Psalm 121: an unfinished journey to safety (part 2)

  I will lift up my eyes to the hills—
From whence (see note) comes my help?
My help comes from the Lord,
Who made heaven and earth.

He will not allow your foot to be moved;
He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel
Shall neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;
The Lord is your shade at your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
Nor the moon by night.

The Lord shall preserve you from all evil;
He shall preserve your soul.
The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in
From this time forth, and even forevermore.

From the first stanza to the second there is an abrupt change of voice.  We were in the first-person, but now we are in the third-person. 

Some scholars suggest that this is the Psalmist having a kind of internal dialogue with himself - like Smeagol/Gollum in the Lord of the Rings:  

Sméagol: "Leave now, and never come back!"
Gollum: "No... we needs it. Must have the precious. They stole it from us!"
Sméagol: "Go away and never come back!"
Sméagol: "We told him to go away... and away he goes, precious! Gone, gone, gone! Sméagol is free!"

But others have it right, I think, when they remind us that the Psalms of the worship/prayer/songbook of a nation - they are meant to be sung/read in community, in congregation.  We are meant to sing them to and with each other.

This is a call and response.  Someone comes comes with a question about where to find help and a statement of faith that it comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.  The congregation (or the priest) responds with a series of reassurances about God's help.

There's nothing complex in here, the metaphors pile on top of one another reassuring me that God ensures my safety - that I can rest in God's presence, I will find no danger.

• God will not allow me to stumble...
• God is "keeping me" and he won't nod off or get distracted...
• God is keeping the whole nation and he won't nod off and never sleeps
• God is always at my side shading me from the harsh sun
• God is always at my side shielding me from whatever might befall me at night
• God is a 24-7 protector
• God will preserve me from all evil
• God will preserve my very soul not just now, but always and for ever.

It's a very comforting list!  Little wonder that this Psalm is so popular - it's what we all want to hear.

Of course the psalmist isn't daft, and neither is the People of Israel.  These are a people who know as well as anyone else that they are not protected in a bubble of safety from all danger and all peril...

• they know they will stumble
• they know it sometimes seems like God has nodded off
• they know the whole nation can be dragged off into slavery
• they know the harsh heat of the desert sun
• they know bad things will happen by moonlight
• they know it will feel at times that God has abandoned them
• they know they will not be persuaded from the vilest evil
• they know their souls are in danger now and probably always will be.

So what are these words?

They are words of faith, not fantasy. They’re not a contract with God that guarantees smooth paths and easy journeys. They are something more honest, more precious than that. They are the words we speak to each other when the path is rough, when someone has lifted their eyes to the hills and doesn’t know what lies ahead. They are the community’s response to a trembling voice asking: “Where will my help come from?” And the answer, sung with hope and memory and love, is: “From the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

These words are not a denial of pain or evil. They are a declaration—defiant, even—that whatever comes, we will not walk alone. That God's presence is not proven by the absence of suffering but by the refusal to abandon us in it. These words do not pretend we are untouchable. Rather, they affirm that we are held. That in stumbling, in slavery, in sunstroke and in the shadows of night-time, in the darkest valleys of evil and despair, still—still—our going out and coming in are seen, known, and accompanied by the Keeper of Israel.

That’s why we keep singing this psalm. Not because it’s literally true in the sense of always-pleasant weather and a hazard-free life, but because it’s ultimately true. Because it’s a song that binds us together in trust—not in our circumstances, but in the character of the One who walks with us. This is not a promise of safety; it’s a promise of presence. And that is enough.

Why do I say this is an unfinished journey?  I say it's unfinished because these confident words of safety in God's keeping will need to be recalled and re-spoken time and time and time again.  We will need the company of the people of God to sing them to us, to whisper them to us, to shout them at us right up to the day we take that step into the deepest mystery of all - and even then, we will need to hear those words that we will not stumble, and that he who keeps us will not slumber, he will preserve our souls from this time forth and for evermore.

O Keeper of Israel,
when the road is steep and the sun is fierce,
when the night feels long and the path uncertain—
remind us that we do not walk alone.
Speak your promises into our fear,
and help us speak them to one another.
Hold our going out and our coming in,
now and always.
Amen.

Here's me reciting the psalm from memory:

Note: Grammar! "from whence comes my help" is irritating! It is irritating because "whence" means "from what place or source". "From whence" therefore means "from from what place or source." These things are important!