March 4, 2007 – Lent 2
Psalm 27
“Whom Shall I Fear?”

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” Few places in scripture give us such a masterful use of the rhetorical question. “Whom shall I fear?” Does the psalmist really expect an answer? No! “Of whom shall I be afraid?” Does the writer truly intend for someone to answer this inquiry? An emphatic “NO!”

“Whom shall I fear?” is a brilliant question for the Psalmist to put forth because it both echoes some of the deepest doubts in our souls while at the very same time it is plainly answered throughout scripture. We need never fear, for God is with us always. The apostle Paul brazenly answers the Psalmist’s question with his own, equally rhetorical question: “What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us?” (Romans 8:31)

The reason such questions work so well in this scriptural and literary context has to do with its connection to our own experience of fear. Fear is fundamental to many of God’s creatures, great and small, but certainly we humans have made fear an art form. From birth to death, we fight to keep at bay the fears of our world. From childhood fears of losing sight of our parents in the store or of the monster under the bed, to teenage fears of getting a major zit the night before the prom or missing the big catch in the championship game, to adult fears about work, relationships, finances, family, home, and faith; fears abound. And, of course, there is the ultimate fear that has beset human beings since our having been escorted out of the Garden of Eden: the fear of death. At this point we want to sing with the Indigo Girls, “what would you give for your kid fears?”(1) Oh to have those childhood fears as the only ones about which to worry!

“Whom shall I fear?” Oddly enough, that which the majority of us fear the most is not a “whom” but a “what.” The fundamental human fear is the fear of our own mortality, of death (and in Christian theology, there is no such “person” as death, that’s from the imagination of we human beings). In every culture, throughout every age of human history, painted on cave walls or written into complex novels, operatic oratorios, or blockbuster movies, this fear is writ large for our race. From the first time a child experiences the death of a pet, or sometimes even a family member, she or he begins the processes of trying to make sense of death, of trying to stay it off for just a little while longer, of maybe even, somehow, some way trying to defeat it.

Our fear of death is so powerful, so gripping, that we often will go to great lengths to try and avoid it. From the murky science of cryogenics, to the fads and trends of cosmetics, pharmaceuticals, cosmetic surgery, fitness, and diets we will go to almost any length or pay almost any price to attempt to push death back just a little bit.

Sadly, we become so desperate that we are easily taken advantage of. Not just sidewalk palm readers or quick insurance scam artists, but television preachers, corporate CEO’s, the medical establishment, and politicians of every ilk all-too-often play on our fear of death in order to further their own agendas or to keep themselves or their cronies swimming in money. In a recent Psychology Today article by Jay Dixit, this practice was highlighted. He wrote,
Campaign strategists in both parties have never hesitated to use scare tactics. In 1964, a Lyndon Johnson commercial called "Daisy" juxtaposed footage of a little girl plucking a flower with footage of an atomic blast. In 1984, Ronald Reagan ran a spot that played on Cold War panic, in which the Soviet threat was symbolized by a grizzly [bear] lumbering across a stark landscape as a human heart pounds faster and faster and an off-screen voice warns, "There is a bear in the woods!" In 2004, [George W.] Bush sparked furor for running a fear-mongering ad that used wolves gathering in the woods as symbols for terrorists plotting against America.(2)

And, understandably, this struggle with death is not helped at all by the very real and very terrible tragedies which do fill the front pages of our newspapers and home pages of our internet providers. Just this week, two such tragedies, the tornadoes in the south that hit the high school and the Bluffton College bus crash, remind us in vivid terms that death is never far from life. History is full of examples. In addition to the innumerable wars our world has known, some of you remember moments of great fear close to home: the desperate hand-to-mouth days of the Great Depression, the lynchings and shootings of blacks and civil rights workers of the 1950’s, the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 with its “duck and cover” drills, the urban race riots of the late 1960’s, and, still crystal-clear in our minds, the events of September 11, 2001.

