Lamenting with a Purpose

Psalms 42 and 43

This month we’re inviting everyone to bring your whole selves to our worship services on Sunday morning, not just the self we usually present for this one hour a week. The definition of sacred is when something ordinary is infused with something Holy. When ordinary water in a wooden font and silver bowl, and ordinary bread and grape juice – however they are served – are touched by holiness, they become much more than food and drink. Life is sacred. Our lives are sacred. We are ordinary people. And we become sacred, too, in this place as we touch Holiness. That doesn’t happen only in this place, of course, but this is one time and place when the largest part of this community gathers together. So, we’re inviting ourselves this month to bring all of our “selves”.

Last week began this summer journey. Let’s continue this morning. Pray with me.

And last week, we learned a new word. Does anyone remember it? A lot happened last week in this space, our Sanctuary. Things that pushed many, probably most, beyond their comfort zone. From flags to tv monitors to Communion (capital C) in baskets, to communion (small c) in small groups facing each other spread across these pews designed to keep everyone facing forward … a lot happened last week in this space. And one of those things was an increased vocabulary! Does anyone remember the new word Pastor Ashia taught us from Doctor Sheldon Cooper? Weltschmerz.

Weltschmerz … A literary term whose definition can change a bit depending on the context in which it is used. But the definition that will resonate most with us in our time together this summer is “world-weariness”, or “the pain of the world”, a pain and/or weariness which arises from an experience of reality that is insufficient to our expectations. It’s more than a simple sadness, or a discomfort that we can’t put our finger on. We experience weltschmerz, we heard last week, when we can put our finger on it, when we know what is causing the weariness and pain. In our case as a Reformed Presbyterian Christian community in the world today, we know the world is not as it should be. We are a people that know that the world, our country, our community, and we, ourselves are not as we should be. 

Our world is at war. Our country is more divided than ever – politically, ideologically, theologically (for those who still hold onto religious faith), culturally. Our leaders, led by the President of our United States, are more concerned about personal wealth and stature than national health and the welfare of the most vulnerable. Our own communities are withdrawing into silos and sound chambers that tell them only what they want to hear. (And if you don’t think that last statement is true, consider how uncomfortable the one before it just made you.) Our own lives have taken on a transactional petulant self-centeredness that is absolutely counter to the Gosepl of Jesus Christ. So …

Weltschmerz … we know what is causing our weariness and pain, all this and more. And, it will not work to ignore it and wait for it to go away. We know that, too, because we’ve been trying so hard to ignore it and wait for it to go away. And it’s only gotten worse. With that being the case, the question before us this month (and beyond this month, I’m certain) is not, "How do we ignore it and try to escape it?" But, as your Pastor pointed out last week, "How do we engage it?”  How do we commune with it, live our lives, our life of faith in a reality we call GOD, that is the exact opposite of all that is wrong?

Last week we began engaging. We brought our “hope” into this sanctuary and we shared it with one another over the broken bread of life and the poured-out cup of salvation in the midst of all that is wrong – definable and undefinable. Ashia and I are fully aware that the way in which we shared our Communion meal last week didn’t allow some of you to experience the hope that was shared by others so powerfully. For my part, I believe our clinging to tradition was an obstacle to our experience of something new, hope shared over the bread and cup. Because it was shared by many … in the midst of the “pain of the world”.

We always begin with Hope as a people who wait for heaven on earth. Our Christian Hope tells us the truth about what is wrong, so that we can imagine the world as God intends it to be, and then take the necessary steps to get closer to that world. That’s Christian Hope. It’s active and expectant. This morning we continue with “lament”,

