November 11, 2007
Psalm 145:1-5, 17-21
Blessing Everyday
On her
way to work one morning
Down the path along side the lake
A tender hearted woman saw a poor half frozen snake
His pretty colored skin had been all frosted with the dew
"Oh Well," she cried, "I'll take you in and I'll take care of
you"
Take me in oh tender woman
Take me in, for heaven's sake
Take me in, tender woman, ssssighed the snake
She wrapped him up all cozy in a
comforter of silk
And then laid him by her fireside with some honey and some milk
She hurried home from work that night and as soon as she arrived
She found that pretty snake she'd taken in had been revived [CHORUS]
She clutched him to her bosom, "You're so beautiful," she cried
But if I hadn't brought you in by now you might have died
She stroked his pretty skin again and kissed and held him tight
But Instead of saying thanks, that snake gave her a vicious bite [CHORUS]
"I
saved you," cried that woman, And you bit me, even why?
You know your bite is poisonous and now I'm going to die
"Oh shut up, silly woman," said that reptile with a grin
"You knew darn well I was a snake before you brought me in" [1]
What, you might – and
have every reason to – ask, is the point of that crazy story? I could, I suppose, simply tell you that that
was one of my favorite songs when I was a teenager that I lost track of over
the years; that I couldn’t remember who sang it (turns out it was a guy named
Al Wilson), what the actual title was, or even the year that it was popular
(turns out it was 1968); that I had looked and searched for some echo of it in
music stores and song lists through the years until just a couple of years ago,
when through the wonders of Google, I was able to restore it to what some have
called my large and somewhat disturbing musical collection.
But the truth is, none
of that much matters. Nor does the fact
that it is just fun to sing. It is the
point of the story that interests me this morning, not its simple two-chord
pattern or catchy chorus. “So what,” you
must now be impatiently asking, “is the point?” For my purposes in this sermon, the point of
the story is that a snake is a snake is a snake, and that however one might
want to pretend otherwise, biting is its predictable, reliable, justifiable behavior
unwavered by the niceties that may be offered in its direction. What transpires in this sadly comic tale is
no special malice or heinous ingratitude, but simply a snake behaving as a
snake was created to behave. “You knew
darn well I was a snake before you took me in.”
It is, in other words,
in
his nature.
That
is the kind of reflection the psalmist undertakes in the verses in front of us
this morning – more in “bullet form” than story, and not, in this case,
exploring the nature of reptiles, but much more significantly the nature of
God. Framed by the language of adoration
and praise is the implied question, “What is God like?” “How is it in God’s nature to behave?”
I’ll
accept the possibility that you could hear that question as just abstract enough
to discount or ignore. But I would argue
that the answer one comes to makes all the difference in the world.
Here is what I’m
talking about: when you look out at life
– at that great conglomeration of forces and attributes that swirl around you
every second of your waking and sleeping; and when somewhere along the way you
come to give those swirling forces a name (as in “God”), what do you see? Is it all a force confronting you, or one
supporting you? Do you view life – God –
as a hostile force against which you are always competing and contending, and
from which you are always dodging and ducking to miss the arrows and obstacles
it is constantly throwing in your path? Is
life – is God – a constant and malevolent Mordred whose every move dances in
gratuitous opposition to your King Arthur, always plotting to bring you
down? Or is life good – an encouraging
and nurturing force that partners with you in your well-being; working for
healing and wholeness and development and peace?
Those, I contend, are
formative questions. Is life “for” you
or “against” you? Is God constantly
blocking your way, or helping you to clear one?
That’s what I
mean. How you view the forces of life –
and the force behind all life – shapes and defines how
you interact with them – and all the rest of us who walk along side of you. Do you move through your days tense and on
the defensive, or curious and expansive and embracing?
As far as the psalmist
is concerned, the answer is quite clear.
It is, according to the writer, in the very nature of God – not to bite
the hands extended in God’s direction – but to be just, kind
and attentive;
it is in the nature of God to be blessing, attending, and brooding
– like a mother. Almost as interesting in
the psalmist’s description is the kind of attributes that are missing from that
list. Starkly absent are all the things
we routinely and commonly associate with power and greatness – all the “power”
language; all the dominating, testosterone infused muscle. Conspicuously missing are those big
theological thunderclaps that the creeds have hammered into our definitions –
all the “omni” words, like “omniscient,” “omnipotent,” “omnipresent;” God as
Arnold Schwarzenegger in a beard and a robe.
In their place there
is justice, kindness, attentiveness, a listening ear, and blessing
concern. All nested in the language of
praise, which in and of itself is significant because we only praise what we
admire.
Which is a little bit
sobering when I think of all the people and values that have, through the
years, elicited my praise – the quarterback and the head cheerleader when I was
in high school; the smooth and suave, easy-talking “babe magnets” in college;
the big steeples and crowded pews of my profession. When I think about how I have defined
“success” throughout most of my life, these words from the psalm aren’t in the
top ten. Even when pressed to name the
best and most significant parts of God, through the years, these would have
shown up pretty far down the list. I
have looked for greatness in lightning and miles per hour; in horsepower and
megawatts; in “bigger,” “stronger,” “more.”
I have drawn a God who looks like GI Joe – popping pecs and six-pack abs
and the fire-power to explode whatever walls had the misfortune to get in my
way. And if it didn’t always happen that
way, well, I could always beg.
It all seemed so much
more faithful to cast God as Captain Universe.
The power of justice and kindness, of listening and blessing and
attending, I suppose, just didn’t much occur to me. But if we believe those statements – if we
find ourselves standing with the psalmist, nodding our heads as if to agree
that, yes, that is the nature of God – and if, along with the psalmist, we find
that nature to be praiseworthy, then suddenly those attributes cease to be
merely descriptive and become, at the same time, prescriptive.
If our vocation – our
basic calling in life – is not simply to applaud the divine nature but to
embody it, as well – bending ourselves toward those key attributes of God’s nature
that we can name – then that very divine nature begins to shape our own
aspirations, applications and pursuits.
Who God is begins to mold what we do.
If we believe that
God’s very nature expresses itself in justice and kindness, attentiveness and
concern, then what are the ways that we are seeking to reflect those attributes
in our
responding, our choosing, our seeking and our speaking; our
defending, our intervening, our voting and our spending?
This isn’t, finally,
just “church talk” – those comfortable, pretty things we say to each other in
the safety of this room; this is, rather, “life talk” – those deep convictions
and realizations that work their way out in the warp and woof of everyday
living. What, to lift again the word
that leaked out a moment ago, is greatness to us, and how are we trying to live
up to it.
Or to borrow the
language of the psalm, what is it that we find worthy of praise – that indeed
elicits such praise and blessing everyday?
Here, trumpets the
Psalmist, is the nature of God:
The Lord is just in all his ways, and kind
in all his doings.
The Lord is near to all who call on him,
to all who call on him in truth.
He fulfills the desire of all who fear
him; he also hears their cry, and saves them. The Lord watches over all who
love him, but all the wicked he will destroy. My mouth will speak the praise of
the Lord, and all flesh will bless his holy name forever and ever.
“My mouth”
says the Psalmist, “will speak the praise of the Lord.” What will your mouth be speaking?