The Psalms Speak of Me

“The Psalms speak of me,” the risen Christ told his friends.*

Ancient Christian tradition holds that Jesus prays in the Psalms. In mortal life, he chanted them in worship and no doubt in those private moments. Now he prays with us in the Holy Spirit.

Here is a good one to start with:

Oh Lord I am not proud,
I have no haughty looks.
I do not concern myself with complications
Or things that are too hard.
But I still my soul and make it quiet.
Like a weaned child on her mother’s lap
My soul is quiet within me.
Oh Israel, wait for the Lord
From now on and forever. [Ps 131]

It is a good psalm for a quiet moment “sitting on God’s lap.”

The Prayer Book translation implies a baby at the breast, but I like the image of the weaned one (for reasons even apart from accuracy). This weaned child has rested from his toddling around. She knows she is with her mother. He trusts. She is not always pulling at the mother's shirt. He knows how to wait.

A Russian icon that I have on my desk, shows the toddler Jesus sitting with you (the viewer) and his Holy Mother, holding his little scroll and pointing his little index finger as he "fully opens"** our minds to these Scriptures.

Just wait.



* [Lk 24:44].
**[Lk 24:45, from Greek dia-noi-go (diagnosis?)].

What Happened?

A dogging nagging question of my personal history: What happened? It's going to be a section in my memoirs.

What happened that I have not meditated here since Feb. 28th? Well of course the pneumonia blah blah.

But then, a horrible diffidence enshrouded my thoughts.

First, the inability to joke around. Holiness is serious business! How can I write without drollness? So pompous! So not-me? So let's face it vulnerable.

Second, so much happens outside the Daily Office. So I changed my title today to "Thoughts and Questions Occur." Kind of Kierkegaardian, don't you think? That's me, pal of Kierkegaard.

Thirdly, I'm thinking maybe I'm just not wise anymore. I "cling to my religion," as Obama has noticed. I live in extremes more than you would think and get reduced to basic clinging: God's faithfulness endures from age to age; one is God's beloved; believe in God and the one he has sent. It's true, in realizing my unwisdom I cling.

And then I read others' mediations and see how well they are done, and I ask myself, where is the voice of the unwise, the failed, the impaired?

That is the question and thought for today.