Ps. 71.20-21 (God's power precedes man's silence)

Though you have made us / see troubles
many hurtful troubles
will you let us / live again?
And from the depths of the earth / bring us up again?
Restore me / to a good status
and comfort me again. 

There is a note struck in these lines that is very different from the remainder of the psalm. There has been no doubt that the psalmist is under attack, that he desires to be redeemed from his enemies, and that they are a menacing force. However, as we have noted, that anxiety is also grounded in a deep life-long sense of God’s protection over him. He does not make peace with the enemies in his life, but he has continuously experienced God’s saving hand throughout his life. Here, by contrast, that ‘life-long’ sense of assurance seems to be put in the background while the menace is pushed to the fore. Further, the “I” is now substituted  for an “us”, a seemingly odd inclusion as it disappears almost as quickly as it appeared. What we can say is that with the increasing focus on the intensity of the psalmist suffering we have him reaching for images that are as encompassing as those he had previously used to describe God’s righteousness. What I mean is this: in the preceding verses we noted how the ‘uniqueness’ of God was envisioned as one of a righteousness extended even to the top ‘of the heavens’. Here, by contrast, the depth of his suffering has put him (and “us”) into the “depths of the earth”. These two poles represent the geographical boundaries: heaven is that place wherein the Divine resides and from which all power emerges, it is the geography of blessing; the ‘depths of the earth’ is that place that is furthest away from this power, it in many ways is the geography of curse. This contrast perhaps answers the change in tone—that once the subject of the psalm turns to the depths of his suffering, the calm sense of assurance also seems to depart from him. When one contemplates the ‘heaven’ of God’s power one is in the realm of liturgy; when one contemplates the ‘depths of the earth’ and separation from God, one moves closer to the ‘land of silence’ (Ps. 6). From within that realm the questions emerge: “…will you let us live again? Will you bring us back?”. These notes of a type of despair precede the request: “Restore me…comfort me again.” These indeed are dark lines. A type of silence (the dividing of the psalmist) is creeping in. And yet, there is in these lines something that is astonishing—that it is the psalmist’s conviction that God’s righteousness is ‘heaven-high’ that would lead him to formulate the belief that God could even redeem ‘from the depths of the earth’. The greater the psalmist is convinced of God’s power (that is reaches to the heavens), the greater is he convinced that it can also reach to the depths of the earth. In a sense, many would have gone silent long before this psalmist, convinced that no deity would (or could) reach down so low to redeem. The fact that he can even speak from this depth is an astonishing witness to his belief in the power of God. We might say this: that God’s power exceeds (or, precedes) the depth of man’s silence and, therefore, there is no point at which man can fall silent without violating the first commandment. From every depth man must still end with, “Restore me to a good status; comfort me again.” This is not optimism; but hope in God’s power (righteousness and mighty works). Liturgy encompasses every silence.