Rev. Victoria Millar

Covenant Presbyterian Church, Racine, WI

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Psalm 8

“Mindful”

Psalm 8

O Lord, our Sovereign,
   how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory above the heavens.
   Out of the mouths of babes and infants
you have founded a bulwark because of your foes,
   to silence the enemy and the avenger.

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
   the moon and the stars that you have established;
what are human beings that you are mindful of them,
   mortals that you care for them?

Yet you have made them a little lower than God,
   and crowned them with glory and honour.
You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;
   you have put all things under their feet,
all sheep and oxen,
   and also the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
   whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

                                            
O Lord, our Sovereign,
   how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Last month, Buzz Aldrin, age 80

 was featured on the popular television series “Dancing with the Stars.”

                 After a cha-cha-cha to Sam Cook’s tune “Cupid,”

Dr. Aldrin stood beaming before the panel of three judges, Carrie Ann, Len and Bruno.

                                    Len said grandly: “How can I criticize a hero and a legend?”

                                        But judge him they did-- rating him 5, 4 and 5, a total of 14 out of a possible 30. [1]

                                                Buzz Aldrin looked a little surprised but continued smiling.

Now one of the reasons I like this so much is for the pun.

            “Dancing with the Stars,” of course, meaing with celebrities.

                        But I’d like to think Aldrin really danced with the stars, meaning astronomy

                                    because Aldrin was astronaut #2 in the sequence of only twelve, all Americans,

 who have ever walked--pranced, maybe danced--on the moon.[2]

  By the way, last month’s judges, asked if he’d sneaked a few moonwalk steps

into the cha-cha-cha, which he admitted he had. 

On July 20, 1969, Apollo 11 was the first manned spacecraft to land on the moon.

   On the ancient lunar soil in a dry valley called the Sea of Tranquility,

     astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin left a carefully crafted silicon disc

       a little larger than a half dollar,

         inscribed with microscopic messages of peace and goodwill.

The messages were contributed from 73 nations including the Vatican

            which is considered a country.

  And on that disk, still embedded on the moon,

 the Vatican’s message is Psalm 8   [3]   [4]  [5]

                                    which we read together today.

Three thousand years ago, the poet who wrote what is called Psalm 8 proclaimed:

O Lord, our Sovereign,

In all the earth, how majestic is your name,

Your glory is above the heavens.

The psalmist continues to the heart of the matter:

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
            the moon and the stars that you have established;

 

what are human beings that you are mindful of them,
            mortals that you care for them?

Then the psalmist makes an enormous claim:

Yet you have made humans only a little lower than yourself,
            and crowned them with glory and honour.

You have given humans dominion over the work of your hands--                                                               [entrusted care to them for] all the animals that walk or fly and swim.

 

Then the psalm comes full circle and completes with the praise with which it began:
O Lord, our Sovereign,
            how majestic is your name in all the earth!

What a perfect choice—Psalm 8 for Apollo 11.

            Majesty and glory, those first photos of the earth from the moon,

our blue-green planet shining like a Christmas ornament

O Lord, how majestic is your name, your glory is above the heavens.

When we look at your heavens, your handiwork, the moon and the stars,

    what are we that you are mindful of us?

        Standing on the moon, under a canopy of constellations, astronauts knew they were small and fragile,

           knew they were taking great risks, totally dependent on equipment and communication with NASA.

O God of galaxies and undiscovered universes, God of infinity, we are so small.

     What are we that you are mindful of us?

      And then the answer, two humans leaving footprints in the dust of the Sea of Tranquility.

            God is mindful of us because we are made in the image of God.

God has crowned us with glory and honor,

                                    with creativity and language and genius

                                                with curiosity and courage and cooperation.

What a perfect choice—Psalm 8 for Apollo 11.

God is mindful of us.

     We are made in God’s image.

A few years ago I heard our friend Bob give a talk about his as a career Navy chaplain.

At the blackboard, he began his talk saying:  “This is what’s on my mind.”

Then he wrote these words:

·        Radical Islam

·        Globalization

·        Terrorism              

·        Fundamentalism

·        Postmodernism      

·        Iraq          

·        Suicide bombers   

·        Israel     

·        Palestine

“This is what’s on my mind,” he said finishing his list of heavy topics.

 He stood back and smiled, saying:  “My mind is like a dangerous neighborhood.

 No one should go in there alone.”

                             Then he began to start a conversation with the group,

 weaving through his list of topics and sharing his experiences. 

Now Bob is mindful—he knows what neighborhood his thoughts walk through.

   His sounds like a very intense mindfulness and it is.

       And he was career military—all those topics were related to his responsibilities, his vocation, his calling.

            But of what are we mindful—you and me, in our community?

