Uncle John’s Band and Other Unlikely Sorts
A reading of Psalm 15.
Psalm 15 begins with a question, “Who may dwell in the presence of God?” The question is rhetorical and sets the stage for the author’s reply: “the one who is without blame, the one who does the right thing, and the one who never tells a lie.”
Such a person never says a harsh word, keeps all promises, and makes financial provision for the poor. This is a pretty good person, so good that one may wonder if (in the Psalmist’s view) anyone is eligible to be in solidarity with God. It is also worth noting that the author himself (presumably David), may not match all the criteria for such dwelling.
So what do we have in Psalm 15? Some have described it as a liturgy of preparation for entering into a holy place. Like a call to worship, it invites us to ask: what does humane existence look like?
As such, James L. Mayes observes that Psalm 15 is less of a gate-keeping device and more of a summons to imagine what is possible and necessary for life together. Constructive rhetoric. Provision for the poor. Speaking the truth in love. As Mayes conveys, to dwell in the presence of God is to dwell in the imaginative “power” that makes humane acts “possible.”
It is a judgement to be made how well faith communities practice such humane acts. I am reminded of a time in Mark’s gospel when throngs of people passed by some pretty fine religious organizations on their way to the wilderness to meet a Bedouin monk named John (Mark 1:5).
John did not wear fine clothes or play golf. He did not concern himself with attendance rolls or pew pads, but his earthy spirituality and location along the river was a magnet to those who searched for more or less.
One may ask, why did these throngs of people pass by all of those other religious establishments to see John? According to Mark, they were not welcome in those places. There was a disconnect between tradition and relevance, piety and compassion. John gave them dignity and purpose.
Like Psalm 15, John prepared people for One in whom they would not only feel welcome, but changed. Worship at its best is like that and God’s sanctuary is more varied than the earth itself. I am grateful for those pastors, congregations, and earthy places that remind us.
