Psalm 90

When I arrived in the skilled nursing community, I learned that Ruth died last week.  I met her when I first started with the ministry, so she had been living in this community for over ten years. She had no use of her body from the waist down. That frustrated her, but I think that what frustrated her even more was that she really wanted to live her remaining days and nights in a community dedicated to Christ. She was a no-nonsense Southern Baptist from Arkansas, and I liked and admired her so much. I am grateful we grew close. Her love of the One she call Lord was steadfast and inspiring.  I shall miss her, but I am happy that for few minutes each month, we created sanctuary with and for her so she could set her burdens down for awhile, and simply be.   

  

The refurbishing that this community has undertaken is bearing some good fruit. The colors that they have chosen are pleasing, and I think that is really important for any kind of healing to take place. Some patients are recovering from illness and surgeries, but those who have dementia are also present.  Such a disparity of conditions is not easy for the staff. Irene repeats phrases almost continually, and that day the phrase was "Help me." I think wherever we worship, whether in an activity room or a cathedral, someone is silently repeating that prayer. It was moving to hear the chant out loud (It is important to note that I believe this woman is physically well tended to.)    

After we celebrated the Eucharist, we sang one verse of Jerry Sinclair's "Alleluia." That changed Irene's chant, and she continued to sing that one word after the rest of us had concluded. She may or may not have known what she was singing, but regardless the effect on those gathered, including the activity director, was noticeable.  The room seemed to relax, and the director looked at me, smiled, nodded her head, and mouthed a thank you.  The alleluias continued.   

Each of us can succumb to repetitiveness, especially complaints. Irene, Ruth, and so many others remind me that anyone can, and will make a difference in the lives of others. Let us tend to our alleluias and share them liberally. Hopefully, we can help lighten, not add to the burdens of those around us. That will make for a beautiful song. 

Alleluia.   

     

So teach us now the limit of our days, 

that we may give our hearts to wisdom's voice. 

And turn a gracious face towards us, 

for we are here on earth to serve. 

Each morning let us rise 

to eat compassion's bread. 

And even in the midst of dread, 

and years of deepest pain, 

make us glad for these. 

For there especially you are ever present as the guide. 

You show us secret splendors through your works and ways, 

You teach our hands new crafts, 

new handiwork through these. 

So may this grace, this graciousness be ours, 

and rest upon us now and evermore we pray. 

Amen 

Psalm 90:12-17

 Ancient Songs Sung Anew 

Lynn C. Bauman    

  

Psalm 88

I am out of sync with both Psalm 88 and Good Friday. Today is Tyler's 60th birthday, and that is worth celebrating. The weather promises to be beautiful. Our dog has been ill, but seems to be recovering, enough so that we are planning a family outing.  Therefore, I take some solace in what Emile Griffin shared in Small Surrenders about a time when she, too, felt out of sync, when family life kept her away from an Easter vigil: "The answer, of course, is in the interior gaze. Jesus is present to us when we are present to him, and that can be anywhere, whether we are riding eastward or westward. We can think of him when we are stuck in grocery lines and traffic jams."  

This I know to be true, though at times I forget that practice.    

 

Psalm 88 is a deep lament. The anguish is tangible, and the line "I begin each morning in lament" is heartbreaking because we all have experienced such times and we know we would much prefer to not return to them. Yet, the psalmists courageously dig deeper into their sorrows and sing of them to God. The struggle is lifted to the heavens as an offering drenched in earthly tears. Gethsemane gardens can grow anywhere.   

   

Yet, today, I offer my joy to God for this small family that I am a part of.  Psalm 88 asks, "Could you work miracles in this lost land, in this countryside of dreams?" The answer, I believe, is yes.   

  

Blessings on your journey to the Easter season. Know that whether the countryside you are moving through is rough terrain or a gentle footpath, you do not go alone.  Eastward or westward or on our knees, we are on sacred ground.   