Like Hope, Lament is a “thick” word, and an even “thicker” practice. The most common definition is a “passionate expression of grief or sorrow.” I suppose the adjective passionate is an attempt to emphasize the difference between a “lament” and “just crying.” But, when we talk about “lament” in the church, it’s not just passionate. It’s directed. Lament speaks to a grief and sorrow, or pain and anger, that are expressed for a very specific reason. Here’s the reason we lament:  We are a group of people who, for better or worse, have received promises of care and nurture from a reality we have, to one degree or another, given our lives to. We most commonly call that reality GOD. I’ve encouraged us to think of GOD as a “how,” and not simply a “what”. We have received care and nurture from GOD – Love, itself, Compassion and Shalom. We have been given promises of care and nurture through this Love. But we are experiencing grief, anger, and a sense of abandonment. We are questioning the “rightness” of GOD’s actions, and the absence of the Love that we have given our lives to. And so we “lament”. We don’t simply complain or cry or express doubt. We get angry and cry out.  Our experience of “what is” is insufficient to our expectations of what “should be,” of what has been promised to us “will be.” Lament is a response to unfulfilled Hope. And it’s done for a reason.

Lament was a means for the ancient Israelites to “mobilize GOD”, to reactivate the Yahweh who blessed them and comforted them”, to convert their experience of wrongness back into rightness. It is for us today, too – a means to reactivate GOD. It has a purpose.

It’s not for all times and all places, lamenting – passionately expressing our complaints about the difference between what is and what we expect should be – but it resonates powerfully and carries more weight in our time than in previous generations. And it does no good whatsoever to ignore it and wait for it to go away. Because it won’t go away without us engaging.

As with Hope, itself, we need to name what is missing and grieve it – lament its absence, so we can imagine something different, call forth GOD, and take a step or two toward mobilizing and reactivating it. The catch is … the absence we’re lamenting and waiting for is not “out there”. GOD is not going to come from beyond. The “how” is going to come from within.

Listen to our scripture reading for this morning to hear how a Psalmist of old expressed just this.  Read Psalms 42 and 43. The Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.

The echo of all that is wrong and what it is doing to us is everywhere in these two brief Psalms. But the lament here is not a wallowing in self-pity or negativity: O woe are we! What can we do? The Psalmist is frankly and honestly acknowledging the situation as it is before a reality that promises to deliver us. Written sometime after the Babylonian exile, with access to the Temple impossible, the psalmist is reflecting on the perceived absence of GOD. There is lament and confession. Then there is memory and, with those memories, a plea for deliverance. But that deliverance doesn’t come from beyond.

Hope in GOD and the “return” of GOD comes from within. It comes from a memory of how things are supposed to be. Not how they used to be – don’t fall into that trap. A memory of things are supposed to be. And with that memory reactivated, we gather together in the “house of GOD, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival.” We come together to lament what is not, in order to remember what is supposed to be, so that we may reactivate GOD in the world as the way, the only Way, to change anything. Love … compassion, kindness, empathy, trust, conviction, hope, expectation, fidelity, devotion, commitment, assurance, and faith.

We bring our whole lives to this room when we gather together to find Life together. Our lament has a purpose. To reactivate GOD in the world as it is, through the Love we have inside of us. That’s why we’re here. Not for ourselves, but for the world that is … not quite right.

So, let’s push our ushers into service. They are bringing around notecards that are two sided ... Turn to the side that says “Lament”, first, and finish the sentence. I’m going to ask the ushers to collect these in just a moment so we may incorporate them in our Prayers of the People a few moments from now.  We are going to read every one aloud. This is the place to do it.

So ... take your time, but please take advantage of this opportunity. Do this – fill in the blank on this side. (Lament: God, today my soul feels … [be honest] … anxious, lonely, overwhelmed, joyful but tired, uncertain, grateful yet worried)

When you have filled that side in, turn the card over and finish the “Hope” side. (Yet, I will hope because … [be honest] … Christ is with me … I have friends … my church walks with me … I know I am not alone … God’s faithfulness never fails.)

As we sing our sermon hymn, the ushers will come through the aisles and collect those cards from you. We’ll sing this hymn, As the Deer once through, and then Matt will offer a musical interlude before we finish by singing it one more time. As you sing, and as you listen, consider your lament so hope will reactivate and Love will prevail.

We know what is wrong. Let’s begin making it right.

Amen.  (Please rise in body or Spirit and let’s sing together)

Reverend Joel Weible, Pasto

Pewee Valley Presbyterian Church / July 12, 2026