"Fools, when will you be wise?"

Psalms 94 and 95:  Just to continue yesterday's theme, here's some more words for the fools and dullards. In the lament of Psalm 95, the psalmist lays out complaints against the wicked who crush God's people and kill the most vulnerable, widows and strangers and orphans. The psalmist wonders why the foolish don't see the errors of their ways and realize that God sees their wickedness: "Understand, O dullest of the people; fools, when will you be wise?"
In Psalm 93, the psalmist uses imagery of clothing and robe for God, the first time garments have been used to explain God. In this declaration of the kingship of God, God is robed in majesty, girded with strength and robed. This is an enthronement hymn, one that might have be used on festive occasions, and it's probably safe to assume that the faithful would also be dressed in their best, and they would use that metaphor to describe God.

"The stupid cannot understand this"

Psalms 91 and 92:  Okay, I'm actually quoting 92: 6 here, although the line sounds like something the teenagers in my house might say. I feel a bit stupid myself today, since I meant to post yesterday, but stupidly didn't when I had a chance and then after an exhausting day for various reasons, went to bed without checking in on my blog.
Both of these psalms are individual thanksgiving psalms, but I particularly like the language and imagery in Ps. 92. The psalmist uses the characters of the wicked and righteous in this psalm (recurring narratives, as my professor Arthur Walker-Jones would say) and contrasts the deep thoughts of God with the stupid and the dullards. No punches pulled here, and these terms aren't what most parents would consider nice language. But the psalmist wants to make a comparison about the greatness of God and the stupidity of the wicked, the enemies, or those who choose another god. "They are doomed to destruction forever, but you, O Lord, are on high forever." v. 7-8. In contrast, the righteous, those who follow God, flourish like a palm tree or cedars, trees which are deep rooted and are symbols of longevity compared to the grass image used for the wicked. Verses 12 and 13 have some nice parallelism around growing/planting and flourishing and verse 14 uses opposites to make a point about the righteous: "in old age they still produce fruit; they are always green and produced sap."

The glorious past and the lamentable present

Psalms 89 and 90:  The 52 verses of Psalm 89 close out Book III of the Psalms with both a history of what was and a lament for what is now. Norman Whybray says this is a complex and composite psalm that doesn't neatly fit a genre, but it does  include a divine oracle and then a lament, what he calls episodes of documenting "the glorious past and the lamentable present." Most likely, the glorious past is before the exile and destruction of Jerusalem, and the present is a time when the psalmist accuses God of having broken the covenant. Whether it is a theological or literary history, that's a pattern many of us can identify with, a grass is greener approach. Life used to be good, but now God has left me, God's face is hidden from me.
With Psalm 90, we're at the beginning of Book IV, reading the only psalm ascribed to Moses. My study Bible notes say that superscription may be trying to connect the tradition of Moses asking God to turn from wrath in Exodus 32:12 to verse 13: "Turn, O Lord! How long?"

Crying in the night

Psalms 87 and 88: One of the first reactions I had to Psalm 88 was the darkness and despair in this individual lament, which I had not encountered in the same way in other laments. In this one, the psalmist expresses deep despair that help or deliverance will never come. The language is dark and even depressed: a soul full of troubles, down in the pit, have no help, forsaken among the dead, companions shunning. The psalmist may be sick and is interpreting the illness as divine punishment. But to my 21st century eyes, the terms and language are what we use for depression. Recently in class, one of my classmates presented an overview of Stephen McCutchan's book Experiencing the Psalms: A Pastoral Use of the Psalms. He suggests changing pronouns and little details in the psalms to make them relevant to 21st century use, and even provides an index of which psalm might be helpful in specific situations, such as a critically ill child, heart attack, death of a loved one. Psalm 88 makes his list under the categories of suicide and depression, serious illness and sexual abuse, all dark situations that result in much crying in the night.

