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A Reflection on the Psalm for July 31st, 2022:
​Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Psalm 90

R. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

You turn man back to dust, and say, “Turn back, you children of Adam.” For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, or like a watch in the night. 

R. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

You sweep them away; they are like a dream, like grass that is renewed in the morning; in the morning it flourishes and is renewed; in the evening it fades and withers.

R. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

So teach us to count our days that we may gain a wise heart. Turn, O Lord! How long? Have compassion on your servants! 

R. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, so that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us, and prosper for us the work of our hands.
 
R. Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

Several years ago, my father sold our family home.  I had lived in that house since I was two years old.  It was the only home my younger brother knew. It was in a great neighbourhood with mature tree-lined streets, great neighbours, good schools nearby, and all kinds of amenities within walking distance. But my father was getting older and could not maintain the house to the standard he desired. I was not in a position to care for it to his standards, nor was I in a position to purchase the house from him.  So, sadly, it was sold. So many memories! Our family mourned the loss. But just because our family home was no longer, that did not mean our family was no longer. We were and are still family because…

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

For several years now I have been a part of a team of people who have walked with communities as they’ve said good-bye to their parish home. It is a hard thing to lose one’s church. The parish I grew up in no longer exists – literally. The church building was torn down and a shiny new apartment building now sits in its place.  It was hard to come together with the neighbouring parish communities (who also lost their churches) to form something new. Or, rather, to renew what would become our church. Because this community of believers continued to exist in the midst of losing their “homes,” it evolved and grew. The losses of buildings and people were mourned. But the community still believed because…

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

Growing up, when I was being belligerent (verging on bratty!) about doing something, I would feign the excuse, “I’ll do it later.” My mother would respond, “Listen, there will never be another May 12, 1985!” – or whatever the date was at the time I was being uncooperative. She was teaching me the value of time. We don’t get time back. It moves forward with or without us. This lesson has stuck with me. While time keeps moving, there is one thing that remains constant: our God. Regardless of the twists and turns of life – moving houses or churches, living through a pandemic, witnessing war, injustice, or violence – we can find hope, and the courage and strength, to keep going when we root ourselves in our home: our Triune God. When I get lost, I can find my way back to Him, where He awaits me. To give me rest. To give me nourishment. To give me love. To give me a home. In this rootedness we are able to take risks, be bold, dream dreams, and truly discover who God made us to be. God is our sense of home, even when at times we lose a sense of home, because…

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.




Aurea Sadi

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