Hear O israel

Deuteronomy 6:4-5


Every Jew was supposed to recite this passage of scripture every morning when they awoke and every night as they went to sleep.

There could be worse ways to bracket the day.

To start the day affirming the presence and holiness of God is a marvelous first word for any of us. Think of how that could impact even our most immediate choices for the day--I might decide to have granola for breakfast instead of a heart attack on a bun because I recalled that God is present, God made me, and God made my body a temple for the Lord. Recalling the presence and holiness of God might well change how we immediately react and respond to those with whom we share time and space. It might well remind us that all human beings are children of God, therefore, holy in being made by God, and therefore worth a little patience, goodwill, and attention. Recalling the presence of God might well curb our tendencies to abject human-ness. Monday, my son and I went for a wonderful run through the nearby Sumter National Forest. We were on a trail nestled in the woods in such a way that you could easily feel completely isolated from the civilization despite never being more than 400 meters from a highway. Then, we came to a grassy clearing and there lay a pile of garbage--empty water bottles, Coke cans, Powerbar wrappers--just a mess, really--maybe by recalling God's holiness and eternal presence, we might not be so quick to trash up the place.

You see how this simple proclamation works? It draws us into the ineffable presence of God at any and every moment, thereby reminding us that the work of faith is always before us, always needing to be done.

That is a good thing.

But you will note that I used the word "might" a lot in that paragraph above. Faith really is contingent on our willingness to practice it. God is eternally present, but God is also eternally gracious, and a piece of that grace is that God leaves us free. That freedom is real and actual. God did not cement us into God's will in such a way that we march about as robots, doing only and exactly as God commands. No, God wanted us to be real. Being real means making actual choices. Actual choices are those which can be freely good or bad. The ambiguity of the outcome is our freedom. So, the practice of faith is not a given. It is a choice. We have to decide to follow God. God let's us make that decision.

So, the choice to start the day with the proclamation that God is and that to live as God's children is to love God with out whole being is ours to make each day. That explains the rabbinic directive to recite this verse on awakening--not over breakfast, not in the shower, not dressing--but on awakening--first and foremost. Set the tone for the day with your first thought. You greatly increase the odds of doing what needs be done during that day.

Which brings us to the end of the day.

Those ancient rabbis were pretty sharp. They knew their flock well. They knew themselves pretty well, too. Ending the day as it begins--with our last words being our first--perfectly frames the day. And we need that framing.

At the end of the day, the affirmation that God is and that we are to love God with our whole being does something powerful--it washes the day in grace. Just as grace allows our freedom, grace also deal with our freedom. Freedom means we are going to mess things up--we will wolf down that heart attack on a bun; we will bite our spouse's head off for the grievous sin of starting a load of laundry ignorant that we just stepped in the shower, now scalding hot as the washer trumped us; and a group of hikers will trash a rest stop on a trail just because. By ending the day as we began it, we invite God to come help us clear up the messes of that day. We bring redeeming grace into the picture.

Think of the implications--we might fall asleep easily without the niggling nibbles of guilt, worry, or despair. We might fall asleep in the assurance that tomorrow is another day, another opportunity to get it right, and a real place of actual hope. We might well find the courage to apologize. We well find the patience to sit with someone a little longer. The darkness might not seem so abjectly dark.

But, again, that word "might" is all through this paragraph, too. We can easily simply slough off one more demand upon us and hit the pillow without reciting a word. We can easily crawl into bed with nothing even remotely resembling "Now I lay me down to sleep..." To end the day as we began is also a choice.

It should be an easy one. The need for grace is more readily present at night than in the morning--we all know that. And yet, our precise hunger for grace often keeps us from claiming it. We will persuade ourselves that we are beyond hope, help, and healing. We will convince ourselves that our messes are beyond clearing. And we will hit the pillow that is suddenly full of rocks, losing ourselves in anxious fretting.

Stop.

Breathe.

God is good and grace abounds. That is why God is God. God is always present. God is always good. God is always ready for the four-alarm fire. As we speak the words of this biblical hymn, do so without obligation, but with full expression of who we are before God. You are doing no less than simply asking for help. You are asking for God to be with you, an invitation God always accepts--no question, no exception.

You see, those rabbis knew their stuff. They knew us. They knew what it would take to keep us control of our chaotic selves. They knew what it was like to live inside a tornado. They knew what it was to be human.

So, they help us find God each and every day. Confessing faith is not a once-for-all proposition--it is a daily effort.

So maybe we need to add a benediction to our prayers--a prayer offered by a desperate father as he stood before Christ--
I believe, Lord, help my unbelief.

Yes, that works nicely.

All shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

Ame