Psalm 51: Aspects of Repentance
Lenten Series 2003
1.
My offenses truly I know them;
my sin is always before me.
“Lord, have mercy” has been a prayer of the
Judeo-Christian faith from the beginning. In Lent, we
consider this mercy in the context of forgiveness of sins.
Psalm 51, the “Miserere,”
is at the heart of this plea. It is ascribed to David after
his murderous adultery with Bathsheba. The Church has used
it in her liturgy as a part of the
Asperges and
one of the Seven Penitential Psalms. In the Divine Office,
it is said every Friday morning. It has been put to music
using individual verses or in its entirety. As the Word of
God, we use the words of the Merciful One as we ask for
that same mercy. So let us enter this prayer with
confidence born of faith.
As we begin this Lenten journey, we start at the first and
most necessary place: we start with acknowledging our sad
situation.
My offenses truly I know them; my sin is always before
me. John Paul
II called this the “sense of sin.” He also
notes that this is something we have lost. Human beings are
incredible. We can stare at evil and never let it touch us.
Perhaps when we are younger we understand right and wrong
in very exact terms. As time goes on, two things start to
happen.
The first is that we learn to rationalize and explain away
our faults. Our vocabulary reflects this. We say: “I
took something that did not belong to me. I misrepresented
the situation. I made an error in judgment.” In
earlier days, we would have said: “I stole. I lied. I
was wrong.” Now we say that “you have to do
what you have to do.” These are pronouncements which
evacuate moral judgment. They objectify the act without
considering the soul
The second movement is our more general consideration of
right and wrong. Our appreciation of morality is shaped by
the world we live in. For example, words that are
“bad words” in one community are not in
another. What our laws and standards permit give us
headlines and programming. And as a democratic republic, we
have from the beginning been engaged in the struggle of
public legality and social morality. If this is in anyway
unclear, after Benediction, go home, turn on the TV and
pretend that you are your grandparents.
But after the excuses, the slogans and the talk-shows, our
sin is there and we know it in our hearts. It cannot be
covered by drugs or drowned in alcohol. Like a smoldering
ember, it eventually burns through all the fluff we throw
on it. It is always before us. This is the sad human
condition, but it does not stop there. The cry for mercy
never stops and never stops being offered. This is only the
starting point, but we have to start some where. But it is
God who – thanks be to Him – who will have the
final Word.
2.
Indeed you love truth in the heart;
then in the secret of my heart teach me
wisdom.
Some people are born with the natural talent to act and
sing. Some are not. It has been the rage of late to get on
national TV and perform in front of celebrity judges. When
mediocre talent is rejected, there are tears and defiant
affirmations of quality. The judges are condemned for being
brutal and unkind. After all, we are superstars who can do
anything we want or be anything we want to be.
How sad. Generations are going through life with this
illusion. Then again, isn’t that the most original of
sins? From the beginning, we tried to be God. We refused to
accept our limited reality. The truth is not found in this.
And where there is no truth, there can be no true love. But
love is a dialogue and is never static. God desires the
truth of humility and we begin to aspire to that ideal. We
see the attractive truth in God and are drawn to it. We
feel the most human when we are the most honest. We can
rest from the tiresome illusions we work to maintain when
we find truth in our hearts.
But we do not go it alone. We would be overwhelmed by our
frailty if we saw it straight-on. Like the blinding
unfiltered sun, we would be devastated. It is the wisdom of
God which leads us as we can handle it. Ours is gentle God
who knows us better than we know ourselves. And it is in
that place known to Him alone that He refines, opens, and
activates His wisdom. As we see the truth of our sin, we
are driven to His mercy. As we pray to be His own, His own
wisdom becomes ours. The Teacher within teaches us the
secrets of our hearts. We progressively begin to see what
we are and are not capable of doing. Both may come as a
surprise of self-revelation.
Our fear of the truth runs through history. People have
cause great misery to millions because no one lead them to
see the truth. Our personal history is marked by failures
of lessons not learned. The Teacher within exhorts and
instructs and we keep missing the point. Our learning
disability is the result of prideful lies.
