Psalm 126: 1-6 (links validated 9/9/24a)

Whatever the precise restoration that is being envisioned here in Psalm 126, it is clearly presented as a kind of dream come true. How often haven’t we seen it in films or in novels and in our own lives that when something beautiful happens—especially if there had been prior circumstances that made this wonderful thing seem unlikely ever to happen—somebody grins from ear to ear even as he or she says, “Wait, am I dreaming? Is this really happening? Can this be true?” It reminds me of an iconic photo many of us have seen before of a family welcoming home their husband/father after he had been a POW for a long time in Vietnam. If you look closely at the picture below, you will notice that the elder daughter’s feet are quite literally not touching the ground as this picture was snapped. They never thought this day would come. And then it did. “We were like people living in a dream” the psalmist writes. “Our mouths were filled with laughter.” Some things are so unexpected and yet so good they quite literally seem, as we say, “too good to be true.”

The kind of delirious joy and laughter that Psalm 126 describes reminds me of one of the latter scenes in both the novel and the film version of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. The heroic Hobbits Frodo and Sam have finally accomplished their mission of destroying the evil Ring of Power that once belonged to the wicked and powerful Sauron. But for the last long while before they accomplished this, they were under the impression that their one-time mentor and friend, the wizard Gandalf the Gray, had died before their very eyes in the caverns of Moria and in the clutches of the terrible monster the Balrog. What they did not know was that Gandalf had been resurrected, restored, sent back to Middle Earth as now Gandalf the White, an even more powerful wizard than he had been before. But it is only after Frodo and Sam are rescued from their own peril and brought for a time of healing in the city of Minas Tirith that they encounter Gandalf again, very much alive. For Frodo, this happens when he awakens as from a long and deep sleep only to see Gandalf alive and staring lovingly at him. The movie version skips this but in the book Frodo asks Gandalf, “Does this mean that all the sad things of this world will be unmade?” And the answer seems to be yes. Maybe even death itself. Soon all of Frodo’s companions rush into the room too, all filled with joy, all their mouths filled with laughter. Because it was a dream come true, it was too good to be true. They survived. The world’s darkness had lifted and the light shined once more.

He didn’t make it up on the spot. It was part of a sermon or a speech—and with Martin Luther King, Jr., there sometimes was not a lot of difference between the two—that he had delivered before and that colleagues had heard. But he was not necessarily planning on using those words that day at the Lincoln Memorial with huge throngs of Civil Rights supporters arrayed before him on the National Mall. But after he had been speaking for a bit, some of King’s colleagues behind him began to say, “Tell them about the dream, Martin. Tell them about the dream.” And that’s when he said it. That is when he began some of the most famous words in the whole history of oratory. “I have a dream” King said. And in the coming minutes as he spooled out what that dream looked like, it somehow felt less like a dream and more like an achievable reality after all. You could see it. You could hear it. You could feel it. And when King capped what is now known the world over as his “I Have a Dream” speech, when he said that the words of the old Negro spiritual would soon come true: “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty we are free at last”—well, just hearing him end the dream like that made everyone who heard him feel a bit more free already. Dreams can do that. Yes, we all wish this dream could be fulfilled in all the ways King imagined and articulated. We don’t quite get the Psalm 126 picture yet of people whose mouths are filled with laughter because a dream had come true. But keeping the dream alive is still so vital. For the day will come, in God’s in-breaking kingdom, when this will be everyone’s reality.

the kind of delirious joy and laughter that Psalm 126 describes reminds me of one of the latter scenes in both the novel and the film version of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. The heroic Hobbits Frodo and Sam have finally accomplished their mission of destroying the evil Ring of Power that once belonged to the wicked and powerful Sauron. But for the last long while before they accomplished this, they were under the impression that their one-time mentor and friend, the wizard Gandalf the Gray, had died before their very eyes in the caverns of Moria and in the clutches of the terrible monster the Balrog. What they did not know was that Gandalf had been resurrected, restored, sent back to Middle Earth as now Gandalf the White, an even more powerful wizard than he had been before. But it is only after Frodo and Sam are rescued from their own peril and brought for a time of healing in the city of Minas Tirith that they encounter Gandalf again, very much alive.

