[Warning: If you wish to cling to what you believe, and not to be disturbed by thinking, do not bother reading this short memo. It is written for those willing to wrestle with God.]
If one of us decides to read or to pray the Psalms in our Bibles, we are presented by immediate and perhaps disturbing problems. Of course, if one reads or prays anything without thinking, without being consciously conscious, so to be speak, the psalms present no problems. One could just “read the Bible” or “pray the psalms” without thinking at all, and no problem would occur. But without problems or questions or disturbances arising when one reads, nothing is gained intellectually, and perhaps not spiritually as well. Simply to put the mind into neutral--not be consciously conscious--one can read anything and not be the least disturbed. In such a state, one could read the “Communist Manifesto” of 1848 as if it were a comic strip, and sit and yawn, and rub one’s eyes, and say, “I see no problem with anything here. What’s wrong with a desire to ‘change the world?’ What’s wrong with a little bloody revolution once in a while? No one really gets hurt, do they?”
Many there are who sleep even during their lifetimes, who prefer a condition of non-consciousness, in order to “get by,” or “just to relax,” or to “have a good time.” Many Christians, from my experience, are in such a state of mind when they read, pray, or hear Scriptures being read. They just assume, “It’s the Bible,” and therefore “it must be true.” In effect, they turn off their minds, and just let the words wash over them like a warm shower. And they feel “comforted.” Indeed, from years of speaking with self-designated “Christians”--Catholic or Protestant, “mainstream” or fundamentalist--I find that most “Christians” believe that they are supposed to “just believe,” and not think, or question, or examine. In other words, being Christian” becomes an excuse to keep from thinking about spiritual or religious matters, and simply “absorb,” in a passive way, what is “in the Bible,” or “what the Church teaches,” or whatever the priest or minister happens to be preaching at them.
Well, as somebody once said, “They hear but do not hear, they look but they do not see.” Why not? Their minds are asleep, possibly because of Christianity itself, or at least the way it is believed and practiced now. For surely it was not always so. Some gave their lives as disciples of Christ. We may throw a few bucks into the plate, and then yawn, and return to sleep. (This is a case of “playing church,” I would say.)
My experience in reading and praying the Bible seems to be rather different from that of many church-going Christians. For as soon as I try to read or to pray one of the psalms in our bibles, or a psalm in the breviary for Catholic clergy and religious, I find myself disturbed, jarred, on edge, even guarded against what is said. Yes, the words may be beautiful or flat, familiar or not, but they nearly always come at me from a thought-world so alien to my own that I am forced to wrestle with what is said. More particularly, I immediately feel myself forced to ask, “Is this true?” and "What does this mean?” Nearly none of the formulations in the psalms come to my mind as obvious, or as simply true, even though I have prayed many of these psalms hundreds of times. Rather than lull my mind to sleep--the way much preaching does for many people--the psalms annoy me, they tease me, they “lift me up and throw me down.” They demand thought. In a better phrase, the psalms force me to wrestle, even when I do not want to. (Perhaps wrestling with God is indeed part of the cost of discipleship. Does not Israel mean, “He who wrestles with God?”)
Now, what is there about the psalms in particular, or about reading or praying the bible in general, that causes such a reaction? Why does scripture force one to be uncomfortable and to think--unless one chooses to keep his or her eyes closed? What is going on here? Why do these words provoke me, even when I sit to pray quietly and “simply be aware of God’s presence?” Could it be that God wants to stir us up, and not leave us spiritually asleep in our familiar beliefs, creeds, and practices? One problem I have is that I have read so many different translations, and only rarely tried to study the original Hebrew, so from the first line of a psalm I must wonder about the translation, its accuracy, and whether the original text really says what the translator has it say. The same applies to the Gospels and to other biblical texts, but for the present, let us focus on the psalms. (In the case of the New Testament, I can and do consult the original Greek to check the translations, and to find deeper meanings in the texts.)
We return to the psalms, our present focus. Begin at the beginning. Consider the first psalm. One opens a Bible or breviary and may read (I am using the Grail psalter here):
“Happy indeed is the man....”