But the Teacher within does not condemn like Simon
on American
Idol. He
does not look at us with disgust and say “that is the
worst thing I’ve ever seen.” No, He is
infinitely patient and kind. His mercy does not force us
but persistently leads us. The truth of heart He offers us
begins in love. We see there is something wrong in us and
as we come to realize it, we are cloaked in mercy.
To learn this mercy is to know grace. To know our limits is
to see the possibility of glory. And to learn the lessons
of the Teacher is true peace of soul.
3.
Give me again the joy of your help;
with a spirit of fervor sustain me,
We’ve all been grateful and seen gratitude. Something
good happens and there is a thankful response. This is just
and right – but it is necessarily short-lived. The
gratitude is based on a gift given. And no gift lasts
forever – not even a diamond.
The gift of Mercy is of a different quality. It is not
something short-termed. It is a state of being more than a
decree of acquittal. It transforms the soul as well as our
heavenly rap sheet. It touches the essence of who we are
and what we do.
The result: joy. There is a joy in knowing that you are in
the right place. There is a sense of correctness about
where we are since we are in union with the God who
completes us. We correctly say that there is a joy in the
miracles He gives us to get through life. But His help is
so much more than the satisfaction of an efficient
co-worker. Yes, that aid helps us to get done what we need
to do. We have the security of confidence that will see us
through and even thrive. But joy is more. St. Paul said
that nothing can separate us from the love of God. What
better can we have? The joy of mercy then is the
contentment of being as we should. It is the hopeful peace
of a child playing in front of a loving parent.
Still, we can get lost and loose our focus. That is why we
pray to be sustained. We ask for a grace to remain fervent
in this joy.
It’s easy to confuse fervor with enthusiasm.
Literally, enthusiasm means to be filled with God. It
refers to a temporary moment of ecstasy. And often, that is
how we approach faith. We can ride the waves of grace with
the ups and downs of emotion. Don’t raise your hands,
but how many spiritual quests have we begun but never saw
through? How many spiritual journeys have we started and
gathered all the books and tapes but never got far? That
can be enthusiasm.
Fervor is a gift from God that keeps us constant and
consistent. It is the underlying current that energizes our
soul. Even without the feelings of exuberance, we get to
Mass, to prayer, to keeping an unkind word silent. We see
that same power motivating a parent to change a diaper, a
stranger to help a stranger, a hero to save a life.
Concentration is a function of the mind. Dedication is a
matter of the heart. But fervor is the energy of the soul.
We are in this for the long haul. The joyful and fervent
grace of God stays with us as we grow in His mercy. May we
live this Lent and each day in that merciful joy.
4.
O rescue me, God, my helper,
and my tongue shall ring out your goodness.
O Lord, open my lips
and my mouth shall declare your
praise.
If there is one way to scare children, tell them that
heaven is going to Church for all eternity. Just assure
them the homilies are not boring! When we look at the
vision of glory in the book of Revelation, we see the
redeemed gathered around the throne of God praising Him in
an endless hymn of praise. When we here on earth join in
the
Sanctus of the
Mass, our voices are echoing this praise.
We know about praise. We acknowledge something good and say
it in words. We offer it to heroes, movie stars, and the
latest dish-washer. We have even figured out that we can
offer praise to people to get something out of them. The
sad truth is that the person who wrote ‘flattery will
get you nowhere’ was never flattered. Flattery will
get you everywhere because it appeals to the ego. Praise
has nothing to do with ego. In fact, praise takes us out of
the ego. It sees with the eyes of faith what God has done.
We know the forgiveness of sins as well as that confident
approval of our lives.
Conversion is the discovery that we have been rescued and
have been open to the working of God. Both lead to a humble
word of praise.
In today’s world, we look at the news every evening
and see the visual definition of rescue. We look at people
trapped and confined by situations beyond their control.