 

Psalm 87

Jill lives in a memory care community, and often attends our services.  She sits in a wheelchair, and her eyes remain closed most of the time. Yet, when I greet her by name, she will look up with gentle brown eyes. She will usually smile, and sometimes even speak. The experience is rather like standing at a beautiful pond, and suddenly seeing a rare creature surface just for a moment.  You long for her to stay, but she returns to the depths and journeys on. Nonetheless, you feel enriched and even encouraged by the sighting.  You begin to make plans to return.   

  

The image in Psalm 87 of God walking the walls and gates of the city is a haunting one. As we humans bustle and worry through our lives, we forget that God is so near. It behooves us to pause, look around, and call out to God by a name that has meaning. In these moments of connection our souls can rise in beauty once more.       

   

There is a holy mountain and upon it is a city which God built, 

and more than any other place in all of Israel, 

God loves and walks her walls, her gates. 

And in that city that belongs to God, 

it is said that beauty reigns, and splendor. 

And peoples everywhere, 

from North and South, from East and West, 

And across the seas, 

go to find a home there, a place in which to dwell. 

They say, "It is as though in Zion I was born." 

You see, it is a homeland, a sacred birthing place, 

for many people across the earth, 

For there God's presence dwells, and draws them in, 

and makes everyone her own. 

And each soul leaves that place a singer and dancer, saying 

"All my fresh, creative springs flow out of you, my Mother."    

   

Psalm 87 

Ancient Songs Sung Anew 

Lynn C. Bauman    

  

Psalm 86

Estelle, who may be younger than I, always sits in the back and plays dominoes with the men. Everyone at the table greets us cordially when we arrive, but they do not look up from their game for long. She struggles with speaking so I am grateful she has this way of engaging with others. Her eyes are a lovely brown, and while they reveal much love and recognition, they also reveal much sorrow. I think her life has been difficult, and I have gleaned that she has an adult daughter whose lifestyle is of some concern.  Sometimes, she weeps. 

 

Last week, the pianist had a doctor's appointment and could not join us.  However, another volunteer also comes to this community. She does not play piano, but she does have a nice alto voice. I found a song sheet with some familiar hymns, and we boldly carried on, finishing with "Amazing Grace." I am grateful that this hymn was written. We sing it often, especially when one of our volunteer pianists cannot come to a service. Almost everyone can sing at least a portion of it, and it holds meaning for many.

 

 As I listened, I heard one elder singing the melody using no words. Her voice added a surprising lightness as other voices joined in with varying pitches. I was surprised to also hear some sort of drumming. I looked around and saw Estelle smiling as she filled in some really nice rhythm by tapping on the table.  This activity room has a lot of windows, and sounds reverberate, highlighting distractions and conversations. That day, however, for just a few moments, we became one voice. We were  truly making music with what we had, which was pretty much just ourselves with a lot of of Christ joining in and holding us -  a sweet sound indeed.        

   

If you will teach us, we will seek to walk by what we learn, 

your truth, our path, 

your name, our heart's desire alone. 

Bind our hearts together, 

both yours and mine and make them one, 

that there may be one praise alone, one song.

So give us strength when weak, 

and fill our want with mercy's greatest gifts. 

These signatures of grace you write across our lives.    

 

Psalm 86:11-12,16-17

Ancient Songs Sung Anew

Lynn C. Bauman 

 

Psalm 85

"The season of Lent is a gift to us. You and I and the church - we need the discipline of stopping for a time, of letting go of our regular routine for a period, of discovering anew what it means to be the people of God."  

 Dr. Tim Hart-Anderson   

  

The question "What are you giving up for Lent?" or even "What are you doing for Lent?" probably misses the point. Perhaps what we should be asking is "What is Lent teaching you?"  I think our yearning for Lent is greater than we realize. In this journey we learn again that whatever hunger we are experiencing is actually our deep hunger for God and the union of Christ.  To try satiate that hunger with anything else is futile.        

  

To everyone who turns their face towards you, 

you come so close 

and glory fills the landscape of the soul. 

And in the secret places of the heart 

your mercy and your truth 

shall meet at last in full embrace, 

and right-relationship and peace kiss one another there.     

Psalm 85:9-10 

Ancient Songs Sung Anew 

Lynn C. Bauman  

   

  

Psalm 84

Coming across Psalm 84 is like turning the corner and seeing an old friend. I have always loved the image of a sparrow nesting in the temple.  I think of Anna and Simeon. I think of those in long-term care.  I think of the Lenten journey and I give thanks.    

   

O how I love you, God, your presence is my home, my high abode. 

I to go to be with you, my longing draws me there 

Where flesh and bone, and heart and soul flame up 

in joy that's yours, O Living One.

Sparrows have their nests and swallows build right next to you. 

Your temple altar is their safest keep, 

where they may lay their eggs and hatch their young. 

Anyone who lives near you is filled with higher purpose, 

and fuller joy. 

What else is there to do but go on praising you?

And joy fills all who gain their strength from you, 

who walk upon the pilgrim's path 

with hearts secure in yours. 

And though their journeys lead through desert wastes, 

even there they find that secret springs await them. 

The early rains you sent have filled the pools before they get there. 

Their descending pathways through the valleys deep

 in truth, are great ascents, 

leading upwards and further into you, 

until at last on mountain peaks they stand 

to see the shining visage of your face. 

Lord God of everything that is, God of my heart, 

listen to this humble prayer. 

Defend me now by simply looking at my face.

Your look will be for me a healing oil that covers all. 

To be with your for just one day is better far than 

having spent a thousand secured in my own room. 

Simply standing at the threshold of your door is so much more

than dwelling in the vast and wealthy holdings 

of the wicked-wise.

O God, you are for us the shining sun, the shielding shade, 

and both become the fullness of your grace and glory. 

And as we seek you on this pathway, we are found by good, 

and nothing lasting is withheld from all who walk 

with deep integrity of life, 

for they shall come to trust and find you in eternal rest. 

And then, O God, all life will be drenched with happiness and joy. 

   

Psalm 84, 

Ancient Songs Sung Anew, 

Lynn C. Bauman  

  

  

Conversion to Vulnerability

Obedience is one of the vows one who is trying to walk a Benedictine path must be willing to take. The word can be intimidating until we realize that the root of the word is obaudiens, to listen with intention.  Such listening is a practice that is often not done well in our noisy competitive society.  Yet, if our families and communities are going to healthy, we must indeed listen and hear how God is speaking to us, and how God may be speaking through others. That brings up another scary word - submission.   

 

Submission, in a healthy environment (where the intent is cooperation, not domination) means to yield, accept, or make room for other's opinions.  In one of the essays included in Called to Community (edited by Charles E. Moore),  John F. Alexander offers the following explanation: 

Submission means knowing you don't know everything. It means knowing that the people of God gathered know more than you do by yourself. It means being willing to listen with an open heart when the body has the audacity to differ with your views. It means being willing pretty often to try out others' views for a while to see if maybe you're the one that's confused...   

 

That's all submission is - rejoicing that someone is wiser than us, that there are others whom we can respect. That frees us to rejoice that we don't have to know everything ourselves - betting that others know something too.  It's a spirit, an attitude. Out of which grow unity and wisdom...   

 

​When we submit an application, we fill out the appropriate forms, and we release those forms to another. When the send button is pressed, when the envelope is mailed, when the phone call is ended, there is a period of waiting.  Things are usually at that point completely out of our hands.   This is what I am now calling "the conversion to vulnerability" - those times when we actually begin to live into the realization that we must let God be God, and no amount of cajoling or pleading our cause can change things.  Hopefully, in those times, we can tune our ears and hearts, and simply wait. 

​   

For I know this that I shall see your goodness in a living land. 

The path you set me on leads to a place alive with you. 

So whether here or there I shall remain in readiness for you. 

I shall await your every mo​ve. 

​Take courage in God's presence, O my soul, 

wait patiently, yes, wait for God.    

 

​Psalm 27:16-17  

Ancient Songs Sung Anew 

Lynn C. Bauman ​   

   

Psalm 82

Given the recent events, not only in our nation but across the world, I have decided to include Psalm 82 in its entirety. The title of Lynn C. Bauman's translations seems appropriate for this Psalm. The cries for wisdom, justice, and compassion are indeed ancient songs sung anew.    

