Out of the Depths

“Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice….”

Should our readings from Scripture be only sweetness and light? Should the preacher deliver only good news? You know as well as I do that there is plenty of pain in Scripture. You even heard some of it today. And there is also plenty of pain and anguish in our corporate and personal lives. Wouldn’t a preacher be dishonest if she refused to see or preach about the pain in our lives? Perhaps in Lent we are especially called to acknowledge the depths in our lives and to ask where God is when we can’t hear the good news.

Our psalm for this morning calls us to do just that, to consider our cries from the depths. Traditionally, Psalm 130 is part of a group of what is called the Psalms of Ascent, i.e., psalms 120 to 134. This group of psalms is called Psalms of Ascent, because these psalms were traditionally said on the way to the temple in Jerusalem. In ancient times you were literally in the depths as your approached the temple, as it was built on a very high rock. Today that rock is called the Temple Mount, and it houses the Dome of the Rock. It is still a holy place for Jews who come to pray at the Wailing Wall, the last remaining wall of the Second temple, i.e.,the temple of Jesus’ time.

But the “depths” to which the psalmist alludes represent more than the valley floor. Now this is not a psalm of lament like, for example, Psalm 22, in which the psalmist expresses a deep sense of abandonment by God. Here, the psalmist is in some unnamed pain. Perhaps the psalmist cannot even name the source of the pain. Even so, the psalmist calls out from the depths of that pain. What is more important, the psalmist doesn’t just shout out incoherently, though one might do that in great pain. Rather, the psalmist calls out to God – not in complaint, not whining, or grumbling. The psalmist calls out to God for an attentive hearing: “Let you ears consider well the voice of my complaint.” It’s as if crying out to God is sufficient and will in itself lead to hope. When in pain, the psalmist in effect says, “Keep shouting out to God.”

I’m right there with the psalmist. I’ve been reading lately about World War II. Last week I mentioned All the Light We Cannot See, set in France during the war and featuring the blind girl Marie-Laure. I’ve also been listening to The Zookeeper’s Wife, a true story set in Poland during the war. In fact, the film version of the book has just opened in theaters. I’ve found myself wondering how those experiencing the war, and especially Jews and those who helped them escape the Holocaust, might have heard this psalm. Would it have encouraged them?

More to the point, does it encourage us? Many people today look at the state of world, especially the chaos in Washington and what feels like endless war, and are plunged into despair. Others look at the policies and acts of Congress that threaten to undo all the progress we’ve made in recent decades and are deeply worried about the future of our nation and the world.

And certainly we have all known – and know – the depths of our own lives. You can’t open the newspaper or your favorite news app or turn on the television without confronting the depths of addiction our state is experiencing. Drug overdose deaths alone claimed 3,050 lives in Ohio in 2015, not to mentioned the children and other family members affected by drug use, or addictions to other substances. Not for nothing do twelve-step programs say that one has to “hit bottom” before starting the path to recovery. Even if you’ve never been addicted to anything and have been clean and sober your entire life, you’ve certainly experienced dislocation, when dreams vanish and everything in life seems to go awry. Then there’s divorce, loneliness, estrangement from family members, illness, and injury. And, of course, as we were graphically reminded on Ash Wednesday, there’s also death, of our loved ones, and eventually of ourselves. When the psalmist calls “out of the depths,” we have been there too.

But the psalmist does more than cry out to God. The psalmist also then reflects on who this God is whose ears are called for. This is a God who doesn’t keep a “watcher’s eye” out for sins. Rather, this God is always willing to restore right relationship with God’s people. This God is always there for us, a loving God on whom we can count. What a wonderful image in verse 5: the watchman doesn’t “hope” that dawn will come, the watchman knows that the sun will come up! The psalmist may have to wait for God to act but does so with absolutely certain confidence that God will act.

There is good news in this psalm after all! Do you hear it here? Can we cry out to God from the depths of our lives with the same confidence that we have in the sunrise? I’m reminded of that wonderful song from “Annie:” The sun will come out/ Tomorrow/ Bet your bottom dollar/ That tomorrow/ There'll be sun!/ Just thinkin' about/ Tomorrow/ Clears away the cobwebs,/ And the sorrow/ 'Til there's none!” Do we have that confidence in God?

Susanna Metz tells of her days as a boarding student with the sisters of the Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. The sisters have the custom of reciting psalm 130 every evening at 7:00 PM. When the bell rang at 7:00, the students in the study hall would put down their homework and pray the psalm with the sister in charge. Later, as a sister herself, Metz found the psalm to be “a comfort, a habit that made me stop and remember that no matter what, God was with me, waiting … for me to acknowledge that presence within.” Now, no longer a sister, Metz still feels the connection through that psalm with the community and, more important, with her faith in God. Would we benefit from reciting psalm 130 nightly?

Reciting the psalm more regularly might also remind us that the rest of today’s readings from Scripture also reflect sure confidence in God’s action on our behalf. The wonderful vision of the prophet Ezekiel reminds us that God will act when we are in the depths, when we are as lifeless and scattered as the dry bones. Just as Ezekiel saw God reviving the house of Israel, so will God revive us. Our gospel from the gospel according to John is a chaotic and multi-layered story, much like most of John’s gospel. In fact, I could easily imagine this story as reader’s theater! However, if nothing else, the story gives us a dramatic foretaste of the Paschal Mystery, the promise that God will bring us from the depths to the heights, from death to life. What could be better news than that!

And yet there’s one more thing we need to say about this psalm, which we dare not overlook. The psalm ends with two important shifts: from the individual to the corporate, and from addressing God to addressing Israel. Once having asked God to hear and having regained confidence in God’s actions, the psalmist then shares that confidence with the community of Israel. And not because God’s help has already come – it has not by the end of the psalm – but because the psalmist trusts God’s promise of mercy, forgiveness, help, and grace.

We too are called to share our confidence in God’s loving actions with others. We are “Easter people,” people who trust the Paschal Mystery, people who trust that we don’t remain forever in the depths, and that death leads eventually to life. We are called to share that faith especially in this parish. One way we can do that is by praying for each other – that’s one reason for our prayer list, so that we can share with each other the needs of those on our hearts. Perhaps we can do that also by “waiting” with each other in times of stress and difficulty, either in person in sick rooms or at grave sites, or again in prayer. And we can share our faith and trust in God by praying and working for the future of this parish, holding on to our confidence that God will continue to uphold and support a community of Jesus’ followers in the Anglican tradition in this place.

We can also share our confidence in God’s active love with the wider world. If we worry about war, we can pray and work for peace. We can welcome the stranger and those of other faith communities. We can insist that all people be treated with respect and dignity. If we are fearful about the future of our country, we can pray and work for those issues close to our hearts. In particular, we can contact our elected representatives in Columbus and Washington and remind them of our commitment to peace and justice – just as the psalmist reminds the house of Israel.

Most important, all our readings encourage us not to stay in the depths but to confidently call on God – and then share with others our confidence that God’s reign has come near us.