1. Handling the Psalms⤒🔗

1.1 A Meeting in the French Cévennes←↰⤒🔗

She must have been at least eighty years old, weakened and misshapen by diabetes and a number of other diseases (elephantiasis). She hardly ever leaves her house anymore: that is too painful and ... too risky.

A few women from the village, sisters of the church, bring her the bare essentials: a little food and, occasionally, some company. For the rest she lives all by herself in an old, dank, squat, dark 'mas' (a massive stone house) on the edge of a village in the French Cévennes (L'Estréchure) where she had been born and which she hopes to leave soon for her heavenly home. Waiting for death is for her a looking forward to release...

Until then, each morning, when she manages to get out of bed and dress herself, she stumbles towards the only window in her only room and looks up at the brooding, forested mountain mass which, across the Gardon — the little mountain stream, bars the valley, and then she always says:

Je  lève les yeux vers les Montagnes: d'où me viendra le secours? — Le secours me vient de Dieu, qui a crée les cieux et la terre.

I lift up my eyes to the hills — where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. Psalm 121:1, 2

She lingers for a moment and fixing her eyes on the mountain she intently stares at it, while a thousand thoughts flit through her mind.

She, however, cannot keep it up for long. She has to sit down and lurches to her chair further back in the dark room. She sits down and tries to cope with the vague but intense feelings of sadness that rise up within her: the daily recurring disappointment that the Lord God had not yet come across the mountain pass into the village to fetch her finally home.

Not long before the old woman told me all of this, she had had another pastoral visit. Then, too, she had related her experiences, and explained to the pastor how much she loved the psalms, and how they gave her strength to deal with the difficulties in her life. She also told him that she did her best to read them all, but that more and more she had trouble doing so ... "My eyes are getting worse, pastor, because of the diabetes, you understand..." The pastor, however, did not understand, or rather he understood but did not accept it. He gave her a severe scolding: "My dear lady, stop reading the Psalms! Read ... read the Letter to the Romans. That is at least solid food, but the Psalms, oh well, they are candies for on the way!"

1.2 Psalm Sensitivity←↰⤒🔗

There are Christians for whom the spiritual power of the Psalms is not a concept to talk about, neither is it a subject for philosophy nor a thesis up for discussion. They have read, prayed, professed, sung and meditated on them so much that, as it were, they live with and from the Psalms daily. That spiritual food — for surely that is what it is — has become an integral part of them. They live, feel and think in accordance with the psalms, that is to say, in accordance with the Spirit of Christ. For them the whole of Scripture comes to life via the Psalms. A single verse brings the whole psalm to mind, and each psalm fragment points to the whole psalter — and to the Gospel, to the whole Bible.

Martin Luther, for example, was fond of calling the Book of Psalms the "little Bible." He wrote in the Preface of a new psalter (1524), that when someone has no time to read all of Scripture, he will find a fabulous handbook only in the Psalms in which the whole biblical message is represented.

Over against the 'psalm sensitive' believers stand those whom the French philosopher (Vladimir Jankélévitch) called: les esprits forts, the strong spirits. We could also say the strong or rugged individuals. They really do not know what to do with poetry, and therefore, neither with the psalms. They are averse to anything that even hints at charm. Poetics confuses them. They have no feeling for, and, therefore, pay no attention to what is beautiful.

Sometimes it appears that this attitude is merely a matter of character. Providing we clearly distinguish between modernism and post-modernism that is on the rise today, it also reveals something that is characteristic of modern society. When we carefully examine the cultural movements, especially those of the last two centuries, we discover that a reversal has taken place between 'seeing' and 'doing,' between theory and praxis. With much clarity the cultural philosopher Hannah Arendt has shown how the rise of materialism and com­munism were signs of this re-evaluation: the practical acting above the contemplative, above the seeing. This certainly is in contrast to one of the oft repeated themes of the Psalms: the dwelling in God's courts, in His holy temple, on Mount Sion, in short, in His pres­ence.¹

Christians, too, have been influenced by the shrinking of our horizon within the bounda­ries of logic, of the material, of the practical. The Psalms, however, do not fit within this narrow framework. To be sure, they contain narrative, interpretive, descriptive and legal moments, but so many passages — to some too many — have something of that intractable, intangible, incomprehensible quality, of that poetic freedom that irritates exact spirits.

Of course contemporary poetry is not exactly the same as in the days of the psalms. There is, however, a poetic gesture — the real essence of poetics — that, across the limits of languages and cultures, is common to all mankind.

Our 'rugged' individualists have no time for this. They say: "act normally!" — "talk plainly!" But the poet, the singer, and psalmist answer: "Read carefully, it does not say what it says ... it says more!"

