Sunday, March 10th, 2024: "Tables"
First United Presbyterian Church
“Tables”
Rev. Amy Morgan
March 10, 2024
Psalm 23
1 GOD is my shepherd; *
I shall not be in want.
2 GOD makes me lie down in green pastures *
and leads me beside still waters.
3 GOD revives my soul *
and guides me along right pathways for their Name's sake.
4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil; *
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
5 You spread a table before me in the presence of my enemies; *
you have anointed my head with oil,
and my cup is running over.
6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days
of my life, *
and I will dwell in the house of GOD for ever.
On October 27, 1962, an unarmed U.S. Air Force U-2 spy plane was shot down over the island of Cuba. Thirteen days before, the same plane with the same pilot had confirmed the existence of Soviet missile sites just 90 miles from the American mainland, igniting what came to be known as the Cuban Missile Crisis. The downing of the American plane could have escalated the conflict into all-out nuclear warfare, but the leaders of the United States and the Soviet Union chose to end the conflict peacefully instead.
But for the people of Cuba, the conflict did not end in October of 1962.
In the 62 years since the United Staes imposed a trade embargo on Cuba, the island nation has lost more than $130 billion in economic value. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Cuba could no longer buy equipment for tractors and lawn mowers, so the grass along the highways is cut by hand with machetes and Brama bulls plow their fields.
In 2017, I led a mission trip to Cuba thanks to the loosening of travel restrictions, which allowed Americans to travel to Cuba for religious activities. We were hosted by the moderator of the Presbytery of Havana, Rev. Izett Samá Hernández, who introduced us to several churches and pastors in the presbytery. But she also brought us to see El Cristo de la Habana, a 66-foot tall marble sculpture of Christ that stands looking over Havana.
On our way up the hill to see the sculpture, we stopped at the site of a historical exhibit. Several missiles were positioned, looking ready to launch. And the severed wing of a U.S. Air Force U-2 spy plane lay on the ground. It was a monument to the Cuban Missile Crisis, what the Cubans call “the October Crisis.”
This is all to say, Cubans know who their enemy is. Many Cubans told us they don’t hate Americans, but they hate the American government. The embargo has created devastating hardships for the Cuban people, which are exacerbated by the Cuban government’s restrictions on economic and personal freedoms.
And yet, when Pastor Izett brought us to her own church, in a small village outside the capital, we gathered with several of her church members, and they spread a table before us. The Cuban people survive mainly on rationed food from the government, which is not enough to get them through a month. But these church members had taken from their own meager rations and laid out a feast for us. They prepared a table in the presence of their enemies.
Psalm 23 depicts a serene pastoral vision of rest and safety, abundance and goodness and mercy. But in this sly 5th verse, it tells us God’s intentions for our enemies, those who shoot down unarmed aircraft and those who enforce trade embargoes. God will set a table, where enemies can sit down and break bread together, talk through their differences, acknowledge each other’s humanity in their shared need for sustenance.
This is a radical notion, even, and maybe especially, within the context of the Psalms. Elsewhere, God deals quite differently with enemies. According to the Psalmist, God strikes enemies on the cheek and breaks their teeth; shames and terrorizes them; and shatters their heads. Psalm 9 says that “the enemies have vanished in everlasting ruins; their cities you have rooted out; the very memory of them has perished.” These are very different images of dealing with enemies than what we find in the 23rd Psalm.
But these images of violence and vengeance are more familiar to us when it comes to dealing with enemies. Pointing nuclear weapons at each other, bombings and blockades, terror and destruction – this is how enemies are dealt with in our world. Whether those enemies are other nations or next-door neighbors, political opponents or business competitors, sitting down at a table together to work things out is generally not our first move. The goal is to dominate, dehumanize, and ultimately destroy those people or entities that we perceive are hurting or oppressing us.
So how is it that Psalm 23 deals with enemies so differently?
The word typically translated as “enemy” in this psalm is not the most common word for enemy in the Hebrew scriptures. The Hebrew word oyeb means enemy or foe, and it is found in those psalms I referenced where God is more or less smiting the enemy. These enemies are enemies of God and forces that seek to destroy God’s people. These enemies are bloodthirsty and ruthless, oppressive and unjust.
