the righteousness of God and by contrast our own need of repentance, or realigning our lives with him after a week when so many other pressures may have caused our awareness of him to slip. The words give us a chance to make sure once again that our hands are clean and our hearts pure. V.5 also reminds us that to meet with God means to be blessed.

So while we may not know what kind of an entrance liturgy this Psalm was, it can certainly help us in our approach to the worship of our God.

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Epiphany 3 – Psalm 128

It isn’t easy to identify the genre of this Psalm, not because there is too little information, but rather because there is too much. At first sight it appear to have something to do with a wedding, which would explain why it is set for today alongside the marriage feast of the Lamb and the wedding at Cana. But we’re also told that it is a Song of Ascents, a section of the Psalter from Ps 120-134, and in its form it appears to resemble a Wisdom Psalm. So what are these genres, and what might they mean to us?

The Songs of Ascents are short Psalms  which are commonly believed to be a discrete collection used during pilgrimages to the Jerusalem Temple. I like to picture streams of pilgrims gathering from all directions and converging to climb up the hill to the Temple, singing as they go. Some of them suggest this more than others, for example Ps 121 – 3, but like the Psalter as a whole they reflect a whole range of experiences and emotions with which the pilgrims would no doubt be travelling. Ps 126 suggests that this collection was post-exilic, and the Temple in question would be that restored and rebuilt under Ezra.

Wisdom Psalms give sound advice on how to live godly lives, and while this never goes amiss it doesn’t seem particularly to be associated with pilgrimage nor marriage. So it isn’t at all clear what this text was designed to do, or how it should be used. Let’s look in more detail at the text and see what it is actually saying.

It appears to fall into two parts. V.1-4 start the Psalm off with a beatitude, parallel in form to those pronounced by Jesus in Matt 5, ‘Blessed are all who fear the Lord …’ This represents the Wisdom part, which, like much wisdom literature, extols the virtues of living good and godly lives. Paradoxically Wisdom literature in the Bible both proclaims blessing and prosperity for those who fear the Lord and live in obedience to him, but also tackles the hard questions about those times when this seems to be anything  but true. Our Psalm promises fruitfulness for the godly in normal, everyday areas of life: fruitful labour, harmonious marriages, happy family life and longevity. Fear God and life will be great. The Psalm isn’t interested in a more nuanced discussion of the relationship between godliness and prosperity, as Job, for example is. It takes for granted that obedience will produce blessing.

But then there is a change of tone, and someone else is speaking, not explaining how blessings may be found, but pronouncing a blessing on both the individuals and the nation as a whole. This voice has led people to suggest that this is a priestly blessing, pronounced over the people by the religious leaders, and our own practice of using the blessing at the end of services points to this as a final liturgical act at the end of the pilgrimage as the people dispersed to their homes, less a Song of Ascents and more a Song of Descent. There is, of course, no reason other than tradition to keep acts of blessing to the end of worship. I can imagine a service where people are blessed as the service starts, with a pronouncement of God’s favour on them as they come together for worship, as well as his blessing as they disperse and live for him for another week.

As a priest I find pronouncing the blessing one of the high spots of the service, and not just because that means it is nearly over! It is an immense privilege not just to pray for the people, but actually to pronounce God’s blessing over them, in a way which I believe will actually make a difference to them in the days ahead. Personally I never fail to find it a moving and powerful end to services, and now that I am retired and am more frequently blessed than blessing, I still relish this final moment when someone invokes God’s favour on me.

But I often wonder how people receive what I so enjoy giving them. What kind of theology of blessing do people operate with, and do they value it as much as I do? As those words are said, accompanied often by the sign of the cross, the basis on which God does bless us, what is going on for people? Maybe this week we might give our attention anew to the blessing, whether we are giving or receiving it.

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Epiphany 2  –  Psalm 139

There is a legend about todays Gospel from the end of John 1 which maybe sheds some light on the strange affirmation that Jesus knew Nathanael while he was still under the fig tree, which brings for the response ‘Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel!’. This seems a bit OTT if Jesus had noticed him earlier that day or something, but legend has it that Nathanael was abandoned as a baby and left to die under a fig tree. If Jesus is saying ‘I have known you even from your birth’, that would make his response a bit more appropriate. It is no doubt this motif of being known by God which made Psalm 139 appropriate for today’s lectionary.

This is the first example we have encountered in this series of an individual Psalm, and by piecing together the clues in the text we can create a pretty good idea of its meaning, and therefore its application. As many readers will know, at one stage of our ministry we were accused and ultimately driven out of our parish. I never claimed to be entirely innocent – it always takes two to tango – but I did believe that the character assassination was unjust and deeply damaging to us as a family. Now imagine that I had been accused of, for example, leading the church into the practice of, say, Voodoo rather than orthodox Christianity. Just for the record, that wasn’t the problem, but bear with me. What might I want to say to refute these false accusations? The answer is Psalm 139!

The first six verses begin with the certainty that God knows that I am innocent; in fact he knows everything there is to know about me. Then the Psalm moves on to claim that even if I did want to escape from God, presumably because of my ‘secret guilt’, there is absolutely nowhere I could go to escape him. Not only does God know me now, but he knows my history, right from before I was born. Indeed it was he who formed and shaped me in my mother’s womb. If I am claiming innocence in front of a God that involved in my life, I’d have to be pretty daft or very hardened and arrogant to believe that I could pull the wool over his eyes. This is the equivalent of someone saying nowadays ‘I swear on the life of my children’. Not a helpful oath, but a very powerful one. In fact, says v.17-18, God is so precious to me that I would never, nor could never abandon him. The accusations against me simply do not make any sense.

