Ruining the Psalms

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So the Psalms are generally considered almost a dessert when reading the Bible. The number of songs that come out of them, you can hear in your head as you’re reading. Sometimes I am almost singing along as I breeze along.

Except….. okay, I did a Samuel, Kings, Chronicles deep dive. These books are a little bit out of chronological order, but they feature the rise and fall (and rise and fall and rise and fall….) of Israel when it was one kingdom, and then Israel and Judah when it was two. And its exiling and rebuilding (twice) etc.

But the bulk of Sam/King/Chron complex features the adventures of David, from his anointing through the reigns of his descendants, (roughly running from three hours to 54 years). And when you have read them carefully, and used some online study guides to sort the chronology, you will see how hard David worked to get into power and keep it. And some of the very nasty acts that included.

Then you read Psalms, and you see that David and the other authors (there are at least six, but authorities differ) are basically either saying “Thanks God it’s going great and we owe it all to you” or “Help God, why aren’t you helping us, this is embarrassing in front of our enemies?” Plus a lot of them are very…. ehm…. flattering about David. Definitely meant to be sung at throneside banquets.

I grew up in a narrative that framed David’s life in a particular way. David was God’s chosen king. Therefore, whatever David did to become and stay king was fine. And, you know, that Bathsheba thing, that was just in there to show God could use flawed individuals.

OKay….. but reading these beautiful songs of worship in historic context, well, it gets conflicting. No pun intended, because many of them are about battles won or lost, and whether God showed up to help. And who he showed up for.

David once lined up a bunch of men and killed them by numerical order. David couldn’t figure out who was lying to him and who wasn’t when he had to flee his royal city (for the fifth or sixth time, I lost count). David knew better than to kill Joab (who was his nephew) even though he really really wanted to, because he needed this warrior to keep him powerful. They spent their lives eyeing each other, knives behind their backs.

The Psalms are complicated when you read them in this way. Summon your power, O God, because we want to fight. Hide me in the shelter of your wings, because we’re losing. Lead me beside still waters, because I’m exhausted with fighting.

What is the message of Psalms? For many, many commentators, it is that God chose someone and no matter what that asshole did, God stuck by him–and his increasingly awful grandchildren. For many charismatic churches, it is the source of beautiful worship music; sing the melody, never mind historic context.

For me, it is a reminder that nothing in this world has EVER been simple and Trump is not the worst threat OR promise Christianity has ever seen. Work out our salvation with fear and trembling and perhaps a modicum of common sense.

The Differences Come Home

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OK, sorry about that blog post lapse. In two words: jet lag. It takes me longer to get over it. Yesterday was my first 9-6 sleep since returning. Slowly back to US time.

But maybe not back to some other US norms. One of the things you can’t help but notice, staying with friends in Ireland and Scotland, is the lack of plastic. Even my friend who lives life in the fast lane doesn’t have an overrun of plastic bags and containers in her kitchen. She merely saves her ice cream tubs for occasional leftovers.

There are fewer leftovers, because Brits invented portion control. Everything is sized to eat once. Brits don’t make nine-day stews, vats of crock pot suppers, or spaghetti for 60 and freeze it. It’s a day-by-day cooking plan. Part of the mindfulness that permeates the culture, perhaps? Why would you need so much all at once?

The kitchen is the first place you’re going to see how differently Brits and Americans live: you don’t need plastic leftover containers because you’re controlling your servings. You don’t need a huge fridge because, same. You don’t need a vast array of kitchen gadgets, because you’re doing a one-time prep of servings for four, so it’s not hard to chop, grind, dice, or juice. And you tend to have pleasant conversations with friends and family while you’re doing it. Meal prep isn’t “get this done so we can get to the next thing.” It IS the thing.

This is pleasant. Even on stressed days, when the chores are divided, it’s a nice thing to sit with someone in the kitchen, pulverizing what you plan to eat while sipping a glass of wine and talking stress factors. It works.

Not that they don’t have shortcut foods, simple shortcuts, etc. Bisto in every meat and veggie flavor is a staple of the well-stocked Scottish kitchen, certainly. It’s a little like bullion. I brought some home with me.

So I’m back in the States, sipping tea in my kitchen, marinating beef in Bisto, and eyeing things I’m getting rid of in order to simplify. This may have crept past the kitchen, because there’s a bunch of Scottish paraphernalia from other spaces that we won’t bother carrying back to the home country. If you want to see what’s on offer, check Jack’s Facebook offerings online. We put them on a bunch of local yardsale websites, although not marketplace. I don’t think any of it is plastic. I put that in the recycling.