Companion volumes

Pastors, as you know, November is prime planning season for the coming liturgical year; so bear in mind that Year D and Greater Attention are companion volumes for the journey through the unexplored regions of the canon. (I know, Greater Attention was designed to match the Liturgical Elements series, so it may not look like a companion to Year D, but it is!) May the Spirit bless and inspire you as you undertake the study of fresh texts and offer these scriptural nutrients to the body of Christ.

    

Psalm 110

Christians know Psalm 110 as the psalm quoted in the New Testament more often than any other psalm, although those quotations continually draw on just three of its seven verses (Year D, 75). Of the various ways in which it is put to use, it is perhaps best known by way of the brain teaser with which Jesus finally silences the several parties in the Jerusalem temple complex who take turns challenging his authority with their own doctrinal litmus tests. Taking those several pericopes together as a series of huddles that only result in one failure after another, these encounters are really quite (divinely) comical. The psalm in question is "of David" (according to the superscription), who was inspired by the Holy Spirit (Mark 10:36); hence, Jesus posits that the psalm's authority is indisputable. Who then is the "Lord" who is to be seated in this psalm, the Lord who is clearly differentiated from the David himself (who calls him "my Lord"), and from the "LORD" Yahweh, who addresses this "Lord" and invites him to be seated?

In his question in the Gospels, Jesus associates this Lord with the Messiah; indeed, he well knows it is himself, but for now he keeps what Wm. Wrede termed "the Messianic secret;" he does not declare himself openly, even at this late juncture. What is most interesting about this verse is the sense in which this Messianic Lord is at once enthroned and placed in a passive posture, seated until Yahweh brings about the submission of his enemies. The passive seating and waiting is mentioned in the Gospels during Passion week, the words for inaction and suffering sharing a root, of course, and while this is a royal enthronement psalm, one that predicts a sure victory and vindication of the "Lord," we should never forget, not even at Christmas, what sort of King this suffering Lord is, or what the manner of his victory shall be.

The second verse clearly indicates the expansion of the Davidic King's reign into hostile territory: "Rule in the midst of your foes" (v. 2b), though again, it is the LORD Yahweh who is the active agent in sending out from Zion the royal scepter —"your mighty scepter" — that belongs to the newly enthroned Lord (v. 2a).

The third verse anticipates a future assault, actively led by the Messianic King, on "the holy mountains" (which here must refer to those surrounding Jerusalem or Zion, not Mount Zion itself). Moreover, this verse presupposes two assemblies that are friendly and allied with the King: first, his "forces" which he shall lead in battle, and second, his "people (who) will offer themselves willingly" on that future day (v. 3). The reference to the holy mountains is sufficiently terrestrial to make it clear that these willing people are on earth, anticipating the Lord's reign, but the word "forces" is sufficiently ambiguous and the reference to the seat at Yahweh's right hand is sufficiently heavenly that we have good reason to conclude these forces proceed from heaven itself, the sorts of forces of whom we catch but the barest glimpse or hear a scant whisper from time to time (2Samuel 5:24; 2Kings 6:17; Matthew 26:53).

The promise of "the dew of your youth" doubtless signals fresh energy, vitality, and vigor, and perhaps even a reversal of aging itself — think of the sign given to Hezekiah at his healing: the shadow on the sundial retreating several intervals; from a New Testament perspective, it is almost impossible not to associate the cavernous "womb of the morning" with the quintessential restorative event of Jesus' resurrection from the empty tomb.

The Messianic King is now declared a Priest as well (v. 4), which conflates these roles in a way that is only rarely seen in Scripture. King Saul's priestly act of offering a sacrifice was denounced as rash and cost him dearly; the favored King David was never deemed as priest as such, but his music, his psalms, and his dancing certainly verged on the priestly. More importantly, we see such a positive conflation of these roles in the mysterious character of Melchizedek, "King ... of Salem" and "priest of God Most High" (Genesis 14:18). While the Epistle to the Hebrews bears the primary responsibility for exegeting and explaining the significance of this (at once new, ancient, and eternal) priesthood, here we should simply note the absolute, irreversible, and enduring character of Yahweh's oath: "The LORD has worn and will not change his mind; you are a priest forever ..." (v. 4).

