1 O God, why do you cast us off for ever?
Why does your anger smoke against the sheep of your pasture?
2 Remember your congregation, which you acquired long ago,
which you redeemed to be the tribe of your heritage.
Remember Mount Zion, where you came to dwell.
3 Direct your steps to the perpetual ruins;
the enemy has destroyed everything in the sanctuary.
4 Your foes have roared within your holy place;
they set up their emblems there.
5 At the upper entrance they hacked the wooden trellis with axes.
6 And then, with hatchets and hammers, they smashed all its carved work.
7 They set your sanctuary on fire; they desecrated the dwelling-place of your name, bringing it to the ground.
8 They said to themselves, ‘We will utterly subdue them’;
they burned all the meeting-places of God in the land.
9 We do not see our emblems; there is no longer any prophet,
and there is no one among us who knows how long.
10 How long, O God, is the foe to scoff?
Is the enemy to revile your name for ever?
11 Why do you hold back your hand;
why do you keep your hand in your bosom?
12 Yet God my King is from of old, working salvation in the earth.
13 You divided the sea by your might;
you broke the heads of the dragons in the waters.
14 You crushed the heads of Leviathan;
you gave him as food for the creatures of the wilderness.
15 You cut openings for springs and torrents;
you dried up ever-flowing streams.
16 Yours is the day, yours also the night;
you established the luminaries and the sun.
17 You have fixed all the bounds of the earth; you made summer and winter.
18 Remember this, O Lord, how the enemy scoffs,
and an impious people reviles your name.
19 Do not deliver the soul of your dove to the wild animals;
do not forget the life of your poor for ever.
20 Have regard for your covenant,
for the dark places of the land are full of the haunts of violence.
21 Do not let the downtrodden be put to shame;
let the poor and needy praise your name.
22 Rise up, O God, plead your cause;
remember how the impious scoff at you all day long.
23 Do not forget the clamour of your foes,
the uproar of your adversaries that goes up continually.
The glue that held the place together has gone. Everything is falling apart. And the one that glued the place together seems to have forgotten it. Devastated, the poet tells the story. Ruins and bellowing foes, this is what was left of beautiful Jerusalem and the Temple. In shock, utter trauma, the poet strings words together to make sense of it all. Yet, despite all the horror, God is in the dock and at the centre of the complaint. These are your foes. This is your city. These are your people. What are you going to do about it, God? You who separated the waters of the Red Sea for the exodus people to cross over safely. You who create the boundaries of sea and land, earth and sky. You who set the luminous countless stars in their place. You who make both summer and winter. How long are you going to hold back from putting it all back together?
And then, after proclaiming the magnificent sovereignty of God, the poet appeals to the heart of God because of the poverty of God’s people. God’s people are like a poor and helpless dove, vulnerable and without fight. In these dark days, don’t forget your dove. Remember your promise, your covenant. The dove who first flew over the waters of the flood, the chaos of that first devastation; the dove who gave hope to the ark-load; the dove that flees trouble over the farthest seas; the dove that lands over the Christ-parted waters of the Jordan: this very light of life which will be taken to the darkest place of all, Golgotha, to shine out across the millennia as the true hope, the glue that holds all life together – this very light needs to rise up NOW to save the poor and needy. Not in some totalitarian barbarism, no! But with the still small voice that can rise above the clamour of it all. Even as that noise bellows out continually, the still small voice of God will span from alpha to omega. This is the reality, the centre, the firstborn of all creation, in whom all things were created, visible and invisible, and in him all things hold together (Colossians 1. 15-17.)
[1] New Revised Standard Version, Anglicised
(NRSVA) New
Revised Standard Version Bible: Anglicised Edition, copyright © 1989, 1995 the
Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of
Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights
reserved.
Many years ago, I visited an elderly member of our congregation in hospital, who said something to me, in appreciation, that I’ve never forgotten: “It’s so important to know you are remembered”.
ReplyDeleteIt is the word “remember” that stands out for me in this psalm as the psalmist cries out to God to remember his people in their ruined sanctuary. Remember the scoffing of their enemies and don’t forget the life of those who are poor.
In today’s Downing Street coronavirus briefing after a long statement about the easing of restrictions and multiple questions from the press about the scientists’ views on 2m or 1+ social distancing, we came to the very last question from a journalist from The Eastern Daily Press. She was clearly passionately concerned about vulnerable children and young people, and those most at risk. She brought our attention to systemic inequalities and disadvantages that existed before the pandemic - children going hungry, educational inequalities, abuse. And she asked Boris Johnson, “ What are you personally going to do to ensure that no child is forgotten?
O God, remember your children.
How long must they go without while others have plenty?
Why do you hold back your hand?
Rise up, O God, do not forget them.