The Resurrection Of Our Lord/Easter Day
Preaching
Hear My Voice
Preaching The Lectionary Psalms for Cycles A, B, C
(Occurs in all three cycles of the lectionary; see The Resurrection Of Our Lord/Easter Day, Cycles A and C, for alternative approaches; see also Liturgy Of The Palms, Cycle A, for an alternative approach to vv. 1-2, 19-29. Another portion of this same psalm was assigned for Liturgy Of The Palms, Cycle B.)
"I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord." This line from verse 17 is undoubtedly the reason why the lectionary editors have selected Psalm 118 as the Psalm for Easter Day. For its ancient Hebrew author, however, this line clearly does not mean the same thing we commonly understand it to mean, based on our 20/20 Easter hindsight.
The Hebrew people did not have a conception of an afterlife. If there is any persistent human life after death, in their way of thinking, it can only be a shadowy existence in the ghostly realm of Sheol. Consequently, the psalms celebrate earthly life, and view a long, abundant life as the ultimate blessing from God. "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living," says Psalm 27:13.
"I shall not die, but I shall live." That line from Psalm 118 cannot apply to Jesus -- for if there's one thing the Passion accounts declare, it's that Jesus really did die. The resurrection is not a rescue from death, but is rather a journey straight through it to victory.
The gospel writers all take pains to point out that Jesus did die. Then they go on to report, with equal emphasis, that the life to which he returned was a real, human life -- not some ghostly apparition. Matthew tells how the disciples "took hold of his feet, and worshiped him." Mark has the angel announce that Jesus has gone ahead of his disciples into Galilee -- not to some celestial realm, but into the dusty streets of his old neighborhood. Luke includes the homey detail of how the risen Jesus ate a piece of fish. As for John, there's that touching scene in the garden, as Jesus and Mary Magdalene physically embrace -- not to mention the scene when Thomas touches his Lord's wounds, to see for himself.
The author of Psalm 118 is a king of Israel, perhaps King David himself. This kingly psalm writer knows what it's like to wait, on the eve of battle, with terror sitting like some cold, lead weight in his gut -- knowing the enemy forces are vastly superior to his own. "They surrounded me," he writes, "surrounded me on every side ... They surrounded me like bees; they blazed like a fire of thorn ... I was pushed hard, so that I was falling, but the Lord helped me. The Lord is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation" (vv. 12-14). A little later, the psalmist proclaims in relief, "I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord." There is an awe and wonder to his words, that can only come from a man who has looked death in the face, and has returned to tell the tale. "To be saved does not just mean to be a little encouraged," writes Karl Barth; "it means to be pulled out like a log from a burning fire."
The perspective of the psalmist is in some ways similar to that of today's death-denying consumer culture. In both worldviews, God's blessing means little more than a richer, fuller human life. Death, however, is the invincible adversary, so the only thing to do is to deny it. The good news of Easter, by contrast -- that death is real and will prevail for a time, but cannot triumph in the end -- comes as an audacious and glorious surprise.
-- C. W.
"I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord." This line from verse 17 is undoubtedly the reason why the lectionary editors have selected Psalm 118 as the Psalm for Easter Day. For its ancient Hebrew author, however, this line clearly does not mean the same thing we commonly understand it to mean, based on our 20/20 Easter hindsight.
The Hebrew people did not have a conception of an afterlife. If there is any persistent human life after death, in their way of thinking, it can only be a shadowy existence in the ghostly realm of Sheol. Consequently, the psalms celebrate earthly life, and view a long, abundant life as the ultimate blessing from God. "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living," says Psalm 27:13.
"I shall not die, but I shall live." That line from Psalm 118 cannot apply to Jesus -- for if there's one thing the Passion accounts declare, it's that Jesus really did die. The resurrection is not a rescue from death, but is rather a journey straight through it to victory.
The gospel writers all take pains to point out that Jesus did die. Then they go on to report, with equal emphasis, that the life to which he returned was a real, human life -- not some ghostly apparition. Matthew tells how the disciples "took hold of his feet, and worshiped him." Mark has the angel announce that Jesus has gone ahead of his disciples into Galilee -- not to some celestial realm, but into the dusty streets of his old neighborhood. Luke includes the homey detail of how the risen Jesus ate a piece of fish. As for John, there's that touching scene in the garden, as Jesus and Mary Magdalene physically embrace -- not to mention the scene when Thomas touches his Lord's wounds, to see for himself.
The author of Psalm 118 is a king of Israel, perhaps King David himself. This kingly psalm writer knows what it's like to wait, on the eve of battle, with terror sitting like some cold, lead weight in his gut -- knowing the enemy forces are vastly superior to his own. "They surrounded me," he writes, "surrounded me on every side ... They surrounded me like bees; they blazed like a fire of thorn ... I was pushed hard, so that I was falling, but the Lord helped me. The Lord is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation" (vv. 12-14). A little later, the psalmist proclaims in relief, "I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord." There is an awe and wonder to his words, that can only come from a man who has looked death in the face, and has returned to tell the tale. "To be saved does not just mean to be a little encouraged," writes Karl Barth; "it means to be pulled out like a log from a burning fire."
The perspective of the psalmist is in some ways similar to that of today's death-denying consumer culture. In both worldviews, God's blessing means little more than a richer, fuller human life. Death, however, is the invincible adversary, so the only thing to do is to deny it. The good news of Easter, by contrast -- that death is real and will prevail for a time, but cannot triumph in the end -- comes as an audacious and glorious surprise.
-- C. W.
