First post from Jerusalem: On reading the whole psalm

The appointed psalm for this week, the 9^th Sunday after Pentecost, is Psalm 85, beginning at verse 8. It’s a psalm that exudes absolute confidence and trust in God:

Let me hear what God the Lord will speak, for he will speak peace to his people, to his faithful, to those who turn to him in their hearts.

Surely his salvation is at hand for those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.

Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other.

Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness will look down from the sky.

The Lord will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.

Righteousness will go before him, and will make a path for his steps.

(Psalm 85:8-13, NRSV)

That’s beautiful, right? He will speak peace to his people, love and faithfulness will meet, righteousness and peace will kiss each other. Of course good things are coming! Of course peace is at hand! It reminds me of the call-and-response often heard in African-American churches, which proclaims “God is good—All the time! All the time—God is good!” Amen!

The problem is, the psalm doesn’t begin there, and most of life doesn’t happen there, either. As I’ve been settling in to our new home in Jerusalem (arriving on a day which featured 2 terror attacks, the “most violent day in Jerusalem since 2008”, according to our local bishop) I find myself more drawn to the first seven verses the lectionary compilers left out:

Lord, you were favorable to your land; you restored the fortunes of Jacob.

You forgave the iniquity of your people; you pardoned all their sin. Selah

You withdrew all your wrath; you turned from your hot anger.

Restore us again, O God of our salvation, and put away your indignation toward us.

Will you be angry with us forever? Will you prolong your anger to all generations?

Will you not revive us again, so that your people may rejoice in you?

Show us your steadfast love, O Lord, and grant us your salvation.

(Psalm 85:1-7, NRSV)

Here are words I can relate to, especially this week. Those confident verses in the lectionary were surely written post-exile—after the storm was over. These first seven seem to be written in the midst of the struggle. These are the words of the father in Gaza, surveying his family’s destroyed house and neighborhood. These are the words of the Christian refugees, streaming out of Iraq. These are the words of the parents watching their children wracked by the Ebola virus. The psalmist cries out with them, reminding God of God’s own identity and nature and history:  

“Hey, God! Don’t you remember? You saved us! Don’t you remember, God? You’re the one who’s slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love! Don’t you remember? You helped us before. You showed up before. 

How long can this go on? Surely, 30 days in Gaza is enough; surely 60 years of occupation is enough; surely 400 lost children are enough…show us your love, your salvation, your peace…”

Today is Friday, and all around me people are preparing for prayer. My Muslim neighbors will go to Friday prayers. My Jewish neighbors are getting ready for Shabbat. And tonight, some of my Christian brothers and sisters will gather to pray for peace and unity at the Lutheran Church of the Redeemer in Jerusalem. 

The prayers will be in Arabic, Finnish, German, and English. We will sing and pray by candlelight, reminding God (and ourselves) of God’s saving goodness and mercy. And even though we’re still in the midst of the storm, we will pray with confidence, trusting that peace will indeed reign in this land (and the world), one day soon.

Is your congregation praying for peace? Here is what I wrote for my portion of tonight’s prayer service. Feel free to use them this Sunday.

Jesus, child of peace, your light shines forth from Bethlehem. Protect children caught in the crossfire—in Gaza, Syria, Iraq, the Central African Republic, Chicago (USA), and every place where violence attempts to reign. 

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Jesus, hope of the nations, your light shines forth from the cross. Inspire the faithful to stand in solidarity with those who suffer—those who live under occupation, those who live with the threat of Ebola or AIDS, and those who just hope to eat tomorrow. 

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Jesus, rock of our salvation, your light shines forth from the empty tomb. Give us, your living stones, voices to proclaim that goodness is stronger than evil, love is stronger than hate, light is stronger than darkness, and life is stronger than death. 

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Jesus, light of the world, you do not give as the world gives. Soothe our troubled hearts with your truth, and banish our fears with your perfect love. 

Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer. 

Into your hands, gracious God, we commend all for whom we pray, trusting in your mercy; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.