Ash Wednesday

On Psalm 51: For the leader. A psalm of David when Nathan the prophet came to him after he had gone in to Bathsheba.

2For months and months now, I have been living with sin constantly on my mind, but I have not once believed that I was sinning against God. It had become more personal than that, attached to specific people: my wife, my middle brother, my dad, my former co-worker who was very needy and who I helped countless times without once receiving any kindness back from him, except gas money on a few occasions. The sin I have been carrying is one of hubris, one of being unable to see love and kindness when offered to me because I was so sure that I was once again being offered sand.

"Give me back the joy of your salvation..." During these months, I wish that I had had this verse tattooed on my wrist. Where is joy? Where is sincerity to be found? I think that I must have grown sick of being sincere.

And yet somehow, again and again I have been delivered from ruin. There have been jobs. There has been beauty. There has been good food and happy children, and warm days and music. But it has seemed that those things happen in spite of me; that everyone can take these things for what they are--life whereas to me they feel, deep down underneath, attached to some vast accountancy. And so I am already missing and mourning these moments while in progress.

The soundtrack to these months has been songs of brokenness and contrition. Cohen's "Hallelujah," especially:

Maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya

This is what has been tattooed on my heart all these months, a "cold and broken" Hallelujah praising the coming of what? Night? Morning? Quitting time? Dinner time?

Here is what I can say for sure: The greatest joy I have felt in these past months is watching my son hit a baseball to the opposite field. His head down, his hands out front, following through and over his shoulder, then a blur of white pants, then his beaming face standing atop of the bag, like he's never been there before, because, really he hasn't.

 Psalm 51*:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14, 17 

 *A lament, the most famous of the seven Penitential Psalms, prays for the removal of the personal and social disorders that sin has brought.



3 For I am well aware of my offences, my sin is constantly in mind.

4 Against you, you alone, I have sinned, I have done what you see to be wrong, that you may show your saving justice when you pass sentence, and your victory may appear when you give judgement,

5 remember, I was born guilty, a sinner from the moment of conception.

6 But you delight in sincerity of heart, and in secret you teach me wisdom.

12 Give me back the joy of your salvation, sustain in me a generous spirit.

13 I shall teach the wicked your paths, and sinners will return to you.

14 Deliver me from bloodshed, God, God of my salvation, and my tongue will acclaim your saving justice.

17 Sacrifice to God is a broken spirit, a broken, contrite heart you never scorn.