Thus far (vv. 1–4), the use of the second person pronoun "you" has referred to the Messianic Priest-King, the "Lord" who is seated at the LORD's right hand. In what remains of the psalm, however, the Messianic Lord is mentioned solely in the third person. The reference is to "The Lord," followed by five nominative occurrences of the indefinite pronoun "he." Now that the Lord is discussed as "he," however, rather than addressed as "you," the first statement of this closing section begs the question: Who is now playing the role of the second person in this phrase: "The Lord is at your right hand"? The reference to "your right hand" would seem to suggest the Messianic Priest-King has taken the seat offered him by the LORD Yahweh, and thus it is now the LORD Yahweh who is being addressed. There is certainly nothing to prevent such an interpretation.

Another possibility, however, which is additive, not exclusive, is that "you," the reader or the listener or the gathered assembly — though the pronoun is in the singular — are being assured that the Lord (let us identify him clearly as the Christ) is at your right hand, in the same way that David the psalmist claims elsewhere of Yahweh: "I keep the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved" (Psalm 16:8); or as the psalmist Asaph says to Elohim: "I am continually with you; you hold my right hand" (Psalm 73:23).

Such a reading, at once doxological and pastoral, would situate the Messianic Lord in between the LORD Yahweh and the individual, singular reader or listener, with the implication that all the fearsome actions he will in future undertake will be executed on behalf of both parties, namely, the Sovereign LORD (whose sovereignty is vindicated by the shattering of lesser kings and of "heads over the wide earth") and the adherent who stands hard by the Lord's right hand and keeps the Lord at his own. For in every respect, the right hand position indicates loyalty, allegiance, faith, and trust, in contrast to the "sinistral" left hand position, and in that (right) attitude, the adherent is assured of safety, unlike the enemies (v. 1), the "corpses," and the shattered heads (v. 6) that will pile up under the Lord's executive judgment.

The final verse is by most accounts obscure, but is nevertheless undeniably pastoral (especially in contrast to the head-knocking that has gone before). The image of the Lord drinking "from the stream by the path" suggests: (1) refreshment after the exertion of a hard fought victory; (2) a final satisfaction of the longing for the presence of the LORD—as that of a deer thirsting for flowing streams (Psalm 42:1); (3) that the clunking of principal, presidential, and prime ministerial heads will reflect the efficiency of Gideon's army, the three hundred who lapped like dogs and routed the entire Midianite army, and will therefore glorify the LORD for his decisive role in the victory; and finally, (4) that the dreadful image of the nations being filled with corpses will not so befoul this stream as to put the Lord off drinking from it. On the contrary, this refreshing image suggests an actual purifying of the environment by the means of the Lord's judgment, rather than its desolation or pollution.

"Therefore, he will lift up his head" (v. 7). In the New Testament, the Messiah directs his disciples to lift up their heads when they see the signs of his coming, "for your redemption draws near." The   is certainly suggested here in this erect and expectant posture, but clearly, if this phrase is to be read positively, it is the lifting up of the Lord's head—let us say, his coronation to complete his enthronement (v. 1)—that is in view. In short, it is from his exaltation, from his rest and refreshment, from his victory that ours shall arise. In preaching this psalm at Christmas, let us proclaim that very coronation!

On the other hand, a similar phrase is used in the Joseph narrative regarding both the happy restoration of Pharaoh's cupbearer to his position of honor (Gen 40:13) and of the terrible end that will meet Pharoah's baker (40:19). In the unlikely event the phrase used here at the conclusion of the psalm is to be read negatively, as an extension of the previous prophecies of the vanquishing of the Lord's enemies, then we may need to look even beyond the Reformed canon to that wonderful Psalm 151 that lies "outside the number" in the LXX and recall David's victory over the blaspheming Goliath, an episode that reads like a typological postscript to not only the Psalter but to revelation—and Revelation—itself.

