Psalm 84

A link to the text: Psalm 84


A happy Psalm. It's the basis for the song, "Better Is One Day." It's about the joys of coming into the Lord's house, the blessings of dwelling in his house.

Not what I typically think of during Lent. Why is it here? And where was this house where the Lord dwelled?

In Jerusalem.

"When the days drew near for [Jesus] to be received up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem." (Luke 9:51, RSV) The KJV reads: "...he steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem." Or, as Eugene Peterson translates, "...he gathered up his courage and steeled himself for the journey to Jerusalem."

I like the image of setting one's face. It's a turning, a fateful turning of one's life toward a purpose, a telos. I like "steadfastly." No turning back. I like "steeled." Unbending, unyielding, unwavering.

In so many and varied ways, Jesus is on his way to where the Father dwells even as Jesus is where the Father dwells. In Jesus' heart he is on the highway to Zion. (Ps. 84:5) His way is through the Temple in Jerusalem.

Psalm 84 is paired in the lectionary with the gospel story of Jesus cleansing the Temple. And now it makes sense.

The Lord's dwelling, in which, according to Psalm 84, sparrows and swallows could find a home and even lay their young at the altar, has now become a place where people marketed pigeons and doves for sacrifice on the altar. I know many who, even if unintentionally, speak of and treat "the market" as if it were god. But Jesus threw the markets and marketers out of the Temple and declared it a place not for profit at the expense of the poor, but a place of refuge and prayer for the poor. A sanctuary.

The Temple had, literally and figuratively, become a mess. And Jesus came to clean it up—literally, figuratively, and aggressively.

"And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him; for they were afraid of him, because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching." (Mark 11:18, RSV)

Here's a point. Our lives are the place where God's Glory dwells. Our bodies are temples. We have made a mess of them, "exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things"* in our own private emotional and material marketplaces, crowding our lives, God's dwelling, with useless sacrifices and empty promises and worthless transactions. Jesus, gentle Jesus, meek and mild, has steadfastly set his face toward us. He's coming to clean us up—aggressively if he has to. I think.

Here, then, are questions for Lent: Will we submit to his cleansing? Will we, like Eustace, submit to having our dragon scales peeled off by Aslan?** Will we repent? Or will we plot to kill him—literally, figuratively, or passive-aggressively?



*from Dylan, "Like a Rolling Stone"
** from C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader