The earth is the Lord's and
the fullness thereof,
the world and those who dwell
therein,
for he has founded it upon the seas
and established it upon the
rivers.
Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord?
And who shall stand in his
holy place?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart,
who does not lift up his soul
to what is false
and does not swear
deceitfully.
He will receive blessing from the Lord
and righteousness from the
God of his salvation.
Such is the generation of those who seek him,
who seek the face of the God
of Jacob.
Lift up your heads, O gates!
And be lifted up, O ancient
doors,
that the King of glory may
come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The Lord, strong and mighty,
the Lord, mighty in battle!
Lift up your heads, O gates!
And lift them up, O ancient
doors,
that the King of glory may
come in.
Who is this King of glory?
The Lord of hosts,
he is the King of glory.
Psalm 24
Reflection – Happy feast of the
Presentation! We are having a silent day of recollection at MH this year, as we
usually do on this day, beginning after Mass later this morning. So no, I’m not
breaking silence writing this!
Well, it’s
just happenstance, but we couldn’t find a better psalm for this feast, and here
it is on the Monday Psalter. The entering of the king of glory into his temple,
the gates lifting high their heads to allow his passing, the presence of these
good people of pure heart seeking the Lord (Simeon and Anna)—all of this is so
very fitting for this feast.
I am always
struck, mind you, with the strange unexpectedness of God in all this. All of
the language of the Old Testament pertaining to the visitation of God to His
people, the definitive coming of the Lord among us, is language of strength,
might, power, almost of violence and over-mastery.
And then it
happens… and it is a baby. A wee little one, carried in the arms of his mother,
his father offering the poor man’s sacrifice of two doves. This is the mighty
king of glory, this the hour of the visitation of God to bring his people
justice and purify them of their sins. How… unexpected! How… strange. How… uh,
are you sure you’re doing this right, God?
God’s ways
are not our ways, and God’s wisdom seems like folly to foolish humanity. The
baby becomes the itinerant preacher and healer. The preacher becomes the
prisoner at the dock, the naked man on the Cross, the dead body in the tomb. He
rises, but only a few see Him. He ascends, and the whole thing starts over
again, with a tiny little band of not-too-impressive men charged with the
mission of converting the world to the baby, the man, the Crucified One.
We wouldn’t
have done it that way. And in our own personal lives, we wouldn’t do it ‘that
way’ either. So often the action of God’s grace in our lives is like
that—small, hidden, mysterious, seemingly ‘all wrong’. We need a mighty
warrior, and God gives us a baby. We need to have every problem solved, every
sickness healed, every sorrow assuaged, and God instead most of the time enters
into our problems, sicknesses, sorrows, and shares them with us, and gives us
grace to love and trust in the midst of them. “That’s not what we ordered!”
To know the
truth of the second half of Psalm 24, we have to be like Simeon and Anna, who
are figured in the first half of the psalm. We have to seek the Lord. We have
to desire nothing but to be with Him and know Him and follow Him no matter
what. And we have to trust that this baby, this strange hidden God, is the One
who fashioned the earth and all that fills it, and who fashions us and fills
our life with what is good.
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