Well-meaning people

 

Psalm 19
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
March 7, 2021

How many of us have heard, or have said, “I’m sorry if what I did or said offended you”? It misses the mark, doesn’t it? It doesn’t feel like an apology or an admission of anything. We say it when someone says they’ve been hurt by our behavior or by something we said, but we didn’t intend that outcome. To be sure, we feel badly that someone is in pain, but we do not connect ourselves to the cause of their pain, because it was not our intention to cause pain.



I’m not talking about harassment or the arrogance that comes with power and those who need to be held accountable for such. I’m talking about us: people who mean well. Intent vs. impact. “I meant well, I truly did.” We can have the best of intentions and yet we cannot control the impact our behavior or our words will have on others. It can even be tempting to blame the injured person: they mistook my meaning, they don’t know how to take a joke, they’re reading too much into what I said or did, their point of view is flawed somehow, if only they could see it from my perspective, they’re too emotional, too sensitive, they’re being irrational. It makes it sound like we’re the one who was mistreated. To admit our part would mean to admit we were wrong. How could we be wrong when we didn’t intend wrongdoing?

And yet if we are the one who has been wronged, we know what we need from an apology. First, there needs to be an acknowledgment that harm has been done. It may sound like a subtle change and yet the confession “I’m sorry for the pain my words or actions caused” puts the wounded person front and center. Second, we want to know that it won’t happen again, that there will be a change in behavior. Otherwise, how can trust be repaired? Third, we want to know we’ve been heard. We want our feelings at least to be acknowledged if not understood. Lastly, we want to witness a consistent change in behavior, at the very least an earnest effort. For some of us, it is the difference we need to know that we are in safe space.



Sometimes it is hard to know when we have transgressed, when we have done so unconsciously, unwittingly. In Robert Alter’s The Hebrew Bible, he translates verse 13 of Psalm 19 as “Unwitting sins who can grasp? Of unknown actions clear me.” We want to be clear of our faults so that they do not have dominion over us, so that we do not continue to behave and to speak in a way that causes harm. We do not want to be known for our faults. We do not want our flaws to speak for us.

The whole attitude or purpose of this psalm is worship and confession. The psalmist confesses their wonder of God’s wisdom and how all of creation speaks wordlessly of its unmistakable glory and knowledge. They acknowledge God’s teachings, commandments, and instruction are not only good, but they revive the soul. They are better than gold and sweeter than honey. Because God’s word is so dear, the psalmist does not wish to defy God’s commandments unintentionally and so asks to be kept from proud thoughts, from presuming to know better. Think of it as a blanket humility statement: “God, I’m human. I’m going to screw up and not even realize it. So let whatever I say and whatever comes from my heart be pleasing to you.”



Remember that this Table means “I am willing to disrupt my life for you.” When we admit that our intentions have impact and that sometimes that impact is hurtful, we are willing to disrupt our image of ourselves to restore wholeness to someone injured by us. Especially when we have privilege and that privilege is dominant, we think we can save someone, we know better, we have the answer, we can solve the problem, if only they’d let us. We call Jesus “savior” and yet the rescue he offered was not a command but a simple invitation: “Follow me”.

God’s law reminded God’s people that they were once strangers and outcasts and to behave accordingly. Jesus reminded God’s people that they were once exiles and so he sought after the lost. Sometimes our well-meaning intentions can have the impact of disunity, especially for those who are stranger and outcast and exile, who are lost. When we misstep, we must remember: it’s not about us.



Jesus took the focus off himself and put it where it belongs: Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself. If we are going to mean well, and mean it, we are to join in solidarity with the other, especially those who are disempowered, who suffer because we mean well but not well enough. Being human means we’re going to get it wrong, but that doesn’t excuse us from trying to get it right. It’s not about us or our intentions. It’s about those who are hurting and what they need from us for their well-being. It’s how we repair the world: one hurt at a time.





Benediction – Samir Selmanovic, It's Really All About God


“Jesus offered a single incentive to follow him…to summarize his selling point: 

‘Follow me, and you might be happy—or you might not.

Follow me, and you might be empowered—or you might not.

Follow me, and you might have more friends—or you might not.

Follow me, and you might have the answers—or you might not.

Follow me, and you might be better off—or you might not.

If you follow me, you may be worse off in every way you use to measure life. Follow me nevertheless.

Because I have an offer that is worth giving up everything you have:  you will learn to love well.’”