Historical setting: 602 C.E. A cottage in the Vosges
Gabe and I share this private conversation as we brush down the horses Greg and I borrowed and Gabe wants to discuss the issue burning through the night whispers in the novice quarters. “Fear of the Lord” whether required or optional, or interpreted through abuses of power, or skewed by translation of languages, or fraught with misunderstanding it is a humbling confusion. “Fear” as in Psalm 103, is offered with the simile of ‘compassion like a father’ but depends on the nature of the child’s earthly father to give it meaning.
“Maybe Psalms are confusing because sometimes they are intended to speak to a whole gathering of people at worship, not purposed for the quiet spirit of a child in his homesick prayers before sleep.
“So, the command to fear God rings through the crowds at worship to say, ‘even though the God who is God is invisible and intangible God truly is God.’ Fear is offered by the psalmist as a way of separating those who can only recognize a statue or a tangible god, from those who have been opened to recognizing the vast invisible Spirit as the power source of all Creation.”
“So, Papa, are you trying to say that ‘Fear of God’ simply means we should recognize God’s power?”
“Yes! Maybe.”
Gabe continues, “And you need to have that beaten into you in case you are following a nobleman into war as a soldier, and you were thinking kings are more powerful than God?”
“I guess that would be implied. But Gabe, to know for sure what way of God is really God, just make your private prayer that question. ‘How do you love me God? And ‘How should I fear you?’
“When you know God’s answer the only thing confusing about it is that the psalmist tried to say it so many different ways.”
Our time to talk is measured by the time it takes to brush the horses. I take one more moment to tell Gabe that his brother was accepted for training as a guardsman for the Bishop of Metz. I choose not to mention the terms of his brother’s indenture.
My prayers for my sons fill my full thoughts through these six miles walking home.
Thank you, God. What more could a father want for his children than a place in life where prayers are still spoken? Amen.
(Continues tomorrow)
Lazarus Ink 