So begins the psalter, this collection of 150 poem-prayers. Or is this the beginning at all? Are these the first words? Immediately I am aware of different translations: “Happy indeed is the one,” because some translator wanted to avoid “sexist language.” And another: “Blessed is the man,” and the word “blessed” to me means primarily “graced by God,” but not necessarily “happy” in any usual sense of the word. Then again, I am well aware of the long-standing Christian practice of reading Christ into the psalms, so the first line in effect can be heard to say: “Blessed indeed is Christ...” And then I recall another translator’s work that tried to avoid “sexist language,” by saying “Happy indeed are they...,” as if the difference between one and some or many is utterly irrelevant. And that plural word, “they,” explicitly excludes the possibility of reading Christ into the psalm, or it forces one to place Christ on the same level as the others in the word “they,” whoever these others may be. Yes, for some “progressive” folks, “Christ is our brother” (with the implication: not the LORD). I do not like to waste my mind or my time with such matters.
Such are a few of my thoughts aroused by the first line of the first psalm. And what I wanted to do was to pray, not to be dragged into controversies and disputes about words, or various so-called “theological reflections” (which in truth have nearly nothing to do with God, the sole proper object of theology). And note well: I did not ask to have these thoughts arise, I did not go out looking for them. They flood into consciousness because of past experiences of reading various translations, and from being aware of the long-standing tradition of finding Christ in the psalms--a questionable practice, perhaps, but an approach found beneficial by some true theologians and saints. Whatever happened to prayer? What happened to a quiet reflect on the “word of God?” My mind has been forced to consider matters that seem relatively unimportant, or at least I have had to deal with “questions that do not tend to edify.”
Or do they? Is it not good to wonder about whether a man is happy or blessed, or whether the words read apply to Christ or not, or to some other particular person, or to some generalized “they?” What is wrong with being aware of various translations, and juggling them in one’s mind? May they perhaps push me to check out the original Hebrew, and to think for myself, without the veil laid on the text by various translators? Surely there is no substitute for reading a text in the original language, and that applies to scriptures as to any other significant document.
If I had my way, I would apply my mind to other questions than to those raised above, to matters that may indeed “tend to edify,” rather than to these issues forced on me when I read the first line of the first psalm. If I indeed do seek “edification” and not mere “quibbling,” perhaps I should press on and consider more of the first sentence:
Happy indeed is the man
who follows not the counsel of the wicked...
Again, I read the words on the page, and pause. This thought seems rich, and suggestive. It would be tempting, however, to assume that the one reading the psalm--you or I--”follows not the counsel of the wicked.” But that does not fit my experience, at least not to the extent that it should. Reading this second line brings into my mind a disturbing, personal question, and one which I either must answer, or avoid by letting my eyes race on to the next line. The question is: Do I follow the counsel of the wicked? That one question could lead to considerable self-examination. When have I followed “the counsel of the wicked?” Do I assume that I am blameless in this regard? Not at all. In which of my actions, or thoughts, or attitudes, have I followed the lead, not of God’s voice and Spirit, but of wicked impulses, or wicked human beings? Am I perhaps “following the counsel of the wicked” here and now, by raising questions about “the holy bible,” and not just “believing the Word?” (Short response to the last question: You have a mind. Use it. That honors the Creator more than giving lip service to “sacred books.”)
If one did not follow “the counsel of the wicked,” then one would be “happy” or “blessed,” or so says the psalmist. But is that true? How many evildoers actually prosper in this world, at least for a long time, and “get away with it?” (This issue is indeed raised by more than one psalm, for a psalmist, too, “has seen how the wicked prosper.” ) Perhaps one should ask oneself a question: Would you rather be happy or blessed, at any price, or would you rather avoid doing evil, whether or not you are happy or blessed? If you had to choose, which would it be: To be “happy and blessed,” or to avoid evil at all costs? Would you choose to avoid evil even if doing so would bring you much pain, loss of friends, loss of property, disrespect, even physical harm and death? Again, one may think of Christ: Did he not renounce being “happy” or even being “blessed by God” in order not only to avoid “the counsel of the wicked,” but to do what he truly believed was for the radical good of others? Was Christ “happy” or “blessed” when he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Was not Aristotle correct in saying that no one can be happy when they are being tortured? (And crucifixion is surely an extreme form of torture.) Christ avoided the counsel of the wicked, he avoided falling into the religious patterns and practices of the Pharisees, he spoke the truth apart from mouthing religious platitudes, and he took the extreme consequences for his actions: radical rejection, torture, death.
