Psalms 3: Psalm 119 - God's Law

So far, this blog has focused on the relationship between God and humankind as one driven by dialectical tensions - the difference between God's will and human action. In last week's post, I argued that these are the result of the covenant between God and his people, the Israelites; if the people obey God, they are ensured his divine protection. But as the story of Job demonstrated, sometimes it is difficult for humans to perceive that God is upholding his end of the deal. This is the topic we will discuss today in analyzing Psalm 119. What happens when God does not seem to fulfill the terms of his covenant with humanity?

We have the  promise and law causing a dissonance within Psalm 119. Both of these derive from the covenant between God and humanity, and both have discreet functions. The promise is asked to be remembered by God - it is God's terms of the covenant. The law, on the other hand, is required of the psalmist by God. The psalmist must uphold God's law in order to remain in good standing in the contract.

Psalm 119 features eight synonyms that all represent God's law:

• Law
• Decrees
• Way(s)
• Statutes
• Precepts
• Commandments,
• Ordinances
• Word

Of these, the reader must be careful with "way" and "word", as these do not always connote God's divine law. "Law" is something that is followed, but "word" and "way" can also represent what God promises - namely, deliverance from enemies. To further complicate the matter, in Psalm 119, the phrasing for both facets of God's law and God's promises is the same. The facet is generally given as "your ___" (e.g. your law, your decrees). Law and promise seem to be indistinguishable. As we shall see, however, the psalmist means something very particular when he is referring to law and promise, respectively.

Let's turn to some poetry for an example:

Remember your word to your servant, / in which you have made me hope.
This is my comfort in my distress, / that your promise gives me life.
(Psalm 119 49-50)

This poetic technique is known as chiasmus, in which similar terms cross one another. If we were to draw one line between "hope" and "comfort," and another between "your word" and "your promise," the result would look like an X. Hence, chiasmus, coming from the Greek Letter Chi (X). "Your word" and "your promise" link up synonymously, as do the ideas of hope and comfort in distress. In this instance, word refers to God's covenantal promise.

In the following example, however, God's word is synonymous with law:

Before I was humbled, I went astray, / but now I keep your word.
You are good and do good. / Teach me your statutes
(Psalm 119 67-68)

Two things indicate the connection between word and law. One is the parallel linkage of word and statutes. The other is the phrasing in verse 67: "Now I keep your word." The psalmist is the one who obeys God's will, which is the prime example of law.

The human-divine relationship is elucidated in verses 145-149, in which the psalmist shifts from law to promise, and then back to law:

With my whole heart I cry; answer me, O Lord.
I will keep your statutes.
I cry to you; save me,
that I may observe your decrees.
I rise before dawn and cry for help;
I put my hope in your words.
My eyes are awake before each watch of the night,
that I may meditate on your promise.
In your steadfast love hear my voice;
O Lord, in your justice preserve my life.
(Psalm 119 145-149)

Note that statutes are kept and decrees are observed by the psalmist. On the other hand, it is words that the psalmist puts his hope in, and God's promise that he meditates on. Laws are followed, but God's promise is contemplated, the source of hope and faith.

Words and promise are further clarified by what might be considered a synonym: steadfast love. This is an explicit term of the covenant: God's steadfast love for his people - even when they disobey him. Perhaps they are not given protection during times of apostasy. However, the covenant still exists, and God's people experience his steadfast love.

Verses 153 and 154 are parallel, yet not synonymous. Here, the second verse builds on the first, forming something of a crescendo:

Look on my misery and rescue me,
for I do not forget your law.
Plead my cause and redeem me;
give me life according to your promise.
(Psalm 119 153-154)

In succession, the psalmist is seen and rescued, his cause pleased, and his life redeemed. Interestingly, the language is all judicial, and serves to express both God's law and his promise. The psalmist is seen and rescued because of his adherence to the Lord's law. His case is pleaded and his life is redeemed because the Lord fulfills his promise. In judicial language, both parties are shown upholding their respective terms of the contract.

