Category: Michael D
Dwell in . . .
An edited version of my words from Sunday, May 8th, pondering Psalm 23.
This morning let’s think about your dwelling or where you dwell. And in doing so maybe we can touch or absorb a bit of the faith of the Psalmist who proclaimed, “Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.”
Where are you dwelling? What do you dwell in?
A dwelling is “a shelter, a house or structure where one resides. Digging a little deeper the word “dwell” is most often used as a verb. “To live or continue in a given condition or state: to dwell in happiness. To linger over, emphasize, or ponder in thought, speech, or writing.”
“Dwelling.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/dwelling. Accessed 6 May. 2022. / Dictionary.com Unabridged Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2022.
We live in a country that, since the turn of the century, has gone from wrestling with itself to an all-out fist fight. Each escalation brings a new weapon of choice: real, rhetorical, imagined, and they can all be real and metaphorically, deadly. The cause of the fight is economic and identity driven. Asked by a high school senior why I thought the country was so conflicted I said, “I think . . .”
- It’s over the speed of change in our social contract about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness;
- It’s about whose “rights” matter and what do I have to give up for your rights to matter as much as my rights;
- and what ethnicity or religion is allowed to govern in a Nation that has no religious test to hold office and whose motto is “out of many, one.”
It’s been said that art imitates life, but these days it seems like the opposite. When I think about it, to me our society is dwelling in the stories of three movies: “Tombstone,” “Westside Story” and “Gangs of New York.” If you are a reader, the novel The Grapes of Wrath comes to mind. I know all of these are “older” examples. Does that mean I’m dwelling in the past?
Writing to his editor at Viking Press, John Steinbeck said of his novel, The Grapes of Wrath,
“Throughout I’ve tried to make the reader participate in the actuality, what he takes from it will be scaled on his own depth and shallowness. There are five layers in this book, a reader will find as many as he can and he won’t find more than he has in himself.”
Shillinglaw, Susan (2014). On Reading the Grapes of Wrath. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Grapes_of_Wrath accessed May 4, 2022.
Though not limited to five layers, the same can be said of the bible. The theological term is hermeneutic. It is the interpretative lens each person brings to the text. It’s always a risk to comment on a portion of scripture that is so well known. It is grafted onto some of us. It’s a risk to comment on well worn scripture and today that is especially so with my spouse, the Hebrew bible biblical scholar, in the sanctuary. Psalm 23 is often thought of as a “Thanksgiving Psalm” perhaps the prayer said on the other side of a lament, like Psalm 22. Talking about Psalm 23 over brunch yesterday, Lisa noted she would classify it as a Psalm of trust. Is the author reflecting on their life, declaring how they follow the Lord, or speaking of the future? We don’t know. I guess it depends on where you dwell.
I grew up primarily in suburban life. The only think I knew about shepherds was that as a child I dressed like one each Christmas, meaning dad’s bathrobe and a fake beard; and they watched sheep. I had never seen a shepherd until I traveled to Israel and saw real live shepherds tending flocks, rounding up sheep or goats, and protecting the flock as best as possible.
My final conclusions on shepherds are these: shepherds do a lot of walking; shepherds seem to be patient, very patient; and shepherds just know which sheep or goat are prone to wander off.
You don’t have to know much about shepherds to dwell in the 23rd Psalm. This is one of those writings in the bible that we listen to not with our ears, but with our being.
Green pastures and still waters . . . we all have that one safe place we can imagine in our mind.
Lead me down right paths . . . doing or standing up for what is right because it is right; not out of fear or pressure or guilt.
I walk through darkest valleys, I fear no evil . . . imagine the one thing that frightens you the most . . . imagine life without that fear. The freedom you would have.
The familiar words of Psalm 23 comfort. We hear them most often at a funeral or memorial service as we reflect on a person’s life; and our own. They are richer than chicken soup for the soul and deeper than “every cloud has a silver lining.”
We think of the house of the Lord as physical, human made structures. While that may be so, it is also true that all creation is the house of the Lord and that includes humanity. We are created in the image of God. Some divine residue exists in us in the breathing, interactive, day to day existence of living. We are embodied houses of the Lord.
I first experienced that at church camp. Our counselor, John, told a bunch of seventh and eighth grade boys, “You have the image of God within you that goes with you, that shepherds you, in all the highs and lows of life. Can you recognize that in others and in yourself?” The ego can make that self-centered idolatry or a humble recognition of something greater than ourselves.
