Psalm 148 - Laudate
Dominum
On the last Sunday of Epiphany, we are already looking around the corner to Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. The church can usually turn itself on a dime when going from one season to another. For example, Advent begins around the first of December and runs through Christmas Eve. During that time things are quiet, hopeful, and with a low-key busyness beneath the surface (usually focused on making the “perfect” Christmas). But come Christmas Eve and the first service of Christmas, all that changes and the service is one of the most glorious times of the liturgical year. Ash Wednesday is somewhat the same. Shrove Tuesday, the day before, it’s eat, drink, and be merry, but come midnight, all of it changes, even on the wild streets of New Orleans. The end of Mardi Gras is the beginning of Lent, and with the ringing of church bells at midnight, the merriment stops.
On the last Sunday of Epiphany, we are already looking around the corner to Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. The church can usually turn itself on a dime when going from one season to another. For example, Advent begins around the first of December and runs through Christmas Eve. During that time things are quiet, hopeful, and with a low-key busyness beneath the surface (usually focused on making the “perfect” Christmas). But come Christmas Eve and the first service of Christmas, all that changes and the service is one of the most glorious times of the liturgical year. Ash Wednesday is somewhat the same. Shrove Tuesday, the day before, it’s eat, drink, and be merry, but come midnight, all of it changes, even on the wild streets of New Orleans. The end of Mardi Gras is the beginning of Lent, and with the ringing of church bells at midnight, the merriment stops.
One of the things about the beginning of Lent is that
regular attendees and sometimes newcomers, find themselves tripping over one
small word in the liturgy. For the first several weeks, it’s not uncommon to hear someone say “Al-” before they recollect
that we don’t say “Alleluia” during Lent any more than we do during Advent. The church doesn’t use joyful expressions
like “Alleluia” or “Hallelujah” during those two seasons of
expectation and repentance. Still, when someone forgets, and the first syllable or two comes out loud in
church, people smile and remember that sometime in the past they have probably
done the same thing.
I think it’s appropriate on this last Sunday of Epiphany to
have three songs of praise on the Daily Office. Psalm 148 is one of my favorites and is one that both begins and ends
with the word “Hallelujah!” with an exclamation point. It’s meant to be emphasized and to be shouted joyfully, not
mumbled or glossed over. Following the Alleluia in the Psalm, lists begin with hierarchies
of the creation, from the angels and the heavenly host, moving down
through various classes of those who should praise God.
Praise should come from the sun and the moon, shining stars,
and the waters above the heavens. It’s no secret that for many, observing celestial
bodies are causes for awe and wonder, amazement and reverence, especially now
since we have very powerful telescopes and satellites
who expand the vistas of the cosmos in all their immensity and splendor.
The earth should praise the Lord, from the sea monsters and
everything in the deeps beyond which even we with our modern and highly
technical abilities have not yet been able to reach. Phenomena like fire and
hail, snow and fog, storms and winds
doing his will are enjoined to praise the Lord. I know it’s hard for some people
who have been snowbound in trains and buildings and cars and who wonder when it
is going to stop. For those who experienced the devastation of wildfires this
past summer might not see the fire as something to praise the Lord, but it is possible to consider looking at the
power of the flames and realize that it’s
only a tiny fraction of the power of God.
The Psalm goes on to the wild beasts and cattle, creeping
things and winged birds, kings of the earth and all peoples, young men and
maidens, old and young, with the injunction to let them praise the Lord for God’s
name only is exalted and God’s splendor is over the earth and heaven. The
psalmist does not include a lot of categories that we in modern times classify people or animals. But
regardless, all of us are all children of God, irrespective
of the name which we give to God. We don’t consider the whales who sing or the elephants who communicate over long
distances and whose sense of community is almost unparalleled. Kings often
consider themselves gods, but they only fool themselves. Ordinary people are not always paragons of
virtue either, but they should recognize
that the love of God extends to all people regardless of race, creed,
orientation, ethnicity, or any other box into which other humans would put
them. God’s kingdom doesn’t have boxes.
The Psalm ends with another Hallelujah!
as if gathering up all of the names and characteristics that have been spelled
out in the Psalm itself and readies them for a final shout of glory. It’s an
invitation to praise and to acknowledge that there is a being who cares for us
and loves us and wants us to love in return. So on this final Sunday of Alleluia,
at least for the next six weeks or so, let’s put the auditory Alleluia away and
keep it in our hearts. We can pray and praise without them, but we should never
forget they are waiting just around the corner. The spirit that Alleluia
represents should always be present whether spoken or unspoken.
So goodbye, Alleluia, at least for a while. Welcome Lent, that
reminder of Jesus’s humanity and revelation of his glory so that his
teachings would spread throughout all the earth.
May you have a blessed Lent.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Sunday, March 3, 2019.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Sunday, March 3, 2019.
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