PSALM 116: 1, 10-17 (Translation from Hebrew by Dr. Henry R. Carse)
I love the LORD, because he listens to me and coddles my complaining.
I am still a true believer, even when I say ‘Poor me!’,
When, in an anxious rush, I say ‘I can’t trust anyone!’
So, how will I repay the LORD for all his gifts to me?
I know! I can offer him a chalice of salvation, and invoke ‘the name of the LORD,’
Or I can make solemn vows to the LORD, witnessed by all his people!
(But, seen with eyes divine, in our moment of dying, gracious and holy, we are so dear!)
Look at me! I am your servant, O LORD!
I am your servant, and my parents were your servants too!
(But, the truth? You have given me freedom from all my chains!)
Or… I can go on making more sacrifices, calling them ‘Thanks’ –
And keep calling, calling the name of the LORD!
Many faithful people regard the Bible as a sort of ‘operator’s manual’ for human life. ‘Open the scriptures,’ some will say, ‘and the good book will tell you what to do.’ This approach – I call it the ‘prescriptive model’ – has its place in our spiritual lives. We all need external guidance from time to time. But at the end of the day, I now understand, it is an integrated and inner divine voice that gives us lasting instruction. This integrated approach to scripture – I call it the ‘contemplative model’ – can be summed up in four words: “Scripture reflects; conscience directs.”
Psalm 116 sounds like a song of praise to a solicitous and comforting God. But if we pause for a moment, noticing the ‘reflection’ of the written words in our own souls, we may see a deeper and more mystical level. We begin (vs. 1) with the need to love a divinity, someone who listens to us and ‘coddles our complaints’. Even in our ‘Poor me!’ and our ‘anxious rush,’ we are still ‘believers’ (vss. 10-11). Like co-dependent children, we look for ways to ‘repay’ the gifts of God (vs. 12). All this is familiar piety.
Thinking more deeply, more maturely, we realize that theology like this reduces unconditional divine grace to a market-place negotiation. Anthropologists call this – in Latin - do ut des!: ‘I give to you in order that you will give to me!’ This is not the way of grace, but of mercenary self-interest. There must be a deeper message.
‘Scripture reflects; conscience directs.’ The inner and ‘intuitive’ meaning of this psalm is not found in the appeal to an external benefactor, however divine.
The psalmist (who stands for you and me) asks a paradoxical question: ‘How can I repay the gift that cannot be repaid?’ Verses13-17 are a ‘scriptural mirror’ – reflecting the ways we try to ‘reimburse God’ for the gift of life. The word ‘pay’ even appears, explicitly: in Hebrew - ‘ashalem’ (vs. 14). Here, we see ourselves, trying so hard to ‘pay it back.’ All these words reflect our human striving: ‘vows,’ ‘service,’ ‘sacrifice’… we try them all. All in vain. We have forgotten that ‘ashalem’ does not only mean ‘I will pay.’ It also means – more deeply – ‘I will be whole.’
I can never ‘pay it back.’ But – thankfully – I can ‘become whole’! In Psalm 116, in this scriptural reflection of our human condition, we can find wholeness. Woven in among the words of striving, are words of ‘intuition’ (I put some in parentheses in the above translation!) indicating something deeper than striving. Words like: ‘thanksgiving,’ ‘freedom,’ ‘salvation,’ – and, strangely but truly – ‘a gracious and holy death.’ All these, hidden in the text, offer a radical path to our own unconditional self-giving, our own sacred presence in the world, our integration with our mystical vocation.
This, perhaps, is the only true religion: not trying so hard to do good (to ‘repay’), but learning to “wholly” and “holy” be!
Dr. Henry Ralph Carse
June 14, 2020