The Searing Psalm

 The Searing Psalm 

Psalm 22:1-15

Why have you forsaken me? 

22:1 My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

22:2 O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night but find no rest.

22:3 Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel.

22:4 In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them.

22:5 To you they cried and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame.

22:6 But I am a worm and not human, scorned by others and despised by the people.

22:7 All who see me mock me; they sneer at me; they shake their heads;

22:8 "Commit your cause to the LORD; let God deliver-- let God rescue the one in whom God delights!"

22:9 Yet it was you who took me from the womb; you kept me safe on my mother's breast.

22:10 On you I was cast from my birth, and since my mother bore me you have been my God.

22:11 Do not be far from me, for trouble is near, and there is no one to help.

22:12 Many bulls encircle me; strong bulls of Bashan surround me;

22:13 they open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion.

22:14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast;

22:15 my mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death.

 

If I were Jesus, and I had just been heinously beaten and nailed to a cross, what might I scream out publicly, so that all could hear? If it were a Charlton Heston Jesus, it might be, “You damn, dirty apes, you’ve done it now!” Or a Harrison Ford Jesus, “I feel terrible…” A politician Jesus might have given a speech to the gathered gawkers, “SURE, you think things are bad now, but wait until you see what I’m going to DO about it! I’ll be back in three days and will make sure these criminals get justice, and you all have lower taxes and redemption from your sins!” Of course, Jesus as Jesus spoke several things from the cross, depending on which Gospel you are reading. The “Seven Last Words from the Cross” has become a favorite preaching theme for Good Friday, and one of those proclamations/exclamations was “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani,” which translates as, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The real Jesus quoted Psalm 22.

 

There is much significance in this, and a message for all of us “gathered” at the cross. First of all, Jesus certainly is feeling abandoned, even by God. We can join the theological debate that has been raging for eons as to what did Jesus know, and when did he know it? Because of what he tells the disciples several times in the gospels, we know he knew about his fate, but since these messages included his knowledge that he would be “raised from the dead,” they do not make clear whether he “knew” he would experience the kind of suffering he did. Was his quoting this indicting Psalm from the cross a sign that he truly felt abandoned by God? Was he crying out in anguish, and didn’t care who knew it? Until we get to that great press conference in the sky, we will not know. Or, was he trying to send a message to all of us who “witness” his last moments on this side of the great divide? And if so, what might that message be?

 

Great Bible scholars have spent many eons, too, on a study of the writings we call the “Psalms.” Walter Brueggemann, one of my favs, categorizes the Psalms into three classes: Psalms of orientation, or “current reality”; Psalms of DIS-orientation, or statements about times when the foundations are shaking, if not crumbling; and Psalms of NEW orientation, when God shows up and helps us regroup and rebuild. In this light, we might categorize Psalm 22 as a Psalm of disorientation. It is also labeled by others as a “Psalm of lament,” due to its opening wail, and the following sentences describing the calamity the psalmist is facing. Interestingly, in most of the Psalms of lament, the writer, as he or she scribes on about the pain and dejection they feel, they begin to “sense” or feel the presence of God, beginning the rescue. By the end of the Psalm, the author is raised to hope, if not downright gratitude and praise. We see this progression in Psalm 22. Jesus never gets there while on the cross, though. He leaves us with the wail, “My God, my God, WHY have you forsaken me?”

 

So what might the message be he was sending, if that is what we believe he was doing, with his quoting this Psalm? Was he possibly modeling a behavior for US when we get so discouraged, if not feeling “beaten?” Let’s go with this line of thought. Let’s assume, first of all, that Jesus WAS feeling abandoned by God. Obviously he had knowledge of what was to befall him, so the actual events on that dark day in Jerusalem were not a surprise. The pain and suffering—or at least to the degree he experienced—may well have been. I have another theory, though. Put yourself in the place of God (now THERE’S a homework assignment for you!), who arrives in the person of the Son of God, and who shows nothing but love and compassion to the world and the people he meets in what they will label the “first century.” And in return, he is rejected, beaten, and murdered by the very people he loves, including the “religious” leaders. His omniscience uncovers the fact that his most intimate band will all run and hide, hoping to save their own hides, other than the one who actually betrayed him to the authorities. Then, in your greatest hour of need, you look to “your Father in heaven,” and experience what actor Al Pacino recently “saw” when he supposedly died during a procedure at the hospital: “There’s nothing there.” This emptiness when you most need God’s fullness would be the ultimate discouragement, I would think. “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani” acknowledges his supreme aloneness, in that moment. 

 

(There’s a story about Apollo 11 command module pilot Michael Collins, who is the astronaut who stays in orbit while Aldrin and Armstrong made their historic moon landing. After they had made that “giant leap for mankind” and gathered their lunar soil samples, they blasted off to rejoin him. As the ascent stage of the lunar module approaches Columbia, his command ship, he took a photo of it, with the distant earth in the background. Collins—who was described as the “loneliest man in the world” while Neil and Buzz were galivanting around the moon—realized in that moment that he was on one side of the camera, and every human who ever existed was on the other. Jesus found himself on the Collins side of the camera.) 

