Wow. One month to spring. Not that it matters much here in California, but my children and grandchildren are pretty tired of winter at this point. Easy for me to go to Minnesota and rave about the snow and ice, but then again, I had the return flight to California in my pocket…
We may not think of the Psalms this way, but many of them are highly sensual. Not in the usual sexual implication of that word, but sensual as in our senses. I use “sensual” rather than “sensory” because the psalmists use senses in a way that directly connects us to God, so “sensual” in the sense of “deep and intimate relationship.”
Here at Psalm 28, we have speaking and the crucial sense of hearing as the psalmist writes, “To You, O Lord, I call./ My rock, do not be deaf to me.” We use the derisive phrase, “deaf as a rock,” but that is not the meaning here. God is our anchor, our Rock and above all we desire a response. For there is nothing more awful than hearing only silence in reply: “Lest You be mute to me/ and I be like those gone down to the pit.: God’s silence means only one thing: separation, abandonment. And like those who have gone down to the Pit ahead of him, death.
The psalmist reiterates his vocal cry: “Hear the sound of my pleading/ when I cry out to you.” And again, “Do not pull me down with the wicked,/ and with the wrongdoers.” To be in the company of wrongdoers is almost worse than being pulled down into the pit. The reason is simple because what they say and what they do are miles apart: “…who speak peace to their fellows/ with foulness in their heart.” Not only do the wrongdoers betray those who mistakenly trust them, they betray God as well: “For they understand not the acts of the Lord/ and His handiwork they would destroy and not build.” Clearly a message for our time: that God expects us to build on his creation, not destroy it.
Suddenly a turning point: “Blessed is the Lord/ for He has heard the sound of my pleading.” Notice it is not just “heard my pleading,” but “heard the sound of my pleading.” These are spoken pleas. Yes, God hears our silent prayers, but there is something about that which is spoken aloud to God that signifies a deeper belief on our part that God has ears and that he hears just as if He were sitting across the table with us.” That is how real God is to the psalmist. Is God that real for me?
Here in the penultimate chapter of this remarkable book, the patriarchal story draws to a close as Jacob “called his sons and said, ‘Gather round, that I may tell you what shall befall you in the days to come.'” (49:1) And he proceeds to lay out in poetic form both blessings and curses for each of the twelve brothers in birth order. Reuben, the firstborn has “mounted the place where your father lay” and “profaned my couch.” And “unsteady as water, you’ll no more prevail!” For as we saw in the previous chapter as Jacob blessed his grandsons, Reuben’s right of primogeniture was taken away from him.
And so for each brother: “Simeon and Levi, the brothers–/weapons of outrage their trade./ …cursed be their fury so fierce,/ and their wrath so remorseless.” (49:5-7). Whereas Judah, the root of David, is “a lion’s whelp…like the ming fo beasts, and who dare arouse him?” (49:9) Zebulon will live by the sea (49:13) and Dan will “be a snake on the road/ and asp on the path, that bites the horse’s heels.” (49:17) And in fact, the tribe of Dan engaged in guerrilla warfare in Joshua and Judges. “Asher’s bread shall be rich” and “Naphtali,…who brings forth lovely fawns.” (49:21) Joseph, the “fruitful son” (49:22) is understandably accorded the greatest blessing: “You father’s blessings surpassed/ the blessings of timeless heights…/ May they rest on the head of Joseph.” (49:20). And finally, young Benjamin, “ravening wolf,/ in morn he consumes the spoils,/ at evening shares the plunder.” (49:27). Indeed, as we read in Judges, the tribe of Benjamin was renowned for its military skill. Twelve very different personalities; twelve very different blessings. Jacob knew his sons intimately. Just as God knows us. What blessing (or curse) would be accorded to us here and now?
Jacob issues very precise geographic and legal details of where and how he will be buried and where: “in the cave bought from the Hittites” and “he breathed his last, and was gathered to his kinfolk.” (49:33). And the end of one of the most remarkable stories in the OT: the man who used subterfuge to receive the blessing; who wrestled with the angel; who fathered twelve very different sons and yet was blessed by God. Proof, if ever we needed it, that God powerfully uses us regardless of our imperfections and rebellion.
Jesus issues his greatest challenge to his disciples–and to us: “For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.’” (17:20). Yet here I sit, very incapable of moving Mount Diablo. Is it simply a question of too little faith? I feel that Jesus is referring to our work in the Kingdom of God. That we can indeed accomplish the impossible by asking the seemingly impossible. That, I guess, is what vision is all about. That simply dreaming big (as the mathematicians might put it) is necessary but not sufficient, but dreaming from the framework of real faith is indeed sufficient. But in the end, real faith requires abandoning myself completely to Jesus Christ. Something I have not yet done.
Ever aware that for people to get a message, especially one they don’t want to hear, it needs to be repeated several times, Jesus tells his disciples again that he will be betrayed but also that he will be raised. Still not wanting to accept this very disturbing and strange news, the disciples remain in denial. and “were greatly distressed.” (17:23). And frankly, I don’t blame them. We know how the story turns out; they don’t.
Have an excellent day, guys.
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