As the Christian season of Lent begins, I am
reminded of the phrase, “Remember man, that thou art dust and to dust you shall
return,” as ashes are placed on foreheads. Ashes are a reminder of our
mortality. We come from dust and will return to dust, but, oh, there is so much
more to life than that. Still it is fitting to reflect on where we came from
and where we are going now and then.
The psalm for this week asks those hard questions. The writer is aware of his own sinfulness and is willing to admit to this, but that is not the focus of the psalm. Like Job, he focuses on the hardships of life, wondering about meaning and purpose.
He is afflicted in some way and broods on his affliction. “He has suffered a severe blow. The context suggests that it is physical, although he is not explicit on that point,” one commentary states. At first he keeps quiet lest others use his complaints as an excuse to mock his God – “I said, I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will bridle my mouth, so long as the wicked are in my presence.” (1) But his silence becomes too much for him, he has to speak – “I was dumb and silent, I held my peace to no avail; my distress grew worse, my heart became hot within me. As I mused, the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue.” (2-3)
When he does speak, he doesn’t ask God why he is experiencing this affliction, rather he asks about life and its fleeting nature – “Lord, let me know my end, and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is!” (4) His life is but a “breath” verse 5 in the Revised Standard translation, insignificant, mere vapor or “vanity” in King James, hence nothing. The use of the word vanity brings to mind Ecclesiastes, “Vanity of vanities! All things are vanity!” (Ecc. 1:2b) The author reflects on life in light of death and questions its value – “Surely man goes about as a shadow? Surely for nought are they in turmoil; man heaps up, and knows not who will gather!” (6)
There are no easy answers to his questions. Where other psalms speak of the beauty of creation, the joys of human love and community and God’s great goodness, this one holds us in the depths of the pit where we question this life. It’s not a pleasant place to be. No-one wants to stay here too long, and yet, this, too, is part of the human condition. To deny and avoid the hard questions in life is to rob life of the full potential of joy in the face of despair. It is to live our lives superficially, on the surface.
The Psalms are not meant be read superficially but
to be embraced in their totality which includes the full range of human
emotion. Whatever we may be experiencing in this life, there is a psalm that
reflects that.
Psalm 39 is for those who are asking the hard
questions, who are being confronted by death through the loss of a loved one or
their own illness. It meets us there in the depths and doesn’t say, “cheer up,
things will get better, they aren’t as bad as they seem, it all happens for a
reason,” or some other such platitude.
In the pit the psalmist realizes his own sinfulness
and realizes that all he has is his God – “My hope is in thee.” (7a) When all
else is gone, all that remains is hope. He prays for deliverance from his
situation, reminding God that, “I am thy passing guest,” (12b) and thereby
making a claim on God, the claim of hospitality. He asks God to turn away his
angry face so that he might know gladness again – “Look away from me, that I
may know gladness, before I depart and be no more!” (13)
And there he ends the psalm, placing his hope in his
God. A good place to end. When confronted with the challenges and hardships of
life, sometimes all we can do is hold on to hope, hold on to our God, who holds
us in the palm of his hand.
What hard questions are you asking this Lent?
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