the Second US/Iraq Conflict. Though my sermon below does not directly
address the conflict, it was actually just half of a sermon co-preached
with Rev. Dr. Sharon Bezner at the Cathedral of Hope in Dallas, Texas,
in which she was more directly addressing the subject. This sermon
garnered alot of interest and a passion from some, and criticism from
others. To actually see the full sermon, with both parts, click on the link
below, and look for the 3/5/2003 and press "watch."
http://www.cathedralofhope.com/sermons/sermons.php?thisyear=2003
Stunned at what his actions have brought about, David sits on the floor,
sketching out this plea for mercy, the psalm that we just heard, that we
just used to plea for mercy in our own lives. David, a man after God’s
own heart, has become a mess, overwhelmed by the understanding of
his own selfishness, and how that selfishness has left murder, adultery,
and pain in its wake. Here he was, a man that had it all, a man chosen
by God to build a kingdom that would rival any kingdom of its time, a man
who was wealthy and in his better moments, even wise. But the events
of the past few months in David’s life had shown him to be a man eaten
up by a desire for even more, a lust for even more than what God had
already given him, a desire to take from those who had less in order that
he could have more—and the hours and days of the past few months
had shown him to be a man who would even murder to get what he
wanted.
In an age where women were seen, sadly, as mere property, David
decided that he wanted the wife of another, the mate of Uriah, one of the
commanders in his army. And he takes, he takes what is not his, what
she has not offered to him, and all the murder, deceit, and pain tumble
out of this desire to hid the initial sin, to refuse to take responsibility for
his actions. But finally, after Nathan called him into account, after
Nathan exposed what he had done and those whom he had harmed, he
finds himself on the ground, in the room of his dying son, begging for
mercy, a mercy he was unwilling to give Basheba, to Uriah, and to the 20
men who died, who were the collateral damage in his plot to kill Uriah.
We actually don’t really know whether he wrote the psalm we heard
today, Psalm 51, but it has been ascribed to him, and I think it certainly
reflects the pain of someone coming to terms with he or she has done. I
can see him on that floor, the hunger from his fast beginning to eat away
at his comfort, the night air heavy with worry, his worry, the worry of his
new wife Basheba, the servants, his advisors. It is a stunning sight, to
see this man, their king, on the floor, pleading for mercy for his child,
hoping that the consequences of his actions would not hurt yet another
person, someone who had become entangled in a mess not of his own
making. The night, it has become heavy with guilt and sorrow, a tidal-
wave of grief over the loss of so much. Never again will David see
himself the same way—he knows now that he is not innocent, his heart
has shadows, the same heart that God fell in love with.
And so perhaps David writes this prayer, this psalm 51, in reaction to
seeing the motives of his own heart and so the words flood out of him
uncontrollably in their beauty and brutality. “Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot
out my transgressions.” Ironically, enough, the language the writer uses
is the language of laundry, of being taken to the river and washed and
cleansed, as they did in the ancient world—“clean me, Holy One, clean
me as if I was a piece of clothing, stretched, and twisted, kneading and
wringing out of me all the dirt that has no place in a heart that you have
loved. In the river, may the cleansing water of your love flow through the
very threads of my heart and may I become clean in your sight.” Finally,
he knows what he has done, and he knows who can make him clean,
who can make what is wrong in his heart be something forgotten, lost to
memory, and he pleads for mercy to the God whom he has sinned
against, the same God whom he must ask forgiveness from.
The floor of his son’s bedchamber has become the place that David fully
understands what it really means to be guilty—the very innocence of his
son and his wife scream to him of his guilt. And yet, innocence is often a
matter of circumstance—indeed, in other moments, we are all guilty, in
one way or another. David begins to understand the truth that our
actions—or lack of action—they have consequences for those who have
been caught in the crossfire of the choices we make. Nathan has shown
David his hypocrisy, his selfishness, his disregard of others—all of it is
there for the world to see. Now, the time has come for him to take
responsibility for his choices, to say what he must, to ask forgiveness
from the One, who in the end, will forgive him, because God has seen
the whole of him, the shadows and the light that dance within him--and
within us as well, and still God remains in love with David, and with us.
But this time on the ground in his son’s room, leveled by the sheer
gravity of what he has done, it is meant to teach David that we are not
without guilt, even the kings and presidents among us, and that we are
asked to look within, to make an account of our lives and to fix those
things within us that must be fixed for our sake and for the sake of
others. And I suspect that from this point on, David will live more gently
in this world, more mindful of himself and what rages within him, and he
will, I suspect be more willing to give away mercy to those around him, as
God has given him in this moment. That is what Lent is meant to teach
us as well—to pay attention to that within us that must be fixed for our
sake and the sake of others, even strangers in other lands, and to begin
the process of making that light within us grow stronger so that
eventually there will be no more shadows left in our hearts. I don’t know
if that is quite possible—if it didn’t happen for David—and it didn’t—I
suspect we are not going to complete this work on this side of eternity.
But Lent comes year after year, reminding us of the shadows of
selfishness within, of sin, so that we will not forget that our lives lived in
this world have an effect on our souls, that part of ourselves that extends
into eternity, and that the lives we live, the action or lack of action we
commit, they will effect many others, some we will know, and some we will
not. And yet we must look within and take full reckoning for our lives and
choices and we must do this for our own sake and for the sake of others,
loved ones and strangers alike. Amen.
