Fear of the Lord
Some Gleanings
I have been reading Sirach this Lent. I haven't gotten very far yet, as I keep stopping to mull over the first chapter; specifically the fear of the Lord. Not only is it the prerequisite for obtaining Wisdom - knowing the mind of the Almighty, it is also described as:
Glory and splendor, gladness and a festive crown.
It warms the heart, giving gladness and joy and length of days.
It will bring a happy end - even on the day of death.
It brings Wisdom and culture; it delights in humility.
Given all these gifts, who would not want it?
I looked up 'fear of the Lord' to get a sense of what it IS in itself. I often lose its meaning through the fingers of my mind and must return once again to its definition. I am not as intellectually spry as I used to be, alas.
Fear of the Lord is described as: a deep reverence and awe for God, signifying a humble recognition of His power and authority, often described as a sense of submission and respect rather than a literal fearfulness. It is a word that implies the acknowledgement and absolute certainty that one is DEPENDENT on God and eager to obey his commands knowing that childlike dependency.
When have I most felt this fear of the Lord in a tangible way? When have I recognized it beyond a shadow of a doubt, and then responded with an eager intensity to his power and authority with abandon?
I feel like the ancients had a better chance of experiencing this almost visceral 'recognition' on a daily basis. The vastness of nature so close to their bodies and souls - living almost within it daily. Knowing how truly 'minute' they were under a vast canopy of stars with the moon dripping mysterious luminosity on their tents, their wooly sheep, and their own faces. The marvelous way thunderstorms are described in the psalms with the underlying certainty that these are from the Lord, mighty in power. Lightning, wind, hail. Always expressed with a kind of gasp and intake of genuine wonder. Living in this wild, dangerous world, and knowing with faith and trust that God would not let them be crushed, seems to be the beginning of Wisdom.
There were also moments of sheer praise at the beauty of it all. Running streams, hinds feet on high places, trees planted near running streams, the Lord likened to a shepherd leading his ewes and lambs with care, encountering the glorious, mighty cedars of Lebanon. The smells of costly myrrh and spices. The sheer, overpowering wonder of gazing up at the Temple for the first time. All these impressions and thoughts lifted up in a humility of praise to the Lord for sight and smell and touch and for man being given the art to express them. This, too, seems to lead to fear of the Lord.
Sometimes, the impressions were too much for the senses to take in - and then the whole of emotion could do nothing but sing in a bemused and tumbled out wonder for God's glorious providence and love. It is perhaps why David began to dance before the Ark. Sometimes only song can convey the fear of the Lord experienced at that moment. The way of Song and psalmody that mysteriously expands our joys and griefs like rising incense. In this song we express our fear of the Lord.
It seems difficult in our time to get to that place of REAL understanding. That wondering place where we wholeheartedly depend upon the graciousness of God. That unalloyed, vast, feeling of knowing and readily seeking to rest in our small, rather precarious, place in the Universe. The modern world feels so deceptively safe on a daily basis, sometimes. Rules, scientific discoveries, the sense of security that lulls our souls into the lie of self sufficiency. A separation from the natural world in large cities. A false sense that we are 'fine', protected and informed by science, medicine, by cyber-information at our finger tips. There have been very few instances where I have heard someone say that they were completely overwhelmed by their helplessness and that they suddenly KNEW the fear of the Lord and threw themselves upon it in complete dependence; God scooping them up in his love and tenderness when it was not going to end well for just their human will at work. I would like to know more of these stories.
There are times when walking alone in the woods on a fine day, that I have felt this fear of the Lord. When I can sense him walking on the other side of sunlit trees, dappled paths, dropping into my view the impossibly intricate glory of flowers. Once, when I stopped beneath a tree dappling sunshine shadows over me, I felt that wonder of being completely dependent upon His mercy as I stood in the sunlit path. It doesn't happen often, but these small revelations of ‘fear of the Lord’ build my trust in Him. Little by little. If He cares so much to feed me with this beauty I could never create myself, how He MUST love me. I feel most like His Child when out in the woods.
