and your creatures are terrified; *
you take away their breath,
and they die and return to their dust.
You send forth your Spirit, and they are created; *
May 18, 1980 was a
memorable day in the Pacific Northwest. It
was the day Mount St. Helens erupted, lowering its elevation by over 1,300 feet
and creating a crater a mile wide and 2,000 feet deep. The initial blast and subsequent fallout
devastated hundreds of square miles, transforming a lush, mountain environment
into little more than moonscape.
Everyone in the region remembers vividly where they were, what they
heard, and what they felt during the eruption as well as how much ash fell on
where they were. Nothing could have
survived its force and the chocking effect of being buried under several feet
of dense power. Or so it seemed…
Jerry Franklin, an ecologist, was on the first
helicopter to land in the blast zone. It
was only a few weeks after May 18 and as he stepped out onto the ashy surface,
he looked down and was stunned to see a green shoot poking up through the
dust. He recognized it immediately to be
Chamaenerion angustifolium, commonly known as fireweed.
Franklin and other ecologists knew they had a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity to observe how nature recovers from devastation; a process known as
ecological regeneration.
The U.S. Soil Conservation Service decided to reseed
by air some 32 square miles of land, but with the creation of the Mount St.
Helens National Monument in 1982 a significant tract of land was set aside to
recover on its own. I visited the park a
few years ago. It was a beautiful,
sun-splashed day and the view of the mountain with its crater facing me and the
surrounding panoramic landscape was impressive beyond description. The reseeded land was readily apparent
because after thirty-five years it had returned to forestland. The areas left unattended had not advanced
nearly as far, yet still showed remarkable and diverse recovery. Its grand scale was mesmerizing and should
you find yourself in this part of the country is well worth a visit.
This morning we hear a beautiful portion of the 104th
Psalm, a poem which extols God’s role in creation. More specifically, it describes how God’s Spirit
(or breath – God’s ruach in
Hebrew) creates, sustains, cleanses, and restores all living things. Far from being the prime mover or the initial
source, and nowhere near being the creative architect now disengaged from
creation, the theology of the 104th Psalm holds God is intimately
involved with each one of us and with all of creation.
How intimately?
Well, consider the use of breath as a metaphor. The typical human being takes about 16
breaths per minute. This means we breathe
960 times an hour and over 23,000 times in a day. Each one of us takes something like 8.4
million breaths every year. Given this,
what does the image of God’s Spirit as breathe suggest to you? It speaks to me of God’s continual, on-going
relationship with us and with all of creation.
And it suggestions this connection is absolutely vital to our on-going
life.
The vast majority of our 8.4 million breaths in 2021 will
pass without our notice. You will be
aware of only a small percentage. You
may need to take a deep breath in order to calm down. You may be working hard or exercising a
become out of breath. You may catch a
chest cold and have difficulty breathing.
You might find yourself in a rose garden and take in a deep breath in
order to enjoy the fragrance. You may be
taking a breath at the end of singing a line of your favorite hymn. Whatever it is causing you to be aware of
your breathing I suggest it is also a good time to remind yourself of the nearness
of God’s Spirit, who presence always seems to come to our awareness when we need
it the most. As with the overwhelming majority
of our breaths, most often we are not aware of God’s presence in our lives, but
know this… God is with you… all the time… no matter where you are… no matter if
you are aware of it or not.
We are hearing the psalm’s witness to God’s activity
of creating, sustaining, cleansing, and restoring at a very interesting time. As I wrote in the e-news, the speed with
which Covid restrictions are being eased is only surpassed by the speed in
which they were initially imposed. I
personally sense I need time to reacclimate to life as it was before. Which is to say, I am relieved not to have to
wear a mask, but I am not ready yet to engage in our Pentecost tradition of
blowing up balloons, batting them around, popping them, and then pushing our
way through throngs of people in order to pass the peace with a stranger. Next year maybe. Still, it feels like we are at the dawn of a new
day when God’s Breath is going forth and renewing the face of the earth.
I would like to make a small confession to you. I added a verse to the psalm reading. The Lectionary calls for us to read verses
25-35 and verse 37, skipping over verse 36.
Whenever a verse is omitted by the Lectionary you should go right to
your prayer book and find out what we are missing! Here is verse 36:
Now I suspect the
framers of the Lectionary decided to pass over it because its emphasis on sin,
wickedness, judgement, and punishment feels out of character with the rest of
the reading. And I admit it seems to
come out of leftfield. But several commentators
I read this week argued for its inclusion because as wonderful as God’s
creation is it is still marred by brokenness.
We are at odds with ourselves, with one another, with other nations, and
with creation itself. There is much in
need of cleansing and God’s restoration of creation is possible only after sin
is confessed and wickedness is rejected.
If we were ready to sing this morning, perhaps we
might use this hymn by Charles Gabriel, inspired by today’s psalm:
Thy Spirit, O Lord, makes life to abound;
The earth is renewed, and fruitful the ground;
To God ascribe glory and wisdom and might,
Let God in His creatures forever delight.
Before the Lord’s might earth trembles and
quakes,
The mountains are rent, and smoke from them breaks;
The Lord I will worship through all of my
days,
Yea, while I have being my God I will praise.
Rejoicing in God, my thought shall be
sweet,
While sinners depart in ruin complete;
My soul, bless Jehovah, His name be
adored,
Come, praise Him, ye people, and worship the Lord.
And in conclusion…
(which is always a dangerous thing to say in a sermon
because if the conclusion doesn’t follow in short order the faithful just might
find a way to turn their prayers books into pitchforks)…
in conclusion, either with you masks on if you opt for
this, or with – Hallelujah! – no mask on for the first time in a long time…
take a moment to sit still…
breathe in…
breathe out…
bathe yourself in the beauty of this place…
breathe in…
breathe out…
look around and notice who is here with you this
morning…
breathe in…
breathe out…
Repeat after me:
Thy Spirit, O Lord…
makes life to abound…
The earth is renewed…
and fruitful the ground…
The Lord I will worship…
through all of my days…
Yea, while I have being…
my God I will praise.
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