And we are witnesses to humanity at its best when we forget
our own safety for the sake of others. Given our own
desperate mistakes, we are in need of rescue. Forgiveness
is that salvific rescue. In our weakest moments we are
strengthened to be more than we have done. We see the open
embrace of the Father when we come home.
That mercy changes everything. And as much as forgiveness
is a gift, so too is a heart opened to speak the praise of
the giver of mercy. The Liturgy prays: “our prayer
adds nothing to Your greatness but make grow in Your
grace.” And how accurate. It is a priestly act to
offer this to God. It is a gift we all share by grace. What
were perhaps mere words said by rote and without thought
become a precious sacrifice. They focus so intensely on God
that we are lost in wonder. And as echoes of heaven, they
show us that we are on the path to it. So praise the mercy
of God and let His mercy
open our lips to proclaim His glory.
5.
In your goodness, show favor to Zion:
rebuild the walls of Jerusalem.
When destruction visits our world, we rebuild. War, natural
disasters, and human violence ravage earth but we are still
here. Defiance in the face of evil is a human trait. We
refuse to accept less even when the worst presents itself.
One of the concluding themes of Psalm 51 is this
restoration. Perhaps our desire for putting things right is
a faint reflection of God’s re-creation. The goodness
of this Creator is not limited to absolution. It would not
be enough for Him – or us. In the ruins of sin, this
Psalm promises something entirely new. When goodness and
favor have been given, the renovation begins. Infidelity
brought down the walls of Jerusalem and leveled the Temple.
There was nothing to keep out the enemy and no altar to
offer prayer. Sin does that. It weakens our defenses and
dims the light of faith. A new Jerusalem is needed.
The comfort of mercy then is the return from exile. The
defending walls of our soul are re-built and the brilliance
of God’s presence shines again within. The glory of
Easter is revived by grace each time we pray
Kyrie eleison.
If we merely were attempting to bring order to life or
preserve a commanded creation intact, our cry for mercy
would be merely utilitarian. Instead we instinctively know
that our goal is more lasting. We were created for God and
to be with God. In His image we are created and so in that
eternal splendor we see ourselves re-created.
Futility is a wonderful description for any action that
falls short of eternity. All our efforts, mistakes,
virtues, and failures present a challenge to see beyond the
moment. Mercy is the answer to this limited vision. It
transforms all these most human of things into the building
blocks of an eternal reality. A lack of this vision will be
the terminal point of all things. Perhaps a view of hell is
to see all things only in terms of the moment. Heaven
– it could be said – is the expansion of that
view. We do not enter eternity so much as we begin to see
it. The restoring mercy of God creates that capacity within
us.
If
the Lord does not build in vain do the builders
labor. In all
our attempts to live according to the faith given and
handed on to us by the Holy Spirit, including this Lent, we
look to the One and the only One who can restore what sin
has broken. Repentance is a multi-faceted journey. While
the general progress and remedies are similar, each path is
different. Like the many roads leading to Jerusalem, we go
forward along different paths. In the distance we hear our
fellow pilgrims, our fellow saints, singing the same
chorus. Aware, humble, joyful, worshiping and restored we
move toward that one destination. Psalm 51 has been one of
those pilgrim Psalms for those on the Lenten road. Each
person who prays this Psalm will find an echo of their own
travels.
I hope this Lent and these short reflections have added to
the symphony of grace among us. As we pray our
Kyrie throughout the year, may the God
of all compassion make us aware that in our asking, we have
been given what we ask. And in receiving, may we have that
generosity of heart to offer it again and again.
Miserere
mei Deus
A
Psalm 51 by Fr. Robert Dunn
Compline & Benediction – Lentne Series - 10 April
2003
H
ave mercy
on me, O God, because You are mercy itself. Have mercy
because You are more than my bitterness. My sins are like
road-side trash and only a generous downpour can wash it
away.
They tell me I’m okay, that I am only human, but I
know better. Who are they trying to make feel better? No,
things are not okay. Like a ringing in my ear or the
dripping of a faucet, I am reminded constantly that I need
You.
