Ps 77:1-2, 11-20

1 July 2001

 

“1976 Plus 25”

 

I have a question for everyone old enough to remember the year 1976.  (I think you’ll be able to figure out where I'm going with this.)  Thinking about our nation, is there anything about that year that you remember as especially meaningful?  Of course¼I'm referring to our nation's bicentennial, our 200th birthday.  On Wednesday, Independence Day, we'll observe America's bicentennial, plus twenty five—plus a quarter century.

Some memories I have of 1976 include the widespread use of red, white, and blue.  Bicentennial logos were all over the place.  Then there were the nightly bicentennial minutes that CBS ran.  One of their reporters (Walter Cronkite or Dan Rather or maybe someone else?) would give a special report on the day's events 200 years ago.  "And that's the way it was, July 1, 1776."

There's something else I recall from that year, but I don't know if this happened here in New York.  In Virginia Beach, many of the fire hydrants were painted to make them look like little people.  All over town, you'd see these multi-colored little creations.  I'm not sure what that had to do with the bicentennial; I guess some people were in a good mood and felt like decorating the hydrants!  Anyway, thank you for bearing with that personal reminiscence!

Independence Day isn't part of the church year, but it's obviously a major event for all of us who are Americans.  And as I've already indicated, 2001 marks year number 225 of US independence.  While the US is young as a nation, we're governed by the world's oldest regime.  Our constitution is the longest-lasting one anywhere.  That's one of the many paradoxes that defines the United States of America.

That's a paradox of a governmental type nature.  We can also think of moral paradoxes, so to speak, that describe our country.  For example, we're committed to democracy and human rights, while at the same time, we continue to struggle with our own demons of racism and violence.  No doubt, we could mention other such contradictions.  My point is that on Independence Day 2001, we have cause for both celebration and lamentation as we consider America.

In that respect, we're much like our writer in today's psalm reading.  There are some people who see Psalm 77 as the prayer of someone concerned about purely personal problems.  However, the majority opinion is that our psalmist includes the nation in his thoughts.  I see it, not so much as an either-or, but as a both-and.  We have a picture of one who suffers, but also of one who looks to God—the God who has blessed the entire nation in times past and is trusted to do it again.

Of course, if we limit ourselves to the verses provided for in the lectionary reading, we won't get the whole story.  If we jump from verse 2, where we hear, "my soul refuses to be comforted," to verse 11, in which the psalmist begins to find encouragement, we don't find out what's really going on.  Let me help fill in the blank by reading verses 3 to 10.

[3] I think of God, and I moan;
I meditate, and my spirit faints.
[4] You keep my eyelids from closing;
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.
[5] I consider the days of old,
and remember the years of long ago.
[6] I commune with my heart in the night;
I meditate and search my spirit:
[7] "Will the Lord spurn forever,
and never again be favorable?
[8] Has his steadfast love ceased forever?
Are his promises at an end for all time?
[9] Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has he in anger shut up his compassion?"
[10] And I say, "It is my grief
that the right hand of the Most High has changed."

 

This is the picture of someone in distress.  "I think of God, and I moan; I meditate, and my spirit faints" (v. 3).  To the psalmist, no one is able to help, not even God.  God has taken off; God has fled the scene.  The questions of verses 7 to 9 are the psalmist's constant companions night after sleepless night.  "Have you rejected me forever?  Won't you be kind again?  Is this the end of your love and your promises?  Have you forgotten how to have pity?" (CEV).

I won't ask for a show of hands (though of course I'm willing to talk with you later if this is you), but I wonder:  how many of us have had similar feelings—feelings of hopelessness?  Have you ever felt like giving up?  Or how about this:  have you ever felt bored with yourself, or maybe bored with life?  I'm sure I'm not the only one!

I'm reminded of a scene from the movie The Matrix in which Laurence Fishburne is telling Keanu Reeves, "You've felt it your entire life, that there's something wrong with the world.  You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."

I hope my comments don't leave you with two wrong impressions.  First, let me reassure you that you don't have a suicidal pastor!  Even in those rare moments when I've gotten bored with myself, I still loved life.  And maybe that's the point.  I sometimes get weary with how the world is and how I get swept along with it—or how I let myself get swept along with it!  The other wrong impression, following my quote from The Matrix, is that I am in fact, going insane!  (But I won't stand here trying to convince you on that point!)

In any event, my intention isn't to bring you down with all this crazy talk!  My point is that we, like our psalmist, see things in the world around us—things that affect us personally.  But as the psalmist also notes, God is able to deliver.  The last half of Psalm 77 is taken up with memories of God's action on the nation's behalf.  Verse 11 sets the stage:  "I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord; I will remember your wonders of old."

We as Americans could benefit from following this example.  Wednesday will be a day for celebration, and rightly so.  We have seen the blessings of God in our country.  Sometimes I think we hear that phrase so often that it loses its meaning.  But it's nonetheless true.  Still, we haven't yet arrived at the day enshrined in the words of our closing hymn, "O Beautiful for Spacious Skies."  We haven't yet realized the "patriot dream that sees beyond the years."  We don't yet see "alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears."

Borrowing from our epistle reading in Galatians, we tend to use our freedom "as an opportunity for self-indulgence" (5:13).  Far from Paul's ideal of "through love [becoming] slaves to one another," we instead "bite and devour one another," running the risk that we will be "consumed by one another" (vv. 13, 15).  Unfortunately, this is true for those of us inside, as well as outside, the church.

I started by mentioning 1976 as our bicentennial year.  But we're also a quarter century beyond a landmark Supreme Court case, Gregg v. Georgia.  The decision in that case reinstated capital punishment, which four years earlier had been declared unconstitutional.  I mention this due to last month's famous recipient of the death penalty, Timothy McVeigh.

The day after he was executed, Banu and I were at a picnic with some other ministers in the Southern Tier.  The conversation eventually turned to the death penalty, and to Mr. McVeigh in particular.  I imagine that there were many such discussions around the country.

There was one minister who made a comment that I found surprising.  What was surprising wasn’t the comment itself—I’d heard things like it before.  The statement was that Timothy McVeigh was beyond redemption, that he was beyond hope.  He was totally and irreversibly evil.  The only solution was to put him to death.  What surprised me was that it came from this individual, someone I know to have taken liberal positions on various issues.

I mention this, not to open a debate on capital punishment.  Besides, I realize that a paranoid terrorist and mass murderer like Timothy McVeigh wouldn't be the best starting point for such a debate!  (Although for those who say they oppose the death penalty, he might the perfect test!)

In any event, what really surprised me about that comment about McVeigh was that it came from a minister of the gospel.  My response was that even Timothy McVeigh wasn't irredeemable.  As a being created in the image of God, even he wasn't without hope.  To say otherwise would be to limit God.  But I don't think my words were very convincing!