On most mornings I begin a time of prayerful quiet by reading a psalm. I often write in my journal my personal prayers that sprout out of the psalmists’ thoughts—things that I am struggling with or perhaps celebrating in my own life. But over the last couple of weeks there has been a shift. I have hit a stretch of psalms, 52-64, that have slowed me down, one after another. They are full of laments. But even though in this pandemic I have, we all have, plenty to lament, I knew they were not my psalms to pray—at least for now. Instead, God was inviting me to ask: “Who is praying this psalm today.” The answer came in the voices of sisters and brothers who endure racial injustice because of their skin color, the LGBTQ community facing intolerance because of who they love, and those who are facing abuse and addiction in homes, among a few.
When I was in seminary, I took a course from Dr. Frances Gench where we read the scriptures from the “underside.” The underside in that case was specifically the perspective of biblical women whose point of view had been silenced, written and then interpreted from dominant male points of view. In the few last weeks, these psalms have begged me, the white-privileged, safe, sober, cis-gendered one, to please be silent and listen to another point of view. To pray with their struggles, not mine. To follow another another’s lead. To hear the lament in their voice and pray from their viewpoint. To dare to hurt with them. To let their story and lament change my heart and transform me into fostering change in our world.
And so I write this post only as one trying to listen to perspectives from the underside. I do not speak for those who struggle in different circumstances. I do not intend to co-opt prayer or ways of praying. But I have experienced how the act of prayer, of listening deeply to another’s very different story and of taking it into one’s heart, connects us with all people. Prayer is never just about me. Prayer is the Spirit weaving community together. Even if sometimes that community begins with me and God, God is always pushing my community to grow. When I listen and pray from the underside, something shifts in me. My heart is being changed as I honor another’s lament and softly learn the lament in their language.
One morning recently my journal looked like this:
A meditative prayer on Psalm 63 from the underside
You are our God.
Where else can we turn except to you, O God?
This nation is a dry and weary land where there is no water,
especially for us wearing skin of black or brown or bronze,
us for whom justice in the streets shifts like a desert mirage.
We look to you now,
calling on your merciful, transcending power,
greater than that of president or prison guard,
police officer or threatening mob.
Your love, O Lord, is stronger than our breath—-
that which is squeezed, callously erased by
generations of abusive power and violence.
No, God, your steadfast love cannot be destroyed
And so I with my own breathing voice I bless you. Yes, as long as I am still alive,
walking in this unsafe land, I will still bless you.
In worship I will lift up my hands, close my eyes,
body swaying, voice singing to you, O God.
My soul is so satisfied by you as if I were at a family gathering—
eating, laughing, remembering, telling stories.
Your presence among us is a feast of joy,
and around this table I tell all about you;
I make sure our next generation knows
the hope you put in my heart,
steadily beating love, even in this parched land.
But sometimes at night I lie awake in bed:
I worry whether my children are safe: will they come home?
I remind myself to breathe, to remember again your presence
embracing those children when my arms can’t.
You have helped me before;
the latest terror is nothing new.
Under the shadow and shelter of your wings
I survived before to praise you.
And so today my soul again clings to you.
Uphold our people.
Uphold our cause in these treacherous, thirsty times.
Those who seek to destroy our hopes,
diminish our wisdom, and crush our lives
will one day see their own power and wealth vanish.
They will be destroyed by their own violence,
and their souls eaten by their own greed.
But you are the true ruler—Jesus, the anointed one,
who reigns over this world with truth and love.
Therefore my people, your people, will rejoice,
confident that God’s justice will triumph,
that all lies will be exposed,
and forever silenced in your loving presence.
Marianne Henderso says
Elaine, what a truly POWERFUL message you have sent! I would hope that someday, this racism, homophobia, greed, hate and anger against one another will be gone, but……. I am fearful! I don’t think I will see it in my lifetime. Of course my life time is very short now and sometimes I am thankful for that! Love this!