Ps.31.10-11 (avoiding the covenant with silence)

“Be gracious / to me / O Yhwh – for I have distress; - my eye / was wasted / with grief, - my soul / and my belly / too. – For my life / was consumed / with grief, - and my years / with groaning; - my strength / staggered / in my distress, - and my bones / were wasted.” In this portion of the lament the psalmist focuses upon images of bodily deterioration and progressive weakness: he is in distress and wasting away; he is consumed and groans; he stagers and wastes away. The ‘wasting of the eye’ is familiar refrain; in other contexts it is wed to the image of tears, which is its import here although not stated. One gathers the sense of someone whose distress is so extreme that he is beginning to lose the ability to weep; he is utterly spent. This has consumed not only the eye but the ‘soul’ and ‘belly’ as well. In a final gathering of images he says “my life was consumed with grief”. The fact that this is passive (was consumed) is important in that the psalmist finds himself to be the victim of grief. It is devouring him and is a menacing threat. When we look back on the psalm we gather that this may be the ‘net’ he implores Yhwh to protect him from; that this grief is hunting him down, and he is not only unable to withstand its onslaught but unable to predict its attack as well. It is therefore from this ‘night’ that he has asked Yhwh to “lead me and guide me”. His ‘staggering’ strength is also something we have seen before but here it adds the dimension of near failure on the part of the psalmist. He is about to ‘go under’. The final description of ‘wasted bones’ is also familiar and points to the fact that his bodily structure is deteriorating (Ezekiel will come to see exile as symbolically represented by separated bones). This final description looks back to the ‘wasted’ eye—just as the organ of perception is beginning to fade, so too is the actual bodily structure itself.  Something to advance on our previous reflection on Christ’s death: this is a statement that originates from and speaks to absolute “trust in Yhwh”. As the body sinks down, the psalmist (and Christ) cannot (and will not) cast about to other ‘vain idols’ for their protection and restoration. For them, there is only one who can redeem them. Because of that unique relationship, this yawning gulf becomes more acute and begins to push at the boundaries of the covenant relationship. There is no ‘outside’ to it, nothing else to look to. This serves to only heighten the falling darkness. As we have said before, one is seeing in this the drama of the first commandment. One thinks here of Job’s friends as they say, “Curse God and die.” This resignation, though, is not available to the psalmist. His life is not his own, but has been handed over to Yhwh. At no point can he, then, become silent, but must always express a rebellion against this power that challenges (and shames) Yhwh’s name (“redeem me for your name’s sake”). Jeremiah attempted to enter this silence, but the ‘fire burned within him’. Job was probably tempted to. It is, in essence, the desire to step outside of the covenantal relationship into the silence of darkness and to be ignored by Yhwh. This is the temptation of tragedy: to sever the covenantal bond with Yhwh and disappear. For, to continue in the dialogue is to remain open to the flooding darkness (better, it would seem, to let it wash one out to sea and there find rest). It is precisely this refusal to succumb to the temptation of silence (or, the inability to succumb) that we see here. The psalmist knows that everything else is vanity; he also knows that one cannot ‘trust the darkness’ but Yhwh alone. Were he to turn, he would be entering into a covenant with the darkness and silence, in effect saying that it, and it alone, is what can assuage his pain. That is not an option to him. He therefore must maintain the covenantal bond with Yhwh; it has so saturated him that he cannot do otherwise. This is why this portion of the psalm is bookmarked with statements of trust in Yhwh (vs. 7 and vs. 15).

Ps.30.8 (the hands of covenantal assurance; Christ's death)

“I will exult / and I will rejoice / in your lovingkindness – you who have seen / my affliction; - you knew about / the distress of my soul. – And you have not / delivered me / into the hand / of my enemy; - you have set / my feet / in a broad place.” The tone of the psalm now shifts. Up to now the psalmist has recounted two dynamics: his unwavering trust in Yhwh and Yhwh’s provision of refuge. This is, in effect, a covenantal dynamic. Here, the reality of the covenant begins to emerge. Through this unadulterated trust in Yhwh, the psalmist now foresees, with certainty, a time of rejoicing and exultation. As before, he found “in Yhwh” a refuge and fortified city, he now finds “in your lovingkindness” the enactment of that protection. He foresees himself standing in that covenantal reality of lovingkindness. Within that sphere (which is, of power), praise begins. By handing himself, completely, over to Yhwh (“Into your hands, I commend my spirit”), he is simultaneously certain of his deliverance. This is profound. To properly perceive Yhwh’s covenantal faithfulness (his ‘lovingkindness’), is to be “guided” and “led” into deliverance and praise. This trust, though, as we have seen, is a trust that Yhwh will (and is able) to detect and protect against every hidden snare. In effect, the more one hands oneself over to Yhwh, the more confident one becomes in Yhwh’s ‘truth’ (saving power to effect covenantal blessing). Or, the more one enacts the first commandment, the more one comes to see that Yhwh’s covenantal commitment to his people, is just as absolute as the commandment itself. At this point I think something needs to be said regarding Christ’s quoting of “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” If what we have said is true, this quotation on the very eve of death, is the most pure form of covenantal trust possible. It has been said, however, that this psalmist is concerned with ‘this worldly’ enactment of Yhwh’s blessing, whereas in Christ, this assurance is now transferred to ‘beyond the grave’. I think this misses something important. When the psalmist said this it is true he saw it being worked out in ‘this life’ and not ‘beyond the grave’, however his assurance is one rooted in Yhwh and I think, for that reason, his assurance, while encompassing him is not exhausted in him. This is difficult to explain. In other words, his assurance that Yhwh is a true covenantal partner overflows and points beyond him. This assurance while encompassing life ‘now’ cannot be contained or measured by that ‘now’. So I really see no tension between the psalmist’s speaking these words and Christ’s. The difference is that in Christ, these words are, in a sense, brought to their utter edge and reveal a depth that is, perhaps, hidden here. At no point would the temptation to ‘vain idols’ have been greater and, therefore, at no point would these words have been more difficult to utter. However, the logic of the psalm has been such that it has driven itself, clearly, to this point. Rather than resign himself, he stood “in Yhwh”. Rather than abandon the first commandment, he enacted it. The covenant remained, unshaken, into death (and, therefore, descended into death and brought life). It is, in his resurrection, that we come to see this great covenantal fidelity enacted, and shine, powerfully, forth. In his resurrection, he becomes the locus of this power, as, through him, it begins to pour forth into the world.

Ps. 30.7 (a hatred of vain idols)

“I have hated / those who keep / vain idols, - but I have trusted / in Yhwh.” From “the god of truth” we immediately find the contrast: vain idols. This would seem to confirm our previous reflections. There, we saw that ‘truth’ was Yhwh’s sphere of covenantal power (either in blessing or curse). In contrast to that sphere of power we now find “vain idols”. The point is that whereas Yhwh is the source of redemption and covenantal fidelity, the ‘idols’ are but ‘vanity’ (or, emptiness). They are devoid of power and the ability to redeem. It is for this reason that ‘vanity’ is synonymous with falsity and stands in direct contrast to ‘truth’. It is apparent, though, that the psalmist, with his steadfast allegiance to Yhwh is not recounting this fact merely as descriptive of his actions—he is revealing to Yhwh (again) his covenantal fidelity to Yhwh. It is, in essence, a calling upon Yhwh to act as his covenantal partner due to his own unwavering commitment to Yhwh. This ‘hate’ is important for another related reason. We have seen throughout the psalms (especially in psalm 1 but elsewhere as well) that to be in Yhwh’s sphere of protection and power is not to simply focus upon Yhwh but to also engage in an active disdain for those who stand, in principle at least, in opposition to Yhwh. There is both an active seeking of Yhwh and an active avoidance of evil that speaks to fidelity to Yhwh. It is in both actions that one proves one’s covenantal love to Yhwh. Finally, and again, I can’t help but hear the drumbeat of the first commandment: you shall have no other gods beside (in front of?) me. The way this verse reads reveals a psalmist who places no hope in other gods but places his entire allegiance with Yhwh. I want to pause on this for a moment in light of a previous reflection we had on other gods and the fact that Yhwh is both Governor and Creator. As we have seen, in other religions there is a space between the gods and creation itself (in other systems the gods of creation are quickly overthrown by a younger generation; the point is that creation is not something that the presently ruling gods originated but, rather, something they find themselves within, much like humans). In this way the gods and humans exist in relation to creation in much the same way, and, for that reason, the gods can be and are various sources of strength. Because they are not the source of creation but stand within creation in the same way as humanity they also exhibit humanity’s various and multiple sources of power and strength. With Yhwh, however, there is no gap between creation and governance/power. In a way, Yhwh combines what is separated in the other religions: creation and governing power. Once these two are wed, however, there is no possibility for these multiple sources of strength; idols become vain. Hence, the first commandment reveals that there is, in fact, only one sphere of power (were Yhwh not both Creator and Governor this would, arguably, not be the case). The point is this: Genesis (in creation) heightens the absolute necessity for single-minded covenantal obligation, to such a degree that one can see, in germ, the first commandment. It would seem, too, that the reverse could be said: that the absolute covenantal obligation, itself, revealed, in germ, Genesis. The psalmist, therefore, inhabits a realm that is foreign to others. He, unlike any other person, cannot cast about or call upon other gods (they are vain). The totality of his actual existence has emerged from and demands to be returned to Yhwh in covenantal fidelity; he cannot look ‘to the right or the left’, for, to do so, would be, by definition, to remove oneself from the realm of covenantal blessing (and, hence, to be in covenantal curse and death). This absolute allegiance uniquely consumes the entirety of the psalmist. This deepens our understanding of what the psalmist experiences when he calls upon Yhwh to be his ‘refuge’ and why, in the face of danger, his shunning of idolatry would become of paramount importance. 

