When Music Speaks.

We sang a song at Mass this past Sunday.  Psalm 23, “Shepherd Me O God,”  and this song was out of place.  We sang it at the end of Mass, not in the typical Responsorial Psalm location (another Psalm was sung there.)  As we started singing, my soul woke up.  Immediately I knew this was reflecting the longing of my inmost being.  Click here if you want to hear the song.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wP3eGsqGWZk.

The refrain goes like this, “Shepherd me, O God/ beyond my wants/ beyond my fears/ from death into life.”  The eerie tune combined with these words led me to a place I was not expecting. 

Faith has not/does not come easy for me.  One reason, rather than the song above being my theme, I have lived more by Simon and Garfunkel’s “I am a Rock.”

            “I’ve built walls / A fortress deep and mighty /That none may penetrate.”

Or as one friend so politely told me, “You are a tough nut to crack.” 

Faith requires me to step into mystery.  To embrace the unknown.  To open myself up to intimate connection with the Creator of the Universe and my fellow sojourners.  The two greatest commandments: love the Lord your God and love your neighbor.  Without connection, vulnerability, and intimacy, there is no love.  My head knew how to love.  My body knew how to obey the laws of God (though far from perfect!)  But my heart has struggled with love.  I like the idea of love, but not the vulnerability.  I like control and predictability.  I like my fantasy belief that behind my fortress all alone, I will be satisfied.

Last Sunday morning, my heart was singing, “Shepherd me, O God.”  Lead me.  Take me through the valley of the shadow of death that I may come and see the life on the other side.  Take me beyond what is comfortable; take me outside of my walls, beyond the deep and mighty fortress.  Penetrate my being that I may experience love; so that I may love in return.

There is a space where my spirit groans.  This is the space where vocabulary is insufficient to explain what is there.  “Shepherd me, O God” spoke those groanings.  Lead me.  Guide me.  Take me to the places I cannot imagine. 

Beyond my wants . . . because what I want is to feel safe and happy and avoid discomfort.  But what I want is not possible.  If I cut off the discomfort, if I build my fortress deep and mighty to avoid pain, I also cut myself off excitement, intimacy, joy, and love.

Beyond my fears . . . beyond my terror of vulnerability to the place where I can be seen.  To the place where I can be known and loved for who I am and not the decorated image I project onto my fortress walls.  In other words, loved because I belong and not because I am trying on different masks in attempts to fit in.

From death into life . . . because my masks do not feel.  They are numb with distracting and avoiding behaviors.  But to be led beyond the masks, beyond my strategies to stay numb, beyond my fears, out of the fortress deep and mighty and into love, yes, this is groaning of my soul.

Long, long ago in college I had a faith crisis and I asked a professor how to get through.  In her great wisdom she said, “Let the Liturgy carry you.”  When I bring myself to Mass (even tired after working three nights in a row), I am saying to God, “Shepherd me.”  With humility, I open myself up to the order of the Liturgy and then I smile when I receive not what I want, but exactly what I need.