Light from the Psalter 15: Mercy in the Morning

Psalm 142 (143 MT); Romans 4:8; Philippian 3:12; 2 Samuel/2 Kingdoms 15-18, Rev 20:11, Luke 21:17-18

We come to the last of the six censing Psalms of Orthros.  Psalm 142 (MT 143) retains the petitionary flavor of the other Psalms, but looks forward to the light—to deliverance from enemies, to being lifted from the pit, to mercy in the morning. Like the other five psalms, it is sober in its estimate of the human condition, but hopeful concerning the mercy of the LORD, and His plans for our good. It begins with a plea for help, recognizing that as petitioners we cannot claim righteousness as the basis for God’s help, but only His mercy.  It moves on to speak of our human plight in the darkness, beseiged by unseen enemies, and needy of God’s deliverance. The cry for God’s help is renewed, as we wait on His mercy and flee to Him for rescue.  Finally, we are reminded of how the LORD will renew all things—triumphing over our enemies, and leading us in new life by the Holy Spirit.  Here is this wonderful Psalm:

O LORD, hear my prayer; give ear to my supplication in your faithfulness;
Answer me in your righteousness,
and do not enter into judgment with your servant,
because no one living is pronounced righteous in your sight.

For the enemy pursued my soul, and he humbled my life to the ground.
He made me sit in dark places like those long dead,
And my spirit was in anguish within me.
My heart was troubled within me.

I remembered the days of old, and I meditated on all your works,
On the works of your hands did I meditate.
I spread out my hands to You: my soul thirsts for You like a waterless land.

Speedily hear me, O LORD: my spirit fails me.
Turn not your face from me, or I will be like those who go down into the pit.
Make me to hear of your mercy in the morning, because I hope in you.
Make known to me, O LORD, the way in which I should walk,
For I lift up my soul to you.
Deliver me from my enemies, O LORD, because I flee to you.

Teach me to do your will, for you are my God.
Your good Spirit shall guide me on level ground.
For your name’s sake, O Lord, you will enliven me,
And in your righteousness you shall bring my soul out of affliction.
In your mercy, you shall destroy my enemies;
you shall utterly destroy all who afflict my soul,
For I am your servant.

Amidst a wealth of lessons and a deep perspective of truth, we can concentrate on four moments in this psalm:  the call that God not condemn us, the call to be patient when we are hurt by others, the importance of thirsting for the LORD above all things, and awareness of the great mercy of the LORD that will lead us into all joy.

The wise western father, John Cassian, puts the focus upon a verse that we frequently repeat in our liturgies:  “Do not enter into judgment with your servant.” He reminds us that David was more sinned against than sinning in the circumstances of this Psalm: “a psalm of David, when his son persecuted him,” says the prologue to the psalm.  Nevertheless, David is well aware of his own weakened and sinful condition.  Cassian describes it this way:  

In another way tears flow, proceeding without any consciousness of deadly sin, yet still from the fear of hell and an awareness of that terrible judgment. With such terror, the prophet was struck and prayed to God, saying: “Do not enter into judgment with your servant, for in your sight shall no one living be justified.”

(Conferences 9.29. NPNF 2 11.397 alt.) 

We may not have indulged in what human being consider heinous sin—deadly sin—yet all of us are liable to judgment when we stand before the wholly Righteous One. As St. Paul reminds the Romans “we will all stand before the judgmentseat of God” (Rom 14:8).  We do celebrate the “righteous” of the past—those saints who have shown forth the likeness of God in their lives—and yet we confess, with the Liturgy, “Only One is holy; only One is the LORD.” Before His throne, heaven and earth flee away, as the visionary John shows us (Rev 20:11) 

Soon, in the Church year, we will come to the time when we remember the judgment to come, and sing “I ponder upon the fearful day, and lament my evil acts…What answer shall I give?”  In some Christian circles, however, this kind of contemplation is considered faithless, because Jesus has dealt with sin and death, and to think about judgment might be to discount all that He has done. As Orthodox, we would reply to this criticism that we are certain of the victory of Christ, and that God wills that no one shall perish.  However, we still live in this world, and commit sin—as the apostle Paul confesses on behalf of all of us, “I have not already attained all this [goodness of God], nor have I already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me” (Phil 3:12).  And so, it is fitting that we should constantly ask for God’s mercy, and that He should forgive and reinstate us, up until that very moment when we stand before Him. We do this in sobriety and awe, knowing that He is all compassion, and that He will indeed, by His Spirit, renew us.

