September 2, 2007

Text: Psalm 112

“It is Well”

Ah! Labor Day – the annual benediction to summer and retirement party for white shoes until they timidly reappear, like crocuses, next spring. Actually, the Day has its roots in the efforts of Organized Labor to create a day off for the “working man.” Begun in 1882, the first proposal recommended the holiday be filled, according to the encyclopedia, with “a street parade to exhibit to the public ‘the strength and esprit de corps of the trade and labor organizations’ of the community, followed by a festival for the recreation and amusement of the workers and their families.” (Wikipedia).

The “day off” part has stuck; recognition of Organized Labor’s esprit de corps has generally faded from the celebration. But we are grateful, nonetheless, for the hot dogs and the extended weekend.

So how might we engage this weekend set aside to enable hard workers to take a long and much deserved deep breath? It wouldn’t be a bad use of time to simply remember and take note of the value of those labors – at your place of employment, in your garden or craft room; in your family interactions; in your faithfulness.

There is a breathless, almost ethereal moment that occurs at the front end of grand meals, just before they are consumed. There is, for that matter, a parallel moment that occurs at the end of the meal, too, just after all has been consumed, but that is another story. Imagine the setting. It’s Thanksgiving, perhaps, or a birthday dinner: everyone is seated; the napkins have been removed from the plates to the laps; an unscripted, but intangibly signaled pause in the otherwise animated conversation; eyes quickly and appreciatively survey the steaming bowls already on the table. And then the host carefully nests the platter in the center of the table. As if on cue, everyone seated inhales, and in that nano second of awe, relishes the goodness and beauty of it all, and first silently, then verbally anticipates all that is in store. Goodness. Gratitude. And Grace. Can you lay your imagination on that moment?

Let me suggest that the Psalmist, in this encouraging and affirming poem, is setting in the midst of us who gather this day around a table of our own just such a platter of goodness.

Psalm 112, just like the Psalm that comes before it, is an acrostic: a poem in which the first word in each line begins with the letters of the Hebrew Alphabet in sequence. It is something of a sophisticated equivalent of an “A is for Apple” book. Obviously, in its translated form, the intricacy and artfulness of the poem are lost, but when the writer was creating the text, the form was as much a part of the gift as the content. Think of it, then, as something of a primer of holy blessing.

And blessing is the word, isn’t it. After an opening exclamation of praise, the Psalm begins like any good beatitude: “blessed – or happy – are those who fear the Lord. And everything that follows is a breviary of the benefits of living as a devoted follower of God’s intent: happiness, strength, and prosperity; light, durability, stability; firm confidence, steady hearts, high repute, and satisfied aspiration. By contrast, according to the Psalmist, from the dreams of the wicked comes absolutely nothing Simply stated, for those who follow after God, it is well.

This, in other words, is a story about happiness – about deep, spiritual blessing – and I submit that we don’t often enough get around to simply contemplating such a thing; drinking in the sheer goodness of our faith. We spend so much time trying to follow the rules – modeling the vision, pushing at the imperatives, fighting the “good fight” – wanting to do it and get it right that we seldom stop and simply rest in the blessed rightness of it. It’s as if the Psalmist wanted to erect a billboard in the middle of our road that we couldn’t help but see. “Stop, look, and give thanks.”

There is, at the same time, a realism implicit in the survey. The Psalmist recognizes that people of faith do not live in a waffle cone of sugary insulation. Problems exist, to be sure – darkness, hostility, and simple evil; the life of the faithful necessarily unfolds against this backdrop. And we know it from our own experience.

Ø People with whom we have fallen in love pass away;

Ø high hopes in which we have invested so much of our energies and imagination sometimes don’t pan out;

Ø money problems crack our very foundations;

Ø people we trust let us down – or worse.

Ø We get sick.

Ø We get tired.

Ø We get mad.

Ø We grieve, we feel disappointment and indignation and sadness and bitter regret.

But the presence of such sobering features does not define our living. ⁵It is well with those who deal generously and lend, who conduct their affairs with justice.

This isn’t a palms forward Psalm, with arms poised to push. This is a palms up Psalm, with arms poised to give thanks. There are no oughts or shoulds or obligations among these simple observations; there is no scolding, no brow beating, no finger wagging or fear mongering. There is no sermonizing, no debating, no threatening, no baiting. There is only deep awareness; a simple paying attention to what really goes on in the lives of people who give themselves over to obedient and generous love.

Perhaps Labor Day is exactly the right time for us to do the same: to take a deep breath, relax, look around – and within – and take stock of the fruits of our spiritual labors.

There is, after all, a satisfaction to living generously. That’s not why we do it of course – merely to feel good – but we needn’t be ashamed of the fact that helping, extending oneself to bridge another’s need, feels good. And haven’t you had the joy of being around – maybe even being, yourself – one of those people who, regardless of the number of coins in the piggy bank, can only be described as fabulously wealthy simply because they have their values and priorities straight, their heads on straight, and their heart rightly aligned?

There is a kind of steady, resilient glow in the hearts of those centered in the Spirit that resists the choking gloom of darkness. There is a buoying nourishment in acts of justice and deeds of kindness that reminds us we are alive, and helps to keep us so.

Everything is not always perfect, but when we are prayerfully, faithfully, obediently and humbly centered on the presence and leadings of the God who made and loves and calls us – when we are, in other words, laboring in the vineyard of the Lord, something is profoundly good.

It is well with those who deal generously and lend, who conduct their affairs with justice.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Words: Horatio G. Spafford, 1873.

Music: Philip P. Bliss, 1876