Proper 6/Pentecost 4/Ordinary Time 11
Preaching
Hear My Voice
Preaching The Lectionary Psalms for Cycles A, B, C
Object:
The lectionary editors' decisions as to the carving of biblical texts are not always well advised. The decision to edit out the middle section of Psalm 116 disrupts the flow of its poetry. The editors' decision is possibly related to the fact that Greek and Latin Bibles typically divide the psalm into two separate psalms: verses 1-9 (Psalm 114) and 10-19 (Psalm 115). Modern scholars are agreed, however, that this is a single, unified work. The psalm is not that long, and could certainly be read in its entirety in a worship service.
As a whole, this individual song of thanksgiving bears witness to the joy and relief of a believer who has been healed from some dreaded illness. This was a potentially mortal sickness (v. 3). It led to incapacity for a time (v. 6). It caused emotional anguish, and possibly physical disability as well (v. 8). It was very much a serious affliction (v. 10).
And what is the psalmist's response to this good news? "I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord, I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people" (vv. 13-14).
The psalmist's deep intuition as to how best to respond to his experience of healing finds liturgical expression. His gratitude drives him to the temple. Meister Eckhart taught, "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." Psalm 116 is surely a sufficient response, according to that way of thinking.
This ancient liturgical impulse found later expression in the way this Psalm came to be used as part of the Passover ritual. In the Passover liturgy it is typically read as one of the cups is raised in blessing. The salvation experience of the individual who wrote this song (the details of which are lost in the mists of time) thus becomes the prototype for any human experience of salvation. Passover worshipers, hearing this psalm, vicariously experience the psalmist's relief and gratitude, and claim those worshipful feelings for themselves. Christians, of course, will recognize these lines as frequently belonging to celebrations of the Lord's Supper.
Many people come to worship seeking to receive something from God. That is certainly a legitimate reason for coming, but perhaps a purer motivation is that expressed by the author of this poem. It is gratitude, pure gratitude that leads him to "lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord." Would that we could remember to come to God more often, for just such a reason!
Addressing the subject of healing prayers, Frederick Buechner reflects on Mark 9:14-29, the story of the father of the sick boy, who exclaims, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" Buechner writes:
What about the boy who isn't healed? When, listened to or not listened to, the prayer goes unanswered? Who knows? Just keep praying, Jesus says. Remember the sleepy friend, the crooked judge. Even if the boy dies, keep on beating a path to God's door, because the one thing you can be sure of is that down the path you beat with even your most half-cocked and halting prayer the God you call upon will finally come, and even if he does not bring you the answer you want, he will bring you himself. And maybe at the secret heart of all our prayers that is what we are really praying for. (From Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC [Harper & Row, 1973], p. 71.)
-- C. W.
As a whole, this individual song of thanksgiving bears witness to the joy and relief of a believer who has been healed from some dreaded illness. This was a potentially mortal sickness (v. 3). It led to incapacity for a time (v. 6). It caused emotional anguish, and possibly physical disability as well (v. 8). It was very much a serious affliction (v. 10).
And what is the psalmist's response to this good news? "I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord, I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people" (vv. 13-14).
The psalmist's deep intuition as to how best to respond to his experience of healing finds liturgical expression. His gratitude drives him to the temple. Meister Eckhart taught, "If the only prayer you ever say in your whole life is 'thank you,' that would suffice." Psalm 116 is surely a sufficient response, according to that way of thinking.
This ancient liturgical impulse found later expression in the way this Psalm came to be used as part of the Passover ritual. In the Passover liturgy it is typically read as one of the cups is raised in blessing. The salvation experience of the individual who wrote this song (the details of which are lost in the mists of time) thus becomes the prototype for any human experience of salvation. Passover worshipers, hearing this psalm, vicariously experience the psalmist's relief and gratitude, and claim those worshipful feelings for themselves. Christians, of course, will recognize these lines as frequently belonging to celebrations of the Lord's Supper.
Many people come to worship seeking to receive something from God. That is certainly a legitimate reason for coming, but perhaps a purer motivation is that expressed by the author of this poem. It is gratitude, pure gratitude that leads him to "lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord." Would that we could remember to come to God more often, for just such a reason!
Addressing the subject of healing prayers, Frederick Buechner reflects on Mark 9:14-29, the story of the father of the sick boy, who exclaims, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" Buechner writes:
What about the boy who isn't healed? When, listened to or not listened to, the prayer goes unanswered? Who knows? Just keep praying, Jesus says. Remember the sleepy friend, the crooked judge. Even if the boy dies, keep on beating a path to God's door, because the one thing you can be sure of is that down the path you beat with even your most half-cocked and halting prayer the God you call upon will finally come, and even if he does not bring you the answer you want, he will bring you himself. And maybe at the secret heart of all our prayers that is what we are really praying for. (From Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC [Harper & Row, 1973], p. 71.)
-- C. W.