Restore us again

Psalms 85, 86:  Last week I heard  a Jewish scholar talk about the Christian need for clarity about God and Scripture compared to the Jewish approach of coming to an interpretation as a group process. His point was that since God had a covenant with a group of people, no individual was responsible for total understanding. Rather, the group coming together helped each other interpret and understand the scriptures. He admonished Christians for their emphasis on wanting clarity, and suggested ambiguity can be of God as well.
As a community lament written after the exile, Psalm 85 is clearer than some, asking God when they may be restored again as a people. "Will you not revive us again so that your people may rejoice in you?" (v. 6). Christians might take that as a spiritual restoration and revival, but the other meaning of a physical restoration is just as possible.
As an individual lament, Psalm 86 follows a well-established formula of plea and praise, and appealing to the greatness of God. Today, the opening verse resonates with me: Incline your ear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy." Here the psalmist underlines a recurring theme in the Scriptures: the preferential option for the poor and needy.
And one more thing: Yesterday's sermon was based on Psalm 34, with references to Walter Brueggemann's work from the pulpit, and a fun demonstration for the children on what is meant by "O taste and see that the Lord is good." The storyteller ate a chocolate chip cookie in front of 30 hungry kids (without sharing) and then proceeded to show them that we can taste God with the help of the people around us. A very non-academic example that ties in directly with our Jewish scholar. That was some nice parallelism in a busy week.

Two Sunday quotes

Psalms 83 and 84:

Sunday quote 1:

O God, do not keep silence;

do not hold your peace or be still, O God!

Psalm 83: 1

Sunday quote 2:

My soul longs, indeed it faints for the courts of the Lord;

.....

For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere

I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God

than live in the tents of wickedness.

Psalm 84: 1, 10

An ongoing plea for justice

Psalms  81 and 82: This weekend I'm writing a paper on the political theology of Jim Wallis, an American pastor, writer and social activist. He's fond of holding up a Bible with all the passages referring to peace and justice and helping the poor cut out, to show how much the call to care for others is integral to the Scriptures. I'm assuming much of Psalm 82 is cut out of that Bible that he holds up as a visual example of the divine call to care for the poor and needy. This psalm, what my study Bible calls a literary report of the action of the divine council, makes use of ancient near eastern psalm formats, calling on the gods above to help with problems on earth. Here the God of Israel admonishes the other gods of the council: "Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked." (82: 3-4).

Mercy and restoration

Psalms 79 and 80: This week I spoke twice to high school students about journalistic writing and how it differs from other written work. One of the ideas I tried to convey is "don't get in the way of the story." Let the characters speak, and let the story tell itself without interpolations from the journalist. Be the medium, not the message. The community lament in Psalm 80 is a wonderful example of this concept, since the psalmist conveys despair and death and destruction and angy and history and pleas and suffering in 13 short verses. The descriptions are short but vivid and graphic: Jerusalem lies in ruins, blood flows like water, and there was no one to bury the dead. A tsunami of suffering and one that I can read both as a journalistic account and poetic description. Most of all the humanity of the event comes through. I can feel the pain of the people of God in this psalm, and I lament with them. And a brief word on Psalm 80, a community prayer for the restoration of the people. It continues some of the themes of destruction and abandonment of the previous psalm, and ends with a plea for God's presence: "Restore us, O Lord God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved."

Telling our stories again and again

Psalms 77 and 78: Today we have an individual lament (77) and a history survey (78).  They both open with sound imagery: Psalm 77 speaks of crying aloud to God (v. 1) and 78 instructs the peope to incline their ears to the speaker. Both tell stories, but different ones. Psalm 77 tells the story of an individual's trouble and grief, and 78 is a communal story, a the history of God and God's people up to the time of David, recounting the exodus and the wilderness and the manna and plagues and trials. The psalmist is reminding the readers from where they're coming, what they've been through and all the blessing and trials along the way. "Remember where you came from," the psalmist is saying, just like many family historians like to says. "We haven't always had it easy, but we survived." As a writer, I know it is important to tell these stories again and again, teasing out different meanings each time, and hoping the repetition will burn the story in the hearer's memory. At the end of this long psalm (72 verses! history sometimes takes effort to write, after all), the psalmist used the image of sheep and shepherding to refer to  David's relationship to the Hebrews.

