Life is Short [Psalm 90:-1-12 - Proper 28A]

 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Psalm 90:1-12

 

Life is Short

 

There are 150 psalms.  Just one is associated with Moses.  That one is Psalm 90, the psalm we recited this morning.  Moses did not write the psalm; it emerged long after his death. But it is called, in its scriptural superscription, a prayer of Moses.

 

And so I imagine the poet, the writer of this psalm, dwelling in the soul of a soul long at rest, like poets and storytellers often do.  I imagine the poet looking out from Moses’ tear-blurred eyes, as the man of God stands at the top of Mt. Nebo.  And this poem: inspired by that devastating view.  A promised land on the horizon, close enough to touch, but forever and ever away.  One long pursued but never achieved.  The cruel reality of mortality.  All those desert days, following the promise, chasing a dream, and then only this brief glimpse.  And then, as he ponders a world he will never know, the mountain wind turns the hallowed leader into dust despite his longing.  The years pass quickly and we are gone.  The prayer of Moses is one of deep heartache – for things left undone – and still the first word, as he weeps for the home he will never inhabit, is the confession of a home he will never leave.

 

Life is short… It is the beginning of the blessing I say over you so often..  And while, it is true that some days feel long – and some pandemics feel like they will never end – life is short.  In the morning it is green and flourishes; in the evening it is dried up and withered.  The centuries swallow us up.  The long timeline of the universe makes our span seem very small.  History collects around us and we fade in its immense shadow.

 

And ultimately, like Moses, we carry those things done and left undone to the apex and look out on a world that will carry on without us.  And so this prayer is, of course, a lament.  We too see through Moses’ tear-blurred eyes.  Moses’ prayer was long ago etched into every mortal soul.  We realize too young and live with the knowledge of our fate too long.

 

And some days I think that this consciousness is a cruel burden, that perhaps ignorance would be bliss.  But then most days I think our impermanence is a divine gift that opens our hearts to beauty and joy, that opens our hearts to love.  Perhaps it is the brevity of life that teaches us to cherish precious moments, falling leaves, the reflection off the water, and each other.  Maybe the shadow of death is the very thing that drives us into the arms of God.

 

Life is short… And so no one is on this planet long enough to truly know what in the world they are doing.  We simply try our best with the little time we are given.  So be gentle with each other.  Show grace and treasure mercy.  Fill the world with as much goodness as you can muster.  You are not here that long.  And each person who passes you by, who visits your fleeting life, is dust in the wind. 

 

We live amongst things that are passing away, even as we watch ourselves grow older.  That is what Moses saw from the mountain.  But it is not what he felt.  He felt safe.  He felt the arms of God around his soul.  He placed his faith in the one thing in life that does last forever, the one thing from which nothing can ever separate us, the vast eternal sea in which we all swim: the love of God.  We are swept away like a dream, that is true, but like a dream imprinted forever in the mind of God.  Life is short but also there is a deeper life that never ends.

 

Our teary eyes look out from the heights of Mt. Nebo, over a future we will never know, battered by the changes and chances of this life, harrowed by things done and left undone.  But even as the winds threaten to scatter our dust, we stand hidden in the one who has ever been our refuge.  Time bears our years away but it cannot bear us away from the place we belong: that place in which our souls will forever rest in peace, in the strong heart of our loving God.