Psalm 39:1-6; Exodus 30:17-31:11; Matthew 26:31-35

Psalm 39:1-6   David reflects on the difficulty, if not sheer impossibility, of keeping one’s mouth shut as our enemies goad us and/or lie about us: “I thought, “Let me keep my ways from offending with my tongue.  Let me keep a muzzle on my mouth as long as the wicked is before me.” (1)  His silence has both physical and emotional consequences: “I kept still, deprived of good, and my pain was grievous. My heart was hot within me.” (3)  A perfect description of how we feel when unjustly accused.

But David knows whom to speak with, and it isn’t his enemies: “I spoke with my tongue:  Let me know, O LORD, my end and what is the measure of my days. I would know how fleeting I am.” (4)  He speaks to God, but it is not a complaint about how unfairly he’s being treated by his enemies.  Rather it’s a reflection on the evanescence of a man’s life: “Look, mere handspans You made my days, and my lot is as nothing before You. Mere breath is each man standing.” (6)

At first this seems a surprising shift of subject.  Why would David move from personal hurt to a philosophical reflection on the brevity of a man’s life?  It seems to be that because in the larger picture, our present woes  (“my lot”) are even more fleeting when compared to the overall length of our lives, which themselves are brief in the larger picture of God, who lives outside time.  When we realize that (in Alter’s wonderful phrase) “mere breath is each man standing,” our present woes are put into their proper perspective.  And in the realization of that larger picture, our current afflictions are but momentary, but survivable troubles.

Exodus 30:17-31:11  Washing in the laver of bronze is mandatory before the priestly duties can be performed: “And they shall wash their hands and their feet, that they do not die,” (30:21) reminding us that baptism has ancient roots.

Even above water is is the sacred oil, which has very specific ingredients: “five hundred weight wild myrrh, and aromatic cinnamon, half of that, two hundred fifty weight, and aromatic cane, two hundred fifty weight. And cassia, five hundred weight by the shekel of the sanctuary, and olive oil,” (30: 24, 25).  This is the oil of consecration, setting apart both physical objects and human beings, which are holy, from all else that which is profane: “And you shall consecrate them, and they shall be holy of holies, whoever touches them shall be consecrated.” (30:30)

The oil used by the pastor at baptism, which seals us with the cross of Christ forever,” has direct roots back through the oil that the woman anointed Jesus’ feet back through to this oil prepared at the foot of Mount Sinai.  Oil that sets us apart from the rest of the world; oil that reminds all of us that we are God’s, and through baptism have been made holy.  The church I grew up focused only on the water, never on oil.  Yet, it’s clear here in Exodus 30 that to be consecrated before God both water and oil are required.  First we are made clean in the water and then consecrated by the oil; set apart to do God’s work in the Kingdom.  A heavy and serious responsibility indeed.

Matthew 26:31-35  I think the Moravian editors kept today’s Gospel reading intentionally brief because they want us to focus and reflect on what Jesus has to say about  the Disciples’ response to the catastrophe about to overtake them.  He quotes Zechariah 13:7, “I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.”  The disciples finally get it: they know something bad is about to happen to Jesus, although it’s not clear yet exactly what that will be.

What’s really fascinating here is that even though Jesus could not be more direct about his resurrection (“But after I am raised up, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.” – 26:32), that revolutionary statement apparently does not even make an impression on them.  Instead, they can only focus on Jesus’ effrontery to suggest that after three years together they would actually desert him.  Peter speaks for all of them, in denial that they would ever deny his master.  And as Matthew notes tersely, “And so said all the disciples.”  We can see the nodding heads as Peter makes his boldly unwise statement.   Yet, the  resurrection, an event unprecedented in history, goes unnoticed.  It’s all about feeling unjustly accused.  Emotions inevitably trump reason.

Which is exactly what we would say and do, too.  We feel we’ve been unjustly accused and immediately become defensive.  Unlike David in today’s psalm, neither the disciples nor us can keep silent.  Denial is our inbred skill and preferred way of dealing with bad news–all while ignoring the really good news that Jesus wants to meet us in Galilee.

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