A few years ago I was asked by a national magazine to write an article about the Book of Psalms. I was flattered and immediately began to research the background of this grand book. Taking a scholarly approach, I began by classifying the various Psalms in categories: militant; meditative; nature psalms and so on. The Psalms are a hymnbook, poems about the judgments and the glory of God.
When I finished, there were nine categories that seemed to accommodate the 150 hymns. Then I set about analyzing the contents, their concept of God, their reverence for nature, their ecstatic praises, their confessions, etc. When I finished I had an academic essay to submit.
You can imagine my surprise when the manuscript was returned with a brief note that said: “We’re not looking for a thesis. Your analysis has no heart.”
No heart! I was stunned. How could they turn down a piece of studious work like this?
Humbled, I put the article aside and tried to forget the editor’s comment. But that phrase “no heart” would not go away. Then one day I faced up to the reality of my failure. I had tried to be an analyst, a critical student of the language, but the majesty and sensitivity of the poetry were ignored. My fault!
Then I decided to forget the analysis and look at how I personally used the Psalms. These poems were hymns used in the Jerusalem temple — probably sung or chanted. And like classical poems, they have layers of meaning. I read the Psalms slowly, stopping where a phrase catches my conscience, trying to understand the breadth of meaning, applying it to my own experience. I am not in a hurry. I am mulling, reflecting, letting the words flow over and over. Here are some of the lines that grip me:
“My soul waits for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning.” I recall that in the old world, life was lived in harmony with the sunshine. Day was good; night was evil, even dangerous. People were eager for the dawn, hungry for the light. So we eagerly anticipate sunrise — even as we press for God to become visible.
“I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the distant sea.” My imagination takes me far beyond the margins of daily existence — but I am still held in God’s hand. I cannot outdistance God.
“He leads me beside the still waters.” Despite the hustle of daily life with its demands and distractions, there is a calmness, a quiet refuge that is ready, waiting for me to rest in its midst … in God’s presence.
“The work of my hands, establish thou it.” Yes, I am responsible for what I have done, for what I have created. If I have harmed someone, I cannot slip out of the loop. Maybe I have reached out to help someone — let that other person be strengthened. I will continue to be helpful, to effect your will.
I had learned my lesson about the Psalms: They deserve to be pondered in the heart more than they need to be analyzed.
Larry Gruman is a retired Congregational (United Church of Christ) minister. This column is coordinated by Lane Interfaith Alliance to offer inspiration, share spiritual experiences and bring a deeper understanding of faith perspectives with the intention of blessing our community and world. For information, visit www.laneinterfaithalliance.org or call 344-5693.