Sermon - The Rev. Dr. Elise Feyerherm, March 17th, 2024

According to ancient tradition, Psalm 51 is a psalm of David, repenting of his sins after committing adultery with Bathsheba and having her husband Uriah killed on the frontlines of battle. As such, it is a reminder that even those chosen by God, even those who love God, are in need of repentance. In this interpretation, it reveals David’s deep sorrow at having done wrong, and his desire to turn from sin toward the forgiveness of God and amendment of life.

Fragments of this psalm are woven in throughout our Book of Common Prayer. The entire psalm, minus the last two verses, is prayed on Ash Wednesday after ashes are imposed, inviting the entire assembly into a posture of humility before the God who knows we are but dust, and who forgives and has mercy. 

In the second form of the Rite of Reconciliation of a Penitent, the priest and the penitent begin by praying the first three verses of this psalm together, emphasizing that it is not just the penitent, but the priest and all Christians, who have sinned and need God’s forgiveness: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving-kindness.” 

In Daily Devotions for the Morning, the opening is taken from verses 11-13 of the psalm: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” 

In some traditions, this psalm has been understood as a confirmation of the doctrine of original sin. When the psalmist asserts, “Indeed, I have been wicked from my birth, a sinner from my mother’s womb,” this has been interpreted as “proof” that human beings are corrupt from the moment they emerge into this world. But this reading loses sight of the true nature of the psalms, that they are not objective descriptions of the nature of the universe, but outpourings of the human heart and soul. They are snapshots of experience from the inside, what it is like to be a human being finding their way with God in a dangerous and uncertain world.

It strikes me that each of us knows what it is like to be the person speaking in this psalm, in some form or another. But we don’t all experience it in the same way – I think it is worth reflecting on those differences.

Some of us, I imagine, have a tendency to underestimate our capacity for doing harm. We think of ourselves as basically good people, unaware of the damage that our privilege, power, and influence might be inflicting in the world. King David is one of these in extreme form – as king, he felt he had the right to disregard the lives and autonomy of others to get what he wanted. It was not until the prophet Nathan confronted David with a parable about a rich man taking a poor man’s sheep that David was able to see himself as he was – selfish, cruel, and an abuser of power. 

When we suddenly come face to face with something we have done that causes real pain to someone else, this psalm is a necessary corrective to our self-image. If our ego has been keeping us from seeing our sin, the psalm is a plea for the gift of unflinching honesty. Like Mary’s vision in the Magnificat, it scatters the proud in their conceit and casts down the mighty from their thrones. Some of us will need this corrective often; some of us less often; but all of us at one time or another.

For others of us, however, this psalm will resonate differently. Instead of coming as a necessary corrective for an oversized ego, it will fester in a soul that is mired in its own sense of worthlessness. There are those of us for whom the words, “I have been wicked from my birth” tells of a self-inflicted burden that has crushed us for years. For some, the sense of deserving God’s righteous judgment has lost all calibration, all connection with reality, serving only as a millstone around their neck, keeping them from an awareness of God’s love and mercy. 

The “sin,” if it can be called that, is in the inability to recognize and embrace one’s own belovedness. In this case, psalm 51 is a cry to God for rescue, from someone who longs to be set free from shame and self-loathing. It is a soul in trouble, singing, “Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.” It is a plea for the lowly to be lifted up, and the hungry to be filled with joy.

Whether we tend to hold our sense of sinfulness at arm’s length or allow it to consume us, there is a barrier around our heart, like the outer coat around a seed. That outer shell protects the seed, protects us, from certain kinds of injury. We are trying to protect ourselves from the knowledge of our own brokenness, from the shame of not being who we think we are supposed to be. Either way, the soul is protected from having to come before God naked, unvarnished, unprotected, in the light of pure knowledge and understanding.

But we know that if the outer coat does not disintegrate, the seed cannot germinate. No new life will emerge, and the seed will rot. Created in the image of God, we are made with the possibility of regeneration and new life within us, but the shells we wrap around ourselves, whether inflated egos or self-hatred, threaten to choke that new life.

Jesus warns his disciples that “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” The seed cannot stay wrapped in its shell if it is to burst forth into new life. But we love our shells. We are persuaded that they are us, that they are our life, no matter how much they damage others or our own selves. We have convinced ourselves that how we see ourselves, not how God sees us, is the truth.

I think that we do not know ourselves as well as we think we do, and I know that we do not know ourselves as God knows us. Our transgressions, all of them, flow from this lack of self-knowledge,  and from not allowing ourselves to receive the good news of how utterly and completely we are loved, each one of us, without exception, without condition, without end.

Psalm 51 invokes the power of God to expose the lie of whatever shells we cling to, and strip away whatever “truths” about ourselves we insist on holding up between ourselves and God. It is a daring and bold request, inviting God to look for truth deep within us and make us know wisdom as we have never known it on our own. 

What will happen if God looks for truth deep within us? What will happen if we are purged from our sin, whatever it is? What will happen if God creates a new heart within us? I think what will happen is we will know ourselves as God knows us, with all our brokenness and all our beauty. We will know ourselves as utterly beloved, unreservedly cherished and tenderly cared for. When that happens, eternal life is not far behind. In fact, it has already arrived.