the poor … They lurk in ambush in public squares … they murder the innocent; they spy out the helpless.”
But there is something beyond all this that troubles the psalmist at least as much. It is the attitude of those who perpetrate such crimes. “The wicked are so proud that they care not for God; their only thought is, ‘God does not matter’ … They say in their heart, ‘God has forgotten.’”
Most of us are painfully aware that almost all the psalmist’s images point to a similar condition in our own society. For us, the phrases “lurk in public squares” and “murder the innocent” appear too often in the daily news, and are becoming so familiar that they seldom merit headlines. In our day, people of power and authority too often “persecute the poor” in the name of such apparently desirable goals as the restructuring of society or the new corporate agenda.
But beyond the ghastliness of crime and the brutalities of what we call the market economy, there is an even more troubling question for us today. While much in our society remains fine and worthy of loyalty, people increasingly live on the assumption that “God does not matter,” that human actions and policies need no transcendent source to guide or nourish or judge them. “They say in their heart, ‘I shall not be shaken … God has forgotten.’”
For the psalmist, the blemishes of his society are unacceptable. If “the Lord is king,” then there must be “justice to the orphan and oppressed.” For him, it is inconceivable to think otherwise.
Centuries later a young woman who is poor—both she and her child are in great danger from the awful powers of her society—recalls such a song as this. She prays for justice in the world and safety for her child. “He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,” sings Mary, “and has lifted up the lowly.”
Consider a person or group who suffer cruelty and oppression. Ask God to be with them and to give them courage and comfort. Ask God to be with their oppressors, to show them the suffering they cause, and to move them to deeds of compassion.
In the Lord have I taken refuge;
how then can you say tome,
“Fly away like a bird to the hilltop.”
Thomas Merton, the Trappist monk whose writings became a major part of twentieth-century Christian life, spent the first half of his ordained life in the seclusion and detachment of Gethsemane Abbey. Though he did not often leave the abbey, he spent the second half of his life in passionate involvement in the divisive issues of American society during the nineteen sixties and seventies.
At the point of change in his stance, Merton wrote a book whose title explains his change of attitude. He called the book Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.
Merton’s change of attitude would be understood by the psalmist. Obviously, things are seriously wrong in his society. We are not given specifics, but we can surmise what is adrift. “The wicked … ambush … the true of heart.” It is becoming difficult to live a life of integrity. There is a reference to “those who delight in violence,” one of the sure signs of a troubled society. Most ominous, there seems to be some justification for saying that “the foundations are being destroyed.”
Much of what goes on in our own time allows us to identify with the thoughts and feelings of the psalmist—especially when we must choose a response to what is happening around us. The psalmist expresses the dilemma. “When the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do?” For the psalmist, one of two courses seems possible. We can, as many advise, try to opt out and “fly away like a bird to the hilltop”—assuming we have the means and the opportunity.
But if we are people of faith, who try to base our actions and choices on trust in a righteous God, there is the certainty that our lives and actions are both observed and judged. “[The Lord’s] eyes behold the inhabited world.” Even more sobering is the knowledge that “[the Lord’s] piercing eye weighs our worth.”
For the psalmist, the choice is to reject escapism and accept action and service. “In the Lord have I taken refuge.” Whatever contribution can be made, the psalmist will make it, because” [the Lord] delights in righteous deeds.”
Is there an evil in your society or the world that particularly troubles you? Ask God what you could reasonably do to help alleviate or eradicate it. Remember that frequent and regular prayer for others, in the light of God’s presence, is a sacred act of charity.
“Because the needy are oppressed …
I will rise up,” says the Lord,
and give them the help they long for.”
There are moments when Winston Smith, the central character in George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, seems to appear between the lines of the psalms, particularly as the psalmist agonizes about the state of his society. There is the same sense of alienation from those around him, as well as from the social structures. There is a feeling of loneliness, sometimes of fear.
The great difference between the two is that, for the psalmist, there is the presence of God giving meaning to everything, while for Smith, there is nothing above and beyond what is, or what seems to be.
As a person of faith, even though he is moving among people who consider themselves to be the people of God, the psalmist feels alone. “There is no godly one left; the faithful have vanished.” Trust has been drained away: “Everyone speaks falsely.” What is harder to accept is the way that speech has been used to deceive: “With a smooth tongue they speak from a double heart.” The vehemence with which the psalmist rails against the corruption of speech suggests that he himself has been deceived.
We cam help being reminded of the use of language in our own time, much of it expressly designed to manipulate and seduce. The managing of news media, and the ever-increasing skills of marketing, come easily to mind. Whatever the particular deceptions being practised in the psalmists society, it is obvious that at least one objective is economic deprivation. “The needy are oppressed, and the poor cry out in misery.”
At this point the psalmist becomes much more than someone who merely laments a state of affairs. Suddenly he voices the certainty that these evils will be corrected and suffering will be relieved. “‘I will rise up,’ says the Lord, ‘and give them the help they long for.’” For the psalmist, God is always the moral power from which justice flows.
Again the psalmist focuses on language to make his point. He contrasts the “smooth tongues” of those around him with the “pure words” of the Lord, “purified seven times in the fire.” In the face of declining standards all around him, where “that which is worthless is highly prized,” he offers the infinite worth of God, whose words are “like silver refined from ore.”
Once again, as in many of the psalms, the singer is appalled by contemporary events, but is never without a stubborn hope.
Can you