***
Stand back. Return to the surface. Perhaps I have taken the easy way out on the problem raised: Being presented by numerous questions and problems as soon as one seeks to read or to pray the psalms, and indeed, perhaps most of the collection we call “the bible.” The larger issue I have not yet raised, perhaps avoided: Many of the formulations in the psalms not only do not make sense, but they seem to be mythical; and even far worse, at least some of the words seem to display a break from common sense, or from a desire to act nobly. Cursing one’s enemies, a desire for revenge, the lust for power and wealth, are famous examples of the latter--the break from moral goodness. But the more serious problem, surely for me, is this: How can one pray from within a mindset that is not only mythical, but which often seems to be just plain foolish? Or if not “foolish,” at least cotton-brained. One wonders what some of these psalmists did to open their mouths, utter words, and disengage their minds. Did they really believe some of the apparently nonsensical things they utter? Did they grow out of such beliefs? And why were they collected and preserved? Could we be in a similarly benighted spiritual state as some of the psalmists? Am I? “Is it I, LORD?”
I will give a few examples of muddled-thinking as they come readily into consciousness, as I remember past experiences reading the psalms. I find the talk about God “coming down with a black cloud under his feet,” and similar language, to be nonsensical and silly. One can dismiss it as “poetry,” but it seems to have been uttered by some fellow with a graphic imagination, but from a mind with a bizarre conception of “the Almighty.” Or even if one could rationalize such an utterance by calling it “mere poetry,” then one must wrestle with its effects on hearers. How many of our people are being encouraged to entertain such childish and strange conceptions of God, rather than to grow up spiritually and let go of thoughts about God “coming down” from “on high,” and setting everything right--whether or not “he” has a “black cloud under his feet” or not? Do not such phrases nourish a rather primitive and childish conception of what we call “God”? Or again, does this entire “poetic” approach to God, so common in the psalms, protect a person from having to face the utter darkness of God, without images and childish beliefs?
What am I saying? Do many of our biblical texts--the psalms, or the prophets, or even Gospels and of course the “book of Revelation”--hinder spiritual growth? Are the images often so loose, so wild, so poetically uncontrolled, that they fill the mind of the hearer with strange beliefs, and even superstitions? Can that be? Isn’t it “the holy bible?” Is it not “the word of God?”
In a word: For my part, I trust that Christ is the Word of God, and not a book. It was the man Jesus, and not a book, who was crucified for us. It is in Christ, not in the law or in a book, that one finds life, even as the law and books can point one to life in God. As for books and writings, they share in the human condition: imperfection and perishing. And the same writings that can provoke thought in some can lull other minds to sleep. Christ never lulls a mind to sleep, for he is the great questioner: “Why are you afraid? Don’t you have faith?”
Good things can have bad effects, if they are not interpreted properly. Minds can be filled with bizarre conceptions of the Almighty if one does not make the hard effort to think about what one is reading or praying, and to seek the truth through and beyond the images. That in short is my foremost problem with praying or reading the psalms: Rather than awakened to seek the true and living God beyond the words, the mind can be lulled to sleep, comforted or disturbed by all sorts of images, and refuses to ask the questions, “Is this true?” “What does this mean for my life?” “LORD, what would you have me do?” And above all, “Who are you, LORD?” Bibles and scriptures may give answers to questions not asked, and serve to keep human beings from asking questions that each one of us should ask. Even the psalms can be a drug to dull the mind, rather than be used as a means of ascending from sleep-in-oneself toward, or into, genuine life in God.