Judging with equity

Psalms 75 and 76: Post-modern folks don't often have to worry about being judged. We live our lives according to our passions (or so it would seem if you watch reality TV and home improvement shows)  and don't have the same concern for social norms as our parents. So reading two psalms about judgment seems just a bit harsh. In Psalm 75, God speaks through a prophetic or priestly voice and promises to judge with equity (v. 2). The psalmist and readers seem to accept the idea of being judged by the deity and they apparently found comfort in the equitable judgment. Evil folks get their due and God will put one down and lift up another (v. 7). The theme continues in the 76, a psalm of Zion, where God utters judgment from the heavens to save the oppressed of the earth (some parallelism there in v. 8-9). Underneath this theme of judgment is the subtext of how the earth reacts: it totters (75: 3) with all its inhabitants, which seems fitting in light of our current environmental crisis, it is fearful and still ( 76:9).

Halfway there

Psalms 73 and 74: With Psalm 73, I've reached Book III of the Psalms, and what some scholars say is the theological turning point. McCann says this wisdom psalm is a microcosm of Old Testament theology, explaining how God's people  can remain faithful despite pain and suffering. The psalmist concludes that being in God's presence will guide understanding amidst sin (v. 16.) Brueggemann says this psalm marks a transition from simple faith in the first psalm, to recognizing that a relationship with God overshadows all concerns.
Until now, the psalmist has been concerned with God not being available with laments like: why do you hide your face from me?  Now the page has turned, the light has come on and the psalmist realizes the flip side of the relationship: choosing to be near God. "But it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord God my refuge to tell of your works." (73: 28).
And one more note: We may be halfway there theologically, and we're nearly halfway there numerically, although the long psalms are still ahead.

The blessing of lament

Psalms 70, 71 and 72: Two individual laments (70 and 71) close out the second book of the Psalms, which ends with a royal prayer or blessing (72). Psalm 70 has some vivid imagery, referring to God as a rock of refuge and a fortress, metaphors  used frequently in these laments. This one also has some maternal images  (v. 6) where the psalmist refers to being supported by God from birth, from the time the psalmist left his/her mother's womb. That image of a newborn child contrasts with the following one of a person in old age with gray hair, proclaiming that God has been faithful for a lifetime.

Up to my neck

Psalms 68 and 69:

Sunday quote

I sink in deep mire,

where there is no foothold;

I have come into deep waters,

and the flood sweeps over me.

I am weary with my crying;

my throat is parched.

My eyes grow dim

with waiting for my God.

Psalm 69: 2-3

A joyful noise

Psalm 66 and 67: These two communal thanksgiving psalms are all about being heard: they invite the community to join in song and praises and joyful noises. After all, how can a community express thanks except with their voices -- by shouts and singing and cheers. Mennonites loves to sing, and we can burst into the four-parts of what we call "606", a setting of the doxology, if the occasion presents itself.  Psalm 66 gives some background of the exodus from Egypt as a rationale for the thanksgiving, and 67 speaks of Israel's favour before God, after opening with a familiar benediction from Numbers 6: 24-26: "My God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us." (Psalm 67:1).

From lament to thanksgiving

Psalms 64 and 65:  The last posts have been lament-heavy as I make my way to the end  of Book 2. I was resonating with the psalmist in the plea: "How long?" How long must we lament before we can move on to some action or thanks? Today's the day -- for the time being, when the individual laments break for three psalms of community thanksgiving. Scholars argue that the psalms are ordered they way they are for a purpose, but to me, we've been stuck in lament too deep and too long. I'm as a good a complainer (complainant?) as anyone, but it's been unrelenting. Even if each of the lament psalms has praise at the end of the psalm, the mood has been gloomy. So I'm happy to say with the psalmist: "the pastures of the wilderness overflow, the hills gird themselves with joy, the meadows clothe themselves with flocks, the valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy." And hey, tomorrow our weather is supposed to go into the double digits for the first time in weeks, so the gloom and doom of the cool cloudy weather here in Winnipeg will be lifted.

