Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice! Ps. 130:1
The children lit the vigil candles. The cantor sang a wordless song simple enough for even those of us unfamiliar with the melody to join in.
Lamentations biblical and spontaneous were lifted to God. Prayers of hope and safety chanted in Hebrew joined them. People stood and named friends and family members in Israel; some accounted for, some lost, some who died violently.
My husband and I added our prayers and presence, part of the gathering at the synagogue last night. For our neighbors, Alison and Michael, for their family, and for all whose lives will be forever changed because of hatred and the desperation of the soul that generates it.
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice!
Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications!
If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand?
But there is forgiveness with you, so that you may be revered.
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,
more than those who watch for the morning.
O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is great power to redeem.
It is he who will redeem Israel from all its iniquities. Psalm 130, NRSV A Song of Ascents.
In one of her books, Anne Lamott wrote that her prayers boiled down to two things: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! and Help me! Help me! Help me! The psalm above is one of the latter.
When we are in deep, dark places, we realize what true power is: the power to lift us from our darkest night into the light of dawn. The power of God isn’t annihilation, but restoration. Neither the darkness around us nor the darkness within us can keep our cries from reaching God; neither is perpetual, and the power of God frees us from both. We cannot save ourselves, but we are not forever lost. Steadfast love redeems even our sorry selves. Then, it’s time for the Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! prayer.
“Often have they attacked me from my youth” – Let Israel now say – “Often have they attacked me from my youth, yet they have not prevailed against me.
The Plowers plowed on my back; they made their furrows long.”
The Lord is righteous; he has cut the cords of the wicked;
May all who hate Zion be put to shame and turned backward.
Let them be like the grass on the housetops that withers before it grows up, with which the reapers do not fill their hands or binders of sheaves their arms, while those who pass by do not say,
“The Blessing of the Lord be upon you! We bless you in the name of the Lord!”
Psalm 129, NRSV, A Song of Ascents
How do you deal with people who do you wrong? Who hurt you, not just as an individual but as part of a community? I know I’m supposed to bless those who curse me and work for the good of those who would harm me – it’s what a life of compassion looks like. But it’s damn difficult to do.
One of the gifts of the psalms is the voicing of the whole range of emotions – happiness, joy, sadness, despair, anger, and vindictiveness are all in there. They are songs and poems of honesty, which means they are as mean spirited as they are forgiving or blessing.
Sometimes, we need to give voice to the awful feelings that gather like stones in our hearts; we need to be honest with ourselves about our feelings – even the mean and vengeful ones. It’s the first step in letting them go, in releasing them rather than coveting them like the diamonds and pearls they are not. Once we say the curses we feel, we can release the weight of them vocally rather than with fists and knives. Free of that burden, we might have enough room in our hearts to wish for the good of our enemies.
[Warning: Once said, such things need to be given up. If we hang onto them after voicing them, they will only get bigger…]
Happy is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in his ways.
You shall eat of the fruit of the labor of your hands; you shall be happy, and it shall go well with you.
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table.
Thus shall the man be blessed who fears the Lord.
The Lord bless you from Zion. May you see the prosperity of Jerusalem all the days of your life.
May you see your children’s children. Peace be upon Israel!
Psalm 128, NRSV
The last few verses of this psalm move us from our own immediate kin to the larger community of faith. It’s a benediction of sorts, asking that we are blessed within a much larger blessing all who find their soul’s home in Jerusalem – in honoring the God of Abraham and Sarah.
May you live a long and blessed life – one that includes seeing your grandchildren. May you live in a time when your whole nation lives in peace – and wealth enough to sustain everyone.
In some ways, it’s the same thing that we pray at night: bless those we love, thanks for what we have, bless this nation and everyone in it. There’s nothing wrong with these prayers; they keep us mindful of our families, our friends, and our nearby neighbors – the home team. But there’s an important element that isn’t spoken in this psalm, but is foundational to the Jewish faith: they are blessed to be a blessing to the entire world, to send their love beyond their own people. If we forget this last part, we run the risk of seeking our own good at the expense of those beyond our own particular time and place.
If we forget this last part, we just might forget that God’s love includes everyone – even and especially those we don’t know.
Happy is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in his ways.
You shall eat of the fruit of the labor of your hands; you shall be happy, and it shall go well with you.
Your wife will be like a fruitful vine within your house; your children will be like olive shoots around your table.
Thus shall the man be blessed who fears the Lord. Psalm 128:1-4, NRSV A Song of Ascents
Granted, this is from the gentleman’s perspective – wife and children the elements of his family. Looking at these four verses, you could say something like this: do what is right and work hard, and you will be blessed with a good wife and multiple children…and others will call you blessed when they see this. Most of us know that a blessed life doesn’t always look like this. It’s a limited perspective, but not a bad one.
It’s easy enough to expand on this, to see something more behind and through the words than the man. Fruitfulness doesn’t have to be about having children, but about living a beautiful life that honors God, self, and neighbor – and having this valued and respected by one’s beloved. Growing children don’t necessarily have to be biologically related; providing a safe, welcoming, loving place to grow can be for any number of young ones and can take on many different forms.
If I take time to fall through the words instead of getting stopped by their particularity, I’ll find a blessing rather than an impediment.
Happy is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in his ways.
You shall eat the fruit of the labor of your hands; you shall be happy, and it shall go well with you.
Psalm 128:1-2, NRSV
This is a good psalm for understanding what it means to fear God: if everyone who fears God is happy, then fear is not terror and God is not a wrathful being just waiting for an excuse to rain fire down upon the unfortunate soul who makes a mistake. I think fear is closer to awestruck; the presence of God is so overwhelming and all-encompassing that we find ourselves in way over our heads. Instead of being scared to death, we are scared to life – not a comfortable feeling, but an amazing one.