If one of us decides to read or to pray the Psalms in our Bibles, we are presented by immediate and perhaps disturbing problems. Of course, if one reads or prays anything without thinking, without being consciously conscious, so to be speak, the psalms present no problems. One could just “read the Bible” or “pray the psalms” without thinking at all, and no problem would occur. But without problems or questions or disturbances arising when one reads, nothing is gained intellectually, and perhaps not spiritually as well. Simply to put the mind into neutral--not be consciously conscious--one can read anything and not be the least disturbed. In such a state, one could read the “Communist Manifesto” of 1848 as if it were a comic strip, and sit and yawn, and rub one’s eyes, and say, “I see no problem with anything here. What’s wrong with a desire to ‘change the world?’ What’s wrong with a little bloody revolution once in a while? No one really gets hurt, do they?”
Many there are who sleep even during their lifetimes, who prefer a condition of non-consciousness, in order to “get by,” or “just to relax,” or to “have a good time.” Many Christians, from my experience, are in such a state of mind when they read, pray, or hear Scriptures being read. They just assume, “It’s the Bible,” and therefore “it must be true.” In effect, they turn off their minds, and just let the words wash over them like a warm shower. And they feel “comforted.” Indeed, from years of speaking with self-designated “Christians”--Catholic or Protestant, “mainstream” or fundamentalist--I find that most “Christians” believe that they are supposed to “just believe,” and not think, or question, or examine. In other words, being Christian” becomes an excuse to keep from thinking about spiritual or religious matters, and simply “absorb,” in a passive way, what is “in the Bible,” or “what the Church teaches,” or whatever the priest or minister happens to be preaching at them.
Well, as somebody once said, “They hear but do not hear, they look but they do not see.” Why not? Their minds are asleep, possibly because of Christianity itself, or at least the way it is believed and practiced now. For surely it was not always so. Some gave their lives as disciples of Christ. We may throw a few bucks into the plate, and then yawn, and return to sleep. (This is a case of “playing church,” I would say.)
My experience in reading and praying the Bible seems to be rather different from that of many church-going Christians. For as soon as I try to read or to pray one of the psalms in our bibles, or a psalm in the breviary for Catholic clergy and religious, I find myself disturbed, jarred, on edge, even guarded against what is said. Yes, the words may be beautiful or flat, familiar or not, but they nearly always come at me from a thought-world so alien to my own that I am forced to wrestle with what is said. More particularly, I immediately feel myself forced to ask, “Is this true?” and "What does this mean?” Nearly none of the formulations in the psalms come to my mind as obvious, or as simply true, even though I have prayed many of these psalms hundreds of times. Rather than lull my mind to sleep--the way much preaching does for many people--the psalms annoy me, they tease me, they “lift me up and throw me down.” They demand thought. In a better phrase, the psalms force me to wrestle, even when I do not want to. (Perhaps wrestling with God is indeed part of the cost of discipleship. Does not Israel mean, “He who wrestles with God?”)
Now, what is there about the psalms in particular, or about reading or praying the bible in general, that causes such a reaction? Why does scripture force one to be uncomfortable and to think--unless one chooses to keep his or her eyes closed? What is going on here? Why do these words provoke me, even when I sit to pray quietly and “simply be aware of God’s presence?” Could it be that God wants to stir us up, and not leave us spiritually asleep in our familiar beliefs, creeds, and practices? One problem I have is that I have read so many different translations, and only rarely tried to study the original Hebrew, so from the first line of a psalm I must wonder about the translation, its accuracy, and whether the original text really says what the translator has it say. The same applies to the Gospels and to other biblical texts, but for the present, let us focus on the psalms. (In the case of the New Testament, I can and do consult the original Greek to check the translations, and to find deeper meanings in the texts.)
We return to the psalms, our present focus. Begin at the beginning. Consider the first psalm. One opens a Bible or breviary and may read (I am using the Grail psalter here):
“Happy indeed is the man....”