What can we learn from the psalmist's relationship with God? We know that obedience of God's law will result in protection from enemies. However, the faithful will at times have to request God's protection, as made amply evident in the song. God will, however, always act eventually, just as he did in Job. Of course, this analysis of God's relationship with humans assumes that an individual's relationship with God is personal. What we might need to consider for further analysis is the relationship between God and God's people as a group. After all, the initial covenant with Noah promised protection for all humanity, and subsequent covenants afford land and fertility for the offspring of a patriarch. It would appear that in the time of Israel's offspring, God protects the group as a whole. By the time of David, the Israelites live or die based on the actions of one individual, the king. Therefore it might be difficult to conceive of a communal relationship vis-a-vis a personal one. After the exile, there is no leader, so the question of individual autonomy versus that of the group remains open...

Until next time.

Psalms 2: God's Covenant and Jesus

With Easter fast approaching, this week's post will explore Psalm 22 as a source text for the gospels, particularly Jesus' Passion. Psalm 22 was not originally written with this intention; the themes and words or the text were adapted by later authors in order to build a story with historical resonances. The original purpose of Psalm 22 was as a spiritual text to describe an encounter with God. For more on the genres of Psalms, see last week's post: Psalms 1: Parallelism and Mixed Metaphors.

Psalm 22 is actually comprised of two parts: a prayer for divine aid (lament) in verses 1-21a, and a song of thanksgiving in verses 22-31. The psalm hinges on verse 21b, in which the Lord responds to the petitioner's lament:

^21a Save me from the mouth of the lion!
^21b From the horns of the wild oxen you have rescued me.
²² I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters.

The transition in the psalm is abrupt, shifting the entire viewpoint of the poem in a mere verse. The rapid progression that can be seen above shows the two most important topics in the poem - petition and deliverance - as hinging on the action they both refer to - deliverance.

The opening words of the psalm, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" are among the most famous recorded in the bible, whether in Hebrew or Christian scriptures. These are similar to the words of Job, who questioned God's sense of justice as well as God's involvement (or lack thereof) in human affairs:

I cry to you and you do not answer me;
I stand, and you merely look at me.

In fact, the God of Job actually acts against his people, in contrast to the God of Psalms. Says Job:

You have turned cruel to me;
with the might of your hand you persecute me.
(Job 30.21-21)

These words reflect an understanding of the covenantal relationship between God and Israel: obedience to God's law results in protection for God's people. But as was revealed in Job, protection does not necessarily work out by a method or timescale that humans are able to understand. Humans like Job and the psalmist wonder why they are still oppressed, even when they perceive they have upheld their end of the covenantal relationship with God.

The covenantal framework through which the Israelites perceive justice is informed by historical events. Whether thee events are scientifically historical, historicized fiction, or fictionalized history does not matter, as all of these function within the understanding of truth of the biblical authors. Indeed, the psalmist may have been reading these events as literal, not understanding the other modes of truth at all. In any case, what we know to be true from the psalmist's perspective is that God historically upheld the terms of the covenant:

In you our ancestors trusted;
they trusted, and you delivered them.
To you they cried, and were saved;
in you they trusted, and were not put to shame.
(Psalms 22.45)

What now? asks the psalmist. Why do we no longer seem to be protected? This question is answered, however inadequately, in the thanksgiving portion of the psalm, which will be discussed later. First we turn to the nature of the torment that the psalmist suffers.

Anyone who reads both the gospels and Psalms will be able to identify the huge influence of Psalm 22 on the tale of Christ's crucifixion. Mark, the first gospel to be written, has Jesus utter before his death, "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani." (Mark 15.34) This is in Aramaic, the language Jesus would have spoken. Matthew, the second gospel to be written, has Jesus utter a similar phrase in Hebrew, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani." (Matthew 27.46) [In another Psalms connection, Luke has Jesus say, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit," which appears in Psalm 31.5. (Luke 23.46)] Mark's and Matthew's phrases both translate to the first line of Psalm 22. The words suit the tone of those gospel stories well.

Another closely-related connection: In Mark and Matthew, God works signs to indicate that in fact Jesus was the son of God. Likewise, God reveals in the latter part of Psalm 22 that in fact he is present, and that the psalmist has not been abandoned after all. Actually, this should be stated in reverse. The idea of God revealing himself was taken up by the psalmist long before the gospel writers.