This is also a good psalm for understanding what happens when we walk in God’s ways. Showing compassion for those in need, being honest in our dealings with others, refusing to become so jealous of others that we lose all sense of joy and peace – these actions make us happy. No amount of wealth gained by illicit or immoral means can do that.
And what about eating the fruit of the labor of our own hands? Earning our living by working at something rather than being given money without the work points to a reality that gets lost in the shuffle sometimes: there is dignity, honor, and satisfaction in labor.
It’s something most of us know on a deep level, these truths about what makes life good. It’s ironic that the cultural ideal of a no-work self-centered life that promises carefree happiness is a sure way to an unhappy life…
Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord guards the city, the guard keeps watch in vain.
It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives sleep to his beloved.
Sons(and daughters!) are indeed a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the sons of one’s youth.
Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them.
He shall not be put to shame when he speak with his enemies in the gate.
Psalm 127, NRSV. A Song of Ascents. Of Solomon.
Except for a few people, no one will remember me or the work I did during my lifetime. The pictures and books I treasure will find their way to Goodwill, a thrift store, or the local transfer station. The rooms I call home, the garden beds I tend – all of these will be handed on to people who have no idea that I once loved and cared for them.
The same is true of most everyone, with the occasional Shakespeare, Bach, and O’Keefe exceptions. A few may slap their names on plaques to prove they donated money or designed buildings, but no one really pays much attention to those a couple of decades after the dedication ceremonies. It is in vain that any of us lose sleep and perspective over things that won’t survive beyond us – or keep our names alive past our own lifespan.
Unless the point of work isn’t for personal glory and immortality. Unless the point of it all is to add our own unique talents and efforts to creating the beautiful kingdom of love and peace that is God’s blessing and intention for all of creation. Unless I find joy in the work itself and don’t expect it to be a testament to my existence.
Once I give up the need to be immortalized through my own efforts, I have no need to be anxious. I won’t lose sleep over it, because I know the truth: God holds my life and will not forget me. The same is true of you. The same is true of everyone.
What comes to mind when you hear or read the words, fortunes restored? I think of a decaying manor house set in an English countryside, and a once prominent family with no means to restore it. There are a brother and a sister there, living in just a couple of the many rooms, taking care of a grandfather who is lost in memories of hunting parties and better days. A royal appointment, an advantageous but still for love marriage, or an industrious business returns family and manor to genteel prosperity and a deep generosity.
Perhaps an impoverished orphan who was once wealthy is discovered, and a distant relative or friend of the family comes to claim the child and everyone lives happily ever after (The Little Princess).
There are many other scenarios, but in all of them the fortune restored is a family’s wealth and former golden lifestyle. If it’s a Hollywood version, they live happily and more kindly ever after – deserving recipients of all that is regained.
That’s not what Psalm 126 is about. The fortunes restored are restored to a people, not a family or individual. Restoration was a return home and freedom to rebuild and worship at the Temple. Walking to Jerusalem, praying this psalm, surrounded by pilgrims all going up to the Temple: this is living the dream – who wouldn’t shout for joy?
When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.
Restore our fortunes, O Lord, like the watercourses in the Negeb.
May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.
Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves. Psalm 126, NRSV
Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever.
As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people from this time on and forevermore.
For the scepter of wickedness shall not rest on the land allotted to the righteous, so that the righteous might not stretch out their hands to do wrong.
Do good, O Lord, to those who are good, and to those who are upright in their hearts.
But those who turn aside to their own crooked ways the Lord will lead away with evildoers. Peace be upon Israel!
Psalm 125, NRSV
How profound it must have been to ascend toward Jerusalem while reciting this psalm. Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever. As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so theLord surrounds his people from this time on and forevermore. The powerful nature of a mountain is most apparent to those who scale it, and its enveloping presence to those who gaze down from its height. As a people, to be surrounded by God’s presence as the mountains surround Jerusalem – what a powerful and palpable image to call on when inevitable difficulties arise.
The second powerful image: wickedness as a scepter – a symbol of power and rank, something to aspire to and seek. Wickedness as something that is powerful and appealing, something that looks beautiful, something hard to resist. Walking toward a cosmopolitan city, a seat of power, is walking toward those who hold what a scepter represents. The thoughts start coming…think of all the good I could do if I had power; think how much better life would be if I didn’t have to worry about money problems; how wonderful it would be to be the envy of others…
Evil is appealing, at least on the surface. What a wise thing to pray that the scepter of wickedness be removed. Because even the righteous can be tempted.
If it had not been for the Lord who was on our side – let Israel now say –
If it had not been the Lord who was on our side, when our enemies attacked us,
then they would have swallowed us up alive, when their anger was kindled against us;
then the flood would have swept us away, the torrent would have gone over us;
then over us would have gone the raging waters.
Blessed be the Lord, who has not given us as prey to their teeth.
We have escaped like a bird from the snareof the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped.
Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
[Psalm 124, a Song of Ascents of David]
Years ago, when I had pulled a window in for cleaning, a bird got caught inside. The poor thing flew against the ceiling, bumped into walls, then tried over and over to escape through the glass of the closed windows. I opened all six windows as far as they would open, then threw open the back door as well. It took a few minutes, but the bird finally flew outside and disappeared.
Had the bird not panicked, she could have gone out the way she got in. But claustrophobic fear made her blind to that quick and easy exit. It took opening many escape routes for her to get back outside, back to safety.
Feeling trapped is an awful thing, and struggling to break free sometimes just makes it worse. Sometimes, even if there’s a way out, it’s impossible to see or take. That’s when the only way out is through someone else’s compassion and kind effort.
Thank God for others who are willing to offer us release.
