The most poignant exposition of the heart of Psalm 23 is Bernstein's Chichester Psalms, the piece that brings together Psalm 23 and Psalm 2. The pure soprano singing in Hebrew, "Adonai, is my Shepherd", draws you into the security, peacefulness and contentment that underlies the lovely word Shalom. But just as the still waters and green pastures come into view, the melody is shattered by aggressive male voices singing in Hebrew, "Why do the heathen rage?". The entire history of persecution, conflict, rage and violence against other human beings is encapsulated in that musical yell accompanied by explosive drums drowning out the melody of human well being.
So when I read Psalm 23, and come to that verse that says "You spread a table in the presence of my enemies" I wonder if it is a taunt song line, a mockery of the enemy by our joy, prosperity and power – a kind of Nan, na, nana, na. Other psalms do the taunt song very well, and to sing the words of some of them on our football terraces would result in immediate prosecution. But there’s another way of singin those words.....
I remember a moment of sadness that became a moment of truthfulness, and then a memory that changes the way I hear the word ‘enemy’. Having visited the place where "Silent night was written, we went next day to an Austrian village, and went into the church to cool down - and to pray. In the cool of the village church we looked at the beautiful black marble memorial plaque – a young German soldier, rifle thrown aside, holds his dying friend and in German, ‘Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends’. He too had been knitted together in his mother’s womb – he too no matter in heaven or hades cannot escape the presence of God; he too was fearfully and wonderfully made, in the image of God.
At the front of the church was the altar, where bread is broken and wine poured out, and where the people of God gather to celebrate the sacrifice of Christ for the sins of the world. The great gift of God to the church, and the great gift of the church to the world, is a table that proclaims peace, that is the enactment of reconciliation, that is open and inviting to all who will come, and yes, which far from taunting my enemy, is the place of welcome, the embrace of acceptance, the shared sorrow for a broken world. And shared joy that the world is redeemed by the love of God in Christ, so that with good faith, with strong hope, and gently persistent love, we finish the psalm, "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life". So no place or time for that perfect hatred, instead the voice that sings of peace is finally able to be heard without interruption.
The Psalms force us to be honest – we do dislike, even hate; we are people with prejudices; we have long memories about people who hurt us; there are some things that to us can never be forgiven or forgotten; try as we will, there are times when it is impossible to move on, get over it. Which is why we regularly meet around the table in the presence of our enemies – to be reminded of how God treats enemies, and to pray that the bread and wine, symbols of a fruitful earth and the passion of our God, will be medicine to our souls, and healing to our hurts. And to seek and humbly receive that grace to enable us to live as blessed peacemakers, ministers of reconciliation, people who walk the banks of the river of life where the leaves of the trees are for the healing of the nations. People who sit at a table spread not by us but by God, and in the presence of enemies break bread, and offer it to this other human being whom I no longer will call, enemy.
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