A more obvious example of Psalm 22's influence on the gospels is the scorn and mocking suffered by the psalmist:

All who see me mock at me;
they make mouths at me, they shake their heads;
"Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver -
let him rescue the one in whom he delights!"
(Psalms 22.7-8)

This theme appears throughout the four accounts of Jesus' passion, particularly in Matthew, who has the bandit taunt Jesus:

"He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he wants to; for he said, 'I am God's son.'"
(Matthew 27.43)

The psalmist, like Jesus, is thirsty, and downtrodden. His enemies take his property, a scene which John reads literally (John 19.24):

They divide my clothes among themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots.
(Psalms 22.18)

But Psalm 22 was not written to describe Jesus' crucifixion; it was merely adapted much later for this purpose. The psalmist simply describes how he or people like him are oppressed, tormented verbally, and abused physically and/or psychologically. Unlike the story of Jesus, Psalm 22 has the protagonist delivered immediately.

The deliverance in in the manner of Job, and therefore may seem unsatisfying to modern readers. It happens in one verse, without explanation. For the psalmist, it would have needed no explanation. God's protection operates like a light switch: on or off. There is no dimmer by which he might dispense partial favor. Likewise, the psalmist operates on the light switch model of accepting God's protection. The change from cry of help to promise of praise is immediate. There is no doubt or hesitancy on the part of the psalmist - and why should there be? The covenantal model has demonstrated its effectiveness yet again!

When the psalmist discovers that Israel is under God's protection after all,  he promises to spread God's praise:

I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters;
in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.
(Psalms 22.22)

All questions of God's devotion are furthermore forgotten:

For he did not despise or abhor the affliction of the afflicted;
he did not hide his face from me,
but heard when I cried to him.
(Psalms 22.24)

The "forsaken" part is forgotten, its ejection left unexplained. This contributes to the sense we derived from Job that God's protection is constant; humans are simply unable to express it.

God's love, the psalmist declares, is universal in location, extensive in chronology. God rules over all nations, and his praises will be sung to generations yet unborn. Whether the first of these is true or not, the second has remained true for thousands of years:

Posterity will serve him;
future generations will be told about the Lord,
and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn,
sying that he has done it.
(Psalms 22.30-31)

Psalms 1: Parallelism and Mixed Metaphors

The Book of Psalms is comprised of prayers and songs dating from Israel's early history to after the exile. Like most of the literature of the bible, individual psalms were composed over many years and edited into a final form as it appears in the bible.

The introduction to Psalms in the Harper Collins Study Bible lists the following types of psalms:

• Prayers for Help (Laments)
• Songs of Thanksgiving
• Hymns (like Songs of Thanksgiving though not necessarily offered with an explicit reason)
• Royal Psalms
• Other

The variety of poetry in Psalms is vast, though undeniably God-centric. In total, there are 150 psalms, many of them repeating themes and images of others, though all unique aspects of praise, lament, or worship. These are divided into five collections, or "books," each separated by closing verses.

The first of these books is comprised of Psalms 1-41. I would highly recommend reading them; they are fascinating and beautiful works of poetry. In this time and space, I only have room to look at two in-depth.

Warning: I will analyze poetry as part of this post. For a rough sketch of terms and methods of biblical poetry, check out my primer on biblical poetry.

Parallelism in Psalm 19
One of the distinguishing characteristics of ancient Israelite poetry is the form of synonymous parallelism. The "synonymous" part of this is a function of style. Biblical poetry is filled with parallel cola that say the same thing, only in different ways. Modern writers tend to avoid repetition as a matter of style, favoring stylistic features like rhyme scheme instead. Ancient Israelite poets favored synonymous phrases.

The "parallelism" part of "synonymous parallelism" connotes structure. Biblical poetry is structured on parallel lines of poetry, much as poetry today is structured by meter and/or line length.

Below I have broken down Psalm 19.7-9, one of the longest and most intricate examples of synonymous parallelism in Psalms.

The law of the Lord is perfect,

reviving the soul;

the decrees of the Lord are sure,

making wise the simple;

the precepts of the Lord are right,

rejoicing the heart;

the commandment of the Lord is clear,

enlightening the eyes;

the fear of the Lord is pure,

enduring forever;

the ordinances of the Lord are true

and righteous all together.

(Psalm 19.7-9)

In the left column appear the perfect will of God. Laws, decrees, precepts, commandments, and ordinances are all synonyms, and fear is a near-synonymous term, meaning obedience to the Law of God. Taken together, these all refer to the covenant between God and his people. To adapt a term from Taoism, this is the Tao, meaning "way." the Laws/precepts are of the same substance as following them. The Israelite path to peace and goodness is through this "way," a path that is sure, right, clear, pure, and true.

