In Which the Text for Today's Sermon is Taken from Psalm 10:17&18, if You Wish to Follow Along

05/17/2008 7:47 AM – 9:18 AM

This morning I was reading Psalm 10 and the first, like 14 out of 18 verses is this totally clichéd, hackney description of a villain. I was all like, God, Dude, this has that cool Hebraic poetry thing going on, but, really, the subject and carry-through is crap. Then I got to verse 17, the second to last.

It goes thusly (in the NKJ): “Lord, you have heard the desire of the humble; you will prepare their heart; you will cause your ear to hear.” Now the reason that this stuck out is because it follows this rather long, scenery-chewing description of a black-hatted bad guy, but I like the verse because it is somewhat mysterious. “You have heard the desire of the humble,” – that’s cool to me because it is “desire” that is used, not “prayer.” “You will prepare their heart,” – and that’s just plain freaking mysterious. How? For what? “You will cause your ear to hear,” – I know, I know, it’s poetry. It’s an exaggerated description of a fairly normal occurrence, but it’s still a striking image – God causing his own ear to hear.

The thing about my panic attacks is that they made me face the emotion that my viewpoint of utter helplessness put me in. Helplessness is not a good position for a creature with a brain to be put in – from rats to humans – they’ve done experiments – repeatable experiments – when you’ve learned that nothing you do matters, you don’t do anything to avoid shocks even if the situation has drastically changed – like how giant elephants can be held in place by a small rope that they could easily snap. After years of being chained with big effing chains, they learn that if they can feel that pressure on their leg, nothing they can do will free them. They’ve learned helplessness. And that’s actually the psychological term for it: “learned helplessness.” You can look it up. They did really mean things to doggies. To which doggies I am grateful. Run thou amidst the Elysian fields, sweet Fido.

Anyway, for someone that is innately a “do-er,” a stoic worldview is actually wise. They act for the feeling of being in action – the outcome – meh – sprinkles on the ice cream. That’s a wise place to be in. For someone who is more outcome driven (like me), the end result is more important than the mere path taken. If killing pagan babies was an absolutely-God-told-me-in-person-and-left-me-this-signed-document way of getting into heaven, well, strap on the pipe bombs and point me towards the nearest day-care. Luckily for the world at large and pagan babies at near, I’m also a skeptic. God would have to tell me in person and leave me this signed document and even then I’d want a personal tour of this “heaven” that lets in people that blow up babies. One of those unscheduled, unsupervised, hidden-camera, search-the-back-rooms tours. I do however tend also to require this of commands such as “you’ve just got to be kind.” So I’m not such a favorite of the blow-shit-up pastors or the be-nice-to-crazies-bums-and-bullies crowd either. I live here in a Serious Story on Serious Earth (that’s a comic book reference for those that didn’t get it) and I won’t be fooled again (that’s a… well, really, you should know that reference. Seriously).

God seems to like the do-ers. They are, statistically, more happy, a lot more happy, than ruminators. The race is not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong nor justice to the righteous nor riches to the hard-working nor honor to the wise – the person that noticed this was no doubt seriously depressed. But the runner that races because he loves to race. And then wins. He’s got the whole kit and caboodle. Yes, there’s something great to be said about the stoic view, but, goddamit, babies, outcomes matter too! (that was a horribly mis-contexed Vonnegut reference; in fact, its message is almost opposite the original) What would it profit a man if he should enjoy his whole life and lose his soul? What would it cost a man if he dutifully hated his whole life and had no soul? How cool would it be if he enjoyed his whole life and got to go to Narnia after? Grr. Arg. (Buffy reference) These questions matter. These questions blow. The black-hatted man is myself. And his victim is me.

And hope, when acted upon produces faith and faith calls forth in that calm, quiet voice that stills the troubled waters. So.

Lord, you have heard the desire of the humble; you will prepare their heart; you will cause your ear to hear and do justice to the fatherless victim that the black-hatted man may oppress him no more.

So, whatever humble is, make me that.