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Psalm 90:12-17 12 So teach us to number our days 13 Return, O Lord; how long will you tarry? 14 Satisfy us by your loving-kindness in the morning; 15 Make us glad by the measure of the days that you afflicted us 16 Show your servants your works 17 May the graciousness of the Lord our God be upon us; |
Teach us to number our days
The liturgy offered at an Episcopal funeral, the Burial Office, is always marked by grief and loss. There’s always sadness. At the same time, it is one of the most beautiful services we have in the Prayer Book. As the Prayer Book says in an unusual postscript (p. 507), it is an Easter service, marked by joy, holding the hope of resurrection at its center.
In my experience, there are certain hymns that are frequently selected for this service. Occasionally, there are surprising choices. For example, I’ve had families ask to include the Christmas hymn “Joy to the World” in the liturgy, even when the service happened in the middle of summer.
One of the most commonly chosen hymns begins this way: O God our help in ages past. It’s a familiar hymn (#680 in the 1982 Hymnal), taking its cue from Psalm 90. You may have heard a portion of that psalm in church yesterday, printed above. The hymn is appropriate for a funeral because that liturgy calls us to recognize the contingency of our lives. It invites us to recall how we are indeed dependent on God for help.
The portion of Psalm 90 read in church begins this way: Teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom. What does that wisdom-generating process of numbering our days look like? In the churches where I’ve served for most of my ministry, I’ve offered this blessing that I suspect you’ve heard, crafted by Swiss poet and philosopher Henri Frederic Amiel (1821-1881). It’s a blessing that wisely asks us to number our days. It goes like this:
Life is short and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. So be swift to love, make haste to be kind, and the blessing of God be with you.
In my experience, there are few things I’ve said in church that have resonated so deeply and evoked as great a response. I’ve wondered why that is. The baldness of the beginning (Life is short) is a reality check. With that reality check under our belts, the blessing invites us to best use of our limited time, letting that limited time be marked by lovingkindness.
It’s a bit like John Wesley’s rule of life:
Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.
The psalm tells us that lovingkindness is God’s work, and so it is work we are asked to emulate and imitate in the time we have.
The portion of Psalm 90 read in church ends this way: Prosper the work of our hands. Prosper our handiwork. We might interpret that to ask God to help in the limited time we have to be successful in the work we do, whether we get paid for it or not. We might interpret that to ask God to bless our creative enterprises. All good requests. And maybe it’s a prayer for blessing on our efforts to show lovingkindness, in a world that is increasingly, dangerously mean-spirited. (Have you watched the news lately?)
Take time today to reflect on what it means to number our days. Make each day count. Let each day bring with it the fulfillment of opportunities to show lovingkindness.
–Jay Sidebotham