Two theses for Reformation Day

For the record, I never campaigned or even discussed with the editors of The Presbyterian Outlook (October 31, 2011) or The Christian Century (October 30, 2013) the issue dates in which their respective articles discussing Year D were to appear, but since both saw fit independently to publish them on or about Reformation Day, let me inch out onto the limb provided, the limb being the barest suggestion that I am somehow more than a mere "dabbler in reform" — stepping very lightly, indeed — and venture, with due respect to Luther whose 95 theses we might round up to an even buck, my own two cents in the form of two (ecclesial) theses. Here they are:

(1) Jesus Christ, both incarnate and risen, is an ambidextrous biped. He lacked nothing anatomically in his earthly ministry; he walked along the road to Emmaus on both feet and used both hands to break the bread. By extension, the church as the body of Christ is also an ambidextrous biped. It has, and is meant to have, a fully functioning left and a fully functioning right. Therefore, the continual repudiation of one half by the other is completely out of place, completely lacking any basis in scripture, and should be curtailed. In other words, knock it off.

(2) While the heart, anatomically located on the port, larboard, or sinistral side of the body, is traditionally associated with love, thereby claiming a certain predominance when it comes to compassion—although the scriptural and etymological roots of the idea of compassion have less to do with left and right per se, and more to do with the lower, largely (though not entirely) symmetrical regions of the womb, bowels, and guts—wisdom, by contrast, is granted marginal predominance (again, in terms of the heart) by virtue of this much neglected saying from the Solomonic wisdom tradition: "The heart of the wise inclines to the right, the heart of the fool to the left" (Ecclesiastes 10:2). While that is not a verse to bring an end to all discussion, it should at least serve to give the leftist pause and invite him or her to a bit more humility. Therefore, much as one may mock a conservative situation in the body of Christ or a conservative orientation to the Christian life as "stupid," such mockery does not even begin to deal with the genuine wisdom to be perceived from that angle; on the contrary, it reveals the projection of one's own lack of wisdom. Likewise, much as one may be inclined to dismiss all liberality or social concern for the poor and oppressed as godlessly socialist, etc. (again, I am concerned here with the actual body of Christ, not that which is in reality beyond the bounds of the baptized, confessional, and practicing church of disciples), to do so is to clearly depart from that which Jesus both taught and did, as well as that which was unanimously affirmed by all of the apostles (Gal 2:10), those who on other matters famously disagreed (for a time), such as the role of circumcision (Acts 15); on this matter, however, they were of one accord, for the care for the poor is absolutely a distinctive and essential characteristic of the true body of Christ. Let us be governed by this (Year D) verse: "Who are you to pass judgment on servants of another?" (Rom 14:4a). And let us agree that how to best care for the poor is the question, not whether to do so.

If I may attach a sub-thesis here, I would suggest we consider: (1) those who have suffered the trauma of amputation or the loss of the use of a limb due to stroke or injury, and (2) the neurological fact that the left side of the body is governed by the right brain, and the right by the left, and therefore give thanks to God for, and honor, those who dwell and function on the opposite side of the body of Christ from ourselves, those whose functioning and perspective reflect, match, and balance our own, lending co-ordination — now, there is a word for you! — to the whole.

The Christian Century interviews Dr. Dan Mayes on Year D

This is a very instructive and illuminating interview. Thanks to Dan Mayes and Steve Thorngate of the Christian Century for publishing this helpful conversation. Great stuff!

A note on Year D's Old Testament and alternative gospel lections

I think a reply to Steve Thorngate may be in order where the Old Testament selections in Year D are concerned. By conceding that a greater degree of subjectivity may well be involved in making these selections, I simply meant that this is an inevitable result of having to work from a much broader field of possibilities as we find in the larger testament. I did not mean to suggest these were purely subjective selections. Readers should not overlook the textual evidence of literary and thematic connections between Old and New Testament passages that I have identified and enumerated in Chapter 4.

Perhaps I should also add that, in suggesting a fresh body of gospel texts, other than the familiar and well used narratives, for the high holy days, I am not suggesting the preacher neglect the story, but that these alternative texts can lend a new revelatory angle on the familiar story that, owing to the occasion, is (for many people) already in mind. 

Year D featured in The Christian Century

Check out this substantial piece by Steve Thorngate over at The Christian Century on lectionary expansion proposals. He gives a good bit of space to Year D, the Narrative Lectionary, and the African American Lectionary. It's a major article that took a good bit of time and labor to pull together. I'm grateful to Steve for the write up (despite some of the finer points on which we may disagree).

