Making 'Psense' of Psalms--Psalm 133: Harmony

Ancient olive oil didn't come in bottles
like I buy it, but had many uses in the
holy land, including perfumed anointing oil

Part of a continuing series on selected psalms.

“Get along!”  How often had I uttered those words in raising my children? More important, how many times had God challenged me about being the peacemaker, not troublemaker, as I lived in a world of imperfect people, myself included!  “How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity,” Psalm 130 begins. But in reality, we don’t always enjoy that unity.

GRACE  FROM ABOVE

Biblical harmony, Psalm 130 says, is like:
“...precious oil poured on the head, running down on the beard, running down on Aaron’s beard, down upon the collar of his robes.” (v. 2)
To appreciate this allusion, it’s helpful to review the ancient texts about the early Hebrew worship system.  When the Exodus from Egypt occurred about 1440 B.C., the emancipated Jews had a sense of the Great High God who brought about this miracle. But the former slaves needed a unifying religious system, which God outlined in revelations to Moses. These included extensive instructions about worship leaders, the worship center (tabernacle) and rituals, detailed in various parts of the books of Exodus through Deuteronomy. The worship system and its procedures helped teach the Hebrews about God’s holiness and man’s sin. One tribe, the Levites, was charged with spiritual care, with only one man and his descendants in the top leadership role as priests.

Furnishings (like altars) and people were commissioned for priestly service by anointing with an  olive oil perfumed with myrrh, cinnamon, fragrant cane, and cassia (Exodus 30:23-33). Leviticus 8 tells how Aaron and his sons prepared for commissioning by bathing and putting on clean, simple tunics with sashes. Then Aaron, as high priest, received extra ceremonial dressing:  a robe, ephod (a type of apron), breastplate with precious stones, and turban-like crown. Finally, Moses anointed Aaron’s head with the special scented olive oil in enough abundance that the oil dribbled from his forehead and on down his clothes. The anointing represented favor from on High, coming down on God’s appointed servants. As Aaron went about his tasks, the powerful fragrance emanated wherever he passed.

This old house in my neighborhood was soon torn down.

Reading of this reminded me of how 1 Corinthians 2:14-15 spoke of a believer’s spiritual “fragrance”:  “Thanks be to God, who…through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.”  But I’ve had my “skunk cabbage” times, too.  One happened in my late twenties when a marginally employed single woman in my church found herself on the verge of homelessness, and asked to move in with me. I lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment but agreed, giving her the bedroom (for privacy with her medical and emotional needs) while I slept on the couch. When the “few weeks” became months of free housing, I allowed resentment to grow. Then, to my surprise, I came home from work one night to find she had moved out to another “free” situation. In my hurt, I indulged in the sins of enmity and backbiting. I became like a boarded-up house, almost cut off from the Holy Spirit’s correcting voice. But my habit of scripture reading helped me from persisting in this sin. When I read Matthew 5:23-24, about interrupting one’s worship (leaving a gift at the altar) to be reconciled with someone you wronged, I was stricken by my sin in this relationship.

By now she had moved out of state, but I got her address from mutual friends.  As I wrote a letter owning my part in our rift, and asking her forgiveness, I broke down and cried. When I dropped that letter in the mailbox, a burden slipped off my heart. I didn’t expect to hear from her, but in a few weeks, she replied, forgiving me and asking forgiveness for her wrongs. As I read her letter, I imagined—as never before—the humbling effects that Aaron must have felt in his drenching with holy, aromatic oil. I felt re-anointed, too, for a fresh consecration to God’s work. As God has prompted me to review my past relationships, I’ve been led to write other letters seeking forgiveness.  Some were gracious and dismissed the offense. One never replied, and while I wish there had been closure with that person, God knows my heart.

FRUITFULNESS FROM ABOVE

The second simile in Psalm 130 also expresses God’s favor:
It is as the dew of Hermon were falling on Mount Zion. For there the LORD bestows his blessing, even life forevermore. (v. 3)
Mount Hermon, northeast of the Sea of Galilee and about 130 miles from Jerusalem, at 9,101 feet is the highest mountain in Palestine. Famously heavy dews fall on its slopes, sustaining plant life. In contrast, Mount Zion (Jerusalem) has little rainfall except in September. The first image in the psalm spoke of anointing oil descending over Aaron’s face and onto his vestments. This second image speaks of moisture, so necessary for agricultural fruitfulness, descending from on high. The dew and rains are the work of God. Likewise, the healing that brings unity among God-followers is also a divine work.

It’s worth noting that this poetic study of harmony came from the heart of King David, who lived with more than his share of disharmony. After being anointed king-to-be, he lived on the run from the wrath of King Saul. When he finally came to the throne, he dealt with loyalists to the now-deceased Saul.  Then there were all his wives. Even before Israel had kings, God had declared, “He [a king] must not take many wives, or his heart will be led astray” (Deuteronomy 17:17). Scholars find eight “named” wives, believe there were more unnamed, plus his ten concubines.  So many family relationships, and so little time from a husband/dad, understandably led to much dysfunction.