The results for adhering to the will of God are given in the right column. The lone exception is the final entry, which serves instead as a synonym for the perfection of the Lord's law. The law has a revitalizing effect on adherents.

Synonymous parallelism has a reinforcing effect, and when taken as a whole, is not a far cry from the method of some mystics. In certain mystical understandings of God, it is wrong to say that God is something. It is more accurate to say that God is "like" something because it is impossible to know exactly what God is. We dance around meaning, and understand the idea in our mind and heart - an inexpressible reality that is reached through, but not described through, synonym.

Psalm 23: The Lord is My Shepherd
Psalm 23 is one of the most popular psalms, with two metaphors that are part of the lexicon today: the Lord as shepherd and the “valley of the shadow of death.” Psalms is not the only place in the bible that equates God with a shepherd, which indicates that this was not an uncommon understanding of God’s relationship with his people. The “valley of the shadow of death” appears in either this form or one similar, such as in the New Revised Standard Version: “darkest valley.” The difference comes from conflicting divisions of Hebrew consonants. In any case, this metaphorical valley is a place of evil and shade, a place where the walker requires the protection of God.

The extended metaphor that comprises the poem – the imagined shepherd leading the sheep – is confused as the poem at times lapses into the interaction between the Lord and his people. Of course, the shepherd leading the sheep is meant to demonstrate the Lord as shepherd and the people as sheep. However, the poem does not stick to either view consistently, resulting in ambiguity that actually enhances the poem through its double meaning. Below is the text of Psalm 23 as it appears in the New Revised Standard Version. I have marked where the imagery corresponds to sheep or humans, or has a double connotation

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. [sheep; double]
He makes me lie down in green pastures; [sheep]
he leads me beside still waters; [sheep]
he restores my soul. [human]
He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake. [double]

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; [double]
for you are with me; your rod and your staff - they comfort me. [double; sheep]

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; [human]
you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. [human; human]

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, [human]
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD my whole life long. [human]
(Psalms 23)

The poem has a notable movement to it that plays out in the balance of images. The poem opens with a sheep and then a double meaning and continues with sheep images before introducing a human image. It then switches to three images with double meaning, and invokes the sheep one final time before delivering five images of a human relationship with God. The poem therefore moves from an understanding of the Lord as shepherd to images of the Lord as a God who should be obeyed. The psalm is instructional, starting off with an easy image separate from direct experience and expanding on the image to explain the direct experience shared by God and those who follow him.

That will do it for today. Stay tuned for more psalms next week!

Job: God and the Modern Reader

My spiel for blogging the bible thus far has been "dialectical tensions," the disconnect that exists between God's will and human action. In this model, humans are punished when they stray from God and rewarded when they are faithful. The book of Job challenges dialectical tensions with the tale of a pious man who is punished - without justification that we can understand in human terms.

Job is a work of "Wisdom Literature," which refers to three books of the Hebrew Scriptures: Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes. This poetic, ideologic literature uses as a source similar wisdom literature of the ancient Near East, such as works from Egypt and Sumeria. We find parallels to Job in texts such as "The Babylonian Theodicy," and the anachronistically-named "Sumerian Job." These text deal with heavy issues that we still grapple with today, such as, What is the cause of suffering? Why is there evil in the universe? Why do good things happen to good people?

In The Bible as Literature, John B. Gabel et al. conclude, "It is clear, then, that wisdom writing in the Bible incorporates a tradition much older than its actual date of composition and that just like biblical narrational, legal, poetic, and historical writing, it can best be appreciated when seen in the broader context of the Ancient Near East" (57).

Gabel notes that for those reading the bible cover-to-cover, wisdom literature represents a departure from the norm. The book of Job does not drive the narrative forward. Thus far every book of the bible has either specified events that move the Israelites forward, or explained the origin of something within a specific context (such as Esther). Job instead is a philosophical text, one meant to explain why something is the way it is. The time period of the tale does not matter at all. However, it is worth noting that the text was composed during the exile, and deals at least tangentially with the fear that suffering is caused to people that don't seem to deserve it. The dialectical tension model is actively being called into question in the tale of Job. In fact, the book can be seen as making an alternative explanation for suffering and exile. And as we will see, to the modern day reader, the text leaves us with an uneasy feeling about God and his justice.

