Faithful Conversations #106

Introduction to Readers:

We turn the page this week. Lent comes from the Old English word lencten, meaning springtime and its connection to Christianity dates back centuries. The 40-day season of Lent, focused on fasting and reflection before Easter, became widespread after 313 CE when Emperor Constantine embraced Christianity. The Council of Nicea in 325 further solidified the tradition. The number ’40’ holds spiritual significance, with examples like Moses receiving the Ten Commandments (Exodus 34:28), Elijah walking to Mount Horeb (1 Kings 19:8), and Jesus fasting before his public ministry (Matthew 4:2). On Wednesday, many of us will have our foreheads marked with ashes in the shape of a cross, symbolizing penance, humility, and mortality (Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris). It’s interesting to note that Luther favored continuing the traditions of Ash Wednesday, though more radical Lutherans of the time did not, believing it to be too “Catholic.” Today, the “Day of Ashes” is observed by many denominations within Western Christendom (Roman Catholic, Lutheran Anglican, Episcopal, Baptist, Presbyterian, and Methodist).

Like many of you, I grew up with the Lenten tradition and remember classmates “giving up” something during Lent (like chips and soda, which always seemed trite) as an act of self-denial. Although that tradition wasn’t emphasized in my home, perhaps because it smacked of “works righteousness,” Lent was certainly a time to focus on spiritual disciplines — I heard it described once as a time of “spring cleaning for our souls.” That said, I plan to spend the next six weeks exploring the Lectio Divina (Latin for Divine Reading and powerful in the Benedictine tradition), a method of reading the Bible involving four steps: reading (Lectio), where a Bible passage is read slowly; meditation (Meditatio), reflecting on its meaning; prayer (Oratio), responding to God; and contemplation (Contemplatio), resting in God’s presence. (Sidebar: I am aware that Martin Luther absorbed this practice during his monastery days but later modified it and I hope to learn more about that also!). I encourage you to use this season of our church year to reflect on spiritual practices in your life!

As always, thanks for your continued interest in the Lectionary. Three reminders: first, the blog is meant to accompany a walk-through of the four passages and typically focuses on one of the readings. Second, I utilize hypertext for “further reading” on your part — look for bolded words or phrases that are in italics. My reflections this week will focus on the Psalms that are before us in the two sets of readings (51 and 91), including a musical connection.

Reflections: “A Clean Heart and Right Spirit”

Two Psalms confront us at the start of Lent (51 and 91) that offer contrasting themes and tones, regarding different aspects our relationship with God. Psalm 51, a deeply penitent prayer, emphasizes the desire for redemption and a new heart. Psalm 91, an uplifting liturgy of confident assurance, emphasizes God’s protection and care for those who trust in Him (note the musical connection below).

Martin Luther referred to the Psalms as “the little Bible” and offered many commentaries on them throughout his career. He said this of Psalm 51: “A knowledge of this psalm is necessary and useful in many ways. It contains instruction about the chief parts of our religion, about repentance, sin, grace, and justification, as well as about the worship we ought to render to God. These are divine and heavenly doctrines. Unless they are taught by the great Spirit, they cannot enter the heart of man.” Based on Luther’s notable enthusiasm, I plan to revisit Psalm 51 throughout the Lenten journey. (Sidebar: Along with 121, Psalm 51 is a favorite of mine!)

Let me start that process with a stunning visual, Dutch artist Govert Flinck’s 1651 masterpiece, “Bathsheba’s Appeal to David.” Flinck imagines a later chapter from a deeply complicated tale found in 2 Samuel and 1 Kings. A quick summary: King David, while his army was at war against the Ammonites, stayed back in Jerusalem. On a fateful spring evening, he witnessed Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah (an elite soldier in David’s army), bathing from the rooftop of his palace. Overcome by desire, David summoned Bathsheba and slept with her, resulting in her pregnancy. To cover up his actions, David called Uriah back from the battlefield, hoping he would sleep with Bathsheba and believe the child was his. However, Uriah, being a loyal and disciplined soldier, refused to go home while his comrades were still fighting. Frustrated, David then arranged for Uriah to be placed in the front lines of battle, where he was killed. After Uriah’s death, David married Bathsheba (he had many wives). And, in one of the most powerful scenes in scripture, God sends the Prophet Nathan of visit the powerful King, offering a stern rebuke for his actions (see 2 Samuel 12). This series of events led to significant consequences for David and his family, including the birth of Solomon, who would later become one of Israel’s greatest kings. Flinck’s painting recounts the visit of Bathsheba to the aging king, pleading for Solomon’s succession to the throne of Israel (recounted in 1 Kings 1).

