Psalms of Lament, Complaint, and Cursing

My wife's cousin Dan Thompson asked me about the Psalms. He wrote, "For me, the challenge is how to reconcile the violence and the outright desire that enemies are destroyed. So many Psalms mention specific ways in which the writer petitions God to destroy and disable the 'enemy'".

Response February 2019

As far as the Psalms go, yes they have been a staple of my spiritual journey for nearly 50 years (got started right around our first anniversary). And yes, they are challenging. We tend to use the nice ones (or nice excerpts) in worship and devotions, but fully 100 of the 150 Psalms are laments or complaints, and the imprecatory (cursing) Psalms are especially troubling.

In his little book Psalms: The Prayerbook of the Bible, Dietrich Bonhoeffer addresses this with a strong Christo-centric interpretation. He saw them as the prayers of Christ that reflect God’s anger at evil, especially injustice and suffering that humans inflict on each other. He suggested a way to handle them is to pray in concert with Jesus, who alone had the righteousness to speak in this way. He even suggested that the evils that provoked the curses are actually directed at God, thus the reactions justified. Part of the theology here is that attacks on people made in the image or God are in fact attacks on God. This was the rationale for capital punishment given to Noah in Genesis 9:6.  As Bonhoeffer’s explanation unfolds, he suggests that when evil aroused our anger, the Psalms give us a way to honestly express that anger and then release it to Christ who alone can handle it with righteousness and justice.

I do believe that the Psalms give us not only permission but a way to converse with God honestly. You’d be hard put to find a human emotion or experience not reflected in the Psalms somewhere. Psalm 88 is an exquisite expression of clinical depression. Eugene Peterson makes a strong point that an intimate relationship with God requires being honest with God, even when it is not pretty or nice or pious. God is quite able to handle what’s going on in us. Psalm 103:14 “He knows how we were made; he remembers that we are dust.” That is a very good thing! Peterson makes that point briefly in this video, which he explores in greater depth in his book Answering God: The Psalms as Tools for Prayer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-l40S5e90KY&fbclid=IwAR3Dr24QzSWKY-ZDuQhwOaSLxVlSPRHnmSsnali4J9k7siWzWVMxckCdnQM

Honesty with God is also a key to Walter Brueggemann’s understanding of praying the Psalms in his books, Praying the Psalms and The Message of the Psalms. I think honesty with God is what makes sense out of the Book of Job. We often read Job 42:6 as though now that Job has been encountered by God, he will repent in dust and ashes. However, that’s not the flow of the story. Job has been in dust and ashes all along, and now that he has seen God he can get on with his life. That verse could be translated as well (or better) as “I repent of my dust and ashes.” Job is leaving the dust and ashes behind and going on to live with the God who had met him at his point of deepest need. In fact, God says of Job’s friends, who were saying all the “right things” about God, “You have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has done.” (Job 42:8) What has Job said that was right, and not like his friends? It comes to a head in 23:6 “Would he contend with me in the greatness of his power? No; but he would give heed to me.”

For me, the imprecatory Psalms and the laments and complaints give me language to honestly articulate to God the most painful and difficult of my human struggles, emotions, observations, experiences that I do not dare to put into my own words. Sometimes I recognize my inclination to tear out someone’s teeth (Psalm 3:7; 58:6). These Psalms allow me to own up to my negative reactions and reorient my perspective to understand them from God viewpoint, or accept that God has a viewpoint that is beyond my understanding. In doing that, I can relinquish them to God in the name of Jesus and find some peace and even joy in trusting God to handle the worst of human evil. That doesn’t mean those emotions go away or every situation is resolved to my liking or that I can blithely go on oblivious to them, but I recognize that I cannot and am not responsible to resolve every human dilemma, even those in my own heart.

As I reflected a bit on this I recognize that the Psalms that give me more pause are the ones where the Psalmists protest their own righteousness as an appeal for God to act in a certain way. I dare not be so presumptuous, but I do find these prompt me to express my aspiration for righteousness to God.

I am not the great Psalm expert, but I have learned from some who know way more than I do. At this point I’m not so much analyzing the Psalms as I am using them as a stimulus for my prayers that I think of more as chats with God. As I mentioned before, I am troubled when the Psalmists protest their righteousness to God. I often use those to express my longing to grow in righteousness. I find more comforting the times the Psalmists ask God to lead and guide them on the path ahead. Here Candy and I are now in our 70s and still finding our way. Personally, I recognize I am in a time of transition. God seems to be guiding me into deeper inner life and being present to Candy. I preached for three churches in January, and recognized that path that has been so much a part of my life in tapering off or even concluding.

