3-17-19 “Preparing A Table”

3-17-19 Sermon  “Preparing A Table”

   One of my earliest memories of the kitchen in the house I grew up in was that it included a large, round, dark-stained oak table on a wood pedestal. 

I don’t remember how many chairs were around it, but I remember that it could expand with a leaf, but that the only time that was ever used was when we had guests. Otherwise, it was a circle. And I remember that so well because the first time I sprained my ankle as a kid was while chasing my sister - or was she chasing me? - around that table, round and round, when I tripped - I blame it on her - and I fell and sprained my ankle. 

I said it was an early memory - not necessarily a pleasant one.

   As a kid it was common for one of us to have a friend over for dinner, or to be invited to a friend’s house for dinner. At least once a week I would be invited for dinner to either my friend Mike’s or my friend Steve’s house. And likewise, one of them was at my house for dinner about as often. It was the same with my younger sister and her friends - although she didn’t eat away nearly as often as I hoped she would!

   And there were other guests as well. Friends of my parents, friends from church, the pastor and his wife and kids - it was not uncommon for some combination of those folks to be at dinner with us at least once a week. And often, we had fried chicken. That was one of Mom’s go-to meals. I had a lot of fried chicken as a kid. So much in fact, that after I left home, I went years without eating it because I needed a break. 

   And with Mom’s fried chicken there had to mashed potatoes too, and while Mom made pretty good fried chicken, her mashed potatoes were, well…

They used to be really good, but at some point she stopped making them from real potatoes and starting using those flakes in the box stuff. From then on her potatoes were either the consistency of spackle or runny enough they could be consumed through a straw. There really was no middle ground with them. 

So, if I was going to invite a friend for dinner, it was always good to find out what was on the menu first.

   So, all of that dinner talk aside, while it would be easy to preach an entire series on the 23rd Psalm, spending one week on each phrase, our focus today is primarily on the one line:

 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies

   Now, this is not a Holy Communion reference, although it could be used that way, even if it is a pre-Jesus, pre-Last Supper Old Testament passage. 

And it’s not an invitation to the potluck next Sunday, although it could be that as well. No, the Psalmist - presumably David in this case - makes a larger point that is less about us and more about who and how God is. 

   The structure of the psalm is interesting as well. David begins by speaking about God in the third person. “The Lord..” does this, “he” does that, and so forth. But then in the middle, in the line at the very center of the psalm, “Even though I walk through the darkest valley,” (or the “valley of the shadow of death” if you prefer the King James version) the voice changes as David transitions to second person, saying, “you are with me,” “You” do this and “You” do that. David moves from talking about God in the first part to talking to God in the second. One commentator points out that in the original Hebrew, the word “with” is exactly in the middle of this psalm, the same number of words before as after the word “with.” God is with David. God is with us. God’s “withness,” this suggests, is not only at the center of the psalm, but is at the center of who and how God is with us. For David, it’s as though in the middle of this song, God moves from holding a place in David’s head to a dwelling place in his heart.

   In the midst of our often self-imposed busyness, as we face the myriad things we feel compelled to get done - all the things to do, places to go, people to see - this psalm reminds us that the unhurried God is with us whether we realize it or not, in the good times and in the bad, at the very heart or center of our lives. And that that has always been the case, from the beginning.

   God first revealed God’s self to be present with us, to be immanent, in the Creation. The Spirit of God, Genesis tells us, hovered over the waters even before God spoke creation into being. God created everything out of nothing; nothing, that is, except for God’s presence in that hovering Spirit. The God who was present in the primordial waters before Creation is the same God who is present at all times and in all things, all places and all peoples now; the panentheistic God who God is present everywhere and in everything, including in each and every one of us. God is present; God has never NOT been present with us. But because, in part, we either lost track of that, forgot about it, don’t trust it, or don’t want to believe that God is present in people who are different from us, God came to be one with us in Jesus Christ, called Emmanuel in the scripture passages that foretold this human incarnation. We remember that Emmanuel literally means “God with us.” God couldn’t have made the Holy presence any clearer if God had tattooed it on our body. But, do we experience God’s presence primarily in our head, or in our hearts? That’s the question, isn’t it?

   This “withness” of God doesn’t mean, though, that our lives will not have their problems, that there won’t be dark valleys that we must journey through. What it means though, is that whether as individuals, as a church, as a community, nation, or world, we don’t travel life’s hills and valleys alone. We do face challenges - every day. For some the challenges are existential; how will I get by today, where will I find food or medicine or shelter today, how will I live through this day. For others, while perhaps not as dramatic, the challenges are nevertheless just as real:

How will I get to this doctor’s appointment? 

Where will I get the money for my rent, or utilities, or medicine? How will I get my addiction under control, or that of my child? The challenges are real, even as they vary from person to person, from day to day.

   And then we encounter this “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies” line and wonder what we’re to make of that. The Twenty-third Psalm can provide great comfort as we imagine those green pastures and still waters, as we consider a life in which God restores our soul and in which we no longer want for anything. But it also recalls those dark valleys that we’d just as soon avoid or forget, and that maybe even make us doubt or deny the existence of those promised green pastures. And on top of that, and even more challenging, it calls us to the not-so-easy practice of sitting down at the table with our enemies.

   Now, when I hear the word “enemies” my first thought is usually tied to Batman and his arch-enemy “The Joker,” or some other comic book superhero, who almost always has an “arch enemy” of some kind. I guess, in the midst of a sea of enemies, the archenemy is the principle enemy, the main foe. What kind of challenges must one face, existential or otherwise, what kind of world-view, that makes one think of other beloved children of God as “the enemy.” I can’t think of a single person I would consider an enemy. Now, there are people I don’t agree with. And there are people I don’t really like so much, but enemies?

   Nevertheless, regardless of the labels we attach to those who look, speak, pray, love, or vote differently than us - our “thems,” our enemies if you will - the unhurried God of Creation who is present with US in the good times AND in the difficult times, is just as present with THEM, and not inly invites us, but challenges us to be radically present to each other in the same way God is present with us. As much as we might like, we simply can’t just gloss over this line of the psalm. “You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies” deserves some thought. From a Christian perspective, Christ’s table is the place where reconciliation begins and ends. It is where we are invited to share in the body of Christ which is all of Creation. The gospel writer Luke quotes Jesus as saying that when you have a dinner party, don’t invite those who can invite you in return (Luke 14) - invite those who can’t, or won’t. When all that he has worked for seems on the brink of falling apart during his final night, Jesus breaks bread with his disciples - the faithful, the denier, and the betrayer. He models for us that we, too, are to make peace at the table, not just with our friends and pals, but with those with whom relationships are broken or even nonexistent.

   You see, it’s when we’re willing to break bread at Christ’s table, or any table, with our enemies - those we would consider as “them” or “those people;” and we all know who that is for us - that we truly experience the “withness” of God’s love that is offered to us and the Kingdom of Heaven that Jesus invites us into, will be more than a mere hope, it will be an overflowing cup.

   Let’s conclude by reciting together the Psalm - it’s printed in your worship folders:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long. (Ps 23, CEB)

Amen.