Ps. 31.6b (Yhwh, God of Truth)

“Redeem me / O Yhwh / God of truth.” I want to pause over this line because, in context, it reveals a great deal about the nature of ‘truth’ for this psalmist. As we have seen the psalm has been focused, entirely, on the covenantal bond and obligations owed between Yhwh and the psalmist. Central to this relationship is Yhwh’s acting as ‘refuge’ for the psalmist, as a place of safety. Concomitant with that is the psalmists unwavering trust in Yhwh, alone, as his source of protection. He places his spirit, totally, in “Yhwh’s hands”. And he does so because the psalmist has been subject to attacks by unnamed (and rather abstract) enemies. The enemies are real; what they are planning, though, is hidden. For that reason he looks to Yhwh to guide him and rescue him from his pursuers. With that in mind, the ‘truth’ contained in this verse is entirely consistent with what has gone before, although perhaps not consistent with our general understanding of it. Truth is, in a word, covenantal fidelity; it is action on behalf of covenant partner. For Yhwh to be the “God of truth”, then, is to be the God who, without fail, redeems those who are his from their enemies. We tend to think of truth as ‘accurate statement or description’. Here, we might say truth is the accurate rendition of covenantal obligations; in a word, faithfulness. When, like the psalmist, one stands within the sphere of Yhwh (when one stands “in Yhwh”) and one thereby places his exclusive trust and allegiance in Yhwh, “truth” shines forth. Truth then is not to be equated with redemption but is rather Yhwh’s faithfulness to the covenant (which entails redemption). This truth finds its expression in either covenantal blessing or curse and is, therefore, powerful and active. The psalmist has, so to speak, positioned himself in such a way that, when he calls upon Yhwh as the ‘God of truth’, he expects to unleash Yhwh’s redemptive power. 

Ps. 31.2-6 (to be "in Yhwh")

“In you / O Yhwh / have I sought refuge – let me never / be ashamed – deliver me / in your righteousness.” One thing to note about this psalm is the fact that a portion of almost every verse can be found in some other part of Scripture. It is, in short, a very formulaic psalm. This can be seen immediately. The image of Yhwh as ‘refuge’ is something we have had the chance to reflect upon on numerous occasions; it is one of the most common designations of Yhwh we have seen thus far. Furthermore, the fact that this refuge is sought to avoid shame is not new, nor is the idea of deliverance ‘in’ Yhwh’s righteousness. One thing, though, I have not thought of until now is that Paul often speaks of us being ‘in Christ’. I wonder if the same idea is present here. The psalm opens with an appeal for refuge from Yhwh and his righteousness; both of these are prefaced by being “in” (“in Yhwh”; “in your righteousness”). Being “in Yhwh’s righteousness” refers, primarily, to being in covenant relationship with Yhwh. Likewise, the opening line “In you I have sought refuge – let me never be put to shame” can be read as a covenantal plea, as if he is saying “You are my covenant partner, therefore act according to our agreement.” Part of that covenant is that each party would avoid shaming, or causing shame on, the other. As we have seen in other psalms, this ‘shame’ is crucial to understand because it points to the fact that the ‘person’ is not merely an internal “I” but the “I” as perceived within the community. For Yhwh to redeem this individual, he will, necessarily, have to publicly redeem him so as to cleanse his public “I” from shame/taint (we have seen, in another context, how Israel is Yhwh’s ‘reputation’ among the nations; this is something we will return to further down). For the psalmist to appeal to being ‘in Yhwh’ is to work out this covenantal dynamic: to seek, in Yhwh’s judgment, redemption from the false accusations that are attacking his public “I” (which is as intimate to him as he is to himself). There is, here, no ‘private’ redemption; in fact, it is precisely (as we will see), the public redemption that is the focus of the psalm. In other words, there is no retreat to a private sphere of interior luminosity or stoic, and individualistic indifference. Rather, as we will see (and have seen), the splendor that is to flow from being “in Yhwh” is one that is all encompassing, something that involves the fully public (this gives it that ‘naïve’ feel, as we would call it). “Incline your ear / toward me, - rescue me quickly, / O Yhwh. – Be a rock / of refuge / for me, - a fortified place / to deliver me. – For you are / my rock / and my fortification.” The ‘inclining of the ear’ is a very common image for the psalmists to use. It speaks not merely of auditory reception, but of Yhwh’s hearing (or his heart) being ‘pricked’ into action. To hear, is to act; specifically, to act in a redemptive fashion. It is for this reason why he immediately follows this up with “rescue me quickly”. For those Jews in covenantal relation with Yhwh, the covenant provides the context for this ‘hearing-act’; the two parties are abound by mutual obligations and fidelity to each other. This is not an abstract legal obligation but one of concern; hence the endearing, “O Yhwh”. One cannot conceive of the other party ‘hearing’ and it not being the beginning of action. And the call is essentially one of ‘take me to yourself’. Again, place me within your covenantal sphere of power, here described as a “rock of refuge” and “a fortified place”. For the psalmist (as for everyone of his surrounds) one stands within ‘spheres of power’. He is “in Yhwh” (and is asking Yhwh to act such that his trust in Yhwh not become a source of shame for him). To be “in Yhwh” is to be upon (or within?) a ‘rock of refuge’ and within ‘a fortified city’. The power and protection that flows from Yhwh is immensely defensive, so much so that the psalmist sees himself as existing within the center of barricaded city, with, presumably, soldiers standing guard. The psalmist then seemingly repeats himself: “For you are my rock and my fortification.” However, this is not mere repetition. The psalmist is showing Yhwh that his only source of strength is coming from Yhwh (there has been a continuous reverberation in the back of my mind of the first commandment of the Decalogue, “You shall have no other gods before (beside) me.” I think this is the case because to stand “in Yhwh” is to stand, exclusively, within his sphere and to not be involved in any others. Yhwh’s power (his covenantal blessing) only flows when one joins his entire allegiance to Yhwh, without remainder or admixture.) This is a plea, something of desperate cry, that the psalmist stands, as required, alone with Yhwh. “So / for your name’s sake – lead me / and guide me.” It is because of this unwavering, and absolutely centered, trust in Yhwh that he can appeal to Yhwh’s name and request his guidance. When one stands, utterly, within the realm of Yhwh’s protection and covenantal love, one bears Yhwh’s name and, therefore, Yhwh’s ‘reputation’ in the world. As this ‘image of god’, such a person is bound, in the same way that one’s reputation is attached to the individual’s “I”, to Yhwh and Yhwh to him. When one, therefore, demands to be delivered because of Yhwh’s name, one is recognizing the fact that Yhwh has ‘given his name over’, in covenant, and therefore He must act to preserve His reputation, publicly. It is as if the psalmist says, “I have placed everything I have in you; I therefore represent you; because you care about your reputation, lead me and guide me so that I can be your ‘image’”. From this ‘leading’ comes a change in imagery; no longer are there the passive acts of refuge, but the active locating of peril and danger (the ‘guiding’). “Deliver me / from the net – which they hid / for me – for you are my refuge.” The image of ‘hiding’ is important, and one that will resurface throughout the psalm. Suffice to say, based on what we have seen, that covenantal relationship with Yhwh entails his providing protection against enemies that the partner cannot be aware of. The psalmist knows his enemies have hidden stratagems to destroy him. He knows, like a wild animal, he is being hunted; he has the sense of hidden danger and of his complete inability to adequately guard himself against the attacks. The danger he is certain of is, in fact, faceless (and, therefore, ever-present). To be “in Yhwh” is to be within a light that perceives the darkness he cannot and that this ‘light’ will ‘guide him and lead him’ around and through these hidden nets. As said above, though, to be in this ‘light’ is to be exclusively within this light. There is, here, a shocking amount of trust demanded, especially when, as here, danger is lurking. To ask for guidance is to admit that one is in darkness. To trust, utterly, in Yhwh to be such a refuge in the face of hidden danger, is a profound act of faith and trust. Hence, why he keeps reminding Yhwh that he his “in” him. This is summed up in the marvelous statement: “Into your hand / I commit / my spirit.” This is an incredibly compact but sufficient explanation of everything we have said thus far. The psalmist is casting himself upon Yhwh for protection, acknowledging that he, Yhwh, has his exclusive allegiance and that there is no other cave to run to for refuge, no other city to retreat within for protection, and no other source of power for his redemption. He is looking, solely, to Yhwh.

