Hope for those in exile

 Among the many songs Linda Ronstadt has performed and recorded is the reggae song, “By the rivers of Babylon,” which draws on verses from two Psalms which you may hear this fall in many churches: 

The last verse of Psalm 19, “Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord my strength and my redeemer,”  and the beginning of Psalm 137: “By the rivers of Babylon…”  which is a sad and angry song about being an exile.

Invocation is often the use of that first phrase:  a preacher will say it before he begins to preach.

But we rarely hear the second because of the anger and even rage that psalm expresses as the words go on from the beginning of the experience of exile. 

Yet many of us do feel in exile or as a stranger in a strange land from time to time even in a familiar place or somewhere far away from home. 

And that is certainly the case with many people who are currently refugees in our world.

Among them are those who have been welcomed to Tucson or people who are waiting in refugee resettlement programs or people who are in a home country where they no longer feel at home or safe. 

And these are among the people we have special care for and special concern about at this time especially considering the recent upheaval and changes in the Middle East and the repercussions we will continue to feel for decades to come. 

After the initial expression of loss, sorrow, and grief from psalm 19, the reggae song takes an interesting turn : moving to the hopeful and prayerful expressions of psalm 19,

In these times it is especially welcome to have those closing words of Psalm 19 so that we don’t immure ourselves in lasting despair or dwell in gratuitous negativity as we discuss these events.

Indeed we are reminded in that psalm 19 from its first words, “the heavens declare the glory of God,”  to its last, “let the words of my mouth be acceptable in thy sight,” that indeed all human beings are part of the creation of God and that the God who created us is the God who redeemed us is the God who will see us through.

So let the words we speak and the meditations at the deepest root of our being be thoughts of praise and words of hope.

A previous version of this essay appeared in the Arizona Daily Star, Keeping the Faith section, September 19th 2021, page E3.

Lent List

Stuff I would like to give up for Lent? Oh yes, I made a list. Space does not permit its inclusion here. Nor does tact. Some of it is pretty common. We have lost so much, some of us, people whom we do not see right now, people we will never see gain. Loss and gain. Anticipation and regret. Possibilities, memories. Waiting. Our current situation is unique. And we are not the first.  

A traveler waiting for a visa. A convalescent waiting for release. Parents hoping for a child, workers looking for a job, people on the move seeking a home. 

Situations that are common and simply our own. 

When I was young I saw a children’s book about Robert the Bruce, waiting in his stone room and watching a spider weave its web. It was slow work, but he had the time. Eventually as an adult I learned more about what he was waiting for as well as what he was going to do. He led a country to unity. And yet that was not the end of the story as he yearned for the Holy Land. As it was, he made it about halfway - to Spain. His heart sought Jerusalem but found its final rest at home. (His heart is buried at Melrose Abbey.)

We hear the Bible stories. A would-be mother waiting with her husband for a place to live, a child to love. A widow with no home to go to but one far away, and no family but one unknown. And a people that wants, that longs, to be free. As we do.

Lent is a season of anticipation. Of preparation. Again, so soon after the Christmas cycle has ended. Advent, Nativity, Epiphany, Presentation. Just weeks ago. And now another cycle, the Easter cycle, begins. But it begins in Ashes. 

Wouldn’t you think ashes are the end of a story, not the beginning? But so it is: forty days from Ash Wednesday, not counting Sundays, Christians arrive where other traditions already are: at Easter Sunday, another feast day of celebration, but not before plumbing the depths of Good Friday. A dreadful anticipation. So we remember our mortality - as if we could forget it! This year of all years. 

Remember that you are made of dust taken from the earth, and to the earth you shall return. And yet all along you are in the hands of God.

Always.

The Rev. Dr. John Leech is an Episcopal priest, a Benedictine oblate, and a friend of the Iona Community. He has served congregations in northern California and western Washington, and now in southern Arizona. 

https://tucson.com/you-are-safe-in-the-hands-of-god/article_2f8cbbff-973c-5bfb-aec7-a1c294536efa.html (Arizona Daily Star, February 21, 2021).

Joel 2:1-2,12-17

or Isaiah 58:1-12

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

Psalm 103 or 103:8-14