Tags
comfort, God, God acts, God speaks, God's voice, Joyce Rupp, praise, pray, psalm 16, Stephen Mitchell, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
Feeling a need for inspiration I pulled out the book, Prayer Seeds, by Joyce Rupp this morning. I wanted to hear and see something that would speak of hope or certainty to some deep place in my heart with the hope that it would do the same for others. I read a lot of Sister Joyce’s prayers, all lovely and appropriate for many occasions or seasons. This is, however, a season that we might call “out-of-time” so I needed to look further. At the top of page 167, there was a quote from Stephen Mitchell’s translation of selected psalms. It read:
Unnamable God, I feel you with me at every moment. You are my food, my drink, my sunlight and the air I breathe. (Psalm 16)
This could have been enough, I suppose, but then I thought, “What about people who are not feeling God at every moment these days?” so I found a selection of Mitchell’s psalm translations at another place on the internet. I feel a need to write two of them here as sort of a stream of consciousness: in on-going sentences rather than the traditional psalmody form, as if the speaker were walking a path while thinking/speaking. I don’t know why that seems important but I hope Stephen Mitchell would forgive this diversion from his work. It is my best offering for today.
God acts within every moment and creates the world with each breath. God speaks from the center of the universe, in the silence beyond all thought. Mightier than the crash of a thunderstorm, mightier than the roar of the sea, is God’s voice silently speaking in the depths of a listening heart. (Psalm 93)
Even in the midst of great pain, Lord, I praise you for that which is. I will not refuse this grief or close myself to this anguish. Let shallow people pray for ease: “Comfort us; shield us from sorrow.” I pray for whatever you send me, and I ask to receive it as your gift. You have put a joy in my heart greater than all the world’s riches. I lie down trusting the darkness, for I know that even now you are here. (Psalm 4)
Later this morning I will attend a memorial service for the son of a woman for whom I have great admiration. His death preceded his 54th birthday by just a few weeks and was quite sudden. The shock was compounded by the death of my friend’s husband just three weeks previous to that of her son. No words of sympathy or attempts to assuage such grief are adequate for one who bears the loss of those she calls the two great loves of her life. All we can offer is presence. And so I go. I suspect that this event will be a lesson in diversity of belief about God and life while also manifesting a depth of unity brought about by relationship and community.
This morning as I read Psalm 86 I thought of how blessed I am with good friends to whom I can go for comfort in troubled times. There are moments, however, when it is only God who will suffice as a sounding board – or when it feels as if that is true. When I have acted in a less than worthy manner or judged someone unjustly, I am likely to first seek God’s forgiveness until I work up the courage and humility to admit my fault to a human being. Excuses abound for bad behavior and it is only when the layers of babble are stripped away – usually in conversation with God – that I dare to admit my need for forgiveness. How blessed are we, therefore, to have a God whose name is Love! I am grateful to the psalmist today – and to the translator – for these comforting words that give me pause.
Before I learned any of the prayers that are at the heart of my Church practice, I knew I had protection from heaven each night while I slept because of the simple prayer that helped me close my eyes in trust. You may have learned it too. In a sing-song voice to that matched the rhythm of the words, countless young people repeated night after night:
The weekend just past was for me a time of great blessings. On Friday we welcomed a group of people – mostly new to us – who came for a workshop offered by our friend, Brigitte, here at our home. I met one of our guests, Patty, at the bus station. Patty lives in Manhattan and as we fell into easy conversation, I began to see our small town through her big city eyes. She was very interested in everything. From all reports, everyone at the workshop came and/or left very happy at all they found here. I was on the road, however, by 9:00 Saturday morning.
There is so much that I could learn from a serious study of the Book of the Prophet Isaiah. Perhaps in my retirement…if such a time should ever come! Today’s reflection is simple – yet complex – coming from chapter 40:1-11. Isaiah’s message begins with tenderness. Comfort, give comfort to my people says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem…So begins what then sounds like destruction of all we know as life on this planet (All flesh is grass…withering…) in a show of force by a God that claims to come with power and rule by his strong arm. Immediately following on all of that comes, as conclusion, the promise that our God is rather like a shepherd. He feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom and leading the ewes with care.