Next, there is the instruction of our LORD modelled in this Psalm concerning how we should think and act when we are hurt by others. We call on the LORD to bring justice, of course.  But we have also our own comportment to think about.  St. Basil the Great reminds us:

Let that foe of yours upbraid you,but do you not upbraid him. Regard his words as a training ground in which to exercise philosophy. If you have not been pierced, you are still unwounded, and, if your spirit suffers some injury, confine the hurt within yourself; for the psalmist says, “my heart within me is troubled,” that is, he gave no outward expression of his feelings but repressed them, as a wave that breaks against the shore and subsides. Quiet your heart, I beg you, when it howls and rages. Make your passions honor your reason, as an unruly boy respects the presence of a venerable man.

St. Basil, Homily 10. FC 9. 456 alt.

This is not easy, of course.  It is always a temptation to say, “yes, but you don’t know how much harm this person has done.”  David knew: it was his own son who was harming him, by trying to usurp his place as king (2 Sam/2 Kingdoms 15).  But he did not seek revenge, left the matter to God, and indeed wept when Absalom came to earthly justice at the hand of his soldiers (2 Sam/2 Kingdoms 18:33).  We are to have quite hearts, says the saint, not allowing our passions to rule us, and to remember that though we may be hurt, we are, in Christ, not mortally wounded:  Jesus said that some would be persecuted and killed for His sake, but “not a hair of your head” shall be harmed—that is, who we really are is kept safe in God, despite any circumstances (Luke 21:17-18). This kind of confidence can inculcate within us a quiet heart that does not seek or even contemplate revenge, but this mindset takes practice and time.  In that way, God actually can USE our predicaments and injuries to hone our minds and spirits, so that we become more and more like Christ.

But we have to long for Him, recognizing that we are still in a thirsty, dry, waterless land—all our hope is in Him.  It is tempting, especially for those of us who are in this affluent land and time, to count on other things, or to long for other riches.  St. Augustine reminds us of this folly:

Put two people together; one wants to go to the show, the other to church. They are joined in body, separated by their desires. The first is like the salt water, the second appears as dry land. How can we prove that this land is dry, which signifies people desiring good things? The psalmist says to God, “My soul is like land without water to you.” My soul has thirsted for you; it is thirsty, it is dry, it is segregated from the waters of the sea. It must not bother about not yet being segregated in the body; its desire has already made the separation. Some desire God, others desire the world.

Augustine, Sermon 229S WSA 3.6.333 alt.

When we keep all these things in mind, we can close the matter with confidence that God is our guide, through the good times and the bad.  The Venerable Bede, an English ancient father, closes one of his sermons with this joyful exhortation:

Let us entreat the help of the grace of this Spirit in all our actions, dearly beloved. Let us all, individually and collectively, say to the Lord, “Let your good Spirit lead me in the right way.” And so it will come to pass that the One who came down on the apostles and declared to them the things that were to come may disclose also to our minds the joys of the life to come. May he kindly set us on fire to seek these joys, with the cooperation of the one who is accustomed both to promise and to give him to his faithful, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God forever and ever.

Bede, Homilies on the Gospels 2.11 CS 111:107.

We count on mercy in the morning!  This means to acknowledge our sinful and weakened state, to call upon Him without ceasing, to be aware of the coming judgement, not to take revenge on others, and to look to the ongoing guidance of the Spirit to lead us in the right way. My we be “on fire,” as the Venerable Bede puts it, to “seek these joys”!