Psalm 42: The famous opening line of this psalm establishes the theme of this psalm of supplication: “As a deer yearns for streams of water,/ so I yearn for You, O God.” (2) Rather than emphasizing the poet’s suffering as many other psalms do, the theme here is his passionate longing for God, who is absent. The Germans have a better word for this intense longing because it also connotes a deep emotion that “longing” or “yearning” do not: Sehnsucht. This longing is expressed as “My whole being thirsts for God/ for the living God.” (3a) But alas, our poet feels he is far from God’s presence: “When shall I come and see/ the presence of God?“(3b)
Water in all its forms is the foundational metaphor of this psalm, and here it describes not only longing but a feeling of abandonment, “My tears became my bread day and night” because the psalmist is surrounded by mocking enemies who “said to me all day long, ‘Where is your God?'” (4b) He reminisces about happier days when “I would step in the procession,/ when I would march to the house of God/ with the sound of glad song of the celebrant throng.” (5) Equally important, though, he remains faithful and believes God will rescue him eventually and he will be able to once again join the procession headed to the temple: “Hope in God, for yet will I acclaim Him/ for His rescuing presence.” (6)
As he recalls God’s blessings, he returns to the water metaphor. This time is is God’s presence expressed as immersing him completely: “Deep unto deep calls out/ at the sound of Your channels./ All Your breakers have surged over me.” (8) He imagines how he would speak with God when he returns, “I would say to the God my Rock, ‘Why have You forgotten me?? Why in gloom do I go, hard pressed by the foe?’” (10) But the thing that seems to vex him most is that his enemies “say to me all day long, ‘Where is your God?‘” (11)
Have we not felt exactly the same when we feel God seems absent from our lives and an erstwhile friend, who knows we are people of faith, asks, “So, you claim to believe in God, but he’s nowhere to be seen, is he?'” And then they conclude, “Therefore, God does not exist.”
Nevertheless, like the psalmist, we cling to hope, “Hope in God, for yet will I acclaim Him,/ His rescuing presence and my God.” (12) Because we know that sooner or later, God will indeed show up.
Exodus 36: This chapter is a reprise of the construction of the Tabernacle. But where the earlier description was basically dry details, a definite joy and enthusiasm underscore this description and we can see the humanity involved. While the superintendents, Bezalel and Oholiab, are featured, it’s heartening to know that the work also included “every skillful one to whom the Lord has given skill and understanding to know how to do any work in the construction of the sanctuary shall work in accordance with all that the Lord has commanded.” (1)
I think it’s telling that the authors emphasize how the “skill and understanding” of the workers and artisans has been given and that the work is “in accordance with all that the Lord has commanded.” God has given each of us gifts of skill and understanding. The question is, do we use them in to work in the Kingdom, or do we squander them on useless projects or even worse, fail to use them at all?
The authors continue to emphasize how “everyone whose heart was stirred to come to do the work” and that so many offerings pour in that the overseers (I presume Bezalel or Oholiab) tell Moses, “The people are bringing much more than enough for doing the work that the Lord has commanded us to do.” (5). One has the feeling that the offerings are gifts from a chastened people, who having seen some 3000 of their kindred struck down following the golden calf debacle that the roots of much of their enthusiasm arises from feeling duty bound to whatever is commanded of them by God through Moses.
The other sub-theme that is prominent here is how the Tabernacle is the work of human hands and skill— an emphasis missing from the earlier description. We meet “those with skill among the workers made the tabernacle with ten curtains” (8) The pronoun “he” begins each sentence that describes a particular object, reminding us that it is the work of human hands that is connected with each item—curtains, loops, gold clasps, upright frames, silver bases, bars of acacia wood. One has to believe that the leaders and artisans who built the great cathedrals of Europe relied on this part of Exodus to motivate their people—especially when it came to giving offerings—but hopefully with the same willingness shown by the people of Israel here.
Matthew 27:11-31: Jesus is before Pilate and answers the governor’s question, “Are you the King of the Jews?” with three terse words, “You say so.” As always, Jesus’ answer flings the question back onto the questioner. What’s interesting here is that when “he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he did not answer.” (12) What do we make of Jesus’ silence? Pilate was “amazed,” but it seems clear to me anyway that Jesus’ silence simply means he will not dignify these false accusations with an answer. To speak and defend himself would have given his accusers legitimacy. His silence deprives them of the satisfaction thinking they had any case whatsoever.
Pilate quickly figures out the emptiness of their plot—”he realized that it was out of jealousy that they had handed him over.” (18)— as he cuts quickly to the chase and decides to use a method that he thinks will result in Jesus’ release. He offers them the choice between Jesus and Jesus “who is called the Messiah” (17) As if in proof of the correctness of instincts, Matthew tells us that “his wife sent word to him, “Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for today I have suffered a great deal because of a dream about him.” (19).
But Pilate badly misjudges the mood of the crowd and his ruse to establish Jesus as the innocent party is turned on its head when the crowd, which has obviously been incited by the religious officials, demands that Jesus be crucified. Mobs are unpredictable and two millennia later we see the same evidence in the misguided enthusiasm of people for the political Barabbases of our own day. They would rather turn the world upside down than do the right thing.
To avoid a riot, Pilate gives in, but not before he famously “took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” (24) The question hangs in the air two thousand years later: Could Pilate have done anything else than what he did? I confess that no reasonable alternative occurs to me. It stands in history as proof that incited mobs are unstable and unwise.
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