Like a rock

Psalms  62 and 63: The imagery  of God as a refuge and rock in Psalm 61 spills over in 62. In this lament, the psalmist uses this image as a refrain: "He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall never be shaken." v. 2,  6. The image of God as refuge is also repeated. That metaphor is extended in the opposite way when the psalmist portrays enemies battering their victim like a leaning wall and a tottering fence, insecure and about to fall. That image of God as solid, unmoveable, strong and foundational flows through the Old and New Testaments and continues to be reassuring to people of faith.
Another interesting line in Psalm 62: God speaks one, but the psalmist hears twice, multiplying the effects of the voice of God (v. 11).
Psalm 63 introduces a different sort of image: God as nourishment. The psalmist speaks of how his/her soul thirst for God and lips praise God. Later, the appetite is sated: "My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast, and my mouth praises you with joyful lips." (v.5). Quite a different image from that of a heavy rock, yet equally compelling.

Detailed superscriptions

Psalms 60 and 61:  Psalms 60 has the longest and most detailed superscription I've encountered so far. Usually the superscriptions (under the title) give instructions on how to use the psalm, but this one goes further, laying out a historical connection to this community lament after a defeat. It refers to David "when he struggled with Aramnaharaim and with Aram-zobah, and when Joab on his his return killed twelve thousand Edomites in the Valley of Salt." Specific stuff, yet the notes in my study Bible say its not possible to say which historical event this psalm is referring to.
Scholars say the superscriptions were added well after the psalms were written, sometime around the time they were collected and ordered and became the 150 psalms we now have, maybe in the 2nd century BCE. Walker-Jones says the psalms give few clues as to their historical context, which is why most scholarly work on the psalms is genre or canonical criticism. I find it interesting that Psalm 60 has such a detailed superscription which the writer intended to relay some historical event, yet we still don't have a clear understanding of what event was intended. In contrast, Psalm 61 has a short, clear superscription: "to the leader, with stringed instruments. Of David."

Do not destroy?

Psalms 58 and 59:  Both these psalms, as well as Ps. 57 have the superscription: "Do not destroy."  The notes in my study Bible only say that the meaning is uncertain. Does it relate to the laments held within? Are the editors writing a note about what not to do with these laments? Or do those three words have something to do with the content of the psalms, where the writers asks God for safety from enemies and the wicked: "do not destroy me?"  Psalm 58 includes a series of imaginative curses to destroy the wicked: breaking their teeth, vanishing like running water, trodden like grass or a stillbrith. Psalm 59 compares the wicked to dogs which howl and prowl (a nice bit of parallelism in v. 6, even in translated English) and God is a fortress, a refuge in time of trouble (we're back to Luther's famous hymn here).

Lying down among the lions

Psalms 56 and 57: Whatever the stresses of 21st century life, I would never compare it to lying among the lions and being devourted by their arrow-sharp teeth. In the individual lament of Psalm 57, the psalmist compares his/her enemies to lions and hunters who set a trap for their prey. I like some of the other natural imagery in this psalm like the image of God as an eagle who protects from storms and enemies
in the shadows of wings. Despite the very real threat of danger from the enemies, the psalmist consistently proclaims faith and trust in God, who remains steadfast.

Quote of the week for Thanksgiving Sunday

Todays readings: Psalms 54 and 55: 

I will give thanks to your name,

O Lord, for it is good.

For he has delivered me from every trouble,

and my eye has looked in triumph on my enemies.

Psalm 54:6-7

The Power of Words

Psalms 52 and 53:  A recurring theme about the power of words re-emerges in the opening verses of Psalm 52, in which the wicked have tongues like razors and love lying and words that devour (v. 1-3). But the righteous prevail and they use the words to their power: "I will proclaim your name, for it is good."
Psalm 53 is a repeat of Psalm 14, with some slight variations. I'm not clear why two really similiar psalms would be included in the final collection of 150. Part of the answer could be that they are in different books. Anyone out there who can shed light on this repetition?

Whiter than snow?

