The Beginning of Widsom

Psalm 111

 

        It has been a long week. Some of us have been here for worship three out of the last four days. I promise a short communion meditation because frankly I am not sure I have much more to say. I joked with someone yesterday that maybe those of you that attended both funerals should vote over which was your favorite meditation and I would just re-preach it. Thank goodness in moments of distress we can always turn to the Psalms for comfort and inspiration.

        Psalm 111 begins, “I will give praise with my whole heart for the works of the Lord.” At first glance this appears to be another of those glorious Psalms painting a picture of the magnificence of creation. But the Psalmist is not lifting his eyes to either the heavens or the hills. The Psalmist crafts a litany that reminds us of our relationship with God.               

God is gracious and merciful.

                God provides food for those who are hungry.

                The works of God’s hands are just and faithful.

                The words from God’s mouth are righteous.

                Holy and awesome is the name of God.

 

        The Psalmist sings of the fidelity of God. Then the writer concludes with these haunting words, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”

        Red flags begin pulsating throughout my brain. The concept of fear is something with which I am not unfamiliar. This puts me in some pretty good company. A wise person once said, “If you are without fear, you are an idiot.”

        When I was a child, I was afraid of the dark. Ironically today I cherish the dark. When I was young, I feared falling short of parental expectations. I turned that into a tool for motivation. Athletically I sometimes feared not rising above a difficult moment.  This fear still occasionally haunts me.

        Can fear of the dark, or fear of failed expectations, or the fear of getting a bit tight when hitting a second serve be placed in the same category as being afraid of God?  The obvious answer would seem to be a resounding no. Surely the Psalmist was not referring to God as a paralyzing figure that brings us to our knees. So then what did he mean?    In the Old Testament the phrase “The fear of the Lord” is used quite often with some of the expected explanations.

The fear of God is an act of reverence.  I still remember as a child each Sunday morning watching the choir fill the loft behind the pulpit. When everyone had found their place the choir would sing, “The Lord is his Holy temple. Let all the world keep silence.” That was the signal to sit up and act right because Church was ready to start.

The fear of God is an act of piety.  This is the first church I have ever attended where your best clothes were not reserved for Sunday morning. In my last church folks dressed “to the nines” every week. Through their dress they were demonstrating how important worship was. I was delighted to wear my robe in Clinton. There was no way my wardrobe could have ever matched theirs.

The fear of God is a demonstration of strict Monotheism. This is a conversation that rarely surfaces in religious circles today. But in the time of the Psalmist, the other prevalent religions believed in a host of holy deities.  To fear only one God was an act of radial allegiance. The temptation to worship more than one god is really not an issue today unless you want to include the gods of nationalism, the gods of consumerism and perhaps the god worshipped this evening on the NFL’s highest holy day.

Being in awe, being pious in my worship, and being singular in my understanding of God, are relevant today. Yet none of the above is intellectually challenging enough to confront my perceptions of the way the world around me should operate. I know I am entering deep water here, but let me ask you. What is it that motivates you to change a radically time honored tradition? I believe the answer lies somewhere in the confusing blur between love and fear.

Deb and I have been married 40 years. I fervently agree with folks who suggest I got the better of the bargain. Deb and I have dissimilar personalities. We also approach decision-making in different ways. Because of her wisdom, she decides all the big things and I get to settle what’s left. Deb constantly reminds me every joint decision we make is big. We have managed to stay together 40 years because I love her, and I fear what I would become without her.

The Psalmist speaks of the fear and love of God inclusively because the Psalmist cannot image life outside the realm of God. It is this critical insight that begins the Psalmist journey toward wisdom.           (stop)

Here at Rockfish, I occasionally have to scramble to find resources to assist folks who need a hand to get back on their feet, both financially and psychologically. At my last church, some weeks I seemed to spend more time as a social worker than minister. Seldom a week went by that folks did not show up for help. Folks who need assistance don’t call and make an appointment. They intuitively know the busiest moments in the life of the church and that is when they appear. The professionally poor  know if folks are stretched for time, writing a check is the quickest and less guilt ridden way to “save” them. But while hand-outs might plug a leak, they don’t halt the flood. 

So I developed a system. My receptionist would call and inform me when someone needed financial assistance. I had this big fancy upstairs office in Clinton and so I would have Melissa invite the person into the library and offer them a cup of coffee. She would then have our financial assistant check the books to see how much money we had in our emergency relief fund. I would come down the stairs, greet the person and talk about their situation. At some point Melissa would “interrupt” me to inform me of a phone message. Actually the pink slip she gave me was the amount of money in our funds. I would then spend time talking to the person about their monthly income, their bills, how we might help, and most importantly, tell them I was always free for conversations but financially they could only call on us once a year.

These conversations were taxing and to be honest I got to the point I actually feared them. There is so much pain in this world. The stories I heard were often cases of self inflicted wounds and bad choices, but they were still real people, with real problems which I alone could not solve.

All of the faces seemed to blur into one but there was one elderly man I shall never forget. The phone rang and I was right in the middle of something really important, or so I thought. Melissa said, “Someone needs to see you.” I wanted to bite her head off and say, “You know I am busy,” but I remembered she had her job and I had mine. I started down the stairs, more weary than angry, to hear another story. The conversation and his problems seemed no different than any other I regularly heard. Melissa interrupted us with her “message” and I knew it was time to get down to work.

I asked, “How can I help you?”

The response was, “I was hoping we could spend a few moments in prayer.”

I thought, “This guy is really setting me up for the kill.” So I asked, “What would you like me to pray for?” 

He responded, “You pray for me and I will pray for you.”

We grasped each other’s hands and prayed. I began by attempting to say the right words while subconsciously trying   figure out how much this experience was going to cost the church. When I finished, he prayed. It was not elaborate or especially memorable but when we finished his eyes were filled with tears. He thanked me for the coffee, said he was now ready to face the day. He got up and left. I never met him again, but I too was ready to face my day.

My greatest fear is that I will not be sufficient for your needs. Then God drops by to remind me that I am not God.

That, my friends, is the beginning of wisdom.

                To God be the glory.   Amen.