Ps. 30 (the purpose of 'drawing forth')

You have changed / my wailing / to dancing / for me – You have removed / my sackcloth / and girded me / with rejoicing – so that / my soul / shall sing / your praise / and not weep. – O Yhwh / my God / I will praise you / forever. One cannot tire of pointing out, in this psalm, the contrast between the statement of error (I said in my strength…) and the fact that the rest of the psalm is centered, solely, on Yhwh’s saving action. Here, the image of ‘drawing up’ from Sheol is explored through the image of “dancing”. Yhwh changed the psalmist’s ‘wailing’ into ‘dancing’. I don’t believe we know whether there was ever a form of liturgical dancing in the OT. David danced when the arc was brought to the temple, and there are other images of dancing. It may be enough to say that, upon healing, the psalmist arose ‘with the dawn’ and danced. This furthers our previous reflections regarding Yhwh’s healing: they are in service of restoring the person to his or her proper nature, which is to be an act of praise. The next image is that of ‘clothing’. His former clothes of ‘sackcloth’ (image of penitential sorrow) have been removed by Yhwh and instead he has been ‘girded’ with rejoicing. This part of the psalm is acrostic: removed sackcloth – girded with rejoicing – singing praise – not weeping. This great ‘reversal’ has occurred so that Yhwh will again have a voice he delights in hearing. The concluding line is appropriate on many levels, primarily though because it asserts covenantal relationship again. When Yhwh establishes his covenant with Israel he says, “You will be my people and I will be your god.” Here, when the psalmist says, “O Yhwh, my God” he is drawing upon that relational phrase and showing that, through Yhwh’s mercy, and his penitence, he has been brought back into the realm of covenantal blessing. The images of the psalm have been reversed in favor of the psalmist. This concluding passage allows us to reflect on something that seems important to me: that when Yhwh heals (or, resurrects, ‘draws up’ from Sheol) he does so in order to ignite liturgy once again. When Israel was in Egypt, their purpose of being ‘drawn out’ (like Moses from the Nile) of Egypt was in order to praise Yhwh (notice that, at first, the point of Israel being ‘drawn out’ is not receive the law or even the covenant but to worship Yhwh; once they arrive, we come to see that to ‘worship Yhwh’ is to be brought into covenant with Yhwh and to follow his torah). In Isaiah, the psalms, Daniel, and, especially, Revelation, heaven is liturgical; it is full of praise. Sheol, by contrast (as Psalm 6 makes clear) is marked by silence and the absence of Yhwh’s name. The first point is this: to be ‘drawn up’ from death is not to be placed back into some neutral sphere of ‘wellbeing’. Rather it is to be brought into the realm of covenantal blessing which is infused by the ability to offer praise to Yhwh. The purpose of healing is to (re)enable praise and liturgy, just as Yhwh brought Israel out of Egypt not simply to ‘free’ them but so that they could worship him. Second, this could, in my mind, rather dramatically shape the way Christ’s resurrection is perceived—as Jesus taking the divine name into Sheol where, before, silence reigned due to the name’s absence; in so doing, and in his ascent, he ‘drew up’ all of creation so that it might be (re)oriented to Yhwh in praise which is the nature of creation itself (see Psalm 18). Perhaps most importantly, however, is the fact that as he ‘came down from heaven’ he was the heavenly liturgy itself become flesh; in descending to Sheol he took that liturgy down into the pit, bringing heaven “into hell”. Upon his ascent (his being ‘drawn up’ by the Father) he ascended through every level of creation bringing the heavenly liturgy to every shore of the created order. Therefore, when we are baptized “into Christ’s death” we are baptized into this action on his part that re-ignites the praise-purpose of creation. It is through him that we are brought back into this covenantal sphere of liturgy, much like Israel was ‘drawn up’ out of Egypt, to worship Yhwh. In this light, these verses could be read as the initiates “song” upon being baptized (especially when, in the early church, one was literally dressed again in white clothes). This perspective, I have just realized, is precisely what ‘The Ascension of Isaiah’ portrays as the effect of Christ’s resurrection.

Ps. 30.9-11 (between dust and dust)

“To you / O Yhwh / will I cry – And to you / my Governor / I will plead / for mercy.” In Jeremiah and in Judges, the people forget how to “cry out”. In Judges, the story is one of progressive silence as Israel sinks in a downward spiral; at the end, they cease crying out all together and simply “do what they think is right in their own eyes”. In Jeremiah, the book could be read as a type of guide in how to ‘cry out’. The point in drawing attention to these two books is in the fact that the psalmist had engaged in a similar ‘silence’ when said “But I-I said in my security – I will never be moved”. As we have seen, there was no dialogue between himself and Yhwh. His saw his ‘strength’ as something beginning (and ending) with himself. It is important to recognize that this type of hubris, of non-covenantal strength, is, in effect, silence and therefore emblematic of the silence of the pit and Sheol. Where Yhwh’s name is absent there silence reigns (although, this ‘silence’ is, in the context of this psalm, full of weeping). With that said, we begin to see how the psalmist has, from his fall, begun to realize his error—the ‘name’ appears (O Yhwh), where before it was ‘forgotten’; likewise, Yhwh is deemed his “Governor”. This is, in effect, a reversal of his previous error: Yhwh is now the one who ‘governs’ his fate and therefore bestows strength and security, not himself. It is therefore highly significant that he would use this term when calling upon Yhwh as a type of penance for his previous error. Furthermore, just as strength resides in Yhwh’s ‘favor’ so too here does the psalmist realize that he must ‘plead’ for mercy.  “What profit / is there / in my weeping – in my / going down / to the pit? -  Will dust praise you? – Will it / declare / your faithfulness?” We have pointed this out already, but the psalm is operating along the lines of covenantal curses and blessings. Here, with the psamlist’s fall he has come to see not simply that his ‘strength’ is actually Yhwh’s favor, but that by his error he was operating within the realm of covenantal curse (death). This verse is the voice of one who stands within the realm of covenantal curse but seeks release (is seeking, in the words of the opening, to be ‘drawn up’ out of the depth of the curse). In doing so, this ‘cry’ focuses, entirely on the benefit conferred by the psalmist’s voice: what profit my weeping—will dust praise you?—will it declare?.  Yhwh delights in liturgy, in praise to him and in declarations of his faithfulness. In the Pit, all of this is silenced, for there Yhwh’s name is ‘forgotten’. The psalmist’s appeal is, interestingly, focused sheerly on this aspect and not on his own ‘righteousness’ (as in other psalms), presumably because he is need of mercy for his error. Perhaps we are to see here Yhwh’s command to ‘fill the earth’ a desire to have more ‘voices’ reach to him in liturgy; here, the psalmist’s death would be a removal, something that Yhwh (he believes) would have an interest and desire in avoiding. The fact that ‘mercy’ is rooted in this desire on Yhwh’s part to hear praise is profound: it is not abstract, but rooted in liturgical worship. For Yhwh to ‘draw up’ the sinning psalmist from the pit—to enact mercy—is so that he might rejoin and continue praise to Yhwh. The action does not begin with Yhwh and end in the psalmist; it begins with Yhwh, to the psalmist, so that he might return in liturgical praise to Yhwh. One cannot isolate one of these movements. This is most effectively conveyed by the image of silent dust. “Will dust praise you?” Man is made from and returns to dust; in between, man praises Yhwh. Here is one of the more exquisite embodiments of the psalmist’s new realization: creation and covenant both merge in this single image of ‘shaped’ dust engaged in praise of Yhwh’s faithfulness. “Hear / O Yhwh / and be merciful / to me – O Yhwh / be my helper”. Here is an effective conclusion to the prayer. Are we to hear in Yhwh’s thrice repeated name the appeal to Yhwh’s holiness as puling him from the unholy/unclean pit and Sheol? An appeal rooted solely in his mercy? The psalmist concludes his prayer to Yhwh as “his helper”. Before, he saw himself as his own ‘helper’.

