Psalm 37 LXX/38 Hebrew; Job; Hebrews 12:6; Isaiah 53:7-8
Father Patrick Reardon, in describing Psalm 37 LXX (Hebrew 38), which is chanted during the first part of Sunday Matins, calls it “one of the rougher parts of the Psalter” (Reardon, Christ in the Psalms, 2000, 73). Its main themes, sin and suffering, are not for the faint of heart. As we hear the Psalm read aloud, look for its four constituent parts, which I will briefly signal.
Section 1: The plight of the human being, who sins, suffers, and is exposed to God’s wrath.
O LORD, do not rebuke me in Your wrath, or in Your anger chasten me.
For You have planted Your arrows in me, and You pressed your hand heavily upon me.
And there is no health in my flesh because of Your anger;
There is no peace for my bones because of my sins.
My lawless acts have gone over my head, like a heavy burden weighed upon me.
My bruises reek and are corrupt, because of my foolishness.
I am troubled and continually bowed down;
I go around all the day with a sad countenance.
For my soul is filled with mockeries, and there is no health in my flesh.
I have been afflicted and brought down exceedingly low;
I roar from the groaning of my heart.
Section 2: The human being as Job, longing for relief, harmed by friends, and keeping silence.
But all my longing is before You, and my groaning is not hidden from You.
My heart is troubled, my strength forsakes me,
And the light of my eyes is not with me.
My friends and neighbors draw near, and stand opposite to me,
And the ones who are dearest to me stand afar off.
Those who seek to harm my soul do violence;
Those ones seeking evil things for me speak vain things, and plot deceits the whole day.
But like the deaf, I do not hear, and like the mute, I do not open my mouth:
I have become like someone who does not hear, and who has no rebukes in his mouth.
Section 3: The hope and honest confession of the human being
For it is in You that I place my hope, O LORD; You will hear, O LORD my God.
For I said, “What if my enemies rejoice against me, and boast against me when my feet are shaken?”
For I am ready for scourges, and my grief is continually before me.
For I will confess my lawlessness, and be distressed for my sin.
Section 4: The ongoing trial of the human being, and the saving hand of God.
But my enemies live, and are mightier than I:
The ones who hate me unjustly have multiplied.
The ones who reward evil for good accused me falsely, because I pursued righteousness.
Do not forsake me, O LORD my God, do not depart from me!
Draw nigh to help me, O LORD of my salvation.
The overall structure of the Psalm is full of drama. God, who at the beginning of the Psalm is seen as the main reason for the suffering of the sinner, by its end becomes the One who draws nigh with salvation and help. Sometimes we think that not to acknowledge the heinousness of sin is a contemporary problem. However, when the fathers of the Church comment on this Psalm, they see even in their time a lack of reality, in which the damage of sin is downplayed. But from the Garden through to St. Paul, we see the close conjunction of sin with human suffering and death, something that is also associated with the wrath of God. Adam and Eve sinned, and so death and suffering, as well as God’s judgment (their removal from Eden) are intertwined. As St. Paul says, we have two enemies—sin and death—and the God-Man came to deal with both.
It has become fashionable in some circles today to minimize the idea of God’s wrath, and to say that this is a merely subjective experience of the sinner, who experiences God’s love as anger, because he or she is unprepared and blind regarding God’s true character. It is understandable that we do not want to picture God as an irate human being, unable to control passions, and lashing out against evil. But this is not what the Bible and ongoing tradition mean when they speak of the wrath of God, and the judgment that we will all experience. God’s “wrath” is a steady, unflinching reaction against sin and evil: this divine characteristic is evidence of His absolute justice, and is a necessary corollary of love. If God loves this world and humanity, He then stands against anything that will destroy it, whether that comes because of demonic or human rejection of His truth and love. God’s wrath does not mean that He hates those who are perpetrating evil; rather, it means that He deeply loves them, the world, and those who will be harmed by unrepentant sin and all that comes from it. Jesus did not say to Mary and Martha, Death is a natural thing, don’t mourn. He cried. Jesus did not remark of His unwelcoming people in Jerusalem, “That’s okay, it will turn out well, regardless.” He wept over them, and pronounced judgment, if they did not repent. In the Apocalypse, God calls for those who are compromised by sin, and dying within, to come out of the barbaric, evil city of Babylon—He doesn’t say, “Never mind, you can enter the New Jerusalem as you are.” God is angry with death and sin: and in this very wrath, He demonstrates His larger truth and love, not the petty passions of human beings who are uncontrolled in their reactions.
The first section of the Psalm, then, is quite frank about the putrid nature of sin, and how it affects every part of us. David is well aware of this, but begs God to heal him gently. St. Ambrose puts it this way:
The prophet . . . acknowledges his fault, recognizes his wounds and asks to be cured. One who wants to be cured does not shrink from correction. Still, he does not want to be chastised in the fury of indignation but in the word of God. God’s word is healing. As we read, “He sent his word and healed them.” David does not want to be corrected in wrath but to be disciplined in doctrine. It is as though you were to ask the surgeon not to apply his knife to your wound but to pour in ointment. He begs for the remedy but not for the knife. There is pain but not beyond measure. The remedy stings, but the patient’s blood does not flow.
(Ambrose, Commentary on Twelve Psalms 38.19. ACTP 117)
Sometimes, perhaps, the knife is necessary, but David knows that God is a merciful Physician, and not his Enemy. St. John Chrysostom adds to our insight, reminding us that David is in a state of sobriety, and able to perceive his true condition: “If you wish to learn the foulness of sin, think of it after it has been committed, when you are rid of the evil desire, when its fires no longer cause disturbance, and then you will perceive what sin is.” (Chrysostom, Homilies on the Gospel of John 52, FC 41:54).