But not just overwhelming beauty and joy bring the fear of the Lord to our souls. My dear friend told me that she felt the fear of the Lord most intensely when she had a heartbreaking miscarriage in a pregnancy that she had been so confident in. She was devastated. But paradoxically she felt the most awe and humility at that moment because life was not up to her, her timetable, her will, her anything. She knew then that she was completely dependent upon God. She had the full experience of that fear that makes us aware we could have been crushed by sorrow or pride or any number of things and we were not. Because God was there loving us unto foolishness.
Slogging through Chemo has been that way with me so far. I have sometimes felt carried on this mysterious wave of perseverance quite foreign to my personality. Some days I am left with very dark and heavy emotions. Some days are full of pains. There are, of course, fears lurking everywhere. And yet. And yet. I keep going and going. How can this be? I sing the psalms each morning and begin to realize the power and beauty of Him in whom I have believed because I know He is upholding me and I am completely dependent on that grasp. I could not be doing this without his strong right arm, given my particular weaknesses of soul and body. If I am certain of anything it is that. To paraphrase dear St Thomas More in my own life - "this is not the stuff of which martyrs are made" Believe me. Yet even in this human kind of fear - this unknown - I feel a buoyancy sometimes that must be supernatural. This is the fear of the Lord. And I am flummoxed unto awe some days by it.
I am wondering if we need to be more observant, in our modern times, for those unconventional and odd ways the fear of the Lord might come to us. To constantly be looking for them. To allow terror and fears to work within ourselves without running away from them, that we may know it is God who will uphold us. To be taken out of our senses by a sunset that makes us weep suddenly for joy. For suddenly being overwhelmed with gratitude that God has given us a little child who has need of us.
Seek the Lord while He may be found. Be attentive for ways to feel that awe - that utter fear of the Lord. Then Wisdom. Then glory, splendor, gladness and a festive crown. Warmth of heart. Gladness. Joy. And length of days. A happy end. Even on the day of death.
There is a hymn in the old Breviary that extols both suffering and joyful song as vehicles of praise. Both are offered up to the Lord by our hearts. Sometimes it will be difficult to see where suffering ends and that joyful song begins - they are so mysteriously bonded one to the other. Perhaps this is the New Song the psalms are always encouraging us to sing. These songs of fear, of awe, of being nonplussed by our God's help and love. Of being able to say in all truth and humility: "What is man that thou art mindful of Him? Mortal man that you visiteth him? You have made him little less than a god. For thou has made him a little lower than the angels, and has crowned him with glory and honour."
I wish you all those beautiful moments this Lent, when you find the fear of the Lord suddenly rushing upon your heart as you travel through your days knowing with certainty your dependency.
And I don't believe I will ever get out of Sirach, Chapter I.
I do not feel inclined at this time to have a paid substack. But if we were together in a cafe discussing all these thoughts, I would not be opposed to you buying me a cup of coffee - with cream, of course. In that spirit, if any of my posts resonate with you and you feel so inclined, you can donate here: buymeacoffee.com/denise_trull
Lovely writing as usual, and it reminds me of Saint Hilary's treatise on the psalms. "Blessed are those who fear the Lord, who walk in his ways."
I feel that nowadays, there is a disconnect within and between us. I'm currently thinking it's due to the hyperrationality brought upon us by The Enlightenment. This is not to say I'm against science--I'm grateful for it. But it has caused a dependency and an obsession with tearing off The Veil to completely control the natural world. Like, because we have science, we no longer "need" God. As a matter of fact, we've reduced God to a "cause," a "thing," a "category" because we have to categorize everything.
The sad part is, as you have noted as well, is that we have never been in control and never will be. We just don't accept that and prefer to cling to an illusion of it. All we can do is do what we can and let God. I live in NC, and the hurricane last year barely missed us as it tore up my hometown. Nothing anyone could do. So fearing God is a comfort and a necessity, but it's like humanity is the teenager that thinks their parents don't know anything!
“When have I most felt this fear of the Lord in a tangible way?”…you question. Same question, with a similar quest: when have I most felt truly loved in a raw, choking-crying tangible way? That drop-to-the-knees realization how marvelously magnificent our Lord is when He touches our pent-up emotions we habitually hide, and appears to us as on Mount Tabor…it is so good to be here: fearing you, Lord, for ever and ever. Denise, you’ve done it again! Produced another manuscript to save and savor. Thank you.