Ps. 30.8 (revelation of poverty)

“O Yhwh / in your favor / you made me stand / more erect than the mountains of strength.” The contrast to the previous verse is almost total: there, the psalmist declared his strength, in a monologue of power (But I—I said…); here, the strength is found in dialogue (O Yhwh); there, the psalmist was his own strength (I said in my strength); here, the strength is in Yhwh’s favor (you made me stand). Through this contrast we see the psalmist as covenantal. As we said previously, due to this unique perception of Yhwh the psalmist understands strength to flow not from a mixture of divine governance and human striving. Rather, in Yhwh man has been placed in an entirely different category. In other modes of being a dialectic inevitably emerges due to the fact that the gods and man inhabit the same created realm. There is a tension between human striving and divine aid—this tension can result in either heroism or hubris (Gilgamesh/Heracles/Achilles embody both). However, in the perception of Yhwh as Creator and Covenant-maker, a new realm opens up in which man is released fully without his release being in competition with Yhwh. The more man obeys Yhwh (in covenant) the more man ‘returns to himself’ (as utterly contingent creature) as well. In the unique revelation of Yhwh there is nothing paradoxical about man’s servanthood. It is (oddly stated) completely ‘natural’. Outside of this realm man suffers an inevitable to-and-fro between these two dialectics (and arguably, one can see remnants of this within Scripture itself; it is something reminiscent of, in a type of purified ‘conclusion’, atheism and mysticism).  This contrast is further carried out in how ‘strength’ is measured between the two verses. There, the measure of the psalmist’s strength was largely abstract (I will never moved); here, the psalmist finds a concrete measure (than the mountains of strength); there, the image was of ‘standing’; here, the image is of overwhelming strength (‘stand more erect than…’). There have been, in the psalms, other statements of confidence regarding “not being moved”. However, when that statement is placed in the present context and contrasted with his later assertion of identity within Yhwh (verse we are looking at), it falls completely flat. There is, in this verse, the sense that strength in Yhwh is not only more concrete but, simply, “more”. No matter how much strength one could muster from within one’s self, when it is contrasted with a statement of dialogue with Yhwh, it pales in comparison. There is another important point to this. In the first verse the strength was, in a sense, ‘guaranteed’ because it resulted from nothing other than the “I”. Here, by contrast, strength comes only by Yhwh’s “favor”. There is, then, a hiatus—a space between the psalmist and his true strength—and this is now, not in the psalmist’s “I” but in Yhwh’s “I”. Strength is not found in the dialectic of nature and grace, but in dialogue. Were one to call this ‘grace alone’ one could potentially be simply adopting the dialectic and siding with the realm of ‘mysticism’ and passivity. Rather, it seems to me, this ‘hiatus’ between calling out and answer is where we see man (and creation) emerge in a non-paradoxcial, non-dialectical, non-violent/competitive fashion.

This is only heightened by the following line: “You hid / your face / I was dismayed”. Here, everything contained in his original statement comes crashing down and the import of this verse is fully revealed. What we learn now is that the psalmist’s error of strength was, in fact, Yhwh’s ‘favor’ not his own solidity. This favor, in turn, was removed in a moment’s notice and the psalmist plunged into sickness. As he descended, he also descended beneath his erroneous statement and came to realize that he was held up by more than his own strength; it was as if he fell beneath the surface of the earth to see that creation is held up by Yhwh’s ‘foundations’. Below the surface of things he came to see himself as residing purely on Yhwh’s favor and disfavor; in other words, on Yhwh’s covenantal promises of ‘life and death’. This realization would have been rather blinding: he would have realized simultaneously, that he had, in fact, been even stronger than he thought, but it would have been based upon a realization of the fact that any strength is founded on a prior ‘poverty’ in the face of Yhwh (a poverty of obedience; this is a Noahic heroism in contrast to that of Gilgamesh).

One final point that might ground these reflections further: in the opening verses the psalmist said Yhwh “made me live”, referring to Yhwh’s ‘drawing him up’ from Sheol and the pit; here, the same wording is used, “you made me stand” and this in contrast to his previous erroneous statement of strength. Both refer to a ‘raising up’: in the first verse, to being ‘drawn up’, here to ‘being made erect’. It seems, then, that what we find is the psalmist identifying his erroneous statement as, in a sense, one emerging from the Pit: this is something someone in Sheol might say (where Yhwh’s name is not remembered; curiously enough, Yhwh’s name is ‘not present’ in his statement either). It is subtle, but it reveals the profound judgment he casts upon his error/sin: he aligns with all of the negative images of the psalm (the pit, weeping, anger, death, etc…).

Ps. 30.7 (the height of error)

“But I / I said / in my security – I will / never / be moved.” In light of the covenantal proverb spoken previously, this comment may, at first, appear to be a statement of confidence, of standing within the covenant blessing of Yhwh. Upon closer inspection, however, one realizes that this statement is the ‘stumbling’ of the psalmist. It may not be the reason he falls into the pit, but it is, however, an expression of the pit and all of the negative images arrayed in our previous reflection. One can see why this is the case in simply pointing to the fact of how many times the psalmist draws attention to himself in direct contrast to the opening verses “But I – I said in my security, I will never be moved”; opening verses: “I will extol you, O Yhwh, for you have drawn me out…O Yhwh, my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me. O Yhwh, you brought up my soul from Sheol….you made me live.” If we might further develop the insight from the previous reflections (of which this is very speculative). This psalmist has placed himself in the liminal stage of the surrounding people: he stands within creation and can, to some extent, assert his own independence from the gods within that created order due to the gods not being the direct causes of creation but merely its governors or controllers. Due to this ‘gap’, there is a space of autonomy opened up for man (Gilgamesh like) where his freedom and the gods freedom can actually compete. This can lead to assertions of one’s own “security”. It does not need to be one at odds with the gods, but it is one that is filled out by man. In Israel, however, this is not possible. Because Yhwh is both Creator and King (covenant maker), every aspect of the individual is appropriated by Yhwh within his covenant (‘you shall love Yhwh, your God, with all your heart, soul…”). Man’s ‘security’ then cannot rest on a ‘third’ party (namely, creation). Rather, as Genesis makes clear, man’s security is found only ‘in Yhwh’ and in covenantal relation with him; man has no grounding in anything other than that (indeed, creation itself is not grounded in anything other than the same bond; as we have said elsewhere, Yhwh’s ‘saints’ are fully aware of their and creation’s utter contingency). The words of the psalmist are the words of ‘heroes’ in other mythological systems; men who stand, in their own strength (often with the help of other gods, and often at odds with others), and therefore in a glory that is there own. For Israel—this was possibly the greatest of all errors and something the prophets tirelessly railed against (as against the fertility religions). This is nowhere better exemplified than in the contrast of Noah with Gilgamesh: Noah simply obeys; Gilgamesh outwits the gods to survive the flood (although aided by another god, there is an element of glory that is Gilgamesh’s own and, arguably, this exists because of the fact that the gods are not the creator(s)). Finally, this is why, for Israel, ‘security’ is only (only) found in the opening words: of a person standing in dialogue and praise to Yhwh (the dynamic of the opening lines is “I-thou”; in the verse in question it is only “I”). For Israel, reality is dialogue with Yhwh—and nothing else.

