Column on Laments

My new copy of Interpretation, a journal of Bible and theology from Union Seminary in Virginia, features laments on its cover. Most of us are quite skilled and eloquent in asking god for help for others and, at times, ourselves, especially when a health concern intrudes. In worship, we often give models of how to confession shortcomings to the mercy seat of god. For me, thanksgiving does not come easily, but I have learned to notice things large and small where I can utter words of gratitude.

In our positive environment, we do not provide much help with lament. We don’t use a lot of sad songs from hymnbooks. We rarely pour out our souls in a religious version of the blues. Some pastors I know consider lament a form of religious whining, so they reject it. I would counter that it is a form of religious catharsis. Life is so hard, so often. Mountaintop experiences are few and far between. We can only live on their fumes for so long. It cannot be an accident that a plurality of the Psalms would be in the lament vein. If the Psalms are a prayer book, for “every part of the soul” (Calvin) then we should not neglect such a valuable resource.

We had a heated discussion group at first Presbyterian recently. Part of it was a proper response to social challenges we face as Americans. Some see it as a sign that the end is hurtling before us, so that god will intervene. The ministers around our table do not hold to that notion. Some argued for a path of outright hostility to our culture, to refuse to co-operate with its dictates, to aggressively pursue a “Christian” stance that stands in opposition to the cultural and its mores and norms. Others asserted that we should work within its notions to seek to help make a transition to a more “Christian” posture in public policy. Instead of rocking the boat, we should work within the system to help change it, rather than standing outside the tent in denunciation. I can see merit in both positions, and feel caught between effectiveness and incremental adjustments, or standing on principle.

I do wonder before we get on our high horse, if we should not first move into a posture of lament. Lament gives voice to the pain we suffer and the pain we witness. Pain isolates and silences us. When placed in a posture of prayer, public or private, it loses some of its potency. When suffering we may feel acutely the seeming absence of god in our struggles. Lament closes the distance between heaven and earth, and it reminds us as the Book of Common Worship says, “God is always more willing to hear our prayer than we are to pray.” Part of our lament could be our uncertainty about a path to take or a warning that our decision may be arrogant, or mistaken, even flat out wrong.

The psalms give us a template for prayers of lament. They are bold prayers, as they can speak to God from the depths, and they seem to us to be bold prayers, prayers in the imperative mood. Instead of pleading, they seek to rouse God to action. They emerge from a sense of being powerless against the forces arrayed against us. They usually end in a declaration of relief, as if getting something off the chest in prayer helps to heal a hole in the heart.  Laments show us that we can put any thought into an envelope of prayer. that sheer act can change our perspective. Lament is a shaking of the fist against the pain of the world. It then energizes us to fight the good fight, in the manner to which we feel called to pursue.