 

God comes as judge of all to heaven's court,

and stands among the counselors of eternity; 

Now listen to the verdict as God speaks:

"How long will all your judgments be unjust? 

How long will all the advantage go 

to those most powerful and corrupt?" 

Hear this, I say: "Save lowly ones, rescue orphans, 

defend the humble and all the destitute of earth. 

Reach out to liberate the weak and poor, 

deliver them before they fall as evil's prey. 

You do not know, nor do you understand, 

you grope so blindly in the dark

while all around your world is torn from limb to limb. 

Hear this and listen carefully to what I'm about to say, 

You yourselves are gods, 

all of you are born from deity. 

However, I have made you live and die as mortal beings, 

but live and die as kings and queens, I say, 

who rise and wisely rule the earth, 

for it is yours to govern as you will."   

  

Psalm 82

Ancient Songs Sung Anew 

Lynn C. Bauman 

  

Psalm 81

Part of my Lenten fast has begun. I decided to start early because it is time to stop complaining about my commute. I realized that such disgruntled monologues and dialogues weren't doing anyone any good,  and the last thing our roadways need is one more unhappy driver.  Yesterday I began listening to a CD by Father Lawrence Freeman entitled, "Relationship with Jesus." I can't listen to fiction while I am driving because I forget what I am doing. However, pondering Jesus puts me fully right where I am. Helpful in so many ways.   

  

Lynn C. Bauman subtitled Psalm 81, "Wisdom's Voice Across the Desert."  Quite appropriate.  The enemy that is mentioned in this Psalm is certainly my restless mind. 

   

So I let hardness in your hearts become your guide, 

you followed it instead of me through the desert lands. 

O my people, my beloved ones, 

if you would have only learned to hear, 

then you could have walked in such a different way. 

I would easily have made your enemies flee from you, 

to become as nothing instead of overlords. 

And those who blocked your path 

would have simply disappeared, 

or come to stand before your feet in shame. 

And even now, if you will, 

I myself can make you bread, 

I myself will feed you from the finest wheat. 

I will satisfy your longing for earth's sweetest food, 

with honey extracted from the rock.   

 

Psalm 81:11-16

Ancient Songs Sung Anew    

    

Neighborhood bees are returning to my bee/birdbath.  I am delighted to be a way station for them in their journey.  Most of us can do a little something for our bees, even if it is just to offer them a drink of cool water. If you have some herbs growing in your garden, let some of them flower, and if you are blessed with dandelions, do not curse them, but let them flower.  The second picture is a bee on some arugula from last fall. a few stones in your birdbath give a place for the bees to land.       

Psalm 80

During Lent I hope to be a bit more diligent about reading a Psalm a day.  The more I delve into them, the more I have come to treasure Lynn C. Bauman's translations. It is an interesting experience to take the Psalms as they come to me, rather than seeking  one that might fit my mood.  At times I very much feel God's hand directing me, and I feel Jesus' presence as well for he, too, read the Psalms. I am grateful for the company.  

There are some wonderful images of cherubim online so do peruse when you have a moment.  I just remembered that I  had a dream last night of a very large bird with wings outstretched. On its face, between its eye and beak was a spiral. The feathers were so wonderfully detailed and his wingspan was huge.  I do wish I had the skills to draw it well.  Why did this winged creature come to me last night? The answer is not yet known.  I remember no interaction with this creature,  but because he did not look directly at me, I could see the spiral clearly.  That seems to be the message for today, but it will take some pondering and living to understand it.   

  

Wishing you all a restorative day. Celebrate the mystery.         

    

Listen, O shepherd of humanity, 

leading your people like a flock, 

let your splendor come flashing forth, 

And shine in beauty from the throne 

that rides on the wings of cherubim. 

Rise up, come strong 

among our tribes and clans, 

and with your overflowing love, 

Recall us back to life, O God of all, 

that we may see the shining brilliance 

of your face.

Yes, that will be enough for us, 

for we will be restored to you again.   

Psalm 80:1-3

Ancient Songs Sung Anew 

Lynn C. Bauman 

     

​

  

- 

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Psalm 78

Because of the flu, most of the communities I serve are quiet now, so I was not surprised to see only a couple of people in the dining/activity room.  The pianist could not be with us, so I simply walked over to their table and asked if I could join them. 