So begins the psalter, this collection of 150 poem-prayers. Or is this the beginning at all? Are these the first words? Immediately I am aware of different translations: “Happy indeed is the one,” because some translator wanted to avoid “sexist language.” And another: “Blessed is the man,” and the word “blessed” to me means primarily “graced by God,” but not necessarily “happy” in any usual sense of the word. Then again, I am well aware of the long-standing Christian practice of reading Christ into the psalms, so the first line in effect can be heard to say: “Blessed indeed is Christ...” And then I recall another translator’s work that tried to avoid “sexist language,” by saying “Happy indeed are they...,” as if the difference between one and some or many is utterly irrelevant. And that plural word, “they,” explicitly excludes the possibility of reading Christ into the psalm, or it forces one to place Christ on the same level as the others in the word “they,” whoever these others may be. Yes, for some “progressive” folks, “Christ is our brother” (with the implication: not the LORD). I do not like to waste my mind or my time with such matters.
Such are a few of my thoughts aroused by the first line of the first psalm. And what I wanted to do was to pray, not to be dragged into controversies and disputes about words, or various so-called “theological reflections” (which in truth have nearly nothing to do with God, the sole proper object of theology). And note well: I did not ask to have these thoughts arise, I did not go out looking for them. They flood into consciousness because of past experiences of reading various translations, and from being aware of the long-standing tradition of finding Christ in the psalms--a questionable practice, perhaps, but an approach found beneficial by some true theologians and saints. Whatever happened to prayer? What happened to a quiet reflect on the “word of God?” My mind has been forced to consider matters that seem relatively unimportant, or at least I have had to deal with “questions that do not tend to edify.”
Or do they? Is it not good to wonder about whether a man is happy or blessed, or whether the words read apply to Christ or not, or to some other particular person, or to some generalized “they?” What is wrong with being aware of various translations, and juggling them in one’s mind? May they perhaps push me to check out the original Hebrew, and to think for myself, without the veil laid on the text by various translators? Surely there is no substitute for reading a text in the original language, and that applies to scriptures as to any other significant document.
If I had my way, I would apply my mind to other questions than to those raised above, to matters that may indeed “tend to edify,” rather than to these issues forced on me when I read the first line of the first psalm. If I indeed do seek “edification” and not mere “quibbling,” perhaps I should press on and consider more of the first sentence:
Happy indeed is the man
who follows not the counsel of the wicked...
Again, I read the words on the page, and pause. This thought seems rich, and suggestive. It would be tempting, however, to assume that the one reading the psalm--you or I--”follows not the counsel of the wicked.” But that does not fit my experience, at least not to the extent that it should. Reading this second line brings into my mind a disturbing, personal question, and one which I either must answer, or avoid by letting my eyes race on to the next line. The question is: Do I follow the counsel of the wicked? That one question could lead to considerable self-examination. When have I followed “the counsel of the wicked?” Do I assume that I am blameless in this regard? Not at all. In which of my actions, or thoughts, or attitudes, have I followed the lead, not of God’s voice and Spirit, but of wicked impulses, or wicked human beings? Am I perhaps “following the counsel of the wicked” here and now, by raising questions about “the holy bible,” and not just “believing the Word?” (Short response to the last question: You have a mind. Use it. That honors the Creator more than giving lip service to “sacred books.”)
If one did not follow “the counsel of the wicked,” then one would be “happy” or “blessed,” or so says the psalmist. But is that true? How many evildoers actually prosper in this world, at least for a long time, and “get away with it?” (This issue is indeed raised by more than one psalm, for a psalmist, too, “has seen how the wicked prosper.” ) Perhaps one should ask oneself a question: Would you rather be happy or blessed, at any price, or would you rather avoid doing evil, whether or not you are happy or blessed? If you had to choose, which would it be: To be “happy and blessed,” or to avoid evil at all costs? Would you choose to avoid evil even if doing so would bring you much pain, loss of friends, loss of property, disrespect, even physical harm and death? Again, one may think of Christ: Did he not renounce being “happy” or even being “blessed by God” in order not only to avoid “the counsel of the wicked,” but to do what he truly believed was for the radical good of others? Was Christ “happy” or “blessed” when he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Was not Aristotle correct in saying that no one can be happy when they are being tortured? (And crucifixion is surely an extreme form of torture.) Christ avoided the counsel of the wicked, he avoided falling into the religious patterns and practices of the Pharisees, he spoke the truth apart from mouthing religious platitudes, and he took the extreme consequences for his actions: radical rejection, torture, death.