Psalms 50 and 51. Yesterday in class we discussed social location and how readers from various parts of the world bring different lenses to the Psalms. Today I'm wondering about the social location of the psalmist and Psalm 51. This is a familiar lament that is much sung and recited in worship, where the psalmist asks for God's cleansing in the light of sin.  I'm not exactly sure what hyssop is, and the notes in my Bible refer to a hyssop bush, which I'm fairly certain doesn't grow in the northern hemisphere. But I'm wondering if the psalmist does indeed know about snow the way I know about snow -- how it is many shades of white/grey/yellow and cold and crunchy or wet and sloppy. Does it really snow enough in the Middle East for it to be a common images, as in in 51:7 "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." It's snowing here in Winnipeg -- big wet clumpy flakes that doesn't make for pleasant start to winter, especially on Oct. 9. Right now, I'd rather read about the psalmists longing for green pastures than white snow.

A woman in labour

Psalms 48 and 49:  This hymn of Zion about the city of great King is one of the few I've encountered so far with strong feminine imagery. The kings of the earth were frightened of the God on the great mountain so they trembled and shook and were overcome with pains like a woman in labour. (v. 6)  When in labour, the focus is totally on the moment and how to deal with it and the only part of the future that's interesting is the coming baby. It's a particularly vivid image of the might and grandeur of God.
Yesterday I visited a Jewish funeral home for a story, and the funeral director explained how all Jews are buried the same way, with a simple white cotton shroud and in a very plain and inexpensive casket, reflecting that in death, our riches and wealth and status no longer matter. That's one theme in Psalm 49: "For when they die they will carry nothing away; their wealth will not go down after them." (v.17).

The nations are in an uproar

Psalms 46 and 47:  Since I've been working on a project on singing the psalms, my mind is on the musical settings of these psalms. Most folks will recognize the grand Protestant hymn, "A mighty fortress is our God" penned by Martin Luther, which is a metrical setting of psalm 46. This psalm is full of dramatic imagery (no fortress in the NRSV): shaking mountains, roaring and foaming water (tsunamis?) and a God who makes wars cease and bows break and spears shatter.
Psalm 47 begins with a familiar anthem, emphasizing again the musical setting of this enthronement psalm: "Clap your hands, all you peoples, shout to God with loud songs of joy." This psalm celebrates the kingship of God, the king of all the earth and nations. And now I've got to dash off to class.

And now for a musical interlude

Psalms 44 and 45: I've been researching the psalms as music and today's readings provide a few clues on how the Hebrews sang or performed the psalms. Both psalms have superscriptions with cryptic directions for their use: "to the leader" and "of the Korahites." and "a Maskil." Not exactly the directions that current musicans can understand like Key of G and 4/4 time and Allegro. Some of these terms have been lost in time, but the Korahites, or sons of Korah were thought to be a guild of singers, possibly descended from Korah the Levite mentioned in Exodus 6.21 (Holliday: 29). Holliday also says that series of psalms with the superscription "of the Korahites" originated from the northern Kingdom , likely written before the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE. Not so different from today's hymnbooks, which collect material from various traditions.
"Maskil" is a bit more difficult to understand. Holliday says it could mean didactic song or artistic song or one that was new.
Selah. After verse 8 in Psalm 44, we find this term. Again, the definition is not precisely known, but it occurs 71 times in the Psalms. Holliday suggests several options: an instrumental interlude, a congregational response, or perhaps a pause for a recited prayer or story.
Another note on Psalm 45: This psalm is addressed to a king and queen on their wedding day, likely composed for Ahad and Jezebel around 869 BCE (Holliday: 28). And the superscription gives us another clue: "A love song."

End of one book and the beginning of another

Psalm 41, 42, and maybe 43: One of the issues (problems? challenges?) of my chronological reading of the Psalms at the pace of two a day is the shape of the Psalms doesn't necessarily lend itself to my schedule. Psalm 41 is the end of the first of five books of the Psalms, and the lament in Psalm 42 carries over into 43. So I could just read Psalm 41 today and catch up with three chapters tomorrow, or I could read both 42 and 43 today and have more material to deal with now. Or I could stick to my two chapters and not read Psalm 42-43 the way it was intended to be read. Read on for my decision....
In my reading of Holliday's The Psalms through Three Thousand Years for another assignment, he discusses when the Psalms were ordered and shaped into what is known as the Psalter, probably in the 3rd century BCE. Before that, psalms continued to be written or adapted and collected from other traditions. There's way more to this story, but for today's purposes, I want to point out a few things:
Psalm 41 ends with a doxology, which signals the end of the first book:
"Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. Amen and Amen." (13.) Holliday says this general benediction isn't connected in any way to what went before it in the psalm.
Psalm 42 has a superscription to the leader, a maskil of the Korahites (which means sons of Korah). Holliday says this psalm is from the Elohistic collection.
Psalm 43 has obvious literary connections to 42. Both Psalms end with the same refrain: "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God."
And I really wanted to discuss some of the lovely imagery in the beginning of Psalm 42, which many of us know from various hymn traditions. My classmates will have to wait until my presentation on Thursday.

