Tag Archives: Grief

Psalm 89 Shattered Worlds and Broken Symbols

The Siege and Destruction of Jerusalem by Romans Under the Command of Titus, A.D. 70 by David Roberts 1850

Psalm 89

<A Maskil of Ethan the Ezrahite.>
1 I will sing of your steadfast love, O LORD, forever; with my mouth I will proclaim your faithfulness to all generations.
2 I declare that your steadfast love is established forever; your faithfulness is as firm as the heavens.
3 You said, “I have made a covenant with my chosen one, I have sworn to my servant David:
4 ‘I will establish your descendants forever, and build your throne for all generations.'” Selah
5 Let the heavens praise your wonders, O LORD, your faithfulness in the assembly of the holy ones.
6 For who in the skies can be compared to the LORD? Who among the heavenly beings is like the LORD,
7 a God feared in the council of the holy ones, great and awesome above all that are around him?
8 O LORD God of hosts, who is as mighty as you, O LORD? Your faithfulness surrounds you.
9 You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them.
10 You crushed Rahab like a carcass; you scattered your enemies with your mighty arm.
11 The heavens are yours, the earth also is yours; the world and all that is in it — you have founded them.
12 The north and the south — you created them; Tabor and Hermon joyously praise your name.
13 You have a mighty arm; strong is your hand, high your right hand.
14 Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; steadfast love and faithfulness go before you.
15 Happy are the people who know the festal shout, who walk, O LORD, in the light of your countenance;
16 they exult in your name all day long, and extol your righteousness.
17 For you are the glory of their strength; by your favor our horn is exalted.
18 For our shield belongs to the LORD, our king to the Holy One of Israel.
19 Then you spoke in a vision to your faithful one, and said: “I have set the crown on one who is mighty, I have exalted one chosen from the people.
20 I have found my servant David; with my holy oil I have anointed him;
21 my hand shall always remain with him; my arm also shall strengthen him.
22 The enemy shall not outwit him, the wicked shall not humble him.
23 I will crush his foes before him and strike down those who hate him.
24 My faithfulness and steadfast love shall be with him; and in my name his horn shall be exalted.
25 I will set his hand on the sea and his right hand on the rivers.
26 He shall cry to me, ‘You are my Father, my God, and the Rock of my salvation!’
27 I will make him the firstborn, the highest of the kings of the earth.
28 Forever I will keep my steadfast love for him, and my covenant with him will stand firm.
29 I will establish his line forever, and his throne as long as the heavens endure.
30 If his children forsake my law and do not walk according to my ordinances,
31 if they violate my statutes and do not keep my commandments,
32 then I will punish their transgression with the rod and their iniquity with scourges;
33 but I will not remove from him my steadfast love, or be false to my faithfulness.
34 I will not violate my covenant, or alter the word that went forth from my lips.
35 Once and for all I have sworn by my holiness; I will not lie to David.
36 His line shall continue forever, and his throne endure before me like the sun.
37 It shall be established forever like the moon, an enduring witness in the skies.” Selah
38 But now you have spurned and rejected him; you are full of wrath against your anointed.
39 You have renounced the covenant with your servant; you have defiled his crown in the dust.
40 You have broken through all his walls; you have laid his strongholds in ruins.
41 All who pass by plunder him; he has become the scorn of his neighbors.
42 You have exalted the right hand of his foes; you have made all his enemies rejoice.
43 Moreover, you have turned back the edge of his sword, and you have not supported him in battle.
44 You have removed the scepter from his hand, and hurled his throne to the ground.
45 You have cut short the days of his youth; you have covered him with shame. Selah
46 How long, O LORD? Will you hide yourself forever? How long will your wrath burn like fire?
47 Remember how short my time is —  for what vanity you have created all mortals!
48 Who can live and never see death? Who can escape the power of Sheol? Selah
49 Lord, where is your steadfast love of old, which by your faithfulness you swore to David?
50 Remember, O Lord, how your servant is taunted; how I bear in my bosom the insults of the peoples,
51 with which your enemies taunt, O LORD, with which they taunted the footsteps of your anointed.
52 Blessed be the LORD forever. Amen and Amen.

