Psalm 121

Amy Jacks Dean, February 24, 2002

About 50 of us stood at the base of the 35-foot climbing wall. We cheered for Chase Bengel – “Go Chase! You’re doing great! Good job!” We shouted for Rob Sellers, who had the unfair advantage of extra long limbs and an extra wide wing span, - “Go Rob! You’re doing great! Good job!” But it was Eleanor Helms that we cheered for the most as she climbed her way to the top of this wall sporting a lovely safety helmet and comfortable harness. She was our eldest adventurer – “Go Eleanor! You’re doing Great! Parks said I could have your diamond ring if you don’t make it to the top!” She made it to the top.

What a great image of the church I had last September on our Church-Wide Retreat as practically the whole group, climbers and watchers, gathered around a 3-sided climbing wall to cheer one another on to the top. I found myself circling the base of that wall to make sure that I called out a word of encouragement and affirmation to each person making the ascent. We acted like The Church that day.

I watched the Olympics at about 11:00 PM Thursday night when Sarah Hughes finished her long program in women’s figure skating. It was as close to a perfect performance as possible. She landed every jump and her grace on the ice was mesmerizing. Her face glowed – like she was actually having fun. After she took her bow in the center of the ice, then glided over to her coach – they hugged, both crying and shouting in amazement and unbelief. Sarah’s coach turned her around and forced her to look at the ice – littered in flowers and stuffed animals – and the coach said, “Look! This is all for you.” The place went wild – cheering, yelling, screaming, chanting – words of affirmation and approval and encouragement.

I played tennis on the Clinton High School Tennis Team – Number 5 singles and Number 1 doubles. My family never missed a home match and rarely missed an away match. They were not obnoxious fans. But they did clap and cheer. They were there when many of the other girls on the team never had a spectator. I never had anything close to an Olympic moment, but I knew what it was like to have people rooting for me – cheering me on. They acted like Family on those days.

At my ordination, I heard words of affirmation from First Baptist Church in Clemson and from my family and from a former theology professor who had preached the sermon that day – it all left me full. That is the best word for that day for more me – full. They acted like The Church that day.

The day this church voted to call Russ and me as your Pastors, we walked back into this sanctuary after only a few brief moments in what is now my office where we waited with our children and Russ’ parents and Donald Mitchell. You were standing and applauding and some of you were crying, which is what I would have thought that I would have been doing, but it was all too surreal for tears. I was full - again. You acted like The Church that day.

I tell you these accounts – from our climbing wall experience to the Olympics to high school tennis to ordination to the calling of Pastors – to say that I know what was going on the day the Psalmist wrote the words we read this morning. Scholars fill in the gaps of Scripture to suggest, with relative probability, what may have been going on that prompted a certain text. Many scholars agree that in all likelihood, Psalm 121 was intended as a Psalm for the traveler or a “Psalm for Sojourners.” (New Interpreters, page 1182) One commentator, John Hayes, contends, that this Psalm was recited as a “litany of departure” for those who were leaving on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Worshippers in a region would assemble in a centrally located village in order that they could travel together to the holy city. After spending the night out in the open air to avoid any possible contact with uncleanness in the houses, the group, under the direction of a leader, would head em up and move em out. Psalm 121 was used as a “Call to Journey.” Verses 1 and 2 would have been sung in unison by the group making the journey – “I lift up my eyes to the hills (from anywhere – one would have to go up to Jerusalem as it sits on a hill) – from where will my help come? My help comes from the LORD who made heaven and earth.” Then those who would remain behind would sing the remainder of the Psalm – “God will not let your foot be moved; God who keeps you will not slumber. God who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all evil; God will keep your life. The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.” (Preaching Through the Christian Year, Year A, page 157) What a way to begin a journey! With words of assurance and encouragement – a crowd who was cheering you on as you set out on a journey.

It is a shame that the only time we read this psalm is at a funeral. It is really out of place there because this psalm is about the journey of Life. It is interesting to note that these are not words attributed to God. These are the words of the people – some are setting out on a journey, some are staying behind and cheering them on. But these are not the words of God – these are the words of the people of God. And there is a difference.

The difference is, truly, I do not have a foggy idea about the mind of God, and truly, neither did the writer of this psalm or any other Scripture for that matter. I don’t know what God thinks. I do know that sometimes we speak on behalf of God and fool ourselves into thinking that what we think is what God thinks and what we feel is what God feels and how we act is how God acts. And when we do this we perpetuate a bad habit of making God in our own image. Psalm 121 is filled with words of affirmation and assurance from the people of God for the people of God. It is an expression of their faith. But does that make it God’s?

