Meditation

In 1977, Franco Zeffirelli’s television mini-series, Jesus of Nazareth, appeared. I remember one scene early in the movie in which Roman soldiers ride roughshod over the citizens of Nazareth. There are shouts, and dust rises amidst overturned carts of fruit and vegetables. After they have galloped away, one man leaps into the street and, full of anger, shakes his fist at the sky and shouts, “How long, O Lord?” And then the camera slowly shifts past the justly furious man and focuses on a boy standing in shadows. His eyes are wide open with shock, sympathy, and sorrow. It is Jesus at 12 years old. How long, O Lord, indeed? He is already here. He lives in your hometown. Already he bears the sins and sorrows of the world, the injustices and the ever-present crushing of the weak by the earthly powerful. 

Psalm 146 broadcasts a message for all people, for all time, for every stage of humanity: “Put not your trust in rulers, nor in any child of earth, for there is no help in them. … the God of Jacob … gives justice to those who are oppressed and food to those who hunger.” Psalm 147 recognizes the hurts of earth; it knows that Jerusalem has been destroyed but promises that “the Lord rebuilds Jerusalem”; he knows that there are those who are “brokenhearted” and who have “wounds,” and promises that they will be healed and bound up. It assures the faithful that “the Lord lifts up the lowly, but casts the wicked to the ground.” The psalms raises our eyes to see that the stars are not only known but have names, to behold the heavens covered with clouds, the seasonal rain, grass growing on the mountains; we see God in the unending round of nature whose permanence shows how transitory are the strongest powers that human politics and oppression can achieve. How long, O Lord, indeed? He is already here. He lives in your hometown.