The approach to Psalm 89 will be different than my approach to most of the other psalms because it evokes for me an important question that continues to be wrestled with in communities of faith. This psalm likely originates in the collapse of the Davidic line of kings in the aftermath of Babylon’s destruction of Jerusalem in 587 BCE and wrestles with the contrast between the psalmist’s understanding of God’s promises and their present experience. It is plausible that Psalm 89 may be a combination of one (or more) psalms which expressed the royal theology of the Davidic kings with the tough questions of verse thirty-eight onward. Like Psalm 88 it takes us into the darkness of the psalmist’s experience where no light appears on the horizon, but unlike the previous psalm this is the experience of the community of the faithful questioning how the God’s faithfulness proved unfaithful. The psalm is still processing the anger, grief, and the disillusionment over the loss of institutions they thought would continue perpetually.

The language of Psalm 89 weaves together the kingdom of God and the monarchy of David into a common tapestry. Psalm 89 is built upon the words through the prophet Nathan to David in 2 Samuel 7: 8-17, but the rough edges of this prophecy where the ‘seeds of arrogance’ (Nancy de Claisse-Walford, 2014, p. 681) seen in David are smoothed out. Like Psalm 2 the strength of the Davidic kings is directly linked to the strength of the LORD. Their victories are the LORD’s victories, their enemies are the LORD’s enemies, their unfaithfulness is punished but they are never separated from God’s steadfast love and faithfulness (unlike King Saul or the Kings of Northern Israel). The first seventy percent of the psalm weaves God’s reign which is founded on steadfast love and faithfulness into experience of life under David’s descendants. The royal theology is expressed through the temple, and the temple, Jerusalem, and the Davidic kings all become important symbols of God’s reign on earth. The covenant language of Psalm 89 leaves no space for God to change God’s mind despite the unfaithfulness of many of the kings in Jerusalem. Yet, when the seam holding God’s reign and the Davidic king’s reign unravels in verse thirty-eight, the psalmist now takes God to task for renouncing the covenant. The situation of humiliation that the people experience now moves the psalmist to the dangerous and perhaps blasphemous conclusion that God whose reign is built on steadfast love and faithfulness has now proven unfaithful. God who was once Father and Rock who exalted David’s horn and strengthened his arm now strengthens the arms of the foes of the people, has rejected God’s children, and has renounced the covenant.

Moving beyond the psalm for the moment, the close alliance of God’s kingdom with any individual or government always presents the danger of idolatry. King David occupies an almost mythical role in the story of Israel as the ‘once and future king’ who was a man after God’s own heart. The narrative of David in First and Second Samuel, and the experience of the Davidic kings in First and Second Kings is often disconnected from the interwoven theology which connects the stability of the kings in Jerusalem with a larger vision of God’s cosmic reign over the forces of creation and the nations of the world. When the destruction of Jerusalem by Babylon occurs and the Davidic line of kings seems to be a stump which is cutdown and never to rise again the Jewish people would have to reckon with their relationship with God in a new way and to discover their new identity as a people of God in exile without king, temple, or land. They would have to reimagine the role of David within their life of faith and to reexamine how the hopes of 2 Samuel 7 and Psalm 89: 1-36 ended in the desolation of 2 Kings 25 and Psalm 89: 37-51.

Although the United States there is the concept of the ‘separation of the church and the state’ there is also a semi-religious understanding of manifest destiny and exceptionalism which exists within the political language of the country. Recently there has been a strong movement among both individuals and churches towards a Christian nationalism which weaves these ideas of manifest destiny and exceptionalism into a religious retelling of the story of the United States which ignores many aspects of the country’s past and present. This Christian nationalism has coalesced around the Republican Party in the United States and is still wielded by former President Trump to link his presidency with the faith of many of his followers. The almost messianic fervor that some have placed upon him and the sharp polarization between adherents and opponents highlights the danger of this interweaving of God’s reign and any individual or political group.