And, indeed: this word of Scripture demands its own approach. An approach that requires other criteria than when it concerns 'common,' narrative, or descriptive texts. A legal text from Exodus or Leviticus, a letter of Peter or Paul, a story from Chronicles or from the Gospel, call for a different approach on the part of the reader than is the case with the Psalms. The latter, more than all the others — besides 'common' understanding — call for empathy, sympathy and feeling from the hearer.

We must think here of what, since the nine­teenth century, has become increasingly clear about the structure of the brain: the left and right brain hemisphere, albeit dependent and complementary, each have their own specific, distinct function. Logic, numbers, exact knowl­edge are mainly left brain activities. However, when we are busy with global, visual, and aesthetical matters, for example, music, the right brain especially becomes active. When we take this fact into account, we should not be surprised that among persons, groups, churches, cultures and nations different accents came into being, other sensitivities developed, or certain domains remained undeveloped.

In our time, during the change-over from modern to the post-modern mentality, our (Western) culture is often accused of leaving too little room for the intuitive, for the instinc­tive, for the global mode. There must come an end, so it is said, to this 'domination' of Rea­son, i.e., the left brain. We will leave aside in how far such a complaint is valid. However, one point should be clearly emphasized: rebalancing the various aspects of being human must certainly not be confused with our spiritual growth as such, or with the deepen­ing of our faith. For such a re-balancing does not mean that our commitment to God will increase, or that the war against sin has been won. Emotionality and holiness are not the same.

In the Psalms an intense demand is made on our total thinking-and-feeling. This requires a greater and more versatile development and sensitivity than is generally accepted. The Psalms teach us how the intensity of life can go hand in hand with our emotional life, and for that the Psalms provide the best models.

That the psalms ought to be an important part of our spiritual diet may also become clear from another fact: a quarter of all Old Testa­ment quotations in the New Testament come from the Book of Psalms, even though it only comprises 6.4 % of the Old Testament.² This surely is an indication of the book's impor­tance then, and of its lasting value for the people of the new covenant as well. It shows us that the psalms offer us a word-for-on-the­ way; no candies — in the lighter sense of the word — but more in the sense of a packed lunch: you can take it with you wherever you go. Yet, here too there is a danger. For some, then, treat the psalms as a collection of refer­ence texts. What a pity it is, when this rich poetry (and poetical riches) is reduced to mere factual information, complementary data about the period of kings and prophets, key arguments in connection with prophecy and messianic expectation, 'fodder for theologians,' discussion material for the next study society meeting, or a catalogue of cute verses for the next birth announcement. The psalms saved by the concordance!

No! The high calling of the Psalms — as each Bible word inspired by God — "is useful for teaching, correcting, rebuking and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work" (2 Timothy 3:16), and that in their own way. We will take a closer look at that by singling out three aspects: the psalms help us

• to understand,
• to verbalize,
• to cope with

life in general and (with) spiritual life in particular.

2. Psalms for a (growing) Spiritual Life←⤒🔗

2.1 The Psalms as the Mirror of the Soul←↰⤒🔗

John Calvin has written the following about the psalms:

I have been accustomed to call this book, I think not inappropriately, "An Anatomy of all Parts of the Soul;" for there is no emotion of which anyone can be con­scious that is not here represented as in a mirror. Or rather, the Holy Spirit has here drawn to the life all griefs, sorrows, fears, doubts, hopes, cares, perplexities, in short, all the distracting emotions with which the minds of men are wont to be agita­ted.³

He goes on to say that in other parts of Scrip­ture God has instructed us, but that in the psalms the prophets⁴ by their speaking to God have laid "open all their inmost thoughts and affections." So the psalms, indeed, become a mirror of the soul in which we discover our­selves.

Indeed, when the Law shows us man from a juridical, ethical perspective, the Psalms reveal his reality from a psychological angle. (The Book of Psalms, therefore, offers us an impres­sive course in religion-psychology.) The Law tells us: so it is with man. The Psalms tell us: so it works! And Scripture does not tell us: "You shall daily long for the Lord your God!" But Psalm 42, for example, hands us the metaphor: "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, o God." The psalmist does not speak theoretically about his longing for God, but shows us how he, with all the expec­tations and frustrations that come with it, has experienced it himself. And so we are instructed and admonished by him concerning our own longing for God...

However, those who disregard this language, this procedure, this 'poetical rhetoric,' will taste, notice, assimilate little of the dynamics that God has placed in these songs from the Old Testament. The language of the psalms comes from the heart and is understood by the heart. This certainly does not mean that we have to switch off our intellect, on the con­trary, we must engage it intensely because it opens up other dimensions of man's internal world. It is then also a requirement that the intellect opens itself for what is not of the intellect. And precisely in that, the psalms help us understand our relationship with God in a very specific way.

