Psalm 71:9-18a During the past two weeks of the kidney stone, I’ve been feeling my age since the healing process just seems to take longer and longer. So, the psalmist’s words, “Do not fling me away in old age, as my strength fails, do not forsake me.” (9) really resonate. But at least I do not have enemies “who stalk me” (10) and who assert “God has forsaken him,…Pursue and catch him, for no one will save him.” (11) To be old is one thing; to be vulnerable against actively plotting enemies is quite another. Yet, this is exactly what David faced basically to his dying day.
But there is always hope, and indeed, he writes that despite ill health and the plotting of enemies, “As for me, I shall always hope and add to all Your praise.” (14) Even when it seems as if God is not hearing us and our straits are dire, hope persists. Notice in this line that hope precedes praise. I cannot imagine honest worship ever occurring without the presence of hope. All sorts of awful things have happened by and to David by the time he reaches old age, but his deep relationship with God has been there all the time, “You have taught me since my youth,” (17) and hope is permanently instilled in his being.
So, even when he pleads, “even in hoary old age, O God, do not forsake me.” (18a) we sense that even as he cries those words, David knows in his heart of hearts that God, even a silent God, would never abandon him, even in his weakness. I think that behind this cri de coeur, David understands that God seeks a relationship with David as much as David seeks a relationship with God. It is within this unbreakable connectedness that hope always flourishes.
Numbers 21:10-22:6 In Sunday School, I always had the impression that the Israelites wandered aimlessly in the wilderness for those 40 years. And at one point in this chapter wandering is certainly the clear impression: “And from Midbar to Mattanah. And from Mattanah to Nahaliel, and from Nahaliel to Bamoth. And from Bamoth to the valley that is in the steppes of Moab…” (21:19, 20a)
But consequential episodes are also occurring. Once again, the Israelites ask the local king for passage through his lands, this time where the Amorites dwell: “Let me pass through your land. We will not turn off in field or vineyard. We will not drink well water. On the king’s road we will go until we pass through your territory.” (21:22). Not unexpectedly, the king refuses, preferring to do battle. This was not a wise choice, as “Israel struck him down by the edge of the sword and seized his land from the Arnon to the Jabbok to the Ammonites.” Same for King Og (love that name!) of Bashan, who meets the same fate. (33-35).
But none of these lands is Canaan proper; God is keeping his word and they cannot go there. I have to believe that these “pre-battles” are excellent preparation for the much larger war with Canaan that is yet to come. Just as for us when we become impatient with a situation and want to just get on with dealing with it, God will often delay us. It’s only when we look back that we realize we weren’t ready for the main battle and required the preparation that God placed in our way.
The neighborhood is not confused about the threat posed by these intruders from Egypt. The victory over the Amorites strikes fear (and hatred) into the Moabites, who view the Israelites as an invading scourge: “Moab was very terrified of the people, for they were many, and Moab loathed the Israelites.” (22:3) So, rather than do battle, Balak, king of Moab, decides to call on Balaam, a professional “hexer” who lives “at Pethor, which is on the Euphrates” (22:5) to curse Israel. Said curse will make a Moabite military victory more straightforward.
As always, things never change. If real world resources–here the Moabite army– can’t do the job, leaders too often revert to “magical thinking,” as if mere words will do the trick. Needless to say, there are too many current parallels to delusion of relying on empty words.
Mark 15:21-32 Mark’s spare language pierces our hearts with the horror of Jesus’ crucifixion. Unlike the other gospel accounts, Jesus, naked on the cross, is completely silent, rejecting the vinegary wine, dying in agony under the taunting placard, “King of the Jews.”
Instead of Jesus, we hear from cynical passers-by tossing Jesus’ own words back at him, “shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!”” (29, 30). The chief priests and scribes proclaim total victory in their cruel mockery, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.” (32). In their overweening self-righteousness they believe they have not only preserved their own power, but have patriotically demonstrated to Rome that they are loyal subjects, ridding Rome of a potentially divisive political problem. The Passover plot has worked perfectly. Good thing they were able to use that stupid Judas to rid themselves of this too-popular rabble-rouser.
Even the dying thieves (and it’s interesting that Mark does not specify a number; there may certainly have been more than two) do not recognize Jesus as anything other than a befuddled dreamer as they join in the taunts. Nobody’s going to Paradise in Mark’s account of this horrific event.
Mark makes his point dramatically: Unlike in today’s psalm, by the end of verse 32 all hope is indeed lost.
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