As an heir of the Lutheran reformation, I am a part of what is sometimes referred to as the magisterial reformation. The magisterial reformation includes the Lutheran, Reformed, and Anglican reform movements that still believed that secular authority should be followed (in contrast to the radical reformers who rejected any secular authority). Yet, the Lutheran (as well as Reformed and Catholic churches) in Germany had to struggle with the demands for loyalty from the National Socialist party as they assumed power in the 1930s. Many prominent Lutheran scholars, like Paul Althaus,[1] welcomed the rise of the National Socialist and Althaus viewed the government of the state as an order of God’s creation which was given by God. If the government of the state was an order of creation it was not subject to critique by the church, but there were others in the church who would criticize the National Socialist. Dietrich Bonhoeffer is the most well known of these resisters to the demands of loyalty. For Bonhoeffer he viewed the government as a vessel God uses to preserve life and when the government fails in its responsibility the church has a responsibility to speak. Many in Germany in the 1930s were able to combine their practice of Christianity with the demands of the state. Looking back upon this time it is easy to wonder how many people of faith were able to participate in or tolerate actions which seem antithetical to the scriptures, yet it is amazing how malleable peoples’ interpretation of scripture can be to fit their political dispositions.

Within Psalm 89 the kingdom of God and the reign of the Davidic kings is woven together until the tapestry is ripped apart by the experience of the present. There were Christians during the Third Reich who viewed Adolf Hitler as God’s gift to Christianity[2] and I fear there are many Christians in the United States making a similar mistake today. Unfortunately for many in Germany and in the United States participation in these movements has drowned out critical voices that questioned this interweaving of God and nationalism. For Judaism the crisis of exile in Babylon led to a reexamination of their faith in light of their new situation. I fear that for many Christians the eventual collapse of Christian nationalism will lead to an abandonment of their faith.

For me the conclusion of this psalm in verse fifty-two is also a moment of hope. It closes the third book of the psalter and brings this open question into the continued act of praise. Even when there are no easy answers for shattered symbols, broken communities, and even a broken nation there is a community that sits in the discomfort and still brings these questions into the blessing of their God. It closes with a double ‘amen’ which acknowledges the still unanswered questions of the prayers while allowing them to be lifted up to the God who may be Father, may be opponent but still remains connected to the community of the faithful. Elie Wiesel in his memoirs All Rivers Run to the Sea captures the relationship of these faithful crying out to God when he says of his own experience of the Holocaust:

I have never renounced my faith in God. I have risen against His justice, protested His silence and sometimes His absence, but my anger rises up within faith, not outside of it. (Wiesel, 1994, p. 84)

[1] Paul Althaus was not an isolated example, but he was in the 1930s viewed as the leading scholar on Luther’s theology. When I was studying in seminary in the early 2000s his works The Theology of Martin Luther and The Ethics of Martin Luther were still used.

[2] Paul Althaus in 1933 stated, “Our Protestant churches have greeted the turning point of 1933 as a gift and miracle of God” (Ericksen, 2012, p. 37)

Someone Else’s Fortune

 

As the slip of paper emerges from the cracked cookie
My eyes focus on words that can only be
Someone else’s fortune

The words may have fitted any number of the possible lives I’ve grieved
Sure, they are supposed to be generic enough to fit many lives
But the particularity of my experiences transgresses the boundaries
Of Someone else’s fortune

This simple sentence of a throw away piece of paper
Becomes a mental pathway to the present that never was to be
To dreams stillborn and paths that receded into the past
An invitation to rumination upon hopes I thought long buried
Of the someone else that those paths would have created
If this wasn’t someone else’s fortune, but mine

The Gravity of Grief

Artist Concept of a Supermassive Black Hole, NASA/JPL-Caltech. Public Domain under NASA policy

Tragic events expose the fragility of the worlds we inhabit.
Undoing the meaning of the words that we speak and hear.
The gravity of the grief is so powerful that nothing escapes it.

There are no beautiful words that can undo betrayal.
Letters litter the lawn as they lose their creative power.
Words are worthless when the unspeakable occurs.
Tragedy transforms treasured truths into discarded trash.
Narratives go nowhere. Sacred stories are suddenly suspended.
Poetry enters a precarious pause. Its rhymes and rhythms undone.

Someday the words will regain their meaning for the wounded one.
When the gravity of grief is not so great. But not yet.
First the fragile pieces must be gathered, their world recreated.