In their high school religion classes (four years apart) both my daughter and son had a teacher who early on in the semester engaged the students in an exercise he called “The God Glimpse.” Each student was told to take a 2-week period of time and keep their eyes peeled for glimpses of where they discerned where God by his Holy Spirit was at work. If possible, they were also instructed to snap a photo of their God Glimpse to share with the rest of the class. The results were always interesting and in the end also downright inspiring. Students took photos of things like classmates gathering around a discouraged student who needed a boost after messing up the final play in a close basketball game. They took note of the person in the grocery store who abandoned her own cart to help an older woman who was struggling with her cart and who could not reach items on higher grocery shelves. One student observed that on her bus ride to school each day, they went through a neighborhood that some years earlier had been a haven for drugs and violence. Windows were broken out in most homes, front porches sagged in dilapidation, front yards were untended tangles of weeds. But a Christian organization had rehabbed the whole block and it was now filled with nicely renovated houses and yards and was populated by families with children who played safely in those yards even as older people sat on the refurbished porches to watch the young ones play. “Every time our bus goes down that block,” the student wrote, “it’s like Easter all over again!”...

He didn’t make it up on the spot. It was part of a sermon or a speech—and with Martin Luther King, Jr., there sometimes was not a lot of difference between the two—that he had delivered before and that colleagues had heard. But he was not necessarily planning on using those words that day at the Lincoln Memorial with huge throngs of Civil Rights supporters arrayed before him. But after he had been speaking for a bit, some of King’s colleagues behind him began to say, “Tell them about the dream, Martin. Tell them about the dream.” And that’s when he said it. That is when he began some of the most famous words in the whole history of oratory. “I have a dream” King said. And in the coming minutes as he spooled out what that dream looked like, it somehow felt less like a dream and more like an achievable reality after all. You could see it. You could hear it. You could feel it. And when King capped what is now known the world over as his “I Have a Dream” speech, when he said that the words of the old Negro spiritual would soon come true: “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty we are free at last”—well, just hearing him end the dream like that made everyone who heard him feel a bit more free already. Dreams can do that.

the kind of delirious joy and laughter that Psalm 126 describes reminds me of one of the latter scenes in both the novel and the film version of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” trilogy. The heroic Hobbits Frodo and Sam have finally accomplished their mission of destroying the evil Ring of Power that once belonged to the wicked and powerful Sauron. But for the last long while before they accomplished this, they were under the impression that their one-time mentor and friend, the wizard Gandalf the Gray, had died before their very eyes in the caverns of Moria and in the clutches of the terrible monster the Balrog. What they did not know was that Gandalf had been resurrected, restored, sent back to Middle Earth as now Gandalf the White, an even more powerful wizard than he had been before. But it is only after Frodo and Sam are rescued from their own peril and brought for a time of healing in the city of Minas Tirith that they encounter Gandalf again, very much alive...

Painting by Vincent Van Gogh and song by Isaac Wardell

The “already, but not yet” dynamic at the heart of this Psalm has many echoes in human history, most notably in times of war. Everyone knows that the decisive invasion of Europe on D-Day in World War II was the great turning point in that conflagration, but it was not yet final victory. Many months of bloody fighting would follow before V-Day. In the Iraq War, President Bush infamously announced that we had won with a “Mission Accomplished” banner behind him. And we are still mired in the Middle East. The final victory of God is completely certain; we just don’t know when it will be. Though many will think it corny and most won’t even remember it, the old Gospel song, “Bringing in the Sheaves,” captures the mood and message of Psalm 126:5, 6...

Presented with the image below, how would you interpret it in light of the subject of dreams and people who dream? Is your interpretation influenced by what you know about God-given dreams? Is this a picture that depicts a God dream like the people mentioned in the psalm? Or is this just a Freudian-influenced painter's world of dreams? You can read one interpretation of the painting via the museum link under the painting, but maybe that's not the best interpretation. What do you understand this painting to mean?...

The Christian writer Philip Yancey has as good a definition of grace as any I've seen. In his book What's So Amazing About Grace, Yancey writes: 'Grace means there is nothing I can do to make God love me more, and nothing I can do to make God love me less. It means that I, even I who deserve the opposite, am invited to take my place at the table in God's family.'

See Chapter 4 for Psalm 1 commentary.

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