I tell myself that You are not wrathful but I also see the
results of my stupidity. This is my condition. My free will
creates so much of the mess I see. No, You are not an angry
God but I am an angry person. I go through life pretending
I can get away with it, but reality hits me and brings me
to my knees.
And that’s where I find You. Only the greatest God
could be found in my lowest place. Like the burning of
bleach, make the stains of my sin go away. By You power,
rob my evil of its effects. By Your peace, calm my angry
soul.
Lord, if I look carefully, I quickly see the damage I have
done. My sins have destroyed what You and I created
together. Don’t let my violence tear down what took
so long to build. Make beautiful once again Your handiwork.
I know you are bigger than my vices. Just look away from
them. Forget them and maybe so will I.
And if, by Your grace, I un-learn rebellion, I will be in
grace. And not for a moment, but for something more
lasting.
In Your divine forgetfulness, don’t forget me. Make
what You made new again. Make it pure. Use the ashes and
debris of my silliness to raise a new city. Make this place
strong through joy. Make it secure through Your peace.
From my earliest days they have told me to be a good
example of faith. Well, Lord, as You know, I am not. At
least without You. But if this new tabernacle is rebuilt, I
know You can use me in this way. Perhaps that hint of glory
will be the one thing someone will need. If the glow of
grace is reflected in the cinders of my own sin, maybe that
will be Your light to the world.
Yes, Lord, You are the good One. You have made all things.
It is in Your power to rescue me once again. And I trust
that You will.
You give me a reason to sing. You are the cause of my
celebration. Your mercy is the music of life. Like a royal
proclamation, the anthem of my life is “This is
God’s doing, not mine.”
The pagans balk. “Just realize your talents and
gifts. God – or what you call god – has nothing
to do with it.” But I know that’s not true. I
am not thanking You like someone who just won a Grammy for
an obscene song. My gratitude can’t ever be fully put
into words. I would be a fool to think that this was all
the result of my own natural abilities. No, it is Your
super-natural majesty and I can only bow before that mercy.
Lord, don’t get me wrong. Your will is that I work
with You. Your presence demands my cooperation. You have
decreed this is a team effort. And the moment I forget this
and think it is all about me, just remind me. (Oh, why did
I pray for THAT!)
Lord, You are a demanding God. You ask for more than I want
to give and refuse what I have to offer. Your ways are so
far from mine. You do not accept my self-congratulatory
triumphs but are pleased with the tatters of my life. You
are pleased with the imperfect because You are not
impressed by what I call perfect. You want the desire to be
better rather than the best I have created. You crave the
pain of my humiliation and throw aside the blood and sweat
of my labors.. Lord, You are the mighty God and to me, You
are mighty strange. You smile when I cry at my folly. You
laugh at my buffoonery in trying to behave. You calm me
when I am falling apart. And all of this is all that You
want. I’ll never figure it out but it will forever
change me.
So there it is, O Lord. To You, I am grateful and full of
praise for the mystery that is me. In Your wisdom (which
often I do not understand) You gave me the freedom to bring
down what You have worked. I am human and live among the
ruins of my self-destruction. If I look too long at this
barren scene, I may forget to look to You. In this
confusion and pain, I am convinced of Your presence though
everything tells me You are gone. This horrible landscape
is a horrible place. And then the smoke clears, the rain
softly falls and there is the miracle of new life. In the
richness of mercy, the light shines and the scorched
terrain is covered with signs of hope. And in return for
this, all You want is my sorrow for having messed things up
in the first place.
Oh merciful God, receive my request for mercy. Forgive what
I have done and rebuild me. Take my gratitude for Your
absolution and let it be a perfect decoration for Your
dwelling place. May the song of my ego be drowned out by
the chorus of prayer. May the ruins of my evil be the
foundation of a new and lasting Temple. To You, O loving
Father, I run for healing only to find that I never left
Your embrace. In that mercy keep me and bring me at last to
its fulfillment in Your heavenly eyes. Amen.
