Ash Wednesday
Preaching
Hear My Voice
Preaching The Lectionary Psalms for Cycles A, B, C
Object:
The superscription to this psalm identifies its origins with David's prayer after the prophet Nathan confronts him with his sin. Whether or not it was actually composed by David is impossible to say; yet the tradition of Davidic authorship is certainly strong, and very ancient.
Can our people identify with the sins of David? That is the pastoral question, in linking the psalm with David in our proclamation. Do the adulterous sins of an ancient oriental potentate, who misused his royal authority to commit what was effectively rape and murder, resonate with the people in our pews?
As is tragically often the case with successful political leaders, David has the proverbial "feet of clay." David sins -- and when this larger-than-life figure sins, he predictably does so in a big way.
There are some who say David falls in love -- but, in truth, it's more like falling in lust. David becomes obsessed with the beautiful Bathsheba, wife of one of his generals, Uriah. While the faithful Uriah is off fighting David's wars, David sends for the man's wife, and -- exercising all his kingly authority in a way Bathsheba could not refuse -- treats her as though she were his own. When Bathsheba tells David she is expecting his child, the king scrambles to cover up the scandal. First, David tries to convince Uriah he's the father -- but when this doesn't work, he sends this brave and innocent soldier off on what amounts to a suicide mission, one that has no military significance. Uriah dies, his body pierced by enemy arrows -- and, after only the briefest season of mourning for his widow, David takes Bathsheba to be his wife.
David has come a tragically long way from his days as a brave and naive young patriot. The years have taken the sparkle of innocent mischief out of the shepherd-boy's eye, and replaced it with the jaded leer of a middle-aged monarch who has for many years sought little more than to pleasure his own senses, and build his reputation as a ruler to be reckoned with.
All this intrigue has been going on secretly, with no one but David and Bathsheba the wiser -- no one, that is, but God, who reads what is written on every human heart. God sends word to Nathan of what David has been doing. If anyone can convince this absolute monarch he's taken the wrong path, it's the wise and aged Nathan -- for Nathan was the one who chose the young shepherd-boy David years ago, anointing him king over Israel.
Nathan tells the king a simple and homely story: of a poor man, whose beloved pet lamb is stolen by a heartless yet powerful landowner who lives nearby. The king quickly sees the injustice of this situation. He demands to know where this miserable offender can be found, so he can render justice. It is only at this point that Nathan looks the king in the eye and dramatically declares, "You are the man!"
It is as though, in that instant, the prophet holds a mirror up to his king. David looks back at him, enraged for the briefest of moments -- then he sees his own image, and the magnitude of his unfaithfulness dawns on him.
What happens next demonstrates why David -- despite his tragic flaws and his terrible sins -- is renowned as the greatest of rulers. David repents. Then he goes out and writes a song. Tradition has it that song is Psalm 51: "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin" (vv. 1-2).
There is no denial here; no kingly cover-up; no closed-door conclave of spin doctors to discuss, in anxious whispers, how to manage damage-control in the media. Instead, David writes a song -- a hymn for the public worship of his people. This hymn makes it clear how dark is his sin and how desperate he is to receive God's forgiveness: "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow" (v. 7).
What a refreshing change this is from what we see so often in our national life! There is no attempt -- as in Bill Clinton's sexual-ethics scandal -- to redefine the meaning of the word "is." Nor, to be completely non-partisan, is there a Ronald Reagan-style attempt to exercise "plausible deniability," as in the Iran-Contra scandal. Once King David takes in the view in Nathan's mirror -- once he realizes the fathomless depth of his sin -- he casts all his fortunes on God's mercy, frankly and honestly admitting what he's done.
That is our task, as well, during the season of Lent.
-- C. W.
Can our people identify with the sins of David? That is the pastoral question, in linking the psalm with David in our proclamation. Do the adulterous sins of an ancient oriental potentate, who misused his royal authority to commit what was effectively rape and murder, resonate with the people in our pews?
As is tragically often the case with successful political leaders, David has the proverbial "feet of clay." David sins -- and when this larger-than-life figure sins, he predictably does so in a big way.
There are some who say David falls in love -- but, in truth, it's more like falling in lust. David becomes obsessed with the beautiful Bathsheba, wife of one of his generals, Uriah. While the faithful Uriah is off fighting David's wars, David sends for the man's wife, and -- exercising all his kingly authority in a way Bathsheba could not refuse -- treats her as though she were his own. When Bathsheba tells David she is expecting his child, the king scrambles to cover up the scandal. First, David tries to convince Uriah he's the father -- but when this doesn't work, he sends this brave and innocent soldier off on what amounts to a suicide mission, one that has no military significance. Uriah dies, his body pierced by enemy arrows -- and, after only the briefest season of mourning for his widow, David takes Bathsheba to be his wife.
David has come a tragically long way from his days as a brave and naive young patriot. The years have taken the sparkle of innocent mischief out of the shepherd-boy's eye, and replaced it with the jaded leer of a middle-aged monarch who has for many years sought little more than to pleasure his own senses, and build his reputation as a ruler to be reckoned with.
All this intrigue has been going on secretly, with no one but David and Bathsheba the wiser -- no one, that is, but God, who reads what is written on every human heart. God sends word to Nathan of what David has been doing. If anyone can convince this absolute monarch he's taken the wrong path, it's the wise and aged Nathan -- for Nathan was the one who chose the young shepherd-boy David years ago, anointing him king over Israel.
Nathan tells the king a simple and homely story: of a poor man, whose beloved pet lamb is stolen by a heartless yet powerful landowner who lives nearby. The king quickly sees the injustice of this situation. He demands to know where this miserable offender can be found, so he can render justice. It is only at this point that Nathan looks the king in the eye and dramatically declares, "You are the man!"
It is as though, in that instant, the prophet holds a mirror up to his king. David looks back at him, enraged for the briefest of moments -- then he sees his own image, and the magnitude of his unfaithfulness dawns on him.
What happens next demonstrates why David -- despite his tragic flaws and his terrible sins -- is renowned as the greatest of rulers. David repents. Then he goes out and writes a song. Tradition has it that song is Psalm 51: "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin" (vv. 1-2).
There is no denial here; no kingly cover-up; no closed-door conclave of spin doctors to discuss, in anxious whispers, how to manage damage-control in the media. Instead, David writes a song -- a hymn for the public worship of his people. This hymn makes it clear how dark is his sin and how desperate he is to receive God's forgiveness: "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow" (v. 7).
What a refreshing change this is from what we see so often in our national life! There is no attempt -- as in Bill Clinton's sexual-ethics scandal -- to redefine the meaning of the word "is." Nor, to be completely non-partisan, is there a Ronald Reagan-style attempt to exercise "plausible deniability," as in the Iran-Contra scandal. Once King David takes in the view in Nathan's mirror -- once he realizes the fathomless depth of his sin -- he casts all his fortunes on God's mercy, frankly and honestly admitting what he's done.
That is our task, as well, during the season of Lent.
-- C. W.