 

Jesus, though, lives out exactly what happens in Psalm 22, as an example to us. While his screaming the first verse from the cross may have absolutely been out of his legitimate pain and loneliness, we know from the other “six words,” he commits the gospel women—especially his mother—to his disciples, and to each other. He “welcomes” the penitent thief into “paradise,” and asks his absent “Father” to forgive those who have done this to him. That’s US, by the way. Don’t lose sight of that. I find it SO sad that “religious” leaders today are still badly misrepresenting most of what Jesus stood for, and that in doing so, they continue to pummel him with fists AND words. But Jesus asks God to forgive us all. The Psalmist, after journaling his suffering at the hand of his enemies, and his sinking to horrendous self-deprecation (“I am a worm”), begins to re-experience the presence and reconciliation of God. Even as Jesus “gave up his spirit,” so the psalmist gives up his spirit of self-condemnation and paranoia over his fate at the hand of his adversaries. In this “giving up,” the seeds of redemption and victory are sown. For the psalmist, these seeds are personal. For Jesus, his seeds sprouted universal and cosmic salvation for all who say “yes” to it, whether overtly or by looking godward in their moment of suffering and trials.

 

So, here we have a process that manifests both divine and self-healing characteristics. We’re not talking about that trite little chestnut, “If life gives you lemons, make lemonade,” here. More like, if life throws hydrochloric acid in your face, SCREAM! When things go bad, scream at God. This is precisely what the psalmist does, as does Jesus. Why? Because you KNOW that’s what your feeling; be honest about it. We DO feel abandoned by God when live deals us a horrible hand. This is the great question of theodicy: Why do BAD things happen to GOOD people? Why would a “good God” let this happen to me? SO, begin by owning your feelings, as does the psalmist: “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani!” It’s a healthy thing, psychologically, owning your feelings and getting them to the surface early. Besides, yelling at God is physically healthier than screaming at your partner or kicking the dog, especially for the partner and the dog! The next line of thought is that getting mad at God also will turn us in the right direction toward the one who probably can author a plan for our redemption, in the moment. And Jesus demonstrated on that “Good Friday” that God can “take” human anger and resentment, without taking it personally. God is actually happy to see us looking in God’s direction, in the moment.

 

The Psalmist gets more toxic feelings out, but this time, they are self-directed. While this may not be seen as healthy by some, if the individual is “thinking” these things, getting them out an “owning” them actually is. If you’re feeling like a worm, say so, then leave it go. Believe that those who love you—including God—don’t see it this way. Don’t “fish for compliments” with such dramatic words, but do get in touch with how you are feeling, when things go South. 

 

Next, the psalmist reminds his audience of one that his people had trusted God and committed their situations to God, even in the worst of times, and that it was God who delivered them. This is our wakeup call to begin turning our anger and pain into prayers, which is what “committing them to God” means. Friends, I can guarantee if we follow this redemptive formula, it will put both our psyche and our spirit on a path toward healing. And the healing will be a partnership between ourselves, our supportive community, and God. The good news is that it doesn’t really matter at what stage the healing occurs. Not all healing processes require divine intervention, other than possibly what we learn from places like Psalm 22. Let’s look at the process again:

 

*We experience something that takes the wind out of our sails.

 

*We open our “viscera” and let out our frustration in a direction that doesn’t scare, harm, or indict others, but turns it toward the divine.

 

*We begin journaling (whether with a pen our in our thoughts) how we are feeling, to get out the “poisons” that so often make matters worse.

 

*If we are directly responsible for our plight—or feel like we “deserve” it—get these feelings out, too. Don’t justify them or repress them, again. 

 

*Now, begin to rewrite our pain and frustrations into prayers directed at God. If you still feel angry at God, don’t be afraid to say so, even in the prayers. Jesus wasn’t, and didn’t hold back. Neither should we.

 

*Provide time for the catharsis to set in. Expect to feel not only a soothing, personal presence, but the presence of God, as well.

 

*”Rinse and repeat,” as it says on the shampoo bottle. Keep up this process until you begin to feel an “attitude of gratitude” descend upon your soul.

 

*Anywhere along the way, if God gives you insight as to steps you could take to “make peace” with the situation, DO THEM, or at least start to put them in play. Sometimes when we pray for wisdom, God gives it to us rather directly, but I have seen so many folk ignore what they “hear” either because they don’t like it, or they don’t see how it may help. God’s pretty good with this stuff. Again, if you don’t believe it, review Jesus’ “Seven Last Words.” 

 

We’re all the thief on the cross, in a way. Two thieves were there, but only one turned to Jesus in his greatest hour of need. And while I happen to believe Jesus welcomed them both into “paradise,” because this is what God does, given the magnitude of the Christ Event, it is the penitent thief who models “the turn” for us. Psalm 22 is all about this process that leads to a cleansing and inner peace. 

 

I titled this sermon, “The Searing Psalm” because Psalm 22—and the fact that Jesus Christ himself modeled it for us—is such an important key to expelling the toxicity that will undo us. In this time of division and name-calling, our country AND the church need to rediscover the Psalm that will boil off the destructive poison and sear the grace of God into our conscience, in its place. God will NEVER forsake us, but as long as we feel God has, we’re no better off than if God actually did. “The turn” will point us in the right direction, Dear Ones. Shalom!