from rckmk.com

Brainwashed by the Psalms

    Anyone who follows the Book of Common Prayer system of daily worship reads through the Book of Psalms much more often than any other biblical book. We recite them in unison, ponder them in meditation, chant them in monasteries, elaborate upon them in choral anthems, weep during them at funerals, regret their frequent blood-thirstiness in inquirers classes, and edit out objectionable passages when revising lectionaries. The poetic merit and spiritual depth of the Psalms have been celebrated over the centuries, but I wonder if their influence upon our deepest spiritual and theological attitudes is fully appreciated.

       Here are some thoughts:

1. Anyone who uses the psalms in any systematic fashion must come to terms with the obvious contradictions between what the text says and what actually happens in life. When Psalm 91:10 says “There shall no evil happen to you, * neither shall any plague come near your dwelling,” the reader must either regard it as an over-simplification (if not an outright delusion) or simply close their eyes to the fact that “bad things happen to good people.” I believe, along with this Psalmist, that “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, * abides under the shadow of the Almighty,” but I also agree with Jesus that “the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.”  Using the Psalms in prayer requires us to think, and to accept that the Bible does not provide simple answers.
2. The Psalms as a whole make it obvious that religion changes over time. The nationalistic God who “will heap high the corpses; * [and] will smash heads over the wide earth” (Ps. 110:6), is not the God most of us worship. We can understand why the Psalmist may have seen things in this way, but our understanding of God has changed.
3. There is a passionate longing in the Psalms that inveighs against mediocrity and intellectualization. Psalm 142:6 is typical in its sense of desperation: “Listen to my cry for help, for I am brought very low; * save me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me.” Only someone who has been in some way imprisoned themselves can appreciate the intensity of verse 7 in the same Psalm: “Bring me out of prison, that I may give thanks to your Name; * when you have dealt bountifully with me, the righteous will gather around me.” 
4. The religion of the Psalms is implicitly sacramental. That is, some of the most beautiful psalms regard inanimate objects as choir members that join with the psalmists in praising God. Psalm 148:7-113 calls upon weather, geological formations, trees, reptiles, politicians, and all generations of human beings to praise God. Events and objects of many kinds can be instruments of grace.
5. Along with this comes a theological ecology, a perception of the world as an interdependent network of created beings, each carrying out their necessary function. Psalm 104 celebrates how God has made the earth habitable for human beings: “You make grass grow for flocks and herds * and plants to serve mankind; that they may bring forth food from the earth, and wine to gladden our hearts.” (vv 14/15)  But God has provided for all the species, not just humans: “You make darkness that it may be night, * in which all the beasts of the forest prowl.” Even the lions have their part to play as “they roar after their prey * and seek their food from God.” (vv 21/22).
6. Many Psalms do not hesitate to express anger with God. Psalm 44:23 scolds God: “Awake, O Lord! Why are you sleeping?” Few people are prepared for such drastic intimacy with God. We prefer a more polite approach, but the psalms recall us to a less refined relationship with God. “You are selling your people for a trifle,” complains Psalm 44:12, “and are making no profit on the sale of them.” And, of course, the most troubling psalm verse of all may be Psalm 22:1, the last words uttered by Christ on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” If these words are taken at face value, they could be understood as a rejection of everything Jesus’ life and teaching had been about. Taken in the context of the psalms, this verse can be understood as an expression of radical intimacy with God, of total trust and surrender, and of hope, as well as desperation.

    How could a church immersed in such diverse imagery fail to be more humble, more sympathetic to human frailty, more attune to the many voices of God? How could such a church fail to be less dogmatic, less arrogant, less triumphalist? That a church could indeed fail to be these things is evidence of how little attention we pay to the words we routinely pray, and suggests that we could do worse than devote ourselves to frequent, reflective, and shared recitation of the psalms. In doing so we can hope to equip ourselves for the rigorous work of analysis and apologetics, not to mention works of compassion, justice, and peace. We will also be joining with all creation in a living dialogue with God, joining with

               “…sea-monsters and all deeps;

               Fire and hail, snow and fog, * tempestuous wind, doing his will;

               Mountains and all hills, * fruit trees and all cedars;

               Wild beasts and all cattle, * creeping things and winged birds;

               Kings of the earth and all peoples, * princes and all rulers of the world;

                Young men and maidens, * old and young together.”   Psalm 148

Are there more appropriate companions for prayer?