One other observation that came to me as I was walking our dog in the midst of writing this (3.7 miles, 1 hour 18 minutes) has to do with how we understand Scripture. I know that in some evangelical circles there is a tendency to see the Bible as almost directly dictated by God with instructions for us to follow. To be sure, I am fully convinced of the inspiration, reliability, and authority of Scripture, but recognize that very little of it is presented in the form of dictated instructions. Rather, God and people are interacting in a wide variety of situations and cultures and the Bible arises from those interactions. When it comes to the Psalms, in contrast with the Lord’s Prayer for example, we are not told this is how to pray but we listen in, if you will, on the prayers of those with whom God has an intimate relationship. Sometimes it is beautiful, glorious love, but other times it is crying out of the darkness when God seems absent. Obviously, it gets much broader and deeper than that, but with this sort of understand of what the Psalms are in the context of what Scripture is, the Psalms nourish my intimacy with God. I pray through the Psalms each month, 5/day, and have done that for almost 50 years, so I am approaching 600 encounters with each Psalm in my personal prayer life (not considering study, preaching, teaching). The formula, which is not original to me, is to start with the date and add 30 four times. That gives five samples across the Psalter every day for 30 days. On the 29^th, I skip 119 because it is so long but us it by itself the five times a year of a 31^st day. Yes, a few get left out each February. They never get old, and every day something connects with what is going on in my life, in our family, in the church, in the world. They give me ways to get in touch with and express to God what is going on inside of me, especially what I am struggling to resolve. They also speak God’s voice that I need to listen to every day.

Contemplation of Mortality

When I come to Psalm 49:10-13 in my prayer Psalms, I often think of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem Ozymandias. The pursuit of ego gratification and temporal greatness is hardly a new phenomenon, but it seems to have taken center stage in the public arena in recent years. Both the Psalmist and Shelly are clear that the corrective for this trend is contemplation of mortality.

When we look at the wise, they die; fool and dolt perish together and leave their wealth to others. Their graves are their homes forever, their dwelling places to all generations, though they named lands their own. Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish. Such is the fate of the foolhardy, the end of those who are pleased with their lot. 

The monastics knew the spiritual benefit of contemplating our mortality. Some monasteries have their cemetery outside the entrance to the refectory where they take their meals. Often the next grave in line has already been dug and is ready for the next monk’s passing. Thus they must contemplate that even as they take the meals that sustain their lives, they are mortal and will go to their graves in turn. In some more intense monasteries, monks actually build their own coffins and sleep in them until they are used for burial. The picture is a fresco from the Basilica of St. Benedict in Subiaco, Italy. It shows a monk guiding young people in contemplating their mortality by showing them three dead bodies: one fresh, one decaying, and one skeletonized.  Perhaps you have seen old grave stones with the inscription, “As you are, I once was. As I am, you will be.”

All this may seem morbid to us in our age of death denial. But the Psalms (e.g. 39, 90) frequently recommend contemplation of mortality as the route to living each day well in healthy relationship with God, the people we love, and the world we inhabit. The hints of what may come after this life are few and vague in the Hebrew Scriptures. Their emphasis is not on imagining details of a future eternity but on trusting ourselves to the God who guides us in this life to secure us for that eternity. Just this one line in Psalm 49:15 articulates that faith.

God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me. 

Interestingly, perhaps significantly in terms of my meditations today, the Epistle from the Lectionary for next Sunday explores this mystery in 1 Corinthians 15:42-44. This strikes me as so much more profound and satisfying than the song I Can Only Imagine that has become popular in some circles for funerals.

So it is with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a physical body, there is also a spiritual body.

We are so prone to individualistic perspectives that we miss that mortality is not only for each of us personally but for the human institutions in which we live. In terms of human and even Western history, the United States is very young, and as wonderful as it may be, or we wish it could be, it is not the Eternal Reign of God. It is temporary and one day will pass from the scene, as have all others before it. That should not cause us distress any more than contemplating our personal mortality should. Rather, it should motivate us put all the falderal of pursuing greatness in perspective focusing on justice and peace, compassion and prosperity not only for ourselves but for all people.

