Ironic Advent Meditation #12: Desolation on the Way

Ben Camino's Ironic Advent 2020 Meditation #12: 

Desolation on the Way or The View from the Ditch

Wow. My Advent Morning Prayer (Lauds) led me the perilous pathway through Psalm 88 this morning. I have always appreciated this poem for its raw, unblinking depiction of a life (I'd say soul, but that sounds too spiritual) in desolation. 

But recent events have made it sing in my gut in ways that make words like "appreciate" sound rather twee. Come on Advent Baby (can I call you that?), what about joy to the world and harking old harold the angel and heavenly peace? 

I know, I know. Not yet. And if by "know" I mean "feel," maybe never. Or perhaps, as one commentator assured me, Psalm 88 is a reminder that HE suffered through desolation so we would not have to do so. I don't think the God of Hosea OR the God of the Bethlehem manger will mind if I say, "hahahaha," that's what you think Mr. Commentator. 

I looked for an appropriate image to post, something at least slightly as ragged-edged as the imagery of the psalm itself. Nope nothing like. Pretty much shiny, slick poster/memes with a brief quotation. One, at least was just a black background with the phrase "darkness is my closest friend." High five to whoever posted that one. 

Advent things are happening all the time. It's not all scented candles, inspiration, and Frosty the Snowman in the front yard. It's also Herod the King, John the B in the wilderness (and, getting thrown in prison  even before Christmas, liturgically speaking), rough paths to Bethlehem, and, at the last minute, doors shut in your face Mr. and Mrs. Messiah's parents. 

That's all. I got nothing else to say. Here's my translation (ok, paraphrase, I don't know Hebrew) of the Psalm. Even though I've read it a hundred times, I kept waiting for the perspective to pull back from the edge and lighten up. Nope. Ironically, and perfectly to my mind (because I think the liturgy understands what I don't), the whole ugly mess ends with the "Glory be to the Father" as if we had just chanted one of the Alleuluia psalms (148-150) or something. 

Sorry to be this way. See y'all on the other side. 

Psalm 88, a song of desolation

Lord . . . God? I call for help all day long,

I cry all night to You. 

Please let my prayer rise up to You, 

open Your eyes to my cries. 

See, my life is filled with horror;

I'm right on the edge of the grave.

I might as well be dead,

I don't have the strength to go on. 

I am like somebody all alone surrounded by the dead,

like a dead person dead in the grave,

like those people You have forgotten, 

lost, cut off from you and your care. 

You are the one who has put me deep in the grave, 

in a dark place, like I said, in a deep place.

Your anger is crushing me;

You are drowning me under your waves!

You took away my friends

and made them hate me. 

You put me in prison with no escape route;

Look at my eyes, see what You've done to me.  

I am crying out to you all day every day;

stretching out my hands, pleading. 

Are you planning to kill me first then do a miracle? 

Is it your will that my ghost will praise you? 

You think I will sing about Your love after I'm dead?  

Or praise Your faithfulness after you destroy me? 

Or say how wonderful You from down in hell? 

Or how just You are from under the earth? 

It's true, I cry out to you for help, 

every morning I beg you to answer me. 

Why do you reject me?

Why do you hide from me? 

I am a mess. I've been a mess since I was a child; 

I've put up with so much from you; now I'm just numb.

Your anger has crushed me again and again, 

You have terrorized me, destroyed me. 

Your sufferings surround me all day, every day, 

I am constantly under attack. 

Friends, loved ones, community -- you have taken them away;

my only friend is the darkness. 

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit

as it was in the beginning, is now and will be forever. 

Amen.