Only time can transform the truths tragedy trashed.
Patient presence with survivor of the unspeakable
May once again allow words their worth in the world.
Narratives may find their new way. Sacredness seen in stories.
Poetry and prose relate reality in rhyme and rhythm.
Beauty beyond the brokenness of betrayal as new words emerge.

Lost Dreams

Child by fabii from http://www.deviantart.com/art/child-61251692

Sometimes I imagine you running through some unending shopping mall

Realizing that somewhere along the trip you lost hold of me in the crowd

Perhaps you stopped to gaze at some curiosity in a shop window for a moment

And I was gone, moved on by the crush of the crowd’s unending, unfeeling flow

Tears streaming down your cheeks for the companion no longer there

As both our futures were severed by forces beyond our control

 

Like a parent who came to a new country seeking hope for their family

Only to find that family ripped asunder at the border, children caged

Fighting bureaucrats and their cold, unfeeling mountains of paperwork

Fanning the embers of hope for some eventual reunification

Only to find out that you are gone, given to a new family to foster

Just a dream who has hopefully found a new father to be cherished by

 

Some part of me won’t accept that dreams die when reality shatters them

When life moves on, when circumstances change, when new dreams are born

Something makes me hope that they find a new heart that beats with theirs

Someone who cherishes them the way that I did as they grew and changed

That they have a future beyond the fracture, and that they find joy and love

That you may be the dream that another person raises up for the world to see

The Air is Heavy

 

The air is heavy as it fills my lungs with its leaden weight
For in this springtime of the year in addition to the pollen,
The heavy perfume of the earth reawakening from its slumber
The emergence of wildflowers and bees and leave on the trees
Comes the weight of our fears over the death of the world we know
While the rest of creation emerges from its wintry hibernation
We confine ourselves to our modern caves repaying sabbaths missed
While the bird songs fill the morning light, we sing a dirge
Like children caught between dance and death we are unsatisfied
And we grieve the world transformed in ways we didn’t forsee

The air is heavy as the alveoli slowly force it back into the sky above
Breathing out the pain and the sadness, the life and the death
As each lobe automatically works to push the moist carbon dioxide
Through the bronchi and trachea to be expelled out of the mouth
Carrying on its respiration a heavy prayer for some lighter air
When we gathered in great numbers to sing and dance and jump
Sitting at the banquet table eating rich food and drinking well aged wine
Eating the marrow of life and drinking the wine strained clear
Never thinking that death could swallow this up so quickly
And the shroud would lie over so many people from so many nations

The air that bears the unweighable virus can seem so heavy
As we try to launch our saline filled cries up into the heavens
Waiting behind the high fortifications of our walls for the day
When we can open the gates in joyous celebration and lightness
For the air is no longer heavy and we can breathe freely again
For the shroud has been removed and death is swallowed up
And prayers are finally answered as tears are wiped away
The city’s life which has been placed in a coma awakens
As our lungs fill with the warm but lighter air of summer

Bleeding Words

Captain Jay Ruffins, 17th Century Quills from Rufus King Manor museum in Jamaica, Queens shared under Creative Commons 4.0 Share Alike

Forgive the words that bleed out from this pen
For the ink that forms them is a torturous mixture
Of a wounded heart’s flow mixed with the saline
Of the river of tears which flow to the sea of grief
And the trembling hands which wield the implement
Shake as they attempt to record the wounds of the world
And like so much spilled blood it rushes like streams
To poison the wells of joy that once nourished

Perhaps like the prophets’ words later generations may see
That these harsh words were the fertilizer for some new growth
Where those who mourn may be comforted as the tears dry
And the poet’s heart is lovingly knit back together by time
Then perhaps the words will be the creative words of spring
But now those words are an unknown language strange to the ear
Words whose syllables have no meaning to the grieving soul
Who must drink of the putrid waters of their own well

For everything there is a time, a time to bleed and a time to heal
And I must speak the words of that bubble up from the well of the soul
Where the light of life seems a tremulous flame in the squall
Where the cold of winter penetrates into the marrow of the bones
And where the slow tick of the clock marks the passage of pain
While I wait for the pen to slowly run out of this tortured ink
For the rivers to dry up as the sun reemerges from its dormancy
Longing for the language whose sounds my tongue cannot form
Joyously drinking from the sweet waters of newly dug wells

