“The Soul Who Stands at the Door”
Rev. Dr. David E. Gray
Bradley Hills Presbyterian Church
October 11, 2009
Psalm 84
October is homecoming month. Many schools have their homecoming weekends, football games and dances in mid October. My high school back in Ohio just did. Last year, I organized my high school reunion for homecoming weekend and I set the date for what turned out to be the day that our son, Brendan, was due to be born. So I could only be there in spirit.
Homecoming is great for the students and fun for the alumni to relive their experiences. That is what we as a church will do a week from Saturday, on October 24. As you may know, we are having a homecoming dance at Bradley Hills sponsored by our Congregational Life Lay Ministry which should be lots of fun. But I have a family wedding that evening in Colorado so sadly again I will have to only be there in spirit. Or so I thought. Then I passed by Scott’s office and saw the life sized poster of me that will be at the dance. My son, Andrew, points and laughs at me whenever he passes by the poster going to nursery school. But I will be there in spirit and I know it will be great. Homecomings are fun.
Our second lesson is a kind of homecoming. Our last two Sunday lessons have begun with the Psalmist longing to return from exile to Jerusalem. Last Sunday we read Psalm 42, about how the psalmist longed to see the face of God in the temple of Jerusalem. He never made it. He was only back home in spirit. The author of Psalm 84 was also separated from home, but he made it back to Jerusalem. He is overjoyed to return home. His “soul faints and sings for joy” at the courts of God. The Psalmist says of home, “Even a sparrow finds a home.” And “happy are those who live in your house.” Last week, on World Communion Sunday, we focused on a centerpiece of any home - the table. Psalm 84 lifts up another central symbol of a home - the door. The first piece of a home that a visitor sees is the door. It’s the first part that welcomes you each day.
The psalmist writes that he would “rather be a doorkeeper in the house of God than live in the tents of wickedness.” Doorkeepers in the Bible usually fall into one of two categories. The term, “doorkeeper,” can be a point of identification. In the books of Chronicles and Jeremiah, for example, several men are distinguished as being doorkeepers; that was how they were identified in their household or social group. Like Samuel the doorkeeper as opposed to Samuel the tentmakers. Peter is questioned by a doorkeeper during his denial of Jesus.
However, the commentaries suggest that in this case, by “doorkeeper,” the author of Psalm 84 means something broader, more metaphorical and more universal. A doorkeeper is anyone who stands at an entrance, to the Temple or anywhere else. We have wonderful doorkeepers here at Bradley Hills. Our ushers greet those visitors to our church, collect the offering and help congregants enter our sanctuary. I give God thanks for our doorkeepers. In Mark 13, Jesus implies that we are all doorkeepers. In talking about the future kingdom, Jesus refers to us all as doorkeepers, who need to stay on watch for signs from God. Jesus also refers to himself as a general door or gatekeeper in John 10 who lets his sheep into his kingdom. Jesus, the servant leader, was a doorkeeper.
In Psalm 84, the psalmist is willing to be a doorkeeper, but not eager to be one. He stands at the entrance of the temple, his spiritual home. After his long journey to Jerusalem, I’m sure he’s rather go into the temple and just stay there. If what is going on inside is fun, why would he want to stand at the door when there was a party inside? And if what has been going on is painful, his standing at the door opens the psalmist up to having the talk to whoever comes to the door. And that can be difficult. It’s much easier to go inside and bury his feelings. Unless he felt a calling to talk about his pain. I have a relative whose spouse took his life, and while it would be far easier for her to avoid talking about her pain, I think she feels called to share it. As a result, people will come to her and call her when there is an issue of suicide.
Those Pilgrims who came to Jerusalem in Psalm 84 brought with them their joys and pains. The Psalmist writes of their going through the valley of Baca, and how they made it a place of springs. How would “they” make it a place of springs? The description of the valley implies that it is a dry place. But the Hebrew proper noun “Baca,” is similar to the Hebrew word for tears. If they made it a place of springs, it’s likely that their tears would be the source of the springs. The journey to the door of the Temple had been a hard one for many pilgrims. And it probably was a hard journey for the Psalmist as well. That is no doubt in part why he is so joyful to get there. And maybe the reason he is willing to stand at the door is because he realizes that they journey will be hard for others too.
We stand at the doors where we are. The psalmists longed for the Temple. The Dalai Lama, who some of you saw speak at American University yesterday, has said, “My religion is simple. I do not have a temple. My heart and my head are my temple.” In our tradition, we hold up the idea that through Christ, we can connect with God throughout the week and wherever we are. We stand at the doors where we are.
When I worked at the Senate, I was always impressed by the personal story of Senator Max Cleland, who lost both legs and an arm to battle in Vietnam. Cleland’s loss spurred him into public service. But I have been even more impressed by Cleland after his Senate days. He lost his reelection campaign in 2002, he fiancé left him, his income dropped and he soon found himself at Walter Reed Medical Center facing a similar depression in the same hospital where he lay when he returned from Vietnam 30 years before. With the help of his faith, Cleland recovered and in recent years he has been able to help those returning from Iraq and Afghanistan who face depression as well. Cleland has become a powerful witness that recovery is possible and that hope is possible for those returning.