Ps. 30.5-6

“Sing praise / to Yhwh / O you saints / of his – and praise / his holy name.” With  his personal introduction out of the way we now come to see that the psalmist’s praise is contained within a communal act of thanksgiving. Yhwh’s ‘saints’ have come (to the Temple?) to join with the psalmist as he hymns Yhwh’s glory for his ‘drawing up’ from Sheol. The praise is oriented to Yhwh and “his holy name”. As we have commented on before the presence of ‘the name’ is important in that it is in the name of Yhwh that his power is effected; it may be that here we see that his healing came about by a pronouncement over him of ‘the name’. His healing, therefore, would have been an ascension in and through and by the name of Yhwh; it would have enveloped him, warded off his ‘enemies’, and restored (re-created) him according to Yhwh’s purpose. In this way, the psalmist would have become something like a sacramental presence within the community; he would have been a walking emblem of Yhwh’s covenantal power, care and deliverance. For those who are Yhwh’s saints, the psalmist would have then become an object of delight and joy, a physical showing of their covenantal partners desire to heal his own; and this is not a joy at simply a ‘healing’, for in his ‘drawing up’ the psalmist would have been restored to the condition ‘of creation’, of ‘goodness’ as Genesis says. This is why they would be called upon (and be joyous to) to praise Yhwh with the psalmist. It is also for this reason why these are not, necessarily, (just) the psalmist’s ‘family and friends’. The possessor is Yhwh, not the psalmist. And if the psalmist healing is something objectively an object of praise, then those who would be drawn to participate in praise to Yhwh are Yhwh’s own, which is much more expansive than some intimate community of the psalmist. Perhaps too we see here an ‘expansion’ of the psalmist himself beyond his “I” as outlined in the intro; here, the psalmist has been, through Yhwh’s healing, placed within a more objective realm of Yhwh’s authority and power (precisely in his being cast down and humiliated). In other words the “I” has become objective precisely in its (re)orientation to Yhwh and Yhwh’s saints and not in its isolation. And so, while the introduction is purely personal, here we see the psalmist himself engaged in the communal act of praise, injecting (and having been injected by Yhwh) himself into this larger liturgy.

It is from this more objective stance that he continues, giving voice in a proverbial way to Yhwh’s covenantal boundaries: “For / in his anger / is death – but / in his favor / is life; - weeping / may tarry / in the evening; - but joy / comes / at dawn.” The starkness of this verse is not unusual as it embodies the effect of covenantal relationship with Yhwh. As the Torah makes clear: those who follow Yhwh’s commandments will live long in the land, but those who do not will suffer death (expulsion). Likewise, prior to entering the promised land, Moses says he put before them “life and death; choose life so you may live long in the land.” Yhwh, as the creator, is the gravitational center of all creation. Likewise, this Yhwh is the covenant maker. When these two are aligned, ‘life’ and ‘covenant’ become synonymous. To stand ‘in the covenant’ is, in a real sense, to ‘stand in creation’; to stand in rebellion to the covenant is, therefore, to stand outside creation (meaning, to exist in chaos and death). At the center of this covenant stands Yhwh, whose ‘anger’ and ‘favor’ provide the contours to the covenant itself. All of this is to say that Yhwh’s ‘favor’ is life, which is ‘covenantal obedience’; in this is ‘joy’ and the ‘rising morning’/dawn. Yhwh’s anger, then, is ‘death’ from which flows weeping and darkness of night. Through this interplay of Yhwh as creator and covenant creator we come to see how dangerous it was for the psalmist to have said, “I will never be moved”. In saying such arrogance he was placing himself outside the blessing of the covenant and began to enter the realm of darkness and death. It is at this point that we can start to chart the images of the psalm. Anger-weeping-death-the pit-sheol-night-dismay-failure-wailingàandàfavor-joy-life-‘drawing up’/ascension-morning-standing erect-dancing. (Side note: in almost every other mythological system at least around the Mediterranean, the gods of the created order are later defeated by a younger generation. This younger generation then takes precedence while the older gods seem to fade into the background. In this way we see how ‘creation’ becomes something that is 1) just ‘there’ and 2) not something intrinsically tied to the governing gods (creation is not the expression of governance, but something that is subject to governing). For Israel, by contrast, creation and Yhwh are aligned such that creation itself now becomes a vehicle and manifestation of Yhwh. In other words, the ‘distance’ between creation and the gods in other systems is closed, completely, in Israel. Why might this be important: in other systems the distance of creation creates a space between cult and morality, meaning cultic observations can be performed on behalf of the gods without morality being absolutely wed to such observations. However, in Israel,  due to Yhwh’s being Creator and King, creation becomes the manifestation of Yhwh just as his ‘Law’ will be. The point is that ‘life’ and ‘death’ can become synonymous with Yhwh’s ‘pleasure’ and ‘anger’ in a way not possible in other systems due to their gap between creation and governance, cult and morality. This is not to say this verse could not have been uttered in another religious system; but it is to say that its meaning (or, its implications) would have been different. It seems to me that I still very much have this other mythological conception of the created order.)

Ps. 30 (intro)

“I will / extol you / O Yhwh / for you / have drawn me out – and have not allowed / my enemies / to rejoice / over me. – O Yhwh / my God / I called to you / for help / and you healed me – O Yhwh / you brought up / my soul / from Sheol.” These opening lines take on added depth only when we realize the error that (presumably) caused the psalmist to plunge into the pit. He later makes this confession: “But I – I said in my security: I will never be moved.” This boast on his part is entirely self-centered and self-sufficient. It is not relational and it bears no marks of the fact that one’s life, as a covenantal partner of Yhwh, is one of standing in a loving stance toward Yhwh. Such arrogance and boasting may not have ‘caused’ his downfall but it certainly made the length of his fall that much greater. Here, in these opening words, the psalmist has manifestly changed his perspective. He speaks like one who is a covenantal partner and the action for his salvation is decidedly and utterly in Yhwh. Notice how he emphasizes this again and again: “you have drawn me out—you have not allowed my enemies…--you healed me—you brought up my soul”. No where is there a residue of his previous boasting. Also, the action is one of ascension: Yhwh has“drawn out” the psalmist from the very maw of Sheol as one draws water up from a well. The psalmist, in his passivity to his ascending, ascribes all of his healing to Yhwh. Furthermore, his ‘ascension’ is not simply one of healing but of placing him ‘over’ his enemies (“not allowed my enemies to rejoice over me”). This dynamic is similar to other psalms: if one is delivered, the ‘raising’ necessarily implies to ‘striking down’ of an enemy. This is portrayed by the fact that the psalmist can now ‘extol’/rejoice Yhwh because his enemies cannot ‘rejoice’ over him. Stylistically, these two verses work acrostically: A. for you have drawn me out; B: not allowed enemies to rejoice; B1: healed me; A1: brought up my soul.

Ps. 29 - conclusion

“But / in his temple / everyone is saying / “Glory! – Yhwh sat enthroned / over the flood, - and Yhwh will sit enthroned / as king / forever. – Yhwh will give / protection / to his people; - Yhwh will bless / his people / with peace.” From the chaos swirling on the earth below we are now raised to heaven and Yhwh’s court/Temple. As we will see there are several important contrasts contained in this transition: on the earth Yhwh’s voice rages; in heaven, Yhwh does not speak (except to ‘bless’); on earth, nothing speaks to Yhwh; in heaven, “everyone” ascribes glory to Yhwh; (similarly) on earth, there are no intelligent beings; in heaven, the ‘sons of god’ sing; on earth, all is chaos and destruction; in heaven, there is “peace”; on earth, the flood is a vehicle and tool of Yhwh; in heaven, Yhwh sits ‘enthroned’ above the flood; on earth, there is destruction; in heaven, there is liturgy; on earth, there is utter exposure and vulnerability; in heaven, there is “protection”; on earth there is shame and humiliation; in heaven, there is ‘holy attire’; on earth, everything is in a process of judgment; in heaven, Yhwh “sat enthroned and will set enthroned as king forever”. With this contrast in mind, it is obvious that, here, when Yhwh acts in judgment as Warrior King, the earth is subjected to a state of being that stands as the ‘negative’ of heaven. It is, in the words of the psalm, ‘flooded’; it is un-created. An important element to this is that this ‘war’ of Yhwh is only in service of establishing the same peace and blessing on earth that exists in heaven. In other words, this psalm embodies the ‘glory’ attendant to Yhwh as he delivers Israel from, for example, Egypt; however, this judgment is not “as it should be”. The earth should not be subjected to such violence; rather it has been called forth in the same way that the ‘transgression’ that initiated the original flood called forth Yhwh’s judgment. Revelation will make this very clear when heaven descends to earth, to be established there, like a bride (after the ‘flood’ of fiery-judgment); “thy will be done on earth as it is heaven”.

