My Strength and My Song. Simon Peter Iredale
is essentially self-knowledge. We do not imagine we are anyone else; we do not dance with empty shadows. We know our sins and our blessings, and we “lift up our soul” every day to Christ because we believe that he has the biggest share in helping us become the people we were created to be. May his name be praised.
For Reflection
How do you lift up your soul to God?
Prayer
Almighty God, bless you for being you. Help me become truly myself. Grant me humility and wisdom. Amen.
Psalm 22
Apart from the psalm that follows, “The LORD is my shepherd,” this week’s psalm must be one of the most well known, and most debated, psalms in the Psalter. Not just because of its content, but because of when it was used, by whom, and what succeeding generations of people, both believing and unbelieving, have made of it. The first line of the psalm was, of course, spoken by Christ himself from the cross (Matthew 27:46). The debate circles around why he spoke these words and what he meant for those who heard him to understand by them.
Rather unhelpfully, the incident has been referred to quite often as “the cry of dereliction”; that is, of abandonment. This seems to me to slant our understanding immediately in a particular direction. My feeling is that those who describe Christ’s use of the psalm in this way would like to argue that at this moment, hanging on the cross, Jesus realized that he was, after all, merely human and that his whole life and ministry had ended in a cruel defeat. However, if this were the case, there would have been many other things he could have said. In fact, if one can dare to trespass on such things, Jesus’ state of mind seems to have been remarkably composed and peaceful. The Gospel of John records how, even in the midst of the terrible physical suffering of the cross, Jesus could look down on his mother and the beloved disciple and think of their well-being (John 19:25-27). No, something quite else is going on here, and the answer may well lie in how the Psalms were used.
It is unthinkable that those who heard Jesus would have missed the reference or not recognized the psalm. They would not have had to run home to check on the rest of the text before they understood. They would, after all, have heard the Psalms sung in the Temple and the synagogues weekly, if not daily. Jesus acted, as it were, as a cantor, speaking the first line after which the whole rest of the psalm would rise into the hearer’s minds. Christ spoke this first line to reveal that the psalm is a prophecy and that it was being fulfilled in their presence.
With this in mind, we can see to our growing astonishment the way many details of the psalm, written centuries before the time of Christ, accord exactly with the circumstances of the Crucifixion. Jesus was surrounded by his mocking enemies (verses 12-13), the physical effects of crucifixion (verse 14), and, of course, the casting of lots for the clothing (verse 18).
What is just as compelling is the reference “backward” in the prophetic literature to the suffering servant imagery of Isaiah. If you compare the imagery of verse 6 (“I am a worm, and no man; / scorned by men, and despised by the people”) with Isaiah 53:1-3, the full power of the prophecy-being-fulfilled becomes apparent. Jesus, throughout his active ministry, taught in many different ways. Sometimes he taught directly; at other times he performed what one might call an “acted parable,” like that of looking for fruit on the fig tree in the wrong season (Mark 11:12-14). In this case, Jesus, on his way to Jerusalem as Messiah, foreshadows the kind of welcome he is likely to receive. In fact, as the Word of God, everything he did or said had a life-giving and revelatory purpose. In the case of Psalm 22, the opening words point the hearers, and us, to the heart of his self-offering mission to all creation.
Despite the suffering recorded in the psalm (and experienced by Christ), its overall tone is hopeful and trusting. Quite the reverse of a cry of dereliction, in fact. The movement is from a description of the writer’s need, followed by a realization of the trustworthiness and holiness of God, proceeding to a resolution confirming the believer’s trust in God’s will for him. In this psalm’s case, from verse 25 onward we have set out before us like some heavenly vista a picture of the good things God has in store for those who remain faithful through suffering. As Christians who are part of the “great congregation” (verse 25), this psalm if anything accentuates for us the inexpressible significance of that single death on Mount Calvary. It is the supreme paradox of the shameful and the most glorious, the mystery of the divine who suffers for and with us now and for eternity.
For Reflection
How does this psalm shape your understanding of Christ’s life and death?
Prayer
Suffering Lord, look down upon me with your gentle eyes and give me endurance, hope, and love. Glory be to you. Amen.
Psalm 23
It’s pretty difficult to write about a psalm that is so well known and so much loved. What more can be said, you may wonder, about words that have given strength to generations of people in the midst of trouble and hope to those who are beginning to struggle? Well, may I just simply direct your attention anew to a few things?
How do you imagine “the valley of the shadow of death”? I suppose many of us would immediately picture a bleak and frightening landscape charged with unknown threats. When I lived in Germany (stationed there with the Royal Air Force), I used to find those vast German pine forests oppressive and vaguely threatening. It was something to do with their stillness and the way, even in the fullest sunlight, there was always a dark heart to them just a hundred yards or so off the track.
However, let’s turn this on its head. Perhaps what we should concentrate on in the phrase “valley of the shadow of death” is the transitory nature of the created world. Sometimes things are all the more beautiful exactly because they are temporary. The blossom that appears briefly on a tree tells us what point we have reached in the spring or summer. It is all the more beautiful because we know that it will last, at its best, only a short time. Hence, perhaps we can imagine the psalmist’s valley as a very beautiful place indeed, the most perfect realization of God’s creation, but touched in every respect with inevitable change. Our part in this is to thank God for what surrounds us but not to stop, not to try to hang on to what is by its nature ephemeral, but to continue on in pilgrimage to the One who never changes.
It is Christ, after all, who is our Shepherd. Our task, as those in his care, is simply to follow. But how difficult that simple thing appears! We are the most wrong-headed sheep imaginable. We seem convinced that we know the way we need to go with only occasional reference to our Shepherd. It’s the problem of free will. God does not expect us simply to follow orders. We are valued far too much for that and have been given the supreme gifts of self-awareness and a moral sense. What is required is to make choices according to our redeemed nature; that is, to discern the purpose of God working in our lives and to set ourselves in harmony with Christ.
Let’s think of the curious image of the table (verse 5). This is not designed, surely, to make one relax, sitting down in the presence of one’s enemies to have a meal. Surely this is guaranteed to interfere with the digestion! We didn’t mention that even though the valley of the shadow of death might be very beautiful, there is still danger within in it. After all, the serpent lurked in the beauty of Eden’s garden. We are constantly surrounded by enemies, but not necessarily human ones. Christians, while on life’s pilgrimage, are never free from the offer of false choices, false directions, spiritual precipices, and dead ends. For me, the image of the table—God conferring honor on us as members of the divine household—is a demonstration of power and grace. It is the victory of the cross made plain in our own lives, to the rage and confusion of all who would wish to destroy us, whether human or spiritual foes. This is the significance of the anointing—sharing in the chrismation (or sacrament of anointing) of God’s Son, whose very name means “anointed one.”
There’s