duplicity in the world and themselves, and to seek conscientiously for honesty, truth, and grace.
How long, O Lord?
will you forget me for ever?
This is a song that begins in anguish and ends, almost unbelievably, in joy. It is almost impossible to read the opening verses without being reminded of Hamlet’s agonized cry on the battlements of Elsinore: “O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew!”
“How long, O Lord?” Since the human voice found words to express human feelings, this cry has gone up to the gods. We can withstand so much—so much pain, so much hatred, so much aggression against us—but there comes a time when resistance is ground down and our resources are exhausted. We can feel control slipping.
Our response is even more compromised by a haunting fear that all our troubles transpire in an utterly uncaring universe. Even the person of faith—which the psalmist certainly is—can dread that God has forgotten his or her very existence. The question, “Will you forget me for ever?” is poignant beyond words.
But perhaps, for the person of faith, there is an even greater terror than the fear of being forgotten by God. We can entertain the suspicion that God is playing a merciless cat and mouse game with our life and its pain, that God is hiding, inviting a fruitless search to which God may, or may not, whimsically respond. All this agony rings out in the cry, “How long will you hide your face from me?”
Both the mental and emotional faculties of the psalmist are being stressed to the breaking point. “How long shall I have perplexity in my mind, and grief in my heart?” So often we hear someone cry out that they think their mind is going. “How long shall my enemy triumph over me?” There is a feeling of utter defeat coupled with a desperate plea for help: “Look upon me … give light to my eyes, lest I sleep in death.”
But now we begin to hear, once again, the glory that is everywhere in the psalms—quite literally, the glory of God. Nothing can displace the profound faith of the psalmist: “I [will] put my trust in your mercy.” The first springtime of joy comes in the wintertime of despair: “My heart is joyful … I will sing … I will praise the name of the Lord Most High.”
We are watching as someone snatches true victory from apparent defeat, and we pray that this may be so in our experience also.
Have you suffered despair? Do you know someone who suffers despair? Ask God to embrace those in despair with the divine presence, to give them compassion for themselves and others in despair, and to illuminate them with the light of grace.
When the Lord restores the fortunes of his people,
Jacob will rejoice and Israel be glad.
as one stands by the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem and watches men and women praying fervently, it is easy to forget that much of their prayer is for those around them who do not profess faith, at least in any religious sense. The prayer of the faithful is offered for the recovery of faith among the majority of Israelis who live from a secular stance.
Sometimes when we read the psalms, we encounter statements that seem to contradict all our assumptions about the world from which they come. We assume that the psalmist speaks from an age and society of faith, and so we can often be astonished at his distress about the state of religious faith and practice around him.
His lament has a very modern sound. We ourselves can easily identify with the statement, “There is no God”—our culture is actually based on this assumption. Unbelief is so common in our society that it no longer produces any sense of shock or surprise.
But there is something we need to notice about the psalmist’s claim. He links the loss of faith in God to the overall deterioration of his society. The statement, “There is no God,” is immediately followed by the assertion that society is inherently “corrupt”—“every one has proved faithless” and “there is none who does any good.”
The psalmist is free with generalities. In condemning his society he is quite ready to say that “all alike have turned bad.” We rightly question such sweeping statements. Even in the most corrupt societies there are men and women who strive to live lives of integrity, often at great cost. Although their integrity may not derive from their religious stance, this does not mean that we can discount the integrity itself.
In all fairness to the psalmist, he moves from condemnation to hope before he ends his song. It is not a case of “if the Lord” but “when the Lord restores the fortunes of his people.” The same hopeful stance is required of us, even more so when we are tempted to see growing moral decay in our own society, or when we feel that its social fabric is weakening.
Instead of giving up on our society and dismissing it, we are called increasingly to fervent prayer that God’s infinite power to restore may become more and more evident.
Are there aspects of your society or world society that you would call “corrupt”? Ask yourself why such corruption occurs. Ask God to guide all people in the pursuit of generosity, honesty, and justice, and to inspire them with hope for a just society.
Lord, who may dwell in your tabernacle?
who may abide upon your holy hill?
To read this psalm is to find oneself recalling George Herbert’s poem entitled “Love.” As well as being a beautiful piece of English poetry, it is also a magnificent spiritual statement. “Love bade me welcome,” writes Herbert, “yet my soul drew back, guiltie of dust and sinne.”
The dialogue between the guest and Love himself continues until the diffident guest is persuaded to accept Love’s insistent invitation. The guest feels he is not worthy. For Love this is irrelevant. “You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat.” If this psalm does indeed bring Herbert’s poem to mind, it may be because of the way the poet challenges the theme of this psalm.
The psalmist stands with me before God’s “holy hill.” I hear the conditions that must be met if I am to reach the tabernacle of God. But as soon as I hear the conditions, I am already defeated! “Whoever leads a blameless life and does what is right.” Blameless! Always? Doing what is right! Always? I am tempted to turn away in frustration from the upward path.
The other conditions are equally uncompromising. “No guile upon his tongue.” Never a slanting of the truth to allow me to survive in some situation? “No evil to his friend.” What of the many hurts I have received, even if unintentional? “In his sight the wicked is rejected, but he honours those who fear the Lord.” Is it so easy to divide our world into the wicked and the good, oneself always numbered among the good?
There are more conditions, but already there are too many. As I walk away from this impossible “hill,” I hear a final assurance given with the best of intentions: “Whoever does these things shall never be overthrown.” But I cannot do all these things. I am already overthrown, and I walk away.