Sunday quote

Psalms 39 and 40.

Lord, let me know my end,

and what is the measure of my days;

let me know how fleeting my life is.

You have made my days a few handbreadths,

and my lifetime is as nothing in your sight.

Surely everyone stands as a mere breath.

Psalm 39: 4,5

Foul and festering

Psalms 37 and 38. There's much to say about both psalms, but in the spirit of blogging, I'm sticking to one idea per posting. Yesterday I spent several hours in a hospital waiting room while my father had day surgery. He's not dealing with anything serious or life threatening, just a little adjustment of internal parts. But waiting in a hospital means encountering a huge range of humanity that streams through the front doors for various reasons. In the shadow of H1N1, there's a lot of emphasis on hand washing and visitors are encouraged to take a spritz of hand sanitizer at the front doors. Not everyone does, as I noticed after several hours in the waiting room. Interesting, that in our culture of advanced medical knowledge and understanding of germs, people won't wash their hands, even if they know it slows the spread of germs and viruses.
In the psalmist's time, illness was thought to be punishment from sin and others would wonder what the ill person had done to deserve such punishment (Holliday: 51). Psalm 38 is a lament on suffering and a plea for healing, perhaps from leprosy, as suggested in v. 5: "My wounds are foul and fester because of my foolishness." This illness causes the psalmist to have doubts and wonder if God has forsaken him/her . Yesterday's brief time in hospital reminded me of how vulnerable we are when we are ill and how dependent we are on other's kindness and help.
And although we don't claim to believe in a direct link between sin and illness, last week when my kids were sick with flu-like symptoms (perhaps the dreaded H1N1, but probably not), I did hear some folks wondering how they had gotten sick, and what they had done to be ill. Maybe what's pandemic in the current flu scare is blaming the victim for the illness.

Human wickedness and divine goodness

Psalms 35 and 36. The editors of this study Bible employed some parallelism of their own with the title for Psalm 36, which is the title of this posting. This individual lament in the wisdom genre sets up the dichotomy between God and humans in only a few short verses: humans are wicked, deceitful, foolish, and ultimately seek out evil; God is faithful, righteous wise, and the saviour of both animals and humans. Then the psalmist becomes personal, asking for those qualities to be extended in his/her direction and employing some specific imagery in that prayer. I especially like the following plea: "Do not let the foot of the arrogant tread on me, or the hand of the wicked drive me away." (v. 11). Interesting that we would see these requests today as metaphorical, and not literal but being trampled or pushed away would have (could have?) been real physical dangers for people in the time of the psalmist.

I will bless the Lord at all times

Psalms 33 and 34. These psalms are both hymns, the second one specifically an individual hymn of thanksgiving. Both of them open with familiar affirmations of praise: "Sing to him a new song" (33:3) and "I will bless the Lord at all times " (34:1). They both praise God's attributes and deeds for many verses, and then conclude with affirmations. In today's class readings and discussions, we dealt with parallelism in the psalms, and both of these are full of good examples of how Hebrew poetry was constructed.
One parallelism, which is more accurately a merismus, strikes me from Psalm 34: 14: "Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it."
This literary device places two opposing thoughts and in parallel to convey a total thought, in this case the path to righteousness. Another example of parallelism is the first verse of Ps. 34, which is often used in songs and liturgies in churches today: "I will bless the lord at all times; his praise shall be continually in my mouth." The second thought echoes and expands upon the first.
This is a late posting for today, and I'm well aware I'll be writing another one in a few hours, probably much more coherently than now.