Praise [Proper 27B]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Psalm 146
Praise
A lot has changed over the course
of a few psalms. Not long before this
hymn of praise we recited today, a psalmist was leading the community of the
faithful in a different song, a lament, a song of a heartbreak and sadness:
“How can we sing the Lord's song in this strange land?”
But today it is the voice of
another singer, a voice that cuts through the pain of a people, of a people who
know the hurt of slavery in Egypt, who know the pain of exile in Babylon, who
lived under years of toil and oppression.
It is a different song: Hallelujah!
Praise the Lord, O my soul! I
will praise the Lord as long as I live.
It is that “non-stop, never-quit, no-doubt, every-moment-of-every-day,
bone-deep” kind of praise. It's that “shout-it-from-the-mountaintop-I-don’t-care-who-hears-it”
kind of praise. It is that kind of
praise that moves your body to dance, moves your tongue to shout, and moves
your soul to sing.
This psalmist is testifying. This is praise in the first-person. There is no subtle opening; no slow
start. He tears right in with a loud “Hallelujah!”
And, I gotta say, it feels a little
Pentecostal-y, feels a little over the top.
I mean, we're not naive about this world; there are folks out there
struggling. There are mothers out there
planning to bury their own children; there are people starving from drought
conditions; there are widows without two coins to rub together. And it is happening not just in our scripture
readings but in the world in which we live.
Sure God is good, but life is complicated. And I’m not sure this kind of full-on, unqualified
praise truly represents that reality.
We know better; we know we're
supposed to temper this kind of enthusiastic outburst. Gotta balance the praise with some
lament. God is good but I wish I had a
better job. Praise the Lord but I'd praise
a little louder if I had a new boat.
Hallelujah but, oh boy, I just watched the news: ISIS and floods of
refugees and people dying of the plague and yet another mass shooting in yet
another one of our cities.
We know folks are suffering, maybe
people in this very room with us, maybe you are struggling though life right
now. Sometimes praise doesn't feel
right. Sometimes praise doesn't come easily.
How can we sing the Lord's song in a land of suffering souls and broken
hearts?
We Episcopalians have been forced
to ask ourselves this very question over the past decade or two. Every new article or blog post about our
Church seems to mention decline and schism.
Even the articles celebrating our new presiding bishop slipped in a
negative note about our recent history and a dour prediction about our future. In our own diocese parishes have left, others
have closed, and still others are on the brink of extinction.
At times it seems we have become
more focused on surviving than thriving.
Our songs less celebration than desperation. At conventions and conferences I hear more
lament than I hear praise. And while
lament has a place in our lives as Christians, the Church, and not just the
Episcopal Church, seems to treat praise as if it is meant to be a response God
earns from us. And we're waiting to see
something better.
But, you see, praise is no more
dependent on feelings than faith is on evidence. Praise is not a product of happy
circumstances. Praise is not a song best
saved for sunny days. Praise is a little
more like Paul and Silas singing in their prison shackles. Praise is a little more like the African
slaves singing songs of freedom in the fields of oppression. The most powerful praises are usually the
ones spoken through tears.
I like how Beth Tanner says
it. She says, “Praise of God is
sometimes an act of discipline. Under the circumstances of war and destruction,
praise is not the result of external happiness, but stubborn belief in the face
of evidence to the contrary. Indeed praise is defiance of worldly powers. It
shouts that despite the situation around me, God is still worthy of praise.”[1]
The psalmist is testifying. He is not naive. He is well aware of the trouble in the
world. He knows we are not there yet,
but he also believes that God is getting us there. He sees the pain in the world, but he
believes that his God dreams of a world with no more pain.
There are oppressed being denied
justice, but God has been setting the oppressed free since the Red Sea.
There are strangers and orphans and
widows struggling to survive, but this is the same God who loved and saved the
widow at Zarephath and her son.
There are people in need of
healing, but God has the power to open eyes.
There are wicked people out there
feeding on the lowly, but this is the God who lifts up the lowly and frustrates
the way of the wicked.
There is pain in the world, but God
dreams of a world in which there is no more pain.
Death is still out there, but the
God of Resurrection Life is making all things new.
I see the pain, I know the pain,
I've experienced the pain, the psalmist says, but as long as I have my being, I
will Praise the Lord anyway.
This is the same message our new
Presiding Bishop declared in the sermon he preached at his installation last
Sunday. At the beginning of his sermon
Bishop Curry said, “It is an understatement to say we live in a deeply complex
and difficult time for our world. Life is not easy. It is an understatement to say that these are
not, and will not be, easy times for people of faith. Churches, religious
communities and institutions are being profoundly challenged. You don’t need me
to tell you that.” He acknowledges the
state of the world, the hard realities, but in the end cuts through the pain
with praise, saying, “[T]he nightmare of this world will be transfigured into
the very dream of God for humanity and all creation. My brothers and sisters, God has not given up
on God’s world. And God is not finished
with [us] yet.”[2]
Life is not easy, but God is not
finished. And so, yes, of course we
praise God in the good times. We praise God
for a promotion; we praise God for the birth of a child; we praise God on those
beautiful, sunny days. But praise is
never out of season. Praise is in our
bones, deep-down. It is what we were
created to do. And so we also praise in
the hardest times. We praise God with a
stubborn defiance. We even stand at the
grave and we shout our Alleluias! Our
most powerful praises are often those spoken through tears.
Because praise isn't a
feeling. It is our boldest testimony as
people of God. It is our strongest
expression of hope. In good times and
bad times, hard times and easy times, the song never changes; it is always the
same: Hallelujah! Praise the Lord, O my soul!
I will praise the Lord as long as I live!
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