Psalm 22

Thursday is Maundy Thursday, one of my favorite services. I remember the first time I experienced a Maundy Thursday service in the Episcopal Church, I was awed at the solemnity of the stripping of the altar. I remember kneeling while we sang the spiritual "Were you there when they crucified my Lord" and watching the priest strip the altar and finalizing it all by bringing the cross back out draped in black sheer. I still get goose bumps thinking about that night over 15 years ago at St. Thomas Episcopal Church in Abingdon, VA. When I went to college, two more experiences of Maundy Thursday would be etched in my memory. The first being at Trinity Cathedral, the cathedral church of the Diocese of Upper South Carolina. The choir there was amazing and I had a fraternity brother who was a paid singer there. During their stripping, the choir chanted in plainsong Psalm 22. Actually, the choir would sing and repeat the antiphon, and the cantor was a lady who was getting her graduate degree at USC and was my sight singing teacher, she chanted the Psalm in the clearest, purest, straight-tone I've heard outside the Cambridge Singers or any of the English boy's choirs. The meaning hadn't totally sinked in yet, still being new to the denomination, but the magnitude of emotion in that Psalm hit me over the head like a hammer. The next big Maundy Thursday that influenced me was at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Columbia, SC. Good Shepherd is the principal Anglo-Catholic parish in the Diocese of Upper South Carolina. I eventually became a member there. They also chanted Psalm 22 during the stripping and then held vigil at the Altar of Repose.

This time, in my new parish in Virginia, I will be the cantor of ol' 22 in my parish, who has never used it during the stripping. I am excited to share this incredibly thought provoking Psalm with others during the stripping of the altar.

With all the chaos going on in the world: Terri Schiavo, the school shooting in Minnesota, the war in Iraq, the turmoil in the Anglican Communion....and with the chaos going on in our personal lives, whatever that may entail (for me my parents alcoholism, mom's depression), Psalm 22 might speak to us and let us know that we're not alone in our dispair. The Psalmist certainly felt it. Christ certainly felt it. Even he struggled with his vocation in the Garden of Gethsemane. Let the beginning of this year's Paschal Triduum begin processes of healing and hope. We're Easter people. We must carry our cross, we must die to our fear, and we will rise again. I have posted Psalm 22 for your reflection.

Peace.

Jim

22 Deus, Deus meus

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? *

and are so far from my cry and from the words of my distress?

O my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer; *

by night as well, but I find no rest.

Yet you are the Holy One, *

enthroned upon the praises of Israel.

Our forefathers put their trust in you; *

they trusted, and you delivered them.

They cried out to you and were delivered; *

they trusted in you and were not put to shame.

But as for me, I am a worm and no man, *

scorned by all and despised by the people.

All who see me laugh me to scorn; *

they curl their lips and wag their heads, saying,

"He trusted in the LORD; let him deliver him; *

let him rescue him, if he delights in him."

Yet you are he who took me out of the womb, *

and kept me safe upon my mother's breast.

I have been entrusted to you ever since I was born; *

you were my God when I was still in my mother's womb.

Be not far from me, for trouble is near, *

and there is none to help.

Many young bulls encircle me; *

strong bulls of Bashan surround me.

They open wide their jaws at me, *

like a ravening and a roaring lion.

I am poured out like water; all my bones are out of joint; *

my heart within my breast is melting wax.

My mouth is dried out like a pot-sherd; my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; *

and you have laid me in the dust of the grave.

Packs of dogs close me in, and gangs of evildoers circle around me; *

they pierce my hands and my feet; I can count all my bones.

They stare and gloat over me; *

they divide my garments among them; they cast lots for my clothing.

Be not far away, O LORD; *

you are my strength; hasten to help me.

Save me from the sword, *

my life from the power of the dog.

Save me from the lion's mouth, *

my wretched body from the horns of wild bulls.

I will declare your Name to my brethren; *

in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.

Praise the LORD, you that fear him; *

stand in awe of him, O offspring of Israel; all you of Jacob's line, give glory.

For he does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty; neither does he hide his face from them; *

but when they cry to him he hears them.

My praise is of him in the great assembly; *

I will perform my vows in the presence of those who worship him.

The poor shall eat and be satisfied, and those who seek the LORD shall praise him: *

"May your heart live for ever!"

All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the LORD, *

and all the families of the nations shall bow before him.

For kingship belongs to the LORD; *

he rules over the nations.

To him alone all who sleep in the earth bow down in worship; *

all who go down to the dust fall before him.

My soul shall live for him; my descendants shall serve him; *

they shall be known as the LORD'S for ever.

They shall come and make known to a people yet unborn *

the saving deeds that he has done.