For many, there is great difficulty in getting into God’s presence.
Faculty meetings at my seminary begin with worship, with different faculty members bringing forth treasure from their own disciplines. More interesting than the presidential report, to be sure, it is with eager expectation that we receive these perceptive collegial reflections. This is always an evocative time, and yesterday morning’s presentation spoke to our holy longing as we prepare for the Lenten journey.
Teacher of Hebrew Bible, Dr. Wallace Hartsfield II, who is also an urban pastor, offered a probing exegesis of Psalm 84. And with his permission, I want to share some of it with you in this column, mixed with my own commentary and theological musing.
Professor Hartsfield asked us to think about the word “lovely” as the descriptor of God’s place of dwelling. Of course, the psalmist is moving us beyond simply thinking about a structure made with human hands, although architectural aesthetics matter to human sensibilities — when we notice. As Rowan Williams reminds us, “Beauty is not at odds with truth.” Our longing for beauty is a prompt toward the holy.
Hartsfield spoke of the contemporary longing for a sense of Presence, especially among younger generations. They may not have language for their desire, especially the language we use in church. Yet, as humans created for God, their restless hearts “long for the courts of the Lord.” They understand something is missing.
I believe that divine presence and human presence find meaning only when interpreted together. A sense of unfinished presence is surely the story of humans as we realize we are not yet what we may become. The same is true for God, at least from our human perspective. We do not yet see the ultimate eschatological revealing, although we have received our chief clue in Jesus. In humility, God desires to share a historical story with those beloved creatures who are fashioned after God’s own image.
Longing and desire have returned to contemporary theological parlance, as the writings of Ronald Rolheiser and Sarah Coakley bear witness. The language of the psalm presses beyond desire, however, toward a desperation for the holy. “My soul longs, indeed it faints” to get into the presence of God. This biblical poet displays an inclusive vision. Everybody is welcome; even the sparrow finds a home and the swallow a nest for herself, both considered insignificant in their time.
Yet for many, there is great difficulty in getting into God’s presence. It may be because ecclesial niceties have excluded them; it may be because of a self-loathing that cannot believe God is interested in their situation. Or it simply may be that the God question seems irrelevant in their experience of marginalization in a fierce culture of competition.
I spoke with a treasured spiritual friend yesterday who remarked about his growing preoccupation with God. It was not always that way in his life as he rose through the ranks of a significant corporation. Now, he cannot imagine living without the deep joy he experiences by his location in the presence of the Holy. His exhilaration well describes the final movement of Psalm 84.
The psalmist portrays the happiness of those who find their strength in God. As they go through the Valley of Baca — a place of weeping — their tears become refreshing water. God provides places of oasis in the arid place, a key theme for the dusty pathway of Lent. “They go from strength to strength,” which could be translated as “they move from water-hole to water-hole.” God treasures human tears, as other psalms observe, for example Psalm 56. Tears are a precious portal for the emotions of God and humans to flow together, and God showers mercy on those whose hearts are softened by tears.
The concluding stanza of the hymn asks God to “hear me and see me.” Although the seeker enjoys a reoriented horizon of presence, there is also the persistent quest for attention from the Source of desire. Are not those consuming needs for us all? We cannot flourish if never heard; we remain invisible if never seen. Our dignity lies in God’s mindfulness of us. God’s gaze and attentive ear are always turned in the direction of the lowly.
We read these words of humility: “I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than live in the tents of wickedness.” Hartsfield renders the phrase in this way: “I am willing to wait in line to get into your space, your presence.” Summing up the desperate need for Presence, the seeker will wait for the opportunity simply to be near the holy.
Psalm 84 concludes with these words of affirmation:
Our God withholds nothing good from those whose walk is blameless.
Adonai Sabaoth, happy are those who put their trust in you.
Such assurance can sustain our walk through the wilderness of our lives as we seek renewal during Lent.