But not everyone has the grace of the publican who calls out to the LORD, “God be merciful to me, a sinner!” And so sometimes we need a wake-up call. This Psalm, with its frank admission of the stinking nature of sin, how it affects body, heart, and soul, and how it should move us to turn openly to God, is helpful for those of us who are spiritual ostriches. St. Ambrose paints a colorful picture of sin in his own day, for the same reason, to arouse the imagination and repentance of those to whom he was preaching:
This world covers up its wounds and does not show them to the Lord. Better the foolishness that has eyes to see its sores than wisdom that has not….Now look at some lascivious youth openly displaying his debauchery; his life is spent in love affairs; he lounges around like that rich man who was clothed in fine linen and purple; daily he enjoys the most sumptuous dinners; his pavements swim in wine; the ground is covered with flowers and strewn with fish bones; and the dining room is filled with the perfume of sweet-smelling incense. He is perfectly delighted with himself and flatters himself that he smells sweetly. . . . He does not know that his soul is bleeding and festering, and he will not accept that his wounds are foul-smelling. . . . But the holy prophet David found for himself a remedy of everlasting salvation. For he freely spoke of his own wounds and confessed that his sores were foul and festering because of his foolishness. . . The just person will want to conform his life to the image and likeness of Jesus, and though accused, he will be silent; if he is hurt, he will forgive. Wrongs done to him he will cover up, not opening his mouth. In this way he will be imitating him who like a lamb was led to the slaughter, never opening his mouth. Though he could have made an answer, he preferred silence to speech. For the Lord Jesus was silent when they accused him, and when they struck him he did not strike back. . . . You too, my friend, if you are given cause to answer back with a sharp rebuke, be silent. It will be better so. If you answer back in the same tone as your aggressor, it could lead to uproar and loud wrangling. Better to hide the injury done to you than, by arguing back, to gain some point or other. Good is the dumb person who knows not how to speak evil and from whose lips no injurious words can pass. Truly blessed is this dumb person, for inwardly he is saying, “Lord, give me a learned tongue when it is my duty to break into speech.” Ambrose, Commentary on Twelve Psalms, 38.45; 38. 30–31. ACTP 123-124).
The truly repentant person, then, knows when to keep silence, and when to confess aloud. We have before us the image of Jesus the just one, who was accused, but kept silence, not justifying Himself, because the Father was His hope. The moving picture of the prophet Isaiah reminds us of Jesus’ perfect vulnerability and hope for vindication: “He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth. By oppression and judgment, he was taken away” (Isaiah 53:7-8).
Yes, he was taken away, and plumbed the depths of death, so that we might have both cleansing from sin and new life. His actions, and His example of trust, speak to us of our own quest to live a life of ongoing repentance—for unlike that One, who never sinned, our sin is ever before us. So the Psalm reminds us of this: “I am ready for scourges, and my grief is continually before me. For I will confess my lawlessness, and be distressed for my sin.”
Here, then, is the stance that we are taught, when we take stock of our condition: silence before those who are accusing us (sometimes unjustly), and frank confession before the LORD who knows all things, and can heal us. Even Christ, we are reminded by the letter to the Hebrews, took the chastisement of God (Hebrews 12:6), because He was the Son of the Father: “the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.” And so, punishment of His younger brothers and sisters, us, should not come as a surprise. St. Augustine remarks, “Every son or daughter must be punished. So universal is this rule that even He who was without sin was not exempt” (Expositions of the Psalms 38.23. WSA 3 16: 163). What we need to remember during such times of trial is that God intends to turn them to our good, just as He used the cross for the ultimate good of all humanity.
Though suffering includes also loneliness and isolation from others, even those who are near and dear, and including those who unjustly accuse us, we look to God to supply the support and communion that we so strongly crave. The Psalmist’s description of those who stand opposite and far off may remind us of Job, whose body was afflicted, who was alone in his pain, whose friends turned into accusers, and whose very wife told him to give up. The words also remind us of the separation` of Jesus on the cross, mocked by the soldiers and crowd, and crying out, in the words of the Psalm, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” The essence of sin and death is, after all, the disruption of communion with others, as we are stripped bare of our props, and left to see ourselves for the vulnerable creatures that we really are. Yet, Jesus’ Psalm on the cross ended with the triumphant, “It is finished!” (“God has accomplished it!” Psalm 22:31) and this Psalm ends by pointing to the wonder of salvation—salvation over our sin, over suffering, and over the demons who continue to be at enmity with us, seeking our souls. God is our constant throughout this life-quest, as we continually admit our sin, and our need, and repent.
The end game to this ongoing effort, though, is the wondrous reception of God’s help and salvation, with which Psalm 37 ends. We call out with David, “do not depart from me!” knowing that on that Day we shall bathe in His light, and see His face without interruption. Of this hope, the blessed Augustine paints a marvelous picture, reminding us of how we will change mourning into joy, bruises into sound and resurrected limbs, and loneliness into that deeper communion that we can only imagine at present:
Contemplating God’s glory and seeing him face to face we shall be enabled to praise him forever, without wearying, without any of the pain of iniquity, without any of the perversion of sin. We shall praise God, no longer sighing for him but united with him for whom we have sighed even to the end, albeit joyful in our hope. For we shall be in that city where God is our good, God is our light, God is our bread, God is our life. Whatever is good for us, whatever we miss as we trudge along our pilgrim way, we shall find in him.
(Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms 38.28. WSA 3 16:166-7)
Edith M. Humphrey 