It’s hard to “unhear” that story when reading Psalm 51. David, the lowly shepherd boy who gained fame for defeating Goliath, was known for his military skills and poetic flare. A “golden child” in many ways, he rose to the heights of power yet remained an anguished figure who sinned mightily. Imagine his deep remorse as you read the words of the Psalm (verses 1-7). This flawed man, driven to his knees, was totally dependent on God’s redeeming power. Pleading with God to bring him back from the brink of despair, he enunciates a prayer that rings across the ages (verses 10-12). Hear these words from the King James version: Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.**

As we begin our Lenten journey this year, let’s pray those Psalms, 51 and 91. Let’s remind ourselves every day of our baptism into Christ. And may we feel the breath of God’s free spirit, a generous, liberating, and empowering spirit!

Soli deo Gloria!

**Sidebar: I am partial to the King James version of Psalm 51 — I like that wording. In part, that derives from singing those words hundreds of times in formative years as an Offertory during worship. The version of that Offertory comes from composer J.A. Freylinghausen (1670-1739), notable as a hymn writer and also for his involvement in the Pietist Movement in Germany in the post-Reformation period. Pietism emphasized personal faith, spiritual renewal, and practical Christianity. The hymn remains in the ELW (our book of worship) and is found in the “Service Music” section — in fact, there are four versions of it!

A Prayer for Peace in Ukraine

“Man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible; man’s inclination to injustice makes democracy necessary.” (Reinhold Niebuhr)

As we mark the third anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, we lift our hearts in prayer, mindful of the profound suffering and resilience that have marked this time. For more than a thousand days, the Ukrainian people have endured. More than 100,000 lives have been lost, countless more wounded, and millions displaced from their homes—both within Ukraine and beyond its borders. Once-vibrant cities stand in ruins, bearing witness to the devastating toll of this conflict. The prayer below was written by Prof. Dr. Dmytro Tsolin. He is a pastor in the German Evangelical-Lutheran Church of Ukraine, which is member of the LWF. It was originally shared by the Communion of Protestant Churches in Europe. (Source: Lutheran World Federation Website, 24 February 2025).

Our Father in Heaven! Our eyes are turned towards You, and we lift up our hearts before You. O God, for over one thousand days we have been praying daily to You, imploring You, putting our hope in You. For over three horrible years we have received horrible news of the death of our compatriots, we have heard the noise of explosions and the wailing of the sirens. Lord, every day the number of orphans and widows increases. Every day there are more people who experience the pain of loss of loved ones. Our God, we see no end to this calamity, only You hold us. For over one thousand days, Lord, we have stood and believed. We thank You, for Your Spirit nourishes us. We believe in Your righteousness, we place hope in Your mercy, we experience Your love in the midst of ruin and death. But God, our strength is at its end. We tell You of our pains, Father, though You know them all before we even tell You. The sons and daughters of our nation leave us, they are dying in the fields of battle and under fire in our cities and towns. We remain, Lord, remain with us. We thank You for all those that support us, we thank You for our brothers and sisters in Christ and for the goodwill from those of other lands. Bless them! Breath into us faith for the victory of love and truth. Come, Lord Jesus!
Amen

Musical Reflection: Psalm 91

Michael Joncas (b. 1951) is a Catholic priest, liturgical theologian, and composer of contemporary Catholic music. Joncas has served as a professor at various institutions, including the University of St. Thomas and the University of Notre Dame. He is best known for his hymn “On Eagle’s Wings.” The lyrics draw inspiration from Psalm 91, the Book of Exodus 19, and Matthew 13.

Faithful Conversations on Sunday

Join us on Sunday 9 March at 10:45 in the church library. We talk through the readings (some or all) in an informal setting — no prior preparation is necessary and all are welcome!

The cartoon here comes from the world of Charles Schultz and clearly references Psalm 51!