But the word we find in Psalm 23 is tzarar, which is sometimes used as a verb, an adjective, or a noun. It means “to bind, tie up,” “to be restricted,” or “narrow, scant, or cramped.” In Psalm 23, it literally translates as “the ones binding me or restricting me.” In other words, it's everything that is holding us back, keeping us from the expansive green pastures God wants us to lie down in. It is those people or things keeping us in those narrow, dark, valleys. It is those forces that are tying us in knots and cramping our style.
And Psalm 23 says that God lays out a feast, right in front of your face, and right in front of those restrictive powers. And it is at this table that your head is anointed with oil, a sign of welcome and respect, to refresh a visitor after a long journey, through the valley of the shadow of death, for instance.
And then there’s this lovely image of goodness and mercy following us all the days of our lives. The word “goodness” is the Hebrew word tov, that same word God used to describe creation at the beginning of Genesis. And “mercy” is the Hebrew word hesed, that steadfast love and faithfulness that characterizes God. And the word translated as “follow me” actually means “to pursue.” Everywhere else it is found in the Hebrew scriptures, it references an enemy pursuing someone.
So the movement of the psalm goes from these expansive, green pastures, and then into this narrow, dark, restrictive valley where we encounter those restrictive forces. But then we discover a feast and hospitality and abundance. And then we are sent back out, pursued not by enemies, but by tov and hesed, the goodness and steadfast love that defines the relationship between God and creation. But we are always welcome in the house of God, always welcome to return to that table.
This Psalm is mostly about the Psalmist and God. They are moving together, from field to table, from valleys to dwelling places. But there is this one other character in the Psalm that shows up for just a quick mention in verse 5. Those binding ones, those restrictive forces. They get to sit at the table, too. They are in God’s house and at God’s table, too. We might even assume that they, too, have been shepherded by God through green pastures and dark valleys to get there. And we might assume they are pursued by goodness and mercy and are always welcome in God’s house.
This is what Pastor Izett taught her flock. This is why they set a table for Americans.
We saw several billboards in Havana that depicted the island of Cuba encircled by a noose, with the words, “The embargo is the longest genocide in history.” These people feel restricted, tied up, bound to poverty and struggle by the American embargo. But Pastor Izett’s group of Cuban Presbyterians believed that this is exactly who God invites us to sit at table with. God welcomes Cubans and Americans alike to be honored guests at the abundant feast of God.
Maybe only after sitting together at that table can we be pursued by deep goodness and loving kindness instead of bitterness and fear. Perhaps sitting at the table with our enemies is the very thing that makes our cup overflow, that sets goodness and mercy on our tail, that keeps us coming back to dwell with the God who welcomes everyone to the table.
As another divisive political season ramps us, I pray that we can learn from the example of our Cuban Presbyterian siblings. If they can set a table for those who are restricting their ability to get food and medicine, surely we can sit at tables with folks who envision a different path for our nation, who may want to restrict our ideals or our definition of freedom. Surely we can recognize where we are trying to restrict other’s ideas and freedoms. Surely we can see the narrowness of all our viewpoints. Surely we can believe that God welcomes all of us to sit down and feast together, to rest and refresh together, to experience God’s abundance together. Surely.
Surely, goodness and loving kindness will chase us down and invite us to dwell together in God’s house, now and always. May that goodness and loving kindness outpace all the darkness, all the weariness, all the restrictions we place on each other, all the ways we try to hold each other back. And may that goodness and loving kindness empower and inspire us to keep sitting at tables with our enemies. May our example inspire others to sit at tables with their enemies – politicians and business leaders, heads of state and military commanders. Imagine if we could set tables for Russia and Ukraine, Israel and Gaza, Democrats and Republicans, immigrants and nationalists, in the same way our Cuban siblings set a table for us. Maybe goodness and mercy would pursue us all over the globe. Maybe all the world could be recognized as the dwelling-place of God where all are welcome.
To God be all glory forever and ever. Amen.
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