Musical Prelude and Service.

Psalm 91 & Matthew 5:14-16
“My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.”
You will not fear the terror of the night or the arrow that flies by day
or the pestilence that stalks in darkness or the destruction that wastes at noonday.
This Psalm has been a beloved passage of scripture for thousands of years. Scholars look at it as an
individual song of thanksgiving. It is not necessarily an element of corporate worship but a sung
prayer expressing gratitude for God’s constant comforting presence and an acknowledgment of God’s
healing and sheltering presence.
It was part of Jewish daily life and a source of comfort and strength when calamities seemed to fall
like rain on people. Those who became the first Christians kept it from their traditions and it
remained a source of comfort and resolve for the early church and remained vital to people of faith
over the millennia. It was close to people’s hearts during times of plague, of war and persecution and
a host of natural disasters, as you can imagine.
Its origins are of course murky. We have not strong evidence of who wrote it. The Septuagint, the
ancient Greek translation of Hebrew scriptures credits the Psalm to David. But older traditions claim it
was written by Moses while entering the tabernacle. Or perhaps it was written by someone whose
name is lost to time.
The themes of comfort in the knowledge of God’s protective shelter remain and they are words that
we constantly turn to when life throws challenges and heartache in our path. And while we can
rationally acknowledge that often we or our loved ones succumb to the destructive forces of famine,
of disease, of war and persecution, we turn to these poetic words that tell us that God’s love for us
and care for us is assured.
As the psalms speaks of guarding us from the pestilence that talks in darkness, there is some
speculation it was initially written in a time of plague. It has certainly been turned to over the
millennia in times of other plagues and most recently during the COVID pandemic. When trying to
make sense of the chaos, the uncertainty and the question of how we will endure another disaster,
this is a prayer that guides us to trust in God’s presence should come as no surprise that people of
faith throughout the world, in particular in places that are particularly vulnerable to famine, to
epidemics, to war, hold this psalm close to their hearts. Where we might read these words and think
the author is piling the disasters on pretty thick; others, such as in Somalia or Ethiopia or Haiti or
parts of central America can find this catalogue of misfortune rings quite accurately.
So why do we turn to this psalm on the Indigenous day of prayer.? There’s no definitive answer. But
I think perhaps we should consider that this is yet another assertion in scripture that tells us God is
with those who struggle. Whether it is a struggle of spirit or a more explicitly physical form of
suffering and fear; God is with those in pain. God is with those who fear for their lives and their
health. Those under attack; those facing the destruction that wastes at noonday can find shelter
under God’s wings.
Today and in fact all of June is, in part, a time to remember the importance and the enduring
presence of our indigenous siblings. For those among us who are of indigenous descent it is a month
set aside to declare that they remain here and are not going anywhere. They have endured a great
deal. Broken treaties. Physical attacks, isolation on reserves and treaty land that constantly shrank
over time. The destruction at the hands of disease such as smallpox over which they had no defence.
Further assaults on their traditional way of life through residential schools and the 60s scoop that told
them who they were was not as valued as the culture of their European colonizers.
Our country is coming to terms with this history. It is my hope that we are learning to talk with one
another and recognize the humanity and the value in our neighbours and in all our relations.
But there is still so much work to be done.
As I reflected on this psalm in the context of Indigenous Day of prayer, I was really struck by the
idea that for a people who had endured so much pain; so much betrayal so much illness and death,
these words told them God sees them; God hears them and God stands with them and keeps them
under her sheltering wing.
We are taught to ask us where we find ourselves in scripture. This is a valuable practise. But I think
we also can find value in asking ourselves how people we don’t necessarily relate to hear these
scriptures. People who don’t look like us; don’t talk like us or who may pray in different ways.
It can be useful to hear the stories of those who have lived very different lives. To learn something
new about the world from those who have faced challenges that seem to be part of a very different
world. I have been privileged in many different ways.
My work as a newspaper reporter and then as clergy has allowed me to sit and listen to a great many
different stories. Stories that are often painful to hear and to sit with. Stories of racism; of good
intentions that went terribly awry. Stories that involved arrogance; presumptions of people in
authority assuming they knew best. And stories of people with little or no power needing to struggle
to survive and hold on to memories and dignity.
I’m doing my best here to refrain from telling stories that are not mine to tell, but Canada’s prisons
are still filled with a disproportionate number of indigenous people. Youth suicide is still an epidemic
among our First Nations. Access to safe drinking water is still a challenge in far too many indigenous
communities and access to adequate health care woefully inadequate in a great many remote
communities. This does not begin to address the state of education. Funding models for these
services is often based on a per capita, or per student basis, and treating each person as the same
leaves so many small or tiny communities woefully underfunded.
How do you hear the words My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust, when these are
realities in your life? The words strike as far more than theoretical perhaps.
God blesses those who are ill. Those who are poor in spirit, who hunger and thirst for justice. That is
what Jesus tells us as he launches into the Sermon on the Mount. He lists off a great many
beatitudes. Those who are blessed. This includes those who mourn, the peacemakers; those who are
persecuted for his name’s sake.
And then he turns to those around him. Those who are poor, who are mourning, who hunger for
justice – and he tells them, you are the light of the world. Don’t hide your light. Let your light shine
for all the world to see.
Again, we can hear ourselves in those words. We should hear ourselves being reflected in those
words. We are a light for the world, when we take Jesus’ words and direction to heart. But we are
not alone in hearing those words. People who have all too often been ignored or dismissed. People
who have been told over and over gain they are not enough, or they need to abandon traditions that
enriched and sustained them for generation after generation also hear these words. People from Lac
Seul, Pikangikum, Weagamow and Keewaywin and so many other remove communities, 31 in total
who are served by a small hospital in Sioux Lookout also hear those words. People who speak Cree
or Oji-Cree; who practise smudging and drumming that were at one time outlawed by our
government.
They too are the light of the world. They too are urged to let their light shine.
And so, as we mark this Indigenous Day of Prayer, we are reminded that we are connected. We are
one in Christ. We acknowledge that all too often we have forgotten or ignored our commission to
love our neighbours. We have lost sight of how God speaks to all of us in our own tongue and failed
to see or hear the beauty of God’s diverse world.
And so, we recommit ourselves to celebrating the diversity of this world. We say thank you to God for
the many vibrant colours that make up God’s creation and we commit ourselves to making sure none
of these many lights of the world; in particular, those that are flickering and struggling to remain lit
are protected and sheltered in God’s merciful and protective wings. Thanks be to God. Amen
Rev. Warner Bloomfield

Music provided with permission through licensing with CCLI License number
2701258 and One License # A-731789