More Than Enough

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost, Year A — Psalm 133

How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity. —Psalm 133:1

Grandson Andrew was three, perhaps four, when Jane and I gathered with Gray, April, and their brood for breakfast at one of the diners on Hilton Head Island a number of years ago. Andrew’s pancakes came. Someone had made the mistake of placing the syrup within his reach.

I remember that he took the pitcher in both hands and began to pour. And then he poured some more. I sat uncomfortably at the other end of the table, watching a small lake of syrup spread across his plate and begin moving toward the edge.

I thought to myself, “Andrew hasn’t learned that pouring should stop at some reasonable point.” To a four-year-old, there was plenty of syrup. More syrup seemed the obvious thing to pour.

An ordinary summer day, an ordinary resort breakfast. It’s an unlikely image of blessing. Yet the story came to mind this week when I turned to the Psalm appointed for Sunday. It’s a Psalm in which the writer describes the goodness that is always present when God’s people dwell together in unity. The psalmist imagines something being poured out with very little regard for reasonable limits.

Our commentaries teach us that Psalm 133 is the 14th of the 15 “Songs of Ascents” in Book Five of the Psalter. It is associated with pilgrims making their way up to Jerusalem. It begins by celebrating the goodness of kindred dwelling together in unity. The short psalm doesn’t fully describe what such unity looks like. The psalmist doesn’t give us instructions for how to achieve it. Instead, he gives us two extravagant images.

The first is oil running down Aaron’s beard:

It is like the precious oil upon the head,
running down upon the beard,
upon the beard of Aaron,
running down over the collar of his robes [133:2].

Noted commentator, Robert Alter, notices the repeated downward movement within the ancient Hebrew. The oil comes down from Aaron’s head onto his beard. Aaron’s beard, a beard according to Alter that is of “proverbial amplitude,” carries the oil farther, onto the collar of his robes.

This is the oil of consecration poured out lavishly upon Israel’s first high priest. The oil descends until Aaron is fully enveloped in the anointing that God has bestowed upon him and, by extension, upon the people. The oil continues to flow even after a sufficient amount has been applied to satisfy the holy ceremony. The oil is abundance in motion. It is unwilling to be contained.

The psalmist adds another descending image in this short psalm:

It is like the dew of Hermon,
which falls on the mountains of Zion [133:3].

As you may know, Mount Hermon rises far north of Jerusalem. It apparently was renowned for its abundant dew. Zion, of course, lies many miles to the south. Hermon’s dew doesn’t reach that far, … ordinarily. But, as Alter tells us, the psalmist isn’t interested in geographical probability. Instead, he imagines Hermon’s life-giving moisture descending upon Zion. It is a blessing of abundance, a blessing that travels much farther than nature would say that it should.

Unity: it’s a word that is overused. Unity is difficult; it’s hard. It’s the difficult grace of gathering together, of sharing worship—yes—but also sharing burdens, forgiveness, and hope. It is a shared life in which God’s blessing, received by one, spills over into the lives of others.

The psalm teaches that the oil is poured upon Aaron’s head, but it doesn’t remain there. It flows downward until it reaches everything below. The dew belongs to Hermon, but it is lavish enough to refresh distant Zion. Blessing received by one of us should not remain our own.

As I look back on my life, I see that I have learned to measure carefully: enough syrup for the pancakes, enough money in the collection plate, enough time spent in congregational activities, enough patience for the person beside me. And yet, Psalm 133 imagines another economy. It imagines a world in which God’s people dwell together, a world within which blessing descends and keeps descending.

“For there,” the psalm concludes, “the LORD ordained the blessing—life forevermore” [133:3b].

I smile when I think of Andrew’s excessive syrup. I’m overwhelmed when I consider God’s downward flowing blessing bestowed upon you and me. It is, indeed, lavish. The question is whether we will try to contain it—or allow what God has poured into our lives to overflow into the lives of others.