The author of the silent meditation included in our order of worship, Kari Verhulst, said, “Psalm 121, in my family, was the vacation psalm. Every summer we’d read it early in the morning of departure, just before loading into the packed car. It was a tradition my father carried over from his family, and which I brought with me to Sojourners” (a faith-based community and magazine). At Sojourners, she would adapt the tradition for when they would pray people off to places not known as choice vacation spots, such as Bosnia, Kosovo, Columbia, and Sudan. She says, “Such beautiful promises – Yahweh will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. The Lord will keep you from all evil; she will keep your life.” That is awfully good religious talk. Why is it that they, (and we?), walk around acting like this is so when we all know full well, and Verhulst reminds us that “feet stumble, the sun strikes. In our neighborhoods, across the globe, in those tender and most vulnerable places of our relationships, evil seeps in. What right do we have to pretend that our travels enjoy some privilege with God, while the rest of the world can go to hell?” (**All of the quotes and ideas taken from Kari Verhulst were taken from the January-February 2002 Sojourners magazine – “Living the Word” section.)

She makes a good point. The life of faith is no easier than any other path we take. God is no more with me than with those who claim no faith. I do not walk around with a cloud of protection simply because I travel my journey toward God – with God. So why would the people tell a lie? Why would the people make a promise on behalf of God that we all know may not pan out to be true? Surely the folks that journeyed to Jerusalem knew trouble and heartache – even death. Surely some of you have known tragedy and despair. Surely some of you have experienced life that seemed unprotected and vulnerable. Surely there have been times when those of us who journey have felt like our going out and our coming in have not been kept by God.

It is at this juncture that Kari Verhulst thoughts have been most helpful to me this week. She suggests that in Genesis, when God made a covenant with Abraham and Sarah, that God said, “I will make you a blessing. In you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Genesis 12:2-3) That makes us inheritors of a covenant. She calls us “God’s pledge to this world.” What was God thinking? To give us the responsibility – the power to be the very voice, the very work, the presence of God here - that is more than I can take in. That is more than I want or need in my life. But as I contemplate the question “What was God thinking?” – I conclude that God was thinking that the best God could do was to give us to one another. And that is why we cheer each other on. That is why we rally behind each other. That is why the Church exists.

I picture the people rising with the sun, eating a simple breakfast and gathering their few belongings. Animals scurry among them, as well as the children. It is dusty and the terrain is rugged – no clear path yet a hill on the horizon. And on top of that hill is that beloved and holy city of Jerusalem. A few tears flow with some of the goodbyes because some people always cry, but on the whole it is a quietly joyous occasion. The leader of the group declares it is time to go and with that announcement everyone knows what to do. They all put their belongings down and turn and face the hill on the horizon. The moment is so quiet that you could hear a pin drop – even the animals somehow know to be still. Families clasp hands. Children sit on shoulders. And the journeying people sing, “I lift up my eyes to the hills – from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth.” And then those who are to stay behind – those who would claim their position as God’s pledge to this world – speak words of assurance to those who would journey.

Psalm 121 is not just about a journey to Jerusalem for people who lived in antiquity. It is about the journey that each of us takes – even today. How will we be the Church to one another? We’ll have to share one another’s burdens. We’ll have to carry the load for some who are too tired. We’ll have to cheer when a hurdle is jumped. We’ll have to give a push when the hill gets too steep.

Before we had children, we occasionally went backpacking. On one trip we were to hike in, set up camp, and spend the night. We would awaken to the challenge of climbing and crossing over Sassafrass Mountain – SC’s highest peak standing at 3560 feet. About 30 minutes into the first day, I began to feel hotspots on the back of both heels. I had hiked literally over 100 miles in these boots – they couldn’t be rubbing blisters. I stopped, took off my boots and socks and put some mole-skin on to try halt the onset of blisters. After about another 30 minutes, I knew that we should turn around and head home – but I didn’t want to be a wimp. In all the hiking we had done, I had never gotten blisters – surely not this time either. By the time we stopped to set up camp with our friends that hiked with us, I was miserable. We got in the tent, I took off my boots – and let me tell you – what sweet relief. But I knew that morning would come, and I would have to put those boots back on and haul myself and that pack up and over Sassafrass Mountain. I was miserable. The blisters on the back of each heel were larger than a quarter. Every few minutes, the four of us would stop and take something else out of my pack to help lighten the load for my aching feet. Russ walked behind me and suggested that we count 10 steps then stop – surely I could do 10 steps. And so that is how we climbed that mountain – 10 steps at a time with each stop taking something out of my back. Then counting to 10 again listening to a “good job” “you’re doing great” chant as we climbed. I swear to you, by the time we reached our car, the only thing I carried on my back was the pack itself. Does it seem too trivial to think that the psalmist was describing my journey as well? Those who hiked with me acted like the Church that day.

Though we have acknowledged the temptation to make God in our own image, and though we have recognized that just because we claim God, our paths will not be easier, we do all that we know to do – which is to say that we act on God’s behalf – we live out the Holy, we live out the Divine in each of us, and we embody God here on this earth. What was God thinking? God obviously has more confidence in us than we have in ourselves. I know that God is here – with me on my journey – because I see you there.