The Lament of the Forgotten Son

Margaret Adams Parker, Reconciliation: Sculpture of the Parable of the Prodigal Son for Duke Divinity School (2005) View 1

Margaret Adams Parker, Reconciliation: Sculpture of the Parable of the Prodigal Son for Duke Divinity School (2005) View 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You stand out on the crossroads looking for the prodigal
Waiting for the return of the one who cashed in his heritage
Who took what we worked so long to build and walked away
He wished for your death and plundered your house
And yet day after day you wait for his return, this lost son
Like some wandering sheep you set out in search of him
Like some lost coin you search every corner to find again
And so, you stand out at the crossroads today and every day
While I rise up in your stead, tending the flock, sowing the seed
Working to ensure that for all of us there will be a harvest
You pine for your lost son, I grieve for my lost father

This son of yours, this spoiled younger brother of mine
Unwilling to dirty his hands among the fields or to care for the home
Who shirked the yoke that I bore for you countless seasons
There were always excuses that were made on his behalf
I thought that his last request might finally cross a line
That this final insult, this slap in the face might raise your ire
Is there nothing he could do, no request he might make
That might cause you to put your foot down and say, ‘no more’
How could you let him take away the work of our hands
Going off to a distant land with the wealth of generations
This son of yours, this spoiled younger brother of mine

The days you spent on the crossroads looking for the prodigal
Are the days you never once looked at me managing the house
Sweating with the servants in the field to sow and reap a harvest for you
Holding everything together while you stayed lost in your grief
Did your eyes never fall upon me as I shepherded your flock?
Was a word of praise ever uttered from your lips for my longstanding obedience?
Did your desire to see what was lost blind you to what remains?
The absent son who erased the son with calloused hands and burnt skin
Who stayed and never strayed from the homestead
And who is still waiting here for you to join him as he works in the vineyard

Then, one day, as I exit the fields at the end of a weary day
I hear merriment as the town eats our food and drinks our wine
The fatted calf has been slaughtered for the prodigals return
And while the entire town was invited to the celebration
You never considered coming to the fields to retrieve me?
It is only from a slave that I learn that my brother has returned
And my father as well, back from the crossroads and the ends of the earth
You rejoice with the town while my soul bleeds outside the home I sustained
What must I do to be seen, heard, loved and welcomed?
Must I also become the prodigal for you to celebrate me?
Must I deny you so that you might accept me?

How long before you realize that there is a son missing from your feast?
Before you make the journey into the fields you abandoned for the crossroads?
Until you see the son who didn’t squander your wealth with prostitutes
He feasted away your fortune and you throw him a feast of rich foods
I worked your fields, maintained your table, fed your flocks
Yet, not even a goat was to be spared for me and my friends
Welcome home father, I hope you appreciate the pantry I stocked
Welcome home brother, I hope you enjoyed the calf I raised
Hear this lament of the forgotten son who awaited your return
To the family you both turned your backs upon

The Story Collector

I listen on the cell phone as the coverage cuts in and out
Straining to hear every word, listen to the emotion there
As across the connection comes the other’s fear and doubt
But in the tear drenched words there is a gift beyond compare
They have trusted me with their story, I’ll hold it close to me
For that is what story collectors do for the world that they see
 
A family comes from across the country to gather together
To remember a man who made an impact on their life
And I sit and listen, collecting as their memories untether
As tears and laughter mix with joy and love, pain and strife
They have trusted me with their story, I’ll hold it close to me
For that is what story collectors do for the world that they see
 
So often, they wonder, those whose stories I’ve heard
How I can enter these times of hurt, loss and despair
It’s not always easy to enter the pain, to carry each word
But the gift that they’ve given is beyond all compare
They have trusted me with their story, I’ll hold it close to me
For that is what story collectors do for the world that they see
 
The stories I gather will never be committed to paper and ink
For they are shelved in my mind, locked in my memory’s circulation
But in my mental library holds them so that when I think
I can learn from all of their lives, struggles and perspiration
They have trusted me with their story, I’ll hold it close to me
For that is what story collectors do for the world that they see