Ps. 29 (middle)

“The voice / of Yhwh / is upon the waters. The god of glory / thunders. – Yhwh is upon / the might waters.” The opening of this section of the psalm begins rather ominously. There is this pregnant pause, but a pause filled with the churning chaos of water. “The waters” are almost nowhere viewed positively in the OT but rather are the source of chaos and destruction (this is why, in Daniel, the beasts come “out of the sea/waters”).With that said, the word order is important: were it to read “upon the waters is the voice of Yhwh”, it would lessen the authority Yhwh seems to exert over the waters, and ‘merely’ by his voice. The description is odd: a voice being ‘upon the waters’. It is almost as if they are his chariots, and he has them reigned in. It recalls the opening verses of Genesis where it says the‘spirit of God’ hovered over the waters. And, interestingly, there, immediately following this description God’s ‘voice’ emerges and creation begins. In both we see Yhwh’s utter control and dominance over the waters of chaos (in the first, by his spirit and then by his speaking; in the second (here) by his voice being upon the waters in thunder). In contrast to Genesis, however, here the voice upon the waters is the thunder. To state it this way, however, is to miss something important. The psalm does not say thunder is the voice of Yhwh. Rather, it says “the god of glory thunders”. This is an important distinction, especially in light of what we have said in the ‘intro’. We are not here to see merely a vision of creation. Rather, this is a victory hymn. Perhaps at this point we should point out what is to come: unlike in Genesis, when Yhwh’s voice creates, here Yhwh’s voice is a source of destruction/judgment. In the words of Isaiah, it “lays low” everything that is ‘high’ (cedars of Lebanon and the mountains of Sirion). Yhwh’s voice expresses it sovereignty here through its ability to submerge everything under its power (later, in “the flood”). This obviously points to Yhwh as the sovereign of history (meaning, he is the great Deliverer). For that reason, this initial image of Yhwh’s voice “thundering” must be understood within the context of Yhwh as deliverer: it is not merely an image of creation but one of deliverance. It is for that reason that it is important how this initial description has been portrayed: “the god of glory thunders”. We might say that the psalmist has taken images of Yhwh as Creator (his dominance over the waters of chaos; I’m leaving completely at the side for now allusions to other religious myths of Baal/Yam the psalm is either drawing from or responding to) and put it at the service of Yhwh as the Warrior King. This ‘thundering’ then points not to ‘thunder’ per se, but to the ‘thunder’ of Yhwh’s warrior ‘shout’. In essence, this ‘thunder’ is a battle cry (something similar to the ‘shout’ of Psalm 2). “The god of glory”: this is the third time in four verses that the word “glory” appears. Before ‘glory’ was ascribed to Yhwh; then, the sons of god were to ascribe to him the “glory of his name”. Now, he is the “god of glory”. It is evident that glory, in the context of this psalm, speaks to the overpowering and sovereign being of Yhwh (it is paired with ‘strength’ and, here, it is matched by the thunderous war cry of the Warrior King). Furthermore, the ‘glory’ of Yhwh is something that resides above the ‘waters of chaos’; it is in the ‘heavenly temple’ where the sons of glory praise Yhwh. This is the thunderous voice of the one King of Heaven.

“Yhwh is upon / the mighty waters. – The voice of Yhwh / is powerful; - the voice of Yhwh / is majestic.” Similar to the intro, these lines build upon, in a repetitive way, the previous lines. Before, it was the ‘voice’ upon the ‘waters’; now, it is Yhwh upon the ‘mighty waters’. Before, the god glory thundered; now, that voice is “powerful” and “majestic”. This is a building crescendo, like a tidal wave moving toward the land. As before, there is the sense that Yhwh himself being ‘upon’ the ‘mighty waters’ is that of a king upon his chariot. These ‘mighty waters’ of chaos are his tool, and the vehicle for his ‘voice’. At this point, Yhwh’s voice is made ‘active’. It is ‘powerful’. In the introduction, it was to ‘Yhwh’ that we found designations of power (glory and strength). Here, the ‘voice’ is now beginning to be unleashed, although we are only given an image of it abstractly at first. Might it be significant that this is not the ‘word’ of Yhwh (that creative word that goes forth from Yhwh)? Perhaps we are to see here the fact that Yhwh’s ‘voice’, as more like a ‘shout’, is the destructive yell and judgment of Yhwh. As we will see, this ‘voice’ “breaks”, “breaks up”, makes Lebanon “skip”, “strikes with flashes of lightning”, “makes the desert writhe”, “strips bare the forest”. The ‘word’ of Yhwh orders, shapes and builds; the ‘voice’ of Yhwh undoes and breaks down. This does make sense: a word is crafted speech; a ‘voice’ (or a shout) is unformed and, often, therefore, of judgment.  

And now the violence begins: “The voice of Yhwh / breaks the cedars, - and Yhwh / breaks up / the cedars of Lebanon.” It is as if the power of the ‘mighty waters’ has been harnessed and placed at the service of Yhwh only to hear be unleashed upon the ‘cedars of Lebanon’. The ‘storm of Yhwh’ has now ‘hit land’. One gets a picture here of a hurricane blow to the trees. And, as in creation, one senses that whatever Yhwh wills to come about is immediately accomplished, except here in reverse. In Genesis, creation emerged effortlessly; here, destruction and judgment result without any intermediary battle. The victory is immediate, complete, and absolute—this is accomplished by referring not merely to any forest but to the ‘cedars’ of Lebanon, which were universally hailed as objects of stability, power and honor. Here, they are broken like so many match sticks. (This also mirrors the crescendo of the previous verse: voice breaks cedarsàYhwh breaks cedars of Lebanon.) Furthermore, we are given a northern reference here to “Lebanon”. As we will see, this will show the ‘length and breadth’ of Yhwh’s authority. In the next verses we will move to the south: Yhwh’s voice is king over the entire realm and with the same control and destructive power. It is not merely in the vegetative realm that Yhwh displays his power: “He makes Lebanon / skip / like a calf, - and Sirion / like a young wild ox.” I can not say for certain whether this image would have conjured up laughter, but I would not be surprised if it did. The image of the strong northern kingdoms ‘skipping like a calf’ is one of embarrassment and humiliation. It displays Yhwh’s ability, as in Psalm 2, to shame the powers of the world in the face of his sovereign authority. We are, again, in the realm of the effortless control of Yhwh in judgment (not creation). Notice how both countries (Lebanon and Sirion) are compared to young animals (the calf and the young ox). They are like immature creatures of Yhwh, subject to his complete control and mastery; they are servile in their fear (perhaps it is also the case that Lebanon is associated with the cow, and Sirion with the ox?). This mirrors the ‘match-stick’ like quality of Lebanon’s ‘cedars’—everything, in the face of Yhwh’s power, is powerless. He is, essentially, robbing the world of its glory.

“The voice / of Yhwh / strikes / with flashes of lightning.” As with the thunder, it is important to note that it does not say that Yhwh’s voice is “flashes of lightning”. Rather, the voice ‘strikes with flashes of lightning’. Yhwh is not the destructive power of nature, but uses the powers of nature in order to display his power. Here, the voice ‘strikes’; it makes contact. It becomes more than the hurricane blasts and the violent earthquake. It becomes the luminous flames of lightning, striking the earth. This heightens the sense fo Yhwh’s power by particularizing it in the lightning. Things have, in a sense, become much more concrete and focused. One carries a more particular image when one envisions this. “The voice of Yhwh / makes the desert writhe; - Yhwh makes / the holy desert writhe.” As noted above, this is following a pattern: voice of Yhwh upon waters à Yhwh upon mighty waters; voice of Yhwh breaks cedars à Yhwh breaks cedars of Lebanon; voice of Yhwh makes desert writhe à Yhwh makes the holy desert writhe. I think this pattern is getting at something: the first line describes the subject of Yhwh’s power/voice, the second line heightens it by referring to particular embodiments. And so, the ‘waters’ become ‘mighty waters’, ‘cedars’ become ‘cedars of Lebanon’ and the ‘desert’ becomes the ‘holy desert’. In all of these the second element seems to represent what would, in other cultures, have been a god (an absolute of some level). So, in the first line, it is the ‘voice’ accomplishing the act; however, when it comes to the second and more ‘powerful’ second line, Yhwh himself accomplishes it. By emphasizing both levels of sovereign control, the psalmist has effectively (I hesitate to use this term) de-mythologized (perhaps ‘robbed’ is a better term) the surrounding gods and placed their powers at the complete disposal of Yhwh (even his mere ‘voice’ controls them; reminiscent of the ‘speaking’ in Genesis which accomplishes precisely the same effect). The term ‘writhing’, to my knowledge, often refers to ‘labor pains’ which, in turn, is often an image of judgment. Here, the ‘striking’ of the lightning are like so many arrows, pelting the dessert (the ‘holy dessert’) causing anguish and pain. “The voice of Yhwh / makes hinds / writhe in travail – and he strips bare / the forests.” Why the pattern is broken here, I’m not sure. However, with the inclusion of the animal realm in the act of Yhwh’s impinging voice/judgment, it would seem as if much of the created realm has been subjected to his onslaught and dominion. The conclusion with the ‘forests’ provides a book-end to Yhwh’s action. The voice began its destructive force on the ‘forests’ and here it concludes it by ‘stripping it bare’. I am not sure but the image of ‘stripping bare’ in other contexts is an act of judgment through shaming; if that is to be heard here it would coincide with what we have seen. The ‘forests’, as traditional sacred places of the gods, are now ‘stripped bare’ by the effortless act of Yhwh

Ps. 29 (intro.)