***
Stand back. Return to the surface. Perhaps I have taken the easy way out on the problem raised: Being presented by numerous questions and problems as soon as one seeks to read or to pray the psalms, and indeed, perhaps most of the collection we call “the bible.” The larger issue I have not yet raised, perhaps avoided: Many of the formulations in the psalms not only do not make sense, but they seem to be mythical; and even far worse, at least some of the words seem to display a break from common sense, or from a desire to act nobly. Cursing one’s enemies, a desire for revenge, the lust for power and wealth, are famous examples of the latter--the break from moral goodness. But the more serious problem, surely for me, is this: How can one pray from within a mindset that is not only mythical, but which often seems to be just plain foolish? Or if not “foolish,” at least cotton-brained. One wonders what some of these psalmists did to open their mouths, utter words, and disengage their minds. Did they really believe some of the apparently nonsensical things they utter? Did they grow out of such beliefs? And why were they collected and preserved? Could we be in a similarly benighted spiritual state as some of the psalmists? Am I? “Is it I, LORD?”
I will give a few examples of muddled-thinking as they come readily into consciousness, as I remember past experiences reading the psalms. I find the talk about God “coming down with a black cloud under his feet,” and similar language, to be nonsensical and silly. One can dismiss it as “poetry,” but it seems to have been uttered by some fellow with a graphic imagination, but from a mind with a bizarre conception of “the Almighty.” Or even if one could rationalize such an utterance by calling it “mere poetry,” then one must wrestle with its effects on hearers. How many of our people are being encouraged to entertain such childish and strange conceptions of God, rather than to grow up spiritually and let go of thoughts about God “coming down” from “on high,” and setting everything right--whether or not “he” has a “black cloud under his feet” or not? Do not such phrases nourish a rather primitive and childish conception of what we call “God”? Or again, does this entire “poetic” approach to God, so common in the psalms, protect a person from having to face the utter darkness of God, without images and childish beliefs?
What am I saying? Do many of our biblical texts--the psalms, or the prophets, or even Gospels and of course the “book of Revelation”--hinder spiritual growth? Are the images often so loose, so wild, so poetically uncontrolled, that they fill the mind of the hearer with strange beliefs, and even superstitions? Can that be? Isn’t it “the holy bible?” Is it not “the word of God?”
In a word: For my part, I trust that Christ is the Word of God, and not a book. It was the man Jesus, and not a book, who was crucified for us. It is in Christ, not in the law or in a book, that one finds life, even as the law and books can point one to life in God. As for books and writings, they share in the human condition: imperfection and perishing. And the same writings that can provoke thought in some can lull other minds to sleep. Christ never lulls a mind to sleep, for he is the great questioner: “Why are you afraid? Don’t you have faith?”
Good things can have bad effects, if they are not interpreted properly. Minds can be filled with bizarre conceptions of the Almighty if one does not make the hard effort to think about what one is reading or praying, and to seek the truth through and beyond the images. That in short is my foremost problem with praying or reading the psalms: Rather than awakened to seek the true and living God beyond the words, the mind can be lulled to sleep, comforted or disturbed by all sorts of images, and refuses to ask the questions, “Is this true?” “What does this mean for my life?” “LORD, what would you have me do?” And above all, “Who are you, LORD?” Bibles and scriptures may give answers to questions not asked, and serve to keep human beings from asking questions that each one of us should ask. Even the psalms can be a drug to dull the mind, rather than be used as a means of ascending from sleep-in-oneself toward, or into, genuine life in God.