Aside from David’s woes, it’s important to remember that in Bible times, extended families lived in proximity. Grandparents, aunts and uncles were a few tents or partitions away, which allowed for little “personal space” if they didn’t get along. The historical transition from family interdependence to  independent family or single units has brought with it a growing intolerance for one another. 

Perhaps that’s why New Testament teaching on getting along is so appropriate for us. Besides urging the often-dissident Corinthians to be an aroma of Christ in their circle of influence, Paul took great pains in Ephesians 4 to list the negatives he saw in relationships, including “bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice” (4:31). He urged the Colossian church to “Bear with each other and...forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity” (Colossians 3:13-14).

The message of Psalm 133 also applies to “church wars,” which smolder over issues varying from doctrine (both essential and non-essential) to culturally-affected choices like dress and music. When I walk through the doors of my church, I have my “druthers” about what I see, hear, or think should happen there. But Christ is bigger that my cultural lens.  “In essentials, unity,” wrote the ancient church leader Augustine. “In non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.” Or, as I often told my children, “Get along!”—sometimes easier said than done, except for the gracious power of God’s Holy Spirit.

Next: Psalm 138.

Getting off the Xmas Xpress

The hobby building of our local county fair featured this huge set-up belonging to a miniature railroad enthusiast.  As I listened to him tell visitors how his train-land grew, I recalled the simple set my son set up in his bedroom for several years at Christmas. He had a tiny room, ten feet square, and hauled half of a Ping Pong table in there to hold the train. He had to crawl under it to get to bed!

Lately, I’ve been thinking how the Christmas season is a lot like that miniature train. Once a train is set in place, and the tracks are perfectly aligned, it will go round and round until someone hits the “off” button. So it is with “traditions.”  Yes, we had some “traditions” when our children were young.  On Christmas eve they opened the package that contained their new home-sewn pajamas. On Christmas morning, their first package was a box of usually-forbidden sugary breakfast cereal. (Yes, I tried to be their health-conscious mom.)

But as I consider what has become “Christmas tradition,” I wonder if we have courage to call it the “Xmas Xpress”: the intensive retail and party season that propels us into winter with barely a nod to the huge spiritual significance of God coming to earth as a baby.  Have we made too much of gifting each other, and not gifting back in gratitude to God? I can think of several “gifts” that honor the Lord’s birth lots better than the way many are doing it now:

*The gift of kindness and service.  I hope we’ll never forget the simple gifts of showing the Lord’s love.  Like visiting a shut-in. Taking a meal to someone who’s lonely, ill or bereaved. Offering to clean, repair or do yard work for someone who can’t.  One young couple we know, living on a tight college-student budget, decided to do “Twelve Days of Giving” for their Christmas family gift.  They decided on twelve number-related “giving tasks,” and took photos of each for a small album they gave parents.  For example, for Day 10, the wife had ten inches of hair cut off for a non-profit that makes wigs for medically-bald children.  For Day 4, they offered “four hands” of serving in a local food bank.  Day 8 was picking up litter on eight blocks near their home.

*The gift of appreciation.  Has someone’s kindness made your life easier?  Tell them in a heart-felt note. Has someone’s close walk with Christ inspired you or helped you?  Tell them. This year, while adding notes to Christmas letters (yes, I still do that, but to a limited number), I took extra time to write some former, aging pastors and their spouses.

 

*The gifts of alms. It’s not just the red kettle bell-ringers. Our mailboxes are flooded with solicitations at Christmas because it is, after all, a time when we acknowledge God’s amazing way of intercepting history with the birth of His Son. He was born into poverty—not the way we might have chosen things for history. He ministered to the poor. In our family, we decide on at least one “Jesus gift” to support a ministry that has burdened our hearts.   We’ve encouraged family members to do the same in lieu of “gifting” us. It brings me joy to know that instead of more “stuff” for me, that money is instead  buying food for a child in Africa, chickens for a family in Central America, or electricity for a ministry to the homeless.

*The gift of deference. Not everyone in my circle of influence agrees with cutting back so drastically. To them, Christmas isn’t Christmas without gifts. They’d be disappointed without several packages to open.  I accept where they are, and try to gift wisely.

*The gifts of reconciliation.  My heart aches for families where there is enmity.  Often it’s because of a divorce or separation or some other family difficulty.  I pray for two families divided after a stepparent's death. I imagine Jesus weeping over this, even more than I do. What a gift it would be for either family unit to write or phone and say, “Let’s turn away from the past.  Please forgive me for my part in our conflict. Let’s make a fresh start before the Lord.” Such bold, humble steps are like the image of reconciliation in Psalm 133--of family harmony like precious anointing oil spilling over a priest’s head.  Surely, this is what pleases God.

The scriptures say of Jesus’ coming, “Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift” (2 Cor. 9:15). As Christians, we know the secular celebration has gotten out of hand. But in simple ways like this, maybe we can show the world that it’s still about how very, very much God loves us—so much that He sent a Savior.