“Ascribe to Yhwh / O sons of God, - ascribe to Yhwh / glory and strength. – Ascribe to Yhwh / the glory / of his name. – Worship Yhwh / in holy attire.” The opening of this psalm is very liturgical in its repetition: “Ascribe to Yhwh – Ascribe to Yhwh – Ascribe to Yhwh – Worship Yhwh”. This rhythmic (and repetitive) quality lends a sense of solemnity and authority to the psalm. The content of this call fleshes out the power being hailed: “sons of god – glory and strength – glory of his name – holy attire”. We will flesh out the idea much more later, but it can be alluded to now that this hymn of praise has as its focus the power of Yhwh. As we have seen throughout the psalms, it is likely that this ‘power’ of Yhwh is a power of deliverance and/or deliverance and creation. If that is the case, these opening lines, hymning Yhwh’s power are praises oriented to Yhwh as the Warrior King (in essence, we are prepared to understand this as a victory hymn). The psalm begins with a command to the “sons of God” to engage in praise (ascribing glory and strength). A few things to note about this: first, the command is being issued by the community gathered (presumably in the Temple) to the ‘sons of god’. This is the first time we have encountered such a command. There have been others like it but they have been issued to those gathered in the temple. Here, the command is directed at the heavenly council itself. This is a crucial aspect of the psalm to realize as it sets the stage (and tone) for the entire psalm. We are to hear in this the fact that this hymn is a heavenly hymn. It is, therefore, one of total and utter power. The earthly realm cannot contain, much less exemplify, what is being called for here. By opening the psalm in this way the listeners are immediately placed under and within the authority of heaven itself, which is, in turn, directing its gaze to Yhwh. This only serves to enhance the act of praise, and, more directly, the victory achieved by Yhwh in battle. Whatever the original setting or battle that this psalm was composed for, it is clear that, in Yhwh’s victory, heaven itself stood in awe of Yhwh’s authority. In this way, the psalm embodies the reality that praise (specifically, praise for victory) is both a heavenly and earthly reality. When those gathered in the temple sang their praises to Yhwh (or, as in other psalm, ‘recounted his works’) they did (do) so with the heavenly council, who offer praises in the heavenly temple (as seen clearly in Isaiah and elsewhere). In this way the earthly liturgy, and the heavenly one, mimic each other (and participate in the other). “Sons of God”: it is likely this phrase refers to the heavenly council, those heavenly beings that gather around Yhwh. I do wonder if their description as ‘sons’ is to signify that they, like the Davidic heirs, are ‘kings’ (are they displays of Yhwh’s authority and sovereignty?). If that is the case, then they are here being relegated to an act of worship to Yhwh, the Enthroned One. “Glory and strength”:  throughout the rest of the psalm these two qualities of Yhwh are closely aligned; ‘glory’ in this context is the sovereign authority that emanates from Yhwh’s presence; ‘strength’ is his ability to subdue the forces of chaos and deliver his people. Both of them, in the context of this psalm, as will be shown, speak to the fact that they reside, exclusively, with Yhwh (as distinct from any other gods or ‘powers’). “The glory of his name”: we have spoken of this before, but it is the source of great mystery that the one god has a name (typically, a name is something that identifies something as one among many; here, the one is named but he is not one among many but the only). Although more by implication than by explicitly being stated (here), the name and the glory must coincide; the question is then whether the ‘name’ is more than the glory (its ‘ground’) or whether they ‘fill each other out’. The fact of the matter is that the name, as the presence/power of Yhwh, is itself, therefore, ‘glorious’. It is interesting to note how here the ‘name’ is mentioned whereas in the rest of the psalm the focus will be decidedly on the ‘voice’ of Yhwh. “Holy attire”: the fact that the sons of god themselves must clothe themselves in holy attire (pure and undefiled) is impressive. Their holiness must consume them in their act of worship. This holiness of theirs is, of course, something that only serves to heighten the gravity of the worship being offered—it points to the ever-greater holiness of Yhwh himself. Also, the fact that they are commanded to dress themselves also highlights their own much lower and subservient role in the presence of Yhwh. These gods must approach Yhwh with the same fear and trepidation that the Israelites approached the mountain or the priests approached the holy of holies. This is, entirely, a liturgical act. And, it also points to the fact that those (men and women, and priests) who worshipped Yhwh must do so in such a manner that their garb exemplifies their holiness. To my knowledge, this is the first time in the psalms we have encountered ‘holy attire’.  

Ps. 28 (part II)

Part II

“Requite them / according to their action – and according to / the evil / of their practices. – Requite them / for what their hands have done – and render to them / their recompense.” The psalmist here calls down curses upon the evildoers. It may be that these are covenantal curses (if one lives according to the covenant then one can expect blessing, if one breaks covenant, one can expect curses). It may, however, also be the ‘natural’outworking of evil, something we see, for example in Psalm 1 and in other psalms where evil produces its own ‘reward’/punishment. To ‘requite’ someone is to either pay them for what they have done or to return to them what they have given. Both ideas work well here: in many other requests for judgment/curses, the psalmist asks that Yhwh let their evil ‘return’ to them (in a type of boomerang fashion). The image of ‘payment’ is also appropriate and is picked up in the final verse: “render to them their recompense.” The image here is of evil purchasing its destruction/curse. It is as if evil is a form of payment made over to Yhwh who then merely provides the evildoer with the ‘goods’. This is entirely appropriate given the conception of evil in the OT as an active force that Yhwh often does not need to ‘do’ much in order for it to become judgment/curse (evil is a purchase of a curse). Notice too how the evil spoken of before is in the mixture (or doubleness) of ‘peace’ and wickedness while here the punishment is meted out according to the wickedness. When judgment falls it is not something that is fooled by the ambiguity inherent in the wicked. Rather it discerns the ‘payment’ of wickedness and delivers on that payment and in proportion to the amount received. Finally, it is important to note that the psalmist lifts his ‘hands’ to the holy of holies whereas the wicked man’s ‘hands’are the source of his curse; in the next verse of the psalm this will be picked up as it applies to Yhwh’s ‘hands’. “Because they do not / understand / the works of Yhwh – and what his hands / have done –he will tear them down / and not rebuild them.” Here is the fulfillment of the curse: the utter destruction of the wicked. The wicked are here conceived of as buildings. This curse is very reminiscent of Jeremiah where he is told his prophetic ministry will be to ‘tear down’ the nations so they will not ‘be rebuilt’. The economic image of the previous verses has now been transformed into one of physical destruction. The ‘payment’ they will receive for their evil deeds will be their‘tearing down’. The judgment is total: this tearing down will not be in order to rebuild (or replant). Whereas what “their hands have done” is evil and double, what Yhwh’s “hands have done” are his ‘works’, which may be either his acts of judgment/deliverance in the past or the created word. Ultimately, both of these could be referred to: the act of creation is itself laden with images of deliverance, as every act of deliverance is laden with images of re-creation. To understand the ‘works of Yhwh’s hands’ (either in creation or in history) is to perceive the same momentum and God at work. To not understand these works, then, places on at odds with the god who is king over both creation and history: it is to, therefore, be wicked. The only payment such ignorance could deserve is its destruction. The massive failure on the part of the wicked is rooted in their lack of understanding the ‘works of Yhwh and what his hands have done.’