UPDATE: I was sorry to see Steve's piece made no mention of David Ackerman's book, my review of which can be found here.

ANOTHER UPDATE: But now I see David's book is mentioned along with a number of related sources in the bibliography, "A Wealth of Lectionaries," that Steve attached to his article.

Psalm 41

The Psalm assigned for the 27th Sunday of Ordinary Time is Psalm 41, for its associations with the Last Supper, the gospel accounts of which are suggested for World Communion Sunday. The opening section of this psalm (vv. 1–3) asserts in general terms that the LORD blesses, delivers, protects, keeps, preserves, sustains, and heals "those who consider the poor." Such merciful people "are called happy in the land" (v. 2), for despite the many troubles from which the LORD preserves them, the assumption is that they will face them for a time — yes, they will have troubles, they will have enemies, they will fall ill on occasion — but the LORD will ultimately guard them and show them favor, and they will enjoy a good reputation as those who are so blessed.

With the phrase, "As for me ... " (v. 4), the psalm takes a decidedly specific and personal turn, and the focus remains on the psalmist and his circumstances until the final verse. What is remarkable in this section is the sense in which it is framed between, on the one hand, a plea for gracious healing, the rationale for which is a confession of sin against the LORD (v. 4), and on the other hand, a reiteration of the plea (with the expressed desire to "repay" the psalmist's enemies) attached to a word of self-assurance that the LORD must be "pleased with" the psalmist, and indeed has "upheld (him) because of (his) integrity" (vv. 10–12). The memory of the psalmist's confessed sin has receded entirely, and in fact the assurance is pregnant with eternal significance, for the LORD (sings the psalmist) has "set me in (his) presence forever" (v. 12).

In between the confession and assurance, an extended complaint (vv. 5–8) describes the conduct of the psalmist's enemies who visit him in his illness. What is startling about this description is the psalmist's characterization of the enemies' malice and their inwardly hostile motivations: "their hearts gather mischief" (v. 6), as compared to the description of the enemies' actions, which appear relatively benign and mundane. These enemies, unlike those in other psalms, do not ambush the psalmist or seek to murder him, but they simply wonder when he will die; their attempts at comforting words are "empty" and they go away gossiping. Their hostile actions consist of "thinking" the psalmist will soon expire (v. 8), of spreading the news of his condition "abroad" (v. 6) — no doubt in unduly pessimistic terms — and of whispering together: the kind of thing that occurs all the time in hospitals and nursing homes. It is even difficult to distinguish some of these actions, externally speaking, from the common practice of sharing concerns among the community of faith. Hence, in light of the sense in which the inward attitude is altogether decisive here, this psalm should stand as a cautionary tale for anyone who renders pastoral care or attends upon the sick.

One closing word of complaint escalates the psalmist's sense of betrayal, since he perceives the same conduct and hostility in his bosom friend who has "lifted his heel against me" (v. 9). This verse is taken up in the New Testament in association with the betrayal of Jesus by Judas Iscariot, as the phrase: "who ate of my bread" (v. 9b) is connected with Jesus' identification of the the one who "dipped his hand into the bowl with me" (Matthew 26:23; par.), an action that connotes a clear lack of respect and deference, or even a brashness akin to that of Esau who exchanges his birthright for some stew. The phrase "lifted the heel against me" clearly signals more than a mere departure, or a turning of one's tail (so to speak), but a traitorous turning away that amounts to permanent renunciation, an irreversible rupture of friendly companionship.

Nevertheless, from all this, the LORD delivers the psalmist such that his assurance is certain, his vindication is declared, his confession is (largely) forgotten, and the psalm ends with a doxological outburst (v. 13), blessing "the LORD, the God of Israel from everlasting to everlasting," and concluding with a double "Amen." Thus ends the first book of the Psalms.

The Lutheran Forum

Just sent in an article on Year D to The Lutheran Forum, a print journal (where the current issue has a feature piece on "St. Søren Kierkegaard"). Thanks to Sarah Wilson for the invitation to contribute and place the prospect of lectionary expansion before our Lutheran brothers and sisters. I'll let you know when the article hits the press. Meanwhile, thanks be to God for each opportunity and each new denominational communion that is willing to consider including more of the written revelation in the preaching of the church, "that the Word of God may be fully known."