Ozymandias 

Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Lauds – February 17, 2019

Road to Santiago de Compostela 2007 Rebecca Carroll

          This morning I woke and began Lauds almost an hour before the chime summoned me. Seemingly random gratitude and praise congealed into pondering the ancient question – Why is there anything rather than nothing? I pursued that to consider the nature of this anything. Since adolescence at least, I have thought that the material universe might well have been gray and angular, without beauty. Even life could have been mechanical without joy. Even humans could have been isolated without relationships. So why is there not just color but beauty that seem to exult in just being colorful and beautiful? Why do we recognize at least some approximation of our human emotions in animals and even plants and the earth and universe? Why do we have the capacity to not only perceive but revel in the joy of beauty? Why do we thrive in relationships and flourish on love? Why do we grieve when beauty, joy, relationship, and love are lost?

My contemplation took me to recognizing in this awareness something of not just what it means to be made in the image of God, but that all of creation is an extension or expression of the nature of character of God. Not just in the marvels of the earth and universe, but in these invisible realities: beauty, joy, relationship, love (and yes, even grief). It seems to me that the Trinitarian (and other theological) formulations about God are our feeble attempts to capture this with human reason and language. Yes, I accept that the Bible is God’s inspired, reliable and authoritative self-revelation. As such it too exudes in human language mystery well beyond human language. I am not interested here in debating biblical orthodoxy but in being captivated by being welcomed into the mysterious presence of God who is at once beyond my imagination and personally accessible.

As I moved into Prime and prayer Psalms while I ate breakfast, I began with Psalm 17, which concludes with verse 15. “As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake I shall be satisfied, beholding your likeness.” I was overwhelmed by recognizing that is just what I had been privileged to do.

Then I started up the computer and opened the email from the Center for Action and Contemplation with Fr. Richard Rohr’s meditation for today. I am neither endorsing nor critiquing everything he writes, but I have found he enriches my meditation, prompting me to consider things I had not previously thought about. This morning’s meditation seemed an extension of my own contemplation of the mystery of God. To be sure, what he has written reflects the inadequacy of human language and thinking. However, I was startled with how it directly it interfaced with the mystery I had already been contemplating.

https://cac.org/gods-first-idea-2019-02-17/

Fruitful Old Age

This morning, between boiling water for my breakfast tea and pouring it into the pot to brew I was struck with a bout of vertigo that sent me back to bed until 12:30 this afternoon. Candy and I swapped roles, and she became the gracious caregiver along with excellent support from our daughter-in-law Rachel. I had intended to work on preparing our income tax information. Perhaps I’ll get to that tomorrow as 6-11 inches of snow are predicted, so will not be going out tomorrow. After Meclizine and gradually taking some safe nourishment I began to revive. I was already dressed, but changed into sweats and spent much of the day in the glider, wrapped in a cozy blanket with a heating pad on my back that has had some pains off and on for about a week, taking time for a luxuriously leisurely walk through my lectio divina and Psalm prayers.

Today my focus was drawn to Jeremiah 17:7-8. “Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit.” I was immediately aware of the parallel image in Psalm 1:3. Those who meditation on God’s law “are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper.” This took me back to my reflections on Psalm 93:12-14 that I posted on December 23 last year.  “The righteous flourish like the palm tree, and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. They are planted in the house of the Lord; they flourish in the courts of our God. In old age they still produce fruit; they are always green and full of sap.” (I always chuckle at thinking of myself as full of sap.) http://nstolpepilgrim.blogspot.com/2018/12/to-be-flourishing-fruitful-tree-in_23.html  and to my reflections on needing to focus on my inner life and relinquish some of my external engagements. http://nstolpepilgrim.blogspot.com/2019/01/nada-te-turbe.html and http://nstolpepilgrim.blogspot.com/2019/02/i-held-my-peace-to-no-avail.html Then today’s Psalms brought me to Psalm 71:9,18. “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent. … So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to all the generations to come.”

As I reflected on the image of a tree planted by a stream with roots that can get water even in drought on a day when my physical strength sure seems spent, I started considering what flourishing spiritually means for me in old age. Whether anyone else thinks 72 qualifies as old age, I take the 70 years, 80 if we are strong, from Psalm 90:10 as qualifying me, and I remember when Candy was in the ER in Dallas before being diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2016. The pharmacist went over the list of meds she was taking and questioned one in particular as being inappropriate for elderly patients. She responded, “I’m not elderly!” To which he replied matter of factly, “You’re over 65.” Perhaps not the best bedside manner, but it has helped us lay claim to the biblical imagery for old age. Yes, we hope to have a good decade ahead of us (my Dad made it to 83, perhaps I could make it to 85 in decent shape). Still I have recognized we are on the homestretch of our journey with Jesus, living in tents until we arrive at the city with foundations whose builder and architect is God (Hebrews 11:9-10).