2.2 The Psalms as Language to Speak to God←↰⤒🔗

In all of Scripture God gives us His Word, but in the Psalms He gives us our words. His Word becomes our words to Him.

In order, however, to know a language, you must speak it often. Anyone who has ever studied a foreign language, but no longer uses it, knows that from experi­ence. Hence this question: how shall we make the language of the psalms our own? And how do we keep it our own?

Already early in its history the Christian church recognized the importance of this. In the Middle Ages the monks sang the whole Psalter regularly and systematically. They, therefore, knew it by heart. We also know that during the Reformation — be it in Wittenberg (especially!), Strasbourg, or Geneva — great efforts were made to provide the people with a complete psalter, so that they, and not only the monks, could address God themselves by means of these prayers.

How sad it is, on the other hand, to have to conclude that the French speaking Chris­tians — who were the first to have such a complete book — already since the second half of the nineteenth century, no longer have a complete psalter at their disposal.

With the announcement of the publication of Le psautier français we thought and we hoped that this fault would be corrected.⁵ But after the publication, it became apparent that we were dealing with a kind of  'Reader's Digest-version.' Many narrative parts and descriptive passages were condensed or simply omitted so that the line of thought of the psalmist and the development of the happening no longer can be followed. Furthermore numerous passages, through interpretive translations, were col­oured by personal biases — towards the heart of modern man — or simply fell by the way­side, especially those that spoke of judgement and revenge. A 'light' Psalter then, easy to digest and with few calories, in form as well as in content. Five hundred years after the birth of Clement Marot,⁶ it is still not practically possible for the French to sing from a complete psalter.

But whether we say or sing, read or hum, meditate on or loudly proclaim a psalm; whether we read a whole psalm each day, sing one each Sunday, or in whatever way we take care to make it our own, this we know: that the psalms do not give up the secret of their power when taken in 'bite-size' pieces, when we engage in verse picking (a verse here, a stanza there), when we are satisfied with singing from a psalm, rather than singing it in its entirety. Do we really want spiritual growth? The prospect of spiritual fruit that God's words will produce in our life is here surely a sufficient motivation to make the necessary effort, so that the language of the psalms will really be ours as well — the language in which we verbalize our faith.

2.3 Psalms in Our Lives←↰⤒🔗

In conclusion a few words about the connec­tion between the psalms and our life experi­ences.

The seven words of Christ on the cross are well known. They made a profound impression on the witnesses. One of them reverberated in their ears to such a degree that it is even quoted by Matthew and Mark in Aramaic:

'Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?' — which means, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'⁷

This is the opening phrase of Psalm 22. But yet, is this not strange? Is this question not astonishing? Did Christ not know why He hung on the cross? Was He not the one who for three years had explained all of this to His disciples? Had He not taught them with increasing emphasis that the Son of man must suffer in Jerusalem, for the salvation of many? Had He forgotten all of this?

No! But He who with us became completely human, experiences what each human being would experience in such extreme circum­stances. Who would after days of constant fear of death, after hours of unbearable torture, in the depth of the throes of death, be able to think "straight"? Who would be able at the deepest moment of temptation to calmly "list all the points"? Who would be able to rational­ize everything coolly? The perplexing pressure of suffering, the blinding pain paralyzed the ability to think. Christ became "as one clump of suffering." Only one cry came across His lips...

And so numerous 'why' cries resound, in the psalms as well as in daily life. But what a great comfort it is to know that all the why's of all people, of all times, as it were, were summa­rized, bundled and addressed to heaven: "...why have you forsaken me?" Yes, all our why's find in His why the answer, for He, too, could not suppress that cry!

However, as soldiers prepare themselves for war and — if all is well — hope that it does not come, Christians ought to prepare themselves for all the trouble that could happen to them in life.

The Psalms do not invite us to strive after the extreme circumstances they contain and describe. They ready us to cope with them if and when they come about. Those who live with the psalms, and (spiritually) grow with the psalms, will also like Christ on the cross, find here the words needed to endure and cope with the trials of the moment.

For in such a moment you are less in need of an explanation — even if it were completely correct — than of comfort. Then you are in need of a word that you can take along, that goes with you into that valley, that takes you by the hand and says: "Come! Come! We are going back to God. You do not understand every­thing, and it is also terribly difficult. But He surrounds you with His love, even though you do not now notice it."

He is your shepherd!
You lack nothing (even though it doesn't seem so...)
Even when you go through a valley of deep darkness,
You do not have to be scared of anything,
For He stays with you...

He has a prepared a meal for you,
Right in front of the eyes of those who stamp down on you.
Come! For with Him you know that goodness
and love will follow you All through your life.
For you are allowed to live in the Lord's house
For years to come...⁸