Preached on May 20, 2012 – Seventh
Sunday of Easter and Confirmation Sunday, at First Congregational
Church of Tallmadge, Ohio, UCC.
Scripture Psalm 1
1 Happy
are those
who do not follow the advice of the wicked,
or take the path that sinners tread,
or sit in the seat of scoffers;
2 but their delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law they meditate day and night.
3 They are like trees
planted by streams of water,
which yield their fruit in its season,
and their leaves do not wither.
In all that they do, they prosper.
who do not follow the advice of the wicked,
or take the path that sinners tread,
or sit in the seat of scoffers;
2 but their delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law they meditate day and night.
3 They are like trees
planted by streams of water,
which yield their fruit in its season,
and their leaves do not wither.
In all that they do, they prosper.
4 The wicked are not so,
but are like chaff that the wind drives away.
5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgement,
nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;
6 for the Lord watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.
Sermon
“Happy
are they whose delight is in the law of the Lord. They are like trees planted by streams of
water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither.”
If you
have lived a long time in this area of northeast Ohio, or in the wooded hills
of Pennsylvania, West Virginia, you get pretty used to the landscape. Several years ago, I found myself driving
through Pennsylvania with my son and his friend, a college student who had
grown up in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It
was the heart of summer, and she reminded us, at every turn of the highway, of
what we’d gotten used to.
“That is
beautiful!” “Look at all the
green!” “The mountains are covered in
trees!”
“Yeah,” we said.
“Yeah,” we said.
But her
enthusiasm won us over, and we remembered what a wonderful landscape this is.
The psalmist who wrote about trees planted by streams of water, living in Israel, would have been even more shocked by the sight of forested mountains. We’re used to trees growing just about anywhere. But if we are to hear the word of this psalm, we have to become like a native of Israel, or New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada. Where trees hardly grow at all except along the banks of a stream, their leaves form a curving highway of shade through a dry and hot landscape where little green can grow. Become that person, and then we can read the psalm. If you haven’t read the psalm with a heartsick longing for the shade and the fruit of one good tree, then you haven’t seen Shakespeare the way its meant to be performed.