Day 158. Psalms 25-30

Psalm 25
This is another acrostic psalm—the ancients loved these. These are poems written so that letters—often the initial letters of the first words of the lines—form a word or a phrase. In this psalm the voice expresses his trust that God will deliver the righteous—he himself—from shame. "Do not let me be put to shame," he prays, not once but three times (25:2, 3, 20). Instead, may God shame those who deserve it—his enemies; "let them be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous," he says. Individual shame is an important concept in the Old Testament—and particularly here in the psalms, which are so deeply personal in nature. Ancient Israel did not know what we Christians call "the doctrine of original sin"—that idea developed in a much later time. Original sin is a deep seated feeling of guilt which is attached not so much to any particular act, but rather to our very being. We confess what we are "by nature sinful and unclean," as
the old liturgy put it. It is something we are born with; it is the way we are. Selfish. Rebellious. It has to do with our corrupt relationship to ourselves. Original sin separates us from our true selves and thus from God. God's grace in Jesus Christ reconciles us to him and thus to ourselves. The Old Testament talks about guilt too—don't get me wrong. The psalmist says—"For your name's sake, O LORD, pardon my guilt, for it is great" (25:11). But the primary way in which sin is felt in the Old Testament is as shame. Shame is always for something we do—some misdeed—some infraction of the law—which fractures the individual's relationship to other people, to the community, and thus to God. Shame was what Adam and Eve felt when they sinned and realized that they were naked. They covered themselves to hide from each other and from God because they were ashamed. Forgiveness, which comes through repentance and sacrifice, reconciles the
individual with the community, and so with the LORD. But the goal of life is to be "righteous," to keep the law, to live without shame—as the psalmist says, "May integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you" (25:21). He prays, not so much for forgiveness, but to be kept from shame in the first place.
Psalm 26
This is a prayer for help from a person who proclaims his righteousness—"Vindicate me, O LORD, for I have walked in my integrity" (26:1). It is not exactly self-righteousness, but it is close. He has lived a good life in accord with the law of Moses; he has faithfully and willingly taken part in the rituals of purification and temple worship—"I wash my hands in innocence, and go around your altar, O LORD, singing aloud a song of thanksgiving, and telling all your wondrous deeds" (26:6-7), he says. And because of his "faithfulness" (26:3) and his love for the "the house in which" the LORD dwells, because his "foot stands on level ground" (25:12) he makes his claim upon God's "steadfast love" (26:11). And thus redeemed and helped, he joins with the worshipping community in the temple--"the great congregation" to bless the LORD (26:12).
Psalm 27
The greatest problem all of us have is fear. It is both a sin itself and also the result of our sinfulness. Threats, real or imagined have disturbed the psalmist's peace of mind. But in this psalm he assures himself that God is his light, his salvation –his means of escape—and his stronghold (27:1). Therefore he will set aside his fear and live with boldness. Even though evildoers "encamp against him," he is "confident" (25:3). He does not ask for much, only for everything that matters—to take refuge of the LORD's house, and there "offer in his tent sacrifices of joy," and taking his part in the worshipping community, singing and making "melody to the LORD" (27:6). The voice of the psalmist—David—begs the LORD not to cast him off, even if his "father and mother forsake" him. The psalm ends with magnificent testimony—"I believe that I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living" (27:13). The
by-products of this faith are the strength and courage all of us need to "wait" patiently and serenely for whatever the LORD has in mind for us.
Psalm 28
The silence can be a terrible thing—and yet all who live in relationships experience silence. In the psalm the voice—which seems to be that of the king-- prays "toward [his] most holy sanctuary" (28:2) for an end to God's silence. People in Bible times were much more aware than we are of "communal guilt," and here the psalmist worries that he might be "lumped" with sinners and dragged away with his wicked neighbors (28:3-5), who work against the LORD rather than with him. He wants to be considered alone, as a righteous individual. And assured that he will be, he rejoices in being singled out for deliverance; he is helped—he personally--and his heart exults, and with this psalm he gives thanks to God, "the saving refuge of his anointed (28:7-8).
Psalm 29
This psalm of praise calls on the "heavenly beings"—the other gods—to "ascribe to the LORD glory and strength." It seems an odd idea to us, but ancient Israel believed in the existence of other spiritual beings—gods--which in later times were transformed into angels and demons. But here these powers are called to acknowledge the superiority of the LORD, the God of Israel, in authority and splendor. The appearance of God—the Theophany—is compared to a raging thunderstorm, filled with dynamic energy and destructive as well as creative potential. The psalms are at their most sublime and magnificent in these descriptions of divine manifestations—"The voice of the LORD causes the oaks to whirl," the voice says, "and strips the forest bare, and in his temple all say, "Glory!" The overwhelming glory of the Creator is experienced in temple worship by those who sing this a psalm, which celebrates the enthronement of the LORD. He
sits in triumph "over the flood," the Bible symbol of chaos. He gives order to the universe, and he gives meaning to the lives of his worshippers.
Psalm 30
Only those who have experienced a return to health and strength after a life-threatening illness or escaped a near brush with death can truly understand the grace of God. The psalmist is on his way to Sheol, the place of the dead, when he cries to the LORD and the LORD heals him; his healing is not seen as a natural process, but a personal act of redemption of the part of God. The illness was an expression of God's anger, and his healing was a sign of his forgiveness. Illness sometimes comes to the righteous, but for them misfortune and tragedy are momentary—"Weeping may linger for the night," the voice says, "but joy comes with the morning" (30:5). Joy is the proper response to the about-face the psalmist's life has taken. God has changed his direction from death to life, and so he feels constrained to testify aloud to what has happened to him with worship—"You have turned my mourning into dancing," he sings. "You have taken off my
sackcloth, and clothed me with joy, so that my soul may praise you and not be silent" (30:11-12).