I was grateful to see the good pastor. He is a gentle African American man with bright brown eyes, a quick smile, and a welcoming demeanor. Because he is one who on one day was active in ministry, and the next found himself laid low with a stroke, I really can't call him retired. He missed that stage. 

 

"What good word have you brought us today?"  I told him I had been pondering John 12:24, the reminder that seed that must fall to the earth in order to bear good fruit.   

  

"Yes, yes, so important to remember." We then discussed that scary word surrender.  Several other residents walked in and joined us at the table. The good pastor continued to talk, and I saw glimpses of the preacher he once was, and a view of the faithful servant he still is. He talked of people unwilling to age, unwilling to let God work in their lives, unwilling to be weak.  He waved his one more or less mobile arm and said he saw it in the church and he certainly sees it where he lives now.  The others listened, nodded their heads, and murmured their agreement. Each spoke of the difficulty of finding themselves at this stage of being, but not being with others who wanted only to go their own way. This lament is not unusual.   

Eventually the good pastor grew weary and we closed, but I have no question that a fine meeting was held that day. Really what each spoke of was loneliness, of being separated from their imperfect churches, but in that time together, they were gathered in and one among them spoke his truth. They were part of the whole that is Christ, and I was grateful to be in the congregation. 

    

   

Listen carefully, my people, 

play close attention all who belong to me, 

For I am about to speak as teacher, 

explaining mysteries of old. 

I will teach you using parables, 

drawn from ancient times. 

I will teach you many lessons 

you must know. 

And what you learn and come to hear 

speak it to your children, 

So generations yet unborn 

will know God's works and ways, 

How God taught ancient Jacob 

and Israel knowledge of the Law; 

how it became a pathway, 

a teaching meant for all.   

 

Psalm 78: 1-5  

Ancient Songs Sung Anew, 

Lynn C. Bauman     

   

​​

Truly,  I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

​

John 12:24​ 

 

Psalm 77

Two mornings ago I woke from a dream about Lynn C. Bauman's translations of the Psalms.  I know that is a strange sentence, and I really cannot describe the dream, but I woke knowing it was time to return to them.  I have been stuck at Psalm 77 for awhile, and this Advent was busy enough that I veered from regularly reading and sharing the psalms.  Yet, I am always called back to them and I am grateful they do not let me go.  This morning as I read the Psalm, I remember there was water in the dream.   

Psalm 77 is rooted in  a sleepless night: "My mind, an endless cycle, my spirit at lowest ebb." A night without comfort; a night drenched in questions and dismay.  While I have had those nights, that night was not one of them.   This Psalm is beautiful, and when a sleepless night returns, I hope I remember to turn to this ancient voice who was awake, not to keep watch, but to cry.

Later that day,  I had an appointment at Kaiser that included a fairly long wait for lab work.  As I looked around the crowded waiting area, I saw faces etched with frustration, pain, weariness, and even some tenderness as family members patiently helped those too ill to navigate through Kaiser on their own. I also witnessed staff members valiantly staying encouraging and welcoming. As I often do in crowds, I asked the Holy Mother to be with us all, and I envisioned her starry mantel wrapping around the room bringing peace. The woman sitting next to me noticed my collar and asked me what church I belonged to. I told her a little bit about SpiritCare, and then she told me her son had recently been murdered. As I remember her darkened eyes, I am certain she has known many nocturnal tossings and turnings with thoughts that "turn ever backward, unreeling through the night."    

However, the psalmists always remind us that whatever we are going through, we can and must eventually surrender our hearts and minds to the mystery that is God. There we can find  strength, renewed purpose, and even peace. This psalmist ends his nighttime turbulence with a beautiful reminder of the fearlessness of God: "You walked through water, your path lay through the sea, and though we never saw you take a step, you were our company."    

