In 2015, I experienced a tragic loss. Each morning for weeks, I’d wake at 4:00 with my heart racing; so I’d brew chamomile tea, pull on jeans (looser by the day as I shed pounds through grief), and head out the door to thwart anxiety. As I walked, I often prayed a soothing repetitive prayer or repeated the 23rd Psalm—perhaps my favorite passage of scripture. In hard times, the personal-ness of this Psalm works like medicine on my heart, giving me reassurance and a reminder of divine presence with and care for me. Among other things, it says: “Though I walk through the darkest valley, I will not fear for you are with me. Your rod and your staff—they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.” I love the “you” and the “me” of that Psalm—so intimate and relational. During this time of my life, I felt I had a true enemy, someone wronging me at a deep level, and I clung to the hope that I would be vindicated; that God would metaphorically prepare a lavish table for me in the presence of my enemy. In the end, I can say this did happen.
Both Luke and Mark use very personal language in the baptism account [lectionary during week this essay was originally published], “you” and “me” language. In both stories, at the time of Jesus’ baptism a divine voice is heard speaking directly to Jesus, saying, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” He prays at the time, and the Holy Spirit—or the tangible presence of God—descends on him. I appreciate how the account is paired in this week’s lectionary with a passage from Isaiah 43, also very personal. Those in suffering find comfort in the language of the prophet and the use of the “you.” Isaiah 43 is a poem of the people of Palestine, written by their most revered prophet, and in it, God addresses them personally: “Do not fear,” it says, “for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you” (Isa 4:2-3).
More and more, Americans live in a society less connected to the poetry and stories of sacred texts or to faith traditions. In a way, this doesn’t surprise me. Many biblical passages (or other sacred texts) like Isaiah 43 were written during times of intense crisis or exile or war. Frankly, they’re hard to relate to from a position of comfort, privilege, and distraction. The scriptures have always come vividly to life for me at times when I was in conflict or crisis, or times when I dwelt with people experiencing intense oppression or loss—such as with Native people in northern Canada, or with the Maya in Chiapas. In those contexts, I found it easy to resonate with the experiences of the scripture writers, with their crying out to God, their reliance on God. The words really mean something in such contexts. I admit, at times of comfort and complacency, the stories and songs of scripture don’t resound as powerfully in me. Franciscan teacher Richard Rohr wrote this about modern people: Our modern, American suffering “is psychological, relational and addictive….” Ours is “the suffering of people who are comfortable on the outside but oppressed and empty within. It is a crisis of meaninglessness, which leads us to try to find meaning in possessions, perks and power…. It doesn’t work.” Addictions are often how we fill this emptiness.
Today I encourage you to take the “you” language of the aforementioned passages to heart. On the pen of these scripture writers, God is portrayed as addressing you, just as God spoke directly to Jesus at his baptism. Perhaps try to memorize a few lines of the Isaiah passage or Psalm 23—or reassuring lines from your own spiritual tradition—and repeat them until the words become a reminder, until they speak to that crying out within you. Again, as Isaiah 43 says: “for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you” (Isa 4:2-3).
May the words you choose resonate deeply, personally, in you.
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