But even in genuine catastrophic events fear, real and perceived, can shift our thinking and change our perspectives, whether we realize it or not. The Psychology Today writer also noted research has shown, in reference to 9/11: “Our political preferences are equally the result of factors we’re not aware of – such as how educated we are, how scary the world seems at a given moment, and personality traits… The fear of death alone is surprisingly effective in shaping our political decisions—more powerful, often, than thought itself.” (3)

“Whom shall I fear?” My dear friend, Mary Kay, reminded me this past week of a set of experiences she had shortly after 9/11. She was scheduled to go to her niece’s wedding in Memphis a week after the towers went down, and though she was nervous about flying – as were most Americans – she resolved to contain her fears as best she could and go. As she got onto the plane headed south, she quickly became aware that there were less than two dozen people on the flight, with most of the large plane sitting empty. The smallness of the group enabled her to look into the eyes of each passenger, and this gave her great comfort and she flew feeling remarkably relaxed.

On the return flight, however, more people had become at ease with flying, and the plane was much fuller than her first flight. Over 90 people filled the plane, far too many for her to look into each passenger’s eyes to find comfort. As she sat down, she began to panic. Finding it hard to breath, she tried desperately to think of something that would calm her fears. Nothing seemed to work until, at last, she thought about the ultimate conclusion: the plane might be hijacked and could possibly crash. She imagined her own death.

As she thought through what she might do as one passenger amongst many to try to prevent a tragedy from happening, and the likelihood of being able to do nothing, she began to think of God’s presence with her in whatever circumstance life might bring, and a clear and present peace came over her. It wasn’t so much the old adage, “nothing’s gonna happen that she and God couldn’t handle” as much as it was “whatever happens, God will be present.”

The author of Psalm 27 has gone through much of the same process. This is no “pie-in-the-sky” psalm. It is connected with reality, but never lets fear claim that reality. Real, fearful possibilities are acknowledged as possible: “evildoers assail me,” “an army encamps against me,” “my mother and my father forsake me,” there will be a time when “the day of trouble” will come, when adversaries “bear false witness” and “rise against me,” and when “I cry” to the Lord.”

Thinking about the “worst case scenario” and realizing God’s presence in whatever circumstance both the Psalmist and my friend on the plane might confront, gave them both that deep and abiding peace that is so hard to come by in our world. As she told me this story, I made an immediate connection with Jesus and his journey towards the cross. I’ve always been amazed and in awe of the peace with which Jesus seems to live as he headed towards his final hour. And if, as many theologians believe, that Jesus had an awareness from birth of his eventual crucifixion and death, a “Messianic Consciousness” they call it, then this peace is even more remarkable for it extended throughout his entire lifetime. From Day one Jesus knew his life would end tragically, but holding God’s presence as close as his own breath and blood, he lived in peace.

As my friend explained her coming to terms with her fears and possible death, I realized that this is what Christ was all about. “Whom shall I fear?” While Jesus may have thought the question, the answer was never in doubt in his heart. Every cell of his being was convinced that whatever happened to him, his death included, Abba God was present. God’s love was, is, and always shall be stronger than any terrorist’s best attempts at evil. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18)

This is why over a thousand five hundred years ago the season of Lent was carved out of the church year: to enable us to journey to the cross with the same profound knowledge that Jesus did: he is going to die. We will, too, someday.(4) Through our 40 day walk with Christ, we are invited to confront our own worst case scenarios, and try, through the gentle but persuasive urgings of scripture, to overcome our fears with the knowledge that God is with us. Or, in Paul’s words, “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” (Romans 14:8)

The psalmist, looking fear head-on, face-to-face, concludes that all will be well and offers a profound statement of faith: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living” and then summons to us, “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”

“Whom shall I fear?” While it may be rhetorical on paper, it is a profound question that all of us must eventually ask ourselves and each other. “Whom shall we fear?” Fortunately, it is a question that has already been answered, if we but put our trust in the one who made us, the one who calls us, the one who leads us, the one who walks with us, and the one who redeems us. “Whom shall I fear?” No one. Not with God by our side.

Amen.

(1) http://www.indigogirls.com/home.html 
(2) “The Ideological Animal” by Jay Dixit, in the January/Feburary 2007 Psychology Today, online at: http://psychologytoday.com/articles/pto-20061222-000001.xml
(3) Ibid
(4) http://www.christianitytoday.com/history/newsletter/easter/lent.html




Rev. Allen V. Harris
Franklin Circle Christian Church
www.FranklinCircleChurch.org


 

Copyright 2007 -- The Rev. Allen V. Harris

Franklin Circle Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

1688 Fulton Rd., Cleveland, OH 44113-3096