  

 As this woman and I talked, I heard my number called. I gave her a blessing and went through the door. The technician waved me in, and he and I joked as he efficiently did his work.  When I walked back through the waiting area, I noticed the woman  was dozing.  I pray that in time she can look forward, not backward, and know that both she and her son are held in an unfathomable love, no matter how overwhelming the  waters might seem.  May a gentle good night be hers once more.    

    

Holy Mother, where there is sorrow and despair, may Your gentle presence be known. Help me to be a presence of Your love.  Help me to don the mantle of peace.  Amen    

    

   Today is Epiphany.  Blessings to you all.   

  

Psalm 76

"At last we saw God's glory;

how beautiful you are, 

Your majesty like mountains

rising to the sky."  

 

Psalm 76:4 

Ancient Songs Sung Anew, 

Lynn C. Baumann 

    

 

Psalm 75

If St. Benedict and his monks did indeed make their way through the entire Psalter every week, I think he might be rather unimpressed that I am just now reaching the half-way mark.  Nonetheless, here we are!   

 

I have learned that Psalm 75 is actually a song of justice to be read as call and response. Even with all my personal shortcomings, I do at times take refuge in the image of God as judge. I find it gives me patience.     

 

More singing and less boasting.  People raising their heads instead of hiding in the shadows.  Less boasting means less fear. Worth remembering as we try to discern the truth of our times. 

  

It is to you, O God, we give our thanks and offer up our praise. 

We speak of all you are and do, 

and call out in your name.

 

God answers back, and says, 'A time is coming to this world

when I shall be the judge, 

and I shall take what is and align it to the good. 

And though the leaders, and their lands be full of fear and dread, 

I will make its pillars sure and deep, and its foundations firm. 

To those who boast, I'll say, close up your mouths 

and boast no more, 

quit your staggering pride and bend your heads.' 

 

For justice comes and will be done on earth from East to West, 

and not a little here or something there, 

but everyone the same, in full. 

 

So I will sing this song in praise, 

to the judge high over all, 

For the necks of those that will not bend in pride will break, 

but those who walk the path of right-relatedness, 

will lift their joyous heads.      

  

Psalm 75, Psalms for Praying, abridged 

Lynn C. Bauman

   

Psalm 73

When I arrived on the Memory Care floor, the caring, but incessantly busy activity director introduced me to Elizabeth, a woman she described as "very spiritual."  Elizabeth smiled and asked, "What is your role here?" I responded that I simply came as a friend. She looked at me for a moment or two and then replied, "Yes, I believe that is the truth." We then talked for a few minutes about her childhood, her deep Catholic faith, and the Mercy Center's beautiful Taize services.    

 

However, our conversation was interrupted by an increasing bustle going on around us.  The bus driver was heroically trying to gather the residents into a cohesive group for an afternoon outing. Walter walked up to me and asked, "Are you going to represent these people?"  Again, I claimed my role simply as as friend. He thought for a moment and then agreed that friendship was the best course of action.  

 

Walter is highly intelligent and seems to care deeply about the people around him. I have not yet been able to glean what he did in his professional life. At one point he told me he worked for the government.  The bus driver, a very lively young man, called out to Walter saying, "We have been given the day off! Let's go for a drive!" Walter was not certain, but I encouraged him to go for it was a lovely day and not too hot. Fortunately for the now slightly harried driver and his continually shifting group, Walter came to the conclusion that the trip was the best course of action.

    

 Walter looks so much like a colleague of mine that I have a hard time concentrating on all the important topics he tries so hard to discuss.  When he speaks, his words and thoughts take off and quickly increase in momentum, enough to overwhelm him and whomever he is talking to. At that point I simply take his hand and we breathe together. For a moment, worry and concern dissolve, and there is peace. 

    

  

In my prayer I said, "God is good to all whose hearts are open and awake." 

But as I said these words I nearly fell; 

my own feet slipped and I was stumbling on the path of life.

So it is good for me to stay near you, my God, 

to make your sheltering presence my safe abode.

And as I walk forth from my place on earth, 

I'll declare your secret, hidden works and words, 

And at the gates of after-life, in Zion's realm, 

I'll carry them as talisman and far beyond. 

  

Psalm 73, abridged, Ancient Songs Sung Anew, 

Lynn C. Bauman