But then there is an abrupt change of mood in v.19, surprise surprise filleted out in our lectionary. The Psalm becomes ‘imprecatory’, in other words the psalmist calls down curses on his enemies, something which is a common theme in the Psalms and which I’m sure we’ll encounter again in this series. But is that really what is going on here? Is the falsely accused victim calling on God to avenge him by destroying those who accuse him? It certainly looks like that, and if you have ever been in that position you will know what a natural human tendency it is to want to get revenge. But there is another way of reading this. I might not necessarily want to call down God’s wrath on all who in fact are involved in Voodoo, but I would certainly want to disassociate myself from them and their practices in the strongest of terms. Rather than being guilty of promoting Voodoo in the church, I would want them as far away from me as possible (v.19). I would want to make clear that such religion strikes at the heart of the God I know and worship, and who knows me so well (v.20), and that I hate everything they stand for (v.20-21). These verses seem like a deliberate distancing of the psalmist from the things of which he is being accused. Far from being thick with them, he says, I despise the whole system and everything about it. We are on diametrically opposite sides (v.22) That does put the opening line about wanting them dead into a slightly better context.

Finally the psalmist goes right back to where he started. In v.1 God has searched his heart, but in v.23-24 he is invited to do so again. This might be a further reinforcement of his claim of innocence of the charges pressed against him, but it might also be a very humble invitation to God to have another look, just in case there is any self-deception which has crept in there.

I really hope that you never have to face this kind of false accusation, but if you do, maybe Psalm 139 can fuel your prayer and lead to your vindication. Maybe we could use it to pray for all our Christian brothers and sisters around the world who face this kind of persecution on a daily basis.

For those who want a change from the Gospel

Epiphany – Psalm 72

This year we shall have a general election. Personally I love staying up all night watching the results come in, either with increasing joy or despair. The last few years have seen a dramatic decline in the levels of regard we hold our national leaders in, and in the trust we place in them. Lying does that, but we are all the worse for it because we all feel a little less confident in our leaders, and a little less inclined to believe a word that comes out of their mouths. This Psalm helps us regain some perspective. It’s classified as an Enthronement Psalm, and it may have been composed for a Royal Coronation, or it might have been used an the annual New Year festival for the celebration and reaffirmation of the King (if such an even ever actually happened – see last week’s post). The title, which was not of course original to the Psalm, tells us that it is ‘of’ or possibly ‘to’ Solomon, which has led scholars to suggest that it was composed for his enthronement, but if it was it may still have been used liturgically in future years – that’s how liturgy works. It certainly appears to come from sometime before the exile, after which the monarchy never reappeared, and it suggests an origin within the dynasty of David. But in any case it sets out the hope for what the new (or existing) king will be and do. As such it provides a great meditation on effective leadership, which we do well to think about as we prepare to choose leaders for our nation. This Psalm celebrates and/or prays for a king who will bring four particular qualities, righteousness, safety, prosperity and stability, and we could do worse than pray for these qualities among our leaders.

Righteousness and justice v.1-7. The Psalm begins with a prayer for the King to be righteous and to rule with justice. This will show itself in his defence of the poor and afflicted: indeed his reign will bring the refreshment and fruitfulness of gentle rains on crops, like a shower on a hot and dusty day. Righteousness is not the same as self-righteousness, which has unattractive negative connotations: it simply means the inability to do anything which is unjust or evil. It is interesting that the Psalm starts here, but the rest flows from it.

Safety v.8-14. This section of the Psalm may raise some hackles, as it appears to be a prayer for empire and world domination, of the kind we are nowadays all wringing our hands over. But in context it is saying something very different, in fact two very different things. The first thing to realise is that Israel was a small nation constantly under threat from the nations around, who regarded her with great hostility. Therefore a good monarch would need to be a warrior in order to protect the nation from these threats. The prayer for all nations to serve him is not necessarily about him being a crushing tyrant, but rather that he had saved the people from crushing tyrants. Again it is the weak and needy who will suffer most, so the defence of the realm flows from that desire for justice. The second idea here, though, is that this Psalm was almost certainly read messianically, and so in fact the long-term goal was indeed world domination, as the reign of God through his messianic King would extend to the whole earth, so that justice and righteousness would be a worldwide way of life.

Prosperity v.15-16. Another result of a righteous rule is that the nation would prosper. This too rings alarm bells, especially in British ears, with our instinctive dislike of the American ‘Prosperity Gospel’ preachers, who teach that we’ll get rich personally if we’re Christians, or even Christians who give to their particular ministries. But again that idea is a misreading of the text. Perhaps the word ‘flourishing’ is a more positive term to use. A righteous and just rule allows people to flourish, so that the nation becomes the best it could possibly be under the right leadership. That’s the idea here.

Stability v.17-18. The recent aim of our government, in one of its many three-word slogans, to be ‘strong and stable’ was a right instinct, even if the reality was far from evident. So the prayer here is not for a succession of different PMs in quick succession, but for a King who would reign over a period of continual righteousness, safety and prosperity. Indeed this theme is mentioned throughout the Psalm.

So how do we get such leaders? The Psalm end with a prayer of thanks to God, the implication of which is that such leaders are given by God, for the blessing of his people. One day we believe that the whole world will be filled with his glory, so maybe this Psalm is a useful one in our prayers towards that election day.