The Tale of Job
Job is a man living in the days between Noah and Abraham, and like these men he "was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil." (Job 1.1) God considers Job his faithful "servant,"and essentially makes a bet with an angel called "the satan" that the eternally-faithful Job will not turn away from God even if he loses everything. In quick succession, Job loses his children, livestock, and servants. Yet he still remains faithful to God.

God is pleased at this, and the satan (meaning "adversary") challenges God that Job will not maintain his faith if his health is taken away. God again takes the bet, and Job becomes leprous. Job does not curse God, but he is rather perplexed.

What follows is many verses of argumentation between Job and three friends or "comforters." These men tell Job that people are punished because they are sinful, Job maintains that he is not sinful, and the friends contend that nobody on earth is without sin. (We can probably believe Job, though, that he is without blame in God's eyes.)

A fourth man rebukes Job, followed by God, who delivers a coup de gras rebuke. Job repents in words for questioning (though he never turned in his heart form God), he is rewarded twofold, and the story ends happily.

The above is a brief explanation, which I urge you to read on your own time. The book is a beautiful and poetic work - in fact, the majority is poetry. A quick framework of the narration is given below:

• Job's goodness and punishment 1.1-2.10
• Argumentation between Job and the four men 2.11-37
• God's response 38-40.2
• Job's response 40.3-5
• God's challenge to Job 40.6-41
• Job humbled 42.1-6
• Job's friends rebuked 42.7-9
• Job's fortunes restored 42.10-17

Note that most of this book is argument about the nature of God. The true nature of god is explained by the deity himself in a few chapters, and Job's repentance, which makes up for his entire complaint, takes a mere six verses.

Humble Job
Job's full answer to the Lord reads thus:

I know that you can do all things,
and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.

"Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?"

Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.

"Hear, and I will speak;
I will question you, and you declare to me."

I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear,
but now my eye sees you;

therefore I despise myself,
and repent in dust and ashes.
(Job 42.2-6)

God is fully convinced of Job's devotion at this point, despite the time Job spent complaining of God's injustice. Perhaps Job's word is good; he was portrayed as a just man before, and the only incorrect move he makes is to question God; he does not commit apostasy. Job only argues that there is no correlation between the good one does and God's rewarding of these actions in this lifetime.

The quick scene of Job's humbling is followed closely by a similarly short passage in which Job's "comforters" are "humiliated." God speaks to Job's three friends:

My wrath is kindled against you [Eliphaz] and against your two friends [Bildad and Zophar], for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has." (Job 42.7)

Job speaks right not in his complaint, but in his submission to God. And indeed, the arguments of Job's "comforters" miss the mark just as much as Job's. Even as the main maintained his innocence, his friends asserted again and again that no one on earth could be innocent. God's argument responds to the friends as well as Job:

Enough with the quibbling! There is no way you can understand me! And to misunderstand me is not only incorrect, but merits punishment.

These men do not have an arm like God, and their voice does not thunder like his. (Job 40.9) The point should not be guilt or innocence. The true message that God wishes to extend to Job is that God should not, indeed cannot be questioned because God is on an entirely different level.

Accepting God
This is not an acceptable answer for someone that reads the bible as a piece of literature. What God says is ineffability is acually a bit of clever staging: some dramatic irony. This irony is set up at the beginning of the story when God tests Job by proxy of the satan simply to see whether Job will remain faithful. The modern reader that reads the book as a piece of literature should easily recognize this fallacy. God's excuse does not hold up; the narrator gave us his reason!

The tale of Job, then, still leaves an existential aftertaste (a bitter taste, as I imagine it). Job seems to exist at the will of a capricious God, a petty God, even. The Lord does not provide a straight answer to Job. Instead, the deity unloads verse after verse of rebuke, while his true intention remains unknown to the seeker. It is a grand dramatic irony, and empathy on the part of the reader is understandable. The book of Job does not really comfort, not really answer the question of the will of God. Despite the happy ending of Job's fortunes being restored twofold, the story ends on an uneasy note. It ended well for Joseph, but God has revealed his capricious nature. The reader has glimpsed God, and been left with an unsettling afterimage of his presence.

What are your thoughts on Job? Let me know in the comments below!