Friday of the Tenth Week in Ordinary Time
June 12, 2020
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 27, a popular psalm used often in the liturgy.
The psalm rocks back and forth between a desperate cry for light and a firm confidence that it will come. No wonder it’s so popular. Isn’t our whole life filled with that rocking?
How many times have we said or heard the plea, “God help me/us!”? I know someone who punctuates almost her entire conversation with similar exclamations. Whenever her own circumstances, or the world in general, disappoints or astounds her, some form of the aspiration arises. Often, it takes a secular form like, “Ay, ay, ay!”, but it is still the same prayer.😀
How about you? Have you heard that kind of plea resounding in your own heart lately? The world has been pretty overwhelming recently with disease, death, brutality, anger, and hatred all spilling out like lava from a frightening volcano. And you’ve probably got your own few personal boilers to add!
Unless we’re living in some kind of bubble, it all has to have some impact on our faith, hope and joy.
Psalm 27 is made for these times. It does not fail to acknowledge the weight of circumstances:
Hear, O LORD, the sound of my call;
have pity on me, and answer me…
Hide not your face from me;
do not in anger repel your servant.
You are my helper: cast me not off...
Nevertheless, under its pleading, rests a complete and steadfast confidence in God’s favor:
I believe that I shall see the bounty of the LORD
in the land of the living.
Wait for the LORD with courage;
be stouthearted, and wait for the LORD.
The psalmist invites us to share in this honest prayer, for ourselves and for all the anxious world which may carry troubles greater than our own.
(P.S. Be sure to read today’s first reading. Elijah was looking for God’s Face/Voice too. He found it in the most delightful way. Don’t miss it.)
For poetry today, a selection from the powerful poet Denise Levertov
Where is the Giver to whom my gratitude
rose? In this emptiness
there seems no Presence.
How confidently the desires
of God are spoken of!
Perhaps God wants
something quite different.
Or nothing, nothing at all.
Blue smoke from small
peaceable hearths ascending
without resistance in luminous
Or eager mornings—waking
as if to a song’s call.
Easily I can conjure
a myriad images
Remote. They pass
as I turn a page.
Outlying houses, and the train’s rhythm
slows, there’s a signal box,
people are taking their luggage
down from the racks.
Then you wake and discover
you have not left
to begin the journey.
Faith’s a tide, it seems, ebbs and flows responsive
to action and inaction.
Remain in stasis, blown sand
stings your face, anemones
shrivel in rock pools no wave renews.
Clean the littered beach, clear
the lines of a forming poem,
the waters flood inward.
Dull stones again fulfill
their glowing destinies, and emptiness
is a cup, and holds
Music: Psalm 27 – Choir of St. John’s College Elora