So last Wednesday I asked the Covenant lectionary group,

            I gave them paper, pencil and anonymity and asked for their permission to share the results.

                  This is the neighborhood their thoughts walk through,

                                    the list of what was on their minds

                                                and mine, too, actually, because I also filled out a paper.

                                                            This isn’t every item, it’s the answers where we overlapped,

                                                                 in descending order from the highest number of responses.

This is what a sample of our community thinks about:

• #1    to do lists, chores and projects
• #2    responsiblities
• #3   family, friends and relationships
• #4   health and future including end of life
• #5  God’s presence
• #6  life’s frustrations and limits
• #7  nature and delight

Note:  top—to do lists and responsibilities, bottom—nature and delight.

I wonder if this list sounds true for you.

   Do you listen to the pattern of your own thoughts, the content as well as categories,

 and do you notice what neighborhoods you walk through,

                        do you notice if you’re making new tracks or retracing the same steps over and over.

Some of you have heard me say I study with the Benedictines,

            The Benedictines are a Catholic order founded in about 500 A.D.

whereas our Reformed theology was founded in about 1500 A.D.,

so as I see it, they had a 1,000 year headstart on us.

I stay at Benedictine monastery a few times a year

and I have found their spiritual practices to be a help to me.

From the Benedictines, I learned there is a spiritual practice called mindfulness or awareness.[6]

            The point is to be mindful/aware of the presence of the holy which is everywhere.

                        The point is not to live mindlessly, not to live in routines on autopilot,

                                    not to live in compulsions and automatic reactions,

                                                not to move lurch from one task to the next without time to breathe.

The practice is to step back from our thoughts and to notice the ruts, which can be subtle.

            In stepping back, we learn to pray, even a sentence, to quiet the mind

                        to receive God’s help and a new perspective.

                                    Mindfulness is about knowing ourselves better and hearing God.

                                                Delight comes from mindfulness.

The Benedictines teach there are three aspects of mindfulness.

1.      Awe and reverence of God.

2.      Meditation, returning heart and mind to God.

3.      Replacement of compulsions with an abiding awareness of God as grace within us.

It’s as simple as creating pauses between your thoughts

            even if your mind walks through a desert

               you may discover an oasis with a fountain to which you return again and again,

                   an oasis in a sentence:  O Lord, our sovereign how majestic is your name in all the earth.

The Benedictines teach that mindfulness begins with awe and reverence of God.

If there was a class on awe, it could be taught by Pulitzer Prize winning poet Liesl Mueller.

   A refugee from World War II Germany, she has an enormous capacity for awe.        

And she is in awe of the improbability of being alive—

          the unlikeliness of the convergences of her geography vs. all other places,

               her point in history vs. all other ages, and

                     her particular genetics vs. all other possibilities.

The poet writes;

            “Speaking of marvels,

I am alive, together with you…the odds against us are endless,

                             our chances of being alive together statistically nonexistent,

                                    still we have made it…

                                                But for endless ifs

                                                                  [we] might have missed out on being alive

                                                                      together with marvels and follies

                                                                        and  longings…and wishes

                                                                         and error and humor and mercy

                                                                          and journeys and voices and faces

                                                                            and colors and summers and mornings

                                                                              and knowledge and tears and chance.”[7]

There are other kinds of awe too which are like delight.

 We also can be awestruck under a canopy of stars or skiing down a mountain

 or walking the dogs along the lakeshore when its sparkling

                        or looking into the face of a loved one or a child.

                                    Some of us find delight in birdsong every morning

and the joy and abundance of a beautiful garden

and of dancing when no one is watching.

Recently I read a short story about a young nephew called Baby and his older Southern auntee.

This is a snippet from the story.

“The sun was going down over the west Tennessee fields,

now all laid by, waiting for the crops to mature, waiting for the harvest time,

when suddenly auntee gave a sigh and said

“Oh, Baby, how beautiful it all is,

and its only lent to us for a little while!

 How can anybody not be humble, not be grateful?”

Then, answering her own question, she continued “But that’s the way with us fool[s]…” 

And she paused, then added:

“But of course, that leaves out the grace of God,

though sometimes I wonder if God doesn’t occasionally ask

 whether God’s taken on too much, even for God.

 But then, I don’t know anything more about that

 then the man in the moon.”[8]

There is no man in the moon, but a few men visited once.

   On the moon which encircles us,

in cycles of light ever changing.

                        But deep in the moon dust of the Sea of Tranquility, no less,

                                    are words ever constant:

                                          God of grace and majesty, who are we that you are mindful of us?

                                                          Teach us also be mindful of you.

                                                                  May awe, delight and gratitude

                                                                     flow through our responsibilities, our relationships

and our health                                                                                 in all the days you give us.

                                                                                                      Amen and amen.