“Blessed be Yhwh – for he has / heard the voice / of my supplications.” Some assume that in between this and the previous verse a temple priest delivered an oracle that Yhwh had ruled in favor of the psalmist/supplicant and he had, therefore, won his appeal and would not be regarded as a wicked person. This seems appropriate and justifies the sudden shift in perspective. As far as the psalm, though, and regardless of any supposed historical context, the images are beginning to reverse themselves. The psalmist, before, implored Yhwh not to ‘turn a deaf ear’ to him, lest he become silent. He asked Yhwh to ‘hear the voice of my supplications.’ Here, Yhwh has ‘heard the voice of my supplications’. Before, the psalmist implored Yhwh for help; here “Yhwh is / my strength / and my shield.” Before, the wicked had ‘evil in their heart’. Here, “my heart / has trusted / in him.” Before the wicked were ‘requited for their deeds’.Here, “I was rescued / and my heart exulted.” Before, the psalmist implored Yhwh to save him lest he become silent; now, “I will praise him / with my song.”The point is this: with the action of Yhwh in finding the psalmist innocent, every force that worked against him as well as every danger he faced, is removed and he is placed on such solid ground that he can now ‘sing praises’. Before, he was filled with an incredible anxiety: not simply of the ‘pit’ but of being ‘dragged off’ to the pit, of public shame and the danger of being regarded as one of the wicked. His ‘appeal’ was in earnest; everything was going to depend on this ruling by Yhwh. In this ‘reversal’ then we witness the psalmist placed back into the ‘presence of Yhwh’ and the ‘sphere of blessing’ (whereas before he was in danger of being consigned to the sphere of curse). Furthermore, and picking up on our previous reflections: he is now one and not divided. He is no longer in danger of becoming regarded as ‘unclean’ and of the dual nature of the wicked. Yhwh, who himself was previously ‘divided’, as being the judge hearing both sides, has not issued his ruling and become, himself, united in his declaration. A final reversal occurs in the last verse—whereas before the wicked were torn down and not rebuilt, Yhwh now is aid to “Deliver your people / and bless your inheritance, - and be their shepherd / and lift them up / for ever.”In Yhwh’s sphere, life is perpetual (blessing resides here) and one’s ‘inheritance’is certain—for the wicked, who operate in curse, life ceases (in the pit) and one is “not rebuilt”. For the psalmist, with Yhwh’s ruling, he catches a vision of Yhwh’s national blessing of his people (and his anointed), as well as the fact that Yhwh will be their shepherd/king who continuously provides for them.

Ps. 28 (part 1)

“O Yhwh / I call out / to you – O my rock / do not turn / a deaf ear / to me, - lest / if you are silent / to me – I should become / like those / who go down / to the pit.” The central image here is of silence. The psalmist begins with the emotionally charged call to Yhwh, “O Yhwh”.He ‘calls out’ to him. In the words of a devotee, he layers that initial calling with an image, “O my rock”. This movement from call to metaphor is similar to what lovers do and it points to the psalmist’s intense and personal attachment to Yhwh. The first calls him by name; the second speaks of him as his possession (“my rock”). This relationship between the psalmist and Yhwh has obviously been a long one marked by devotion and trust. This is further fleshed out when he implores Yhwh not to “turn a deaf ear to me”. The image is interesting. One would expect him to say, do not turn away your ear from me (which, in some ways, would amount to the same thing). However, here, what he is concerned about is not that Yhwh will ‘turn from him’, but rather that he will turn to him but remain inactive/silent. His ear will not be receptive—nothing would be able to enter into his heart. As we will see later, this is important because he is imploring Yhwh, as judge, to ‘hear’ his case. For a judge to ‘turn a deaf ear’ is to have him be unpersuaded by the appeal (or defense) made. The result of this ‘deaf ear’ is itself ‘deafness’/silence: “I should become like those who go down to the pit.” As we have seen in many other psalms, the ‘pit’(or, Sheol) is the place where Yhwh’s name is not (cannot) be spoken and, therefore, where praise cannot be made. It is significant that, for the Jews, to enter a realm where Yhwh’s name is absent is to enter death (we have commented on this rather extensively in another post). Furthermore, death is experienced most clearly, in life, by the cessation of praise. In a very real sense, to be incapable of praise is to already be an initiate of the grave/pit/Sheol. In the context of this psalm, the enter the pit is to be judged as a member of the‘wicked’ and to have lost one’s ‘appeal to Yhwh’. More of this as we proceed.

“Hear the voice / of my supplications – when I cry / to you for help, - when I / lift up / my hands – toward your / most holy place.” Rather than the ‘deaf ear’ leading to ultimate silence (the pit), the psalmist implores that Yhwh ‘hear’ not just my supplications, but “the voice of my supplications” and the “cry for help”. This is met by a seeming liturgical action of ‘lifting up his hands’ ‘toward Yhwh’s holy place’. There are several things to observe here. We have noted before how mere ‘words’ are never what the psalmist asks Yhwh to hear; rather it is the psalmist’s ‘voice’ or ‘cry’.The emotional desperation of the psalmist as they cry for help is what they hope enters into Yhwh’s presence, as they know Yhwh can be ‘moved to pity’;here, it would be that this cry would enter his ear and cause him to just rightly, removing him from the company of the wicked (who are rushing toward oblivion). This emotionality is matched by the physical gesture of ‘raised hands’, as they are open waiting to receive blessings or open in an attempt to ‘grab his knees’ and gain his attention (an attempt to hang on and refuse to let go). At this point is when we are perhaps given a glimpse into the actual setting: the hands are raised to Yhwh’s “most holy place” which could be a reference to the‘holy of holies’. If so, then the psalmist is in the outer court and making his final appeal to Yhwh himself after, presumably, losing his case in front of other judges in the community. If this is the case, this is his ‘last resort’and if he loses this appeal he will be judged guilty with the wicked. For that reason he turns, physically, to the place where Yhwh resides most essentially: the Holy of Holies. This turning stands it total contrast to the other ‘place’mentioned so far: the pit. The psalmist therefore stands, literally, between heaven and hell (so to speak) and knows that whatever judgment is to be handed over will determine in what sphere he will reside (life or death, blessing or curse). Understood this way, it is no surprise that he is ‘crying out’ and gesturing with everything he has that Yhwh hear him.

“Do not / drag me away / with the wicked – and with those / who do wrong; - those who speak / peace with their neighbors, - but evil / in their heart.” Here we come to the crux of the danger perceived by the psalmist: it is that he would be regarded the same as the wicked, that he would be ‘found in their company’. The image of ‘dragging’ is telling—it speaks of an unwilling and forceful removal. The image is also one of humiliation. To be ‘dragged away’ is not only to be shown to be beaten, but to be publicly humiliated. There are many images in the ancient world of people being ‘dragged’ (either through the walls of a destroyed city, as if on fish hooks, or behind a horse). In all of them, the victim is subjected to a public display of powerlessness and mockery. Here, it is the double-tongued that are ‘dragged away’. The psalmist is intensely aware of the fact that he should not be regarded as of like company. He should be separated from them. The real danger is a mixture of improper categories: the innocent with the guilty. This is something seen over and over in the OT. From the moment of creation, things are separated into their proper places and, in fact, it is when they cross their boundaries that ‘sin’enters the world (as in the Flood). Likewise, in the levitical laws, those things that cannot be eaten are those things that exhibit a mixture of categories: birds that can’t fly, fish that have scales, etc… These animals represent transgression in their very make up: the combine in one body two animal features that should be separated. Here, the psalmist seeks to have himself separated from the wicked, to not ‘be counted’ among them. It seems, then, that there is a desire on his part for Yhwh to recognize and hold apart, in his judgment, those things that are (and have been) improperly mixed (probably by inaccurate rulings by other judges). Notice too how this ‘mixture’is embodied in these men: they speak peace with neighbors but evil in their hearts. Their hypocrisy is much like the unclean animals: they combine in themselves what should be mutually distinct. In its precisely this ‘mixture’that marks out the wicked in many other psalms (their ‘two-faced’ nature). And, finally, if we are correct, then we are to see the “pit” as being ‘mixed’ with the Temple—and the psalmist is seeking a purification of the Templeby Yhwh such that those whose nature is most proper for the Pit are ‘dragged away’ there. The psalmist is imploring Yhwh to, in a way, in his judgment, enact a type of creation (a type of separation) and consign those of mixed nature to one realm (to be ‘dragged away’) while those who are of a single nature (the innocent) to another. Finally, are we to hear the wicked being ‘dragged away’from Yhwh’s presence, while the innocent remain? If so, then the innocent, when he is proclaimed righteous by Yhwh, will remain in the Temple while the wicked will be ‘dragged away’to the Pit/Sheol.