We are all doorkeepers. We all stand at the threshold of our experience and what may be a new experience for someone else. We stand at the door when we have experienced something difficult and are willing to be a resource to someone else who is experiencing that same challenge for the first time. When you are the first phone call someone makes when they hear the unwelcome news or get the difficult diagnosis, you are the doorkeeper. It may be that the reason they call you is because you have gone through that before.
When you know what the other side of the door is like, you can share memories that help people understand what things were like before. When you know what is on the other side of the door, you can paint a picture of reality for those who have questions about where you have been and where they themselves are going. When you have faced something challenging and you are able to turn your pain into wisdom that benefits someone else, you are a doorkeeper. The Psalmist knew about the Pilgrims’ journeys through the tears because he had been there.
There are times when life on the other side of the door is full of as many tears as the side you came from, but often the uncertainty can be the worst part. Two good friends of ours from Ohio have a daughter who was diagnosed with a rare syndrome earlier this year that will severely limit her future. When they heard the news they were devastated. They said one of the most difficult parts was the unknown of what the future would look like. They found a whole support group to answer questions and let them know that there is stability and possibilities and joy to be found on the other side of the door. That there are answers and certainly to be found. They greatly valued those first phone calls they received from parents who had similar experiences and who were able to say, “It’s ok, you don’t need to bury the pain. Live in the experience and keep walking through.”
Ernest Hemmingway wrote in “A Farewell to Arms,” “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.” Hemmingway raised the truth of orthopedics that when our bones break or when our muscles stretch, they often rebuild stronger than before at the place of the break or stretch. There are times when people react to their brokenness by coming back stronger and being willing to do something that help impact the pain of others.
In 1980, Candy Lightner’s 13-year-old daughter, Cari, was killed by a drunken hit-and-run driver as she walked down a suburban street in California. “A heartbroken mother, Lightner made a pledge in her deceased daughter’s bedroom that she would do something about drunk driving—a decision that led other mothers who had lost children in similar ways to join her in forming Mothers Against Drunk Driving. They initiated one of the great grassroots successes in American history, helping parents across the nation find an outlet for their loss and to try and prevent other losses. Her brokenness became a source of strength in helping advocate for policy change to help others avoid coming to her side of the door.”
“Bill Wilson was a financier, but in 1934 he ruined his career through drinking. Wilson was treated at a New York hospital. While there, he underwent a spiritual experience and, convinced of the existence of God, he was able to stop drinking. On a 1935 business trip to Akron, Ohio, Wilson felt the urge to drink again and in an effort to stay sober, he sought another alcoholic to help him. Wilson was introduced to Bob Smith, and together they co-founded Alcoholics Anonymous. Today AA has helped millions of people get sober. Wilson expanded their program by writing a book which described a twelve-step program including asking for direction, guidance, and power from God.” When Wilson went through the door of alcoholism, he could have shut it behind him. Or, when he recovered, he could have just gone back to finance. But he kept the door open to the issue, stood at the threshold and his example said to those among whose number he used to count, “come through this door, there is a better way.” Wilson’s brokenness became a source of strength in helping provide support, answers and hope to those who were on the other side of the door.
We can stand at the door of where others are going and use our experience to welcome and encourage them. In March 1990, Washingtonians Molly Tully and Joan Turner, whose husbands were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, founded Friends Club, to support those with early stage Alzheimer’s and their families. Today, Friends Club is sponsored by Bradley Hills Presbyterian Church and serves as a “bridge between the social isolation of early stage Alzheimer’s disease and more traditional care services.” Those who have gone through the door to see what to expect when a family faces Alzheimer’s can help support those facing the uncertainty of the future.
My own experience of loss during college is the reason I continue to be a part time chaplain at American University today. I want to be involved in pastoral counseling at an important time when young people face challenges and aren’t sure where to walk.
We talk about coming home a lot at funerals. Yesterday afternoon I attended a particularly moving memorial service at St. Colomba’s Episcopal Church in Washington. The man being celebrated was the son of the man who was pastor there from 1942-1969. He moved to the church manse with his parents when he was one years old in 1942. So the church was his home for his whole childhood. The niche where we laid his ashes yesterday is in the church columbarium right under the window where he lived all throughout his childhood. But for him, death was truly coming home. We as Christians believe that Jesus stands at the threshold of life and death and welcomes us home. In life, Jesus stands at our doors. He doesn’t barge through the door. He doesn’t ring the bell and run away. He stands there. Consistent, patient, strong, unafraid.
Jesus knows what is on the other side of each of our doors. What is in the valleys of each of our trails of tears. He knows what is on the other side when we are not willing to stand at the door or when we are too weak to walk through the threshold. Jesus comes to us, knocks on the door and asks, “Can I come in?” And if we let him in, we may find ourselves strengthened for our walk and strengthened so that we are able to stand at some door for others. And to be there when someone else needs to enter the world of the unknown.
There will be time when you will have the opportunity to stand at the door for someone else. When a challenge, experience, joy, loss, or situation that you have faced gives you the opportunity to stand there for someone. It might make you want to run and hide in the pain. And that’s ok. But there will be opportunities as well for you to come out, go to the door, open it and say to someone, “Welcome home. You’ll get through this. The God I know cares about you too.” For while there are no perfect days, perhaps we will find that in God’s world, there is something perfect about each day. Thanks be to God. Amen.