Every time I go to camp it is an opportunity to do some maintenance, sometimes some deferred maintenance, on myself with the help of explorers or seekers of God. A church camp experience is where the biblical story can come alive. The daily sharing of meals, chores, listening to someone snore during rest time, the silly games, and the conversations in small group. All this helps bring the biblical stories to life. Outdoor sanctuaries provide the space not to simply memorize the story (chapter and verse), but to understand the story, to imagine, to re-imagine, to engage the spirit of the writers. When we study and listen, we can hear what the biblical stories have to say: to the people of ancient times, to the historic traditions of the Church, to me, to you in our time. And then we are challenged to put those lessons, that maintenance, into practice. Isn’t that what a church is supposed to sound like?
I guess it depends on where you dwell.
You can dwell in fear;
in anger;
in love;
in grievance;
in hate;
in joy;
in grief;
in the unknown;
in the past;
in a future not yet realized.
You can dwell in suspicion;
in superiority;
in jealousy;
in exclusive truth;
in gratitude;
in the idea that God has a plan for it all and for you; or
in the randomness of life and creation that was set into motion; or
any number of other perspectives or emotions.
I like to think our little movement for wholeness in a fragmented world still dwells in what the Disciples theologian Ronald Osborn, calls the Disciples mind.
It is a way of approaching the scriptures with a reverent intelligence. This style of professing Christian faith has accepted the reproach of advocating a ‘head religion’ hurled by those who profess a ‘heart religion’. Emphasizing faith with understanding, the Disciples mind puts the highest premium on rationality and faithfulness in action.
Ronald E. Osborn, Chalice Hymnal, Chalice Press (St Louis) 1995.
A slight translation difference noted in the New Interpreters Study Bible has stuck with me. Verse 6 can also be translated, “Surely, goodness and kindness shall pursue me, all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for my length of days.”
The image of being pursued by goodness and kindness, God’s goodness and kindness when looking back at verse 5. That’s a different kind of image of God than what is portrayed as popular national Christianity right now. As a walking, talking house of the Lord, I’m a reflection of that goodness and kindness. As a walking, talking house of the Lord, you are a reflection of that goodness and kindness.
It takes maintenance. Some of our systems have lots of deferred maintenance.
Someone watching you might person discover that for God’s own name sake, God leads, God shines a light down right paths, but we still have to choose to take that path. Those paths might help you dream God’s dream . . . remember, and put it into practice: abundance, equality, justice, forgiveness, and love.
To choose those paths, you’ve got to be aware of your surroundings and where you dwell.
Grief work
She kept everything.
“There are more boxes in the top of the extra bedroom closet.”
“I’ve been through all the drawers, but these three.”
“These are boxes of photos that have been looked through. Those three over there are the only ones left.”
“Mom/dad used to tell stories about . . . ” Looking at the photo, “That must be who this is.”
“Dad sent mom a lot of cards.”
“She kept everything.”
“The basement is next.”
We are taking baby steps in a grief process. It feels neck deep. Waves of grief can only be surfed. You have to learn how to ride those waves even when you’ve read the books and think you are prepared. I don’t think your religious commitments matter. Yes, mixed images, but it is the only way to express the experience. There is nothing in the marriage or relationship handbook about how to be the companion.
Professionals advise to make four lists.
- To Family
- To Sell
- To Donate
- To Trash
Deep in drawers. In the back or top of closets. In boxes that haven’t been opened in years. In cedar chests. All these contain tales maybe never spoken to family. Hand written journals or notes that offer a glimpse into the person we never showed anyone. The secrets we keep for ourselves that become questions for the bereaved family or friends cleaning up and cleaning out when it is time to sell a house or apartment. There are “should we” or “do we” moments about keeping things that took a lifetime to gather, were saved, and who can know why?
The cast of the musical, “Rent,” asks many times during the show, “How do you measure a year in a life?” There are philosophical and theological answers for that question. Those can be frightful, fraught-filled, and faith-filled conversations about existence as mourners pass through grief. How do you measure, appreciate, or understand the years of someone’s life? Someone who lived well into their 70’s, 80’s, or beyond? There are clues in their stuff, their belongings, that affirm who you knew them to be. And in those belongings, there are wondering questions that may remain long after.
It’s not been two weeks. The things we brought back remain in the box that carefully carried them home. Photos. Drawings from childhood. Old newspaper clippings kept with your name or photo. Jewelry. Simple words in cards. Reclaimed gifts given. Meaningful objects a parent wanted one to have, and things claimed after talking with siblings. From wood burning stovetop to electric eye, two generations of stories are seared in the cast-iron skillets that cooked so many meals. When it will feel right to use them.
This experience has me thinking about my stuff: digital libraries, hard drives, cloud accounts, thumb drives, cache, bookmarks, inboxes, journals, old photos, boxes, files, and blog posts. Where will my t-shirt collection go? We are childfree. If I outlive my companion, who will sort my life and make four lists?
- George Carlin talks about your stuff. Be warned, It contains corse language.
- Friends: Season 2, Episode 3, “The One Where Heckles Dies.”
- Les Miserables, “Valjean’s Death”