Rain in abundance, O God, you showered abroad; you restored your heritage when it languished.
I am frequently amazed at how literal I can be, even reading the poetry of psalms. I read something, imagine it as concrete thing, and wonder. Allusions and imagery have evaded me, perhaps due to a lack of imagination, or because of an entrenched sense of the concrete. Here is a perfect example.
I read this sentence, that God showered rain in abundance, and imagined a deluge of rain, or like the Pacific Northwest, a constant drizzle. The rain restored God’s heritage, like watering a wilted garden. Everything perks up when it gets that water. I get it. Rain. Dryness. Water. Perky.
The accompanying reflection is from Bernard of Clairvaux, made a saint in the 12th century and leader of the Benedictine monastery movement. He talks about how sometimes crappy things happen (my words, obviously.) Referencing this section of Psalms, he discusses how God sends a generous rain, but God also makes it perfect. Again, literal Carter would have read that translation and thought it was all about rain, dryness, water, and nourished plants. Bernard continues that this is talking about excessive rain, or bad things, that create a wretched state in us.
Ah, rain isn’t really rain. It’s bad things. Bernard continues that when bad things happen, we can become humiliated. Being in a humiliated state doesn’t lead to anything good – except the fact that with God’s mercy, our humiliation can turn in to humility. I like this. I see a pathway from the resulting wretchedness humanity endures, and God’s mercy.
It’s when I feel humiliated that it’s easier to acknowledge my incompleteness, or my inability to fix everything. Things happen beyond my power that leave me feeling humiliated or wretched. We hope that God’s mercy will turn that sense that I cannot live up to society or my expectations into a sense of understanding that I am incomplete and need God. Humiliation turns into humility.
God then can turn that rain into something perfect, or restore the heritage where it languished. This section of psalms isn’t about rain, it’s about understanding the relationship between bad things happening, humility, and God’s restoration.
It would sure be nice to get to the restoration without the humiliation or wretchedness, but perhaps our stubborn and fiercely independent selves wouldn’t be able to do that. I guess I should let it rain.
I read this sentence, that God showered rain in abundance, and imagined a deluge of rain, or like the Pacific Northwest, a constant drizzle. The rain restored God’s heritage, like watering a wilted garden. Everything perks up when it gets that water. I get it. Rain. Dryness. Water. Perky.
The accompanying reflection is from Bernard of Clairvaux, made a saint in the 12th century and leader of the Benedictine monastery movement. He talks about how sometimes crappy things happen (my words, obviously.) Referencing this section of Psalms, he discusses how God sends a generous rain, but God also makes it perfect. Again, literal Carter would have read that translation and thought it was all about rain, dryness, water, and nourished plants. Bernard continues that this is talking about excessive rain, or bad things, that create a wretched state in us.
Ah, rain isn’t really rain. It’s bad things. Bernard continues that when bad things happen, we can become humiliated. Being in a humiliated state doesn’t lead to anything good – except the fact that with God’s mercy, our humiliation can turn in to humility. I like this. I see a pathway from the resulting wretchedness humanity endures, and God’s mercy.
It’s when I feel humiliated that it’s easier to acknowledge my incompleteness, or my inability to fix everything. Things happen beyond my power that leave me feeling humiliated or wretched. We hope that God’s mercy will turn that sense that I cannot live up to society or my expectations into a sense of understanding that I am incomplete and need God. Humiliation turns into humility.
God then can turn that rain into something perfect, or restore the heritage where it languished. This section of psalms isn’t about rain, it’s about understanding the relationship between bad things happening, humility, and God’s restoration.
It would sure be nice to get to the restoration without the humiliation or wretchedness, but perhaps our stubborn and fiercely independent selves wouldn’t be able to do that. I guess I should let it rain.
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