So on this day of sitting on the sidelines, once I got where I could sit up and read, I have been pondering what flourishing and being fruitful in old age means for me. I remembered Father Dacian Bluma who was my spiritual director when we were he Wisconsin in 1997-2000. He was a Franciscan priest in his 90s. His diocese ministry assignment was youth ministry. He went to various diocese youth events with no program responsibilities. He just sat in a comfortable, accessible chair available to youth and adult leaders who wanted to just chat. I’m not 90 (and I may never be). Caring for Candy does call for more than sitting and chatting and must be my focus, which largely means being present to her. Perhaps just being open to presence in the community life of our family (near and far), Spirit of Peace Lutheran Church, Milwaukee Mennonite Church characterizes what flourishing and fruitfulness will be about in the anticipated decade ahead of us. Of course, this calls for keeping being present to Jesus a lively priority, much in keeping with my growing sense of call to nourishing my inner life and relinquishing external distractions that deplete peace and joy.

  

I Held My Peace to No Avail

The last couple of months I have been purposely trying to focus on my inner life with Jesus and being present to Candy, my wife with Alzheimer’s, and reduce and refrain from external engagements and entanglements that distract and detract from peace and joy. I have turned down preaching opportunities and chosen to stay out of several on-line discussions in the realms of theology and religion, politics and public policy, social and cultural trends.

I have found this more challenging than I expected, and have made comments and had conversations that are external. Generally my thinking is that memes, slogans, Tweets, Face Book posts are so abbreviated that they miss the complexities and depth of the issues to which they want to speak. I often have the urge to write or say, “But there is much, much more to this. Have you considered … ?” Several times a day I tell myself, “I don’t need to get involved with this. My input doesn’t change anyone’s opinion anyway, and others are expressing alternate ideas better than I can.” Still, I have not resisted every urge to post or speak to something biblical or historical, or offer a documentable correction to clear factual error. I always have the hope that I do it in a way that prompts people to think rather than argue. Of course, I acknowledge that is a slippery slope into hubris, which I find so abhorrent when it surfaces in public life.

Then my prayer Psalms today brought me to Psalm 39:1b-3a, and I recognized myself.

I will keep a muzzle on my mouth as long as the wicked are in my presence.” I was silent and still; I held my peace to no avail; my distress grew worse, my heart became hot within me. While I mused, the fire burned.

Even before I got to Psalm 39 this morning, in my lectio divina this week I had been connecting Isaiah’s experience with the humility of recognizing that my words are not what changes people or even what they are paying attention to. This morning the Psalmist and the Prophet collided in my soul. After his stunning vision of God and searing of hot coal on his lips, God sent Isaiah speak even though the people would, “Keep listening, but do not comprehend; keep looking, but do not understand. Make the mind of this people dull, and stop their ears, and shut their eyes, so that they may not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and comprehend with their minds, and turn and be healed.” (Isaiah 6:9b-10)

The Psalmists response was to recognize personal, human mortality – “the measure of my days,” “how fleeting my life is.” (v. 4) As I have gotten older (now past the 70 years of Psalm 90:10), I have drawn considerable comfort from seeing myself as God’s “passing guest” (39:12) and am finding some solace in that image as I relinquish turmoil about externals to focus on inner peace and joy on my homestretch with Jesus. I suppose formulating all of this in writing and making it public could be an external distraction, but somehow clarifying my inner thoughts helps me understand and release them.

Who Inherits the Land/Earth?

Much of what Jesus taught echoed and built on the Hebrew Scriptures with which his audience had some familiarity and some knew very well. He often used that as a starting place to probe to something much deeper than the popular understandings of the time, which I suspect would be true for us as well if we paid attention and really let his words work their way into us.

Most important is how he used Deuteronomy 6:5 and Leviticus 19:18 to sum up not only the Law but his teaching and, of course, God's expectation to love God and love our neighbors (even those who consider us their enemies). Matthew 22:36-40; Mark 12:28-31; Luke 10:27.

As I came to Psalm 37 in my prayers this morning I was reminded of what I already knew, the the beatitude, "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth." (Matthew 5:5) comes from Psalm 37 and extends "the land" to "the earth" as well as adding richness to what Jesus may have had in mind for the "meek."

v. 11 "The meek shall inherit the land, and delight themselves in abundant prosperity."

v. 22 "Those blessed by the Lord shall inherit the land."

v. 29 "The righteous shall inherit the land, and live in it forever."

v. 34 "Wait for the Lord, and keep to his way, and he will exalt you to inherit the land."