undone by the Psalms

Tomorrow is (barring a snow day) the last session for my Psalms class at George Fox University.

The Psalms have undone us.

They have stripped us of pretense, caught us unawares, awoken our senses, and shocked us out of our numbness. They have invited us to do the unthinkable -- to say what we really think, and to say it straight to God.

Our mentors this semester have been Walter Brueggemann and John and Kathleen Goldingay, as well as each other. The Goldingays have helped us to think about how to read the Psalms -- even the ugly ones -- as Christians, and to read them boldly.

Brueggemann has opened up new ways of thinking about the Psalms in relation to the world we inhabit. He has repeatedly issued an invitation to name reality. From his perspective, the psalms are far from tame and tepid. They are unruly and dangerous.

Even though I've come to expect this language from Brueggemann, his writings on the praise psalms caught me off guard. Praise psalms are the ones I used to think were typical, predictably cheerful. But Brueggemann woke me from my readerly slumber, highlighting five things about praise in his book, From Whom No Secrets Are Hid: Introducing the Psalms:

"First, praise is an act of imagination, not description. It sees the world through the lens of faith and dares" to suppose that there is more than meets the eye (46, bold added).

"Second, hymns of praise are acts of devotion with political and polemic overtones. . . . The very act of praise itself envisions a new world, a different world, a world alternative to the one in front of us. Indeed, hymns of praise are acts of defiance of the world that is in front of us" (47, bold added). 

 "Third, the Psalms voice and are embedded in a larger narrative in which [Yahweh] is the key character and lively agent." This narrative is necessary to the act of praise. It is not vague and spiritual but particular and embodied. "Each generation [is invited] to be a continuing participant in that narrative" (47, bold added).

"Fourth, doxology is the exuberant abandonment of self over to God. . . . Our self-yielding praise is a measure of our capacity to give our lives over to God" (47-48, bold added).

"Fifth and last, the hymns of praise with their exuberant self-abandonment without reservation into the God of large and particular narratives are quite in contrast with what we currently call 'praise songs' . . . [which often constitute] not a ceding of self, but a pre-occupation with self and a private religious expression that lacks depth or breadth" (48, bold added). 

If we really catch hold of this we'll turn everything upside down.
To praise God as king of all the earth relativizes the power of any human ruler.
To praise God as redeemer recognizes both pain and rescue, bondage and freedom.
To praise God as creator acknowledges a personal power behind the beauty around us.
To praise God necessarily involves all of who I am, without pretense, without reservation.

Even here, even in the psalms I thought were business-as-usual, I am undone.

Do I dare to praise?

Do you?

Do we?

"Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD." (Psalm 150:6)

learning to see

Two events, miles apart and so very different, linked hands in plain view, inviting me to consider them side by side.

The first, a memorial service. I had only met the man once in church before a dreadful disease took hold of his mind and dragged him on a downward spiral that ended this New Year's Day. I knew only the severity of his illness and saw the sorrow and courage of his wife as she came alone on Sundays. We connected briefly, the day I learned of his condition, and I held her in my heart for the ensuing weeks. When I heard of his death, I had to be there. For Char.

... for Dear Life (Photo: C Imes)

In that hour I learned volumes about the man whose rich life was cut short. An optometrist by profession, Don spent decades helping others to see. And on weekends? He explored the outdoors — camping, fishing, hunting, hiking — toting heavy camera lenses everywhere he went. Before the service started we were treated to a sampling of his award-winning work. He had such an eye for beauty! Butterflies up close, wildebeests crossing muddy rivers, birds in flight. Anyone can whip out a cell phone and snap a picture of nice scenery. It takes a special "eye" (and sophisticated equipment) to get the angle and the lighting and the aperture just right so that the picture comes alive. Don possessed that special sight.

From the service I headed directly to Newberg to teach my class on Wisdom Literature. The order of the day was understanding how Hebrew poetry works, especially proverbs. We began by discussing a chapter from Leland Ryken's Words of Delight: A Literary Introduction to the Bible. One student spoke up, "I really like how he related proverbs to photography. That's such an interesting way of thinking about it." Aha! Indeed, Ryken refers to these "wisdom teachers" as "the photographers of the Bible" (316, paraphrasing Robert Short, A Time to Be Born—A Time to Die).

And it's true, isn't it? The writers of proverbs have an extraordinary eye for ordinary things. They look at the same ship, the same busy street, the same plants, but they see beyond the surface, making connections that enlighten our minds and dazzle our ears. Here's a glimpse through the eyes of a sage:

"The LORD tears down the house of the proud,
but he sets the widow's boundary stones in place." (Proverbs 15:25)

The images evoked by this proverb, chosen at random, are so vivid! See Yahweh himself, muscles gleaming in the hot Mediterranean sun, as he demolishes a stone house. See him cross the field with stone after plaster-crusted stone and place each deliberately as a boundary, while the grateful widow looks on, tears streaming down her face. See the proud man with arms crossed and furrowed brow, sputtering frustration, but unable to defend himself.

The sage could have said, "It is inadvisable to be proud" and "You should not take advantage of the poor." But here instead we have a living image, painted in words, that joins both ideas. Yahweh himself takes action. We watch him at work. We stand at the sidelines feeling chastened or grateful or energized -- depending on the state of our own hearts.

Captured Alive (Photo: C Imes)

And as we seek to understand this picture in words, we begin to see what the wise one sees. We are overtaken by wonder.

More than one person at the memorial service told us that they had one of Don's stunning pictures on display at home. They were grateful to have been given his eyes, to experience his love of creation, and to have had their own wonder awakened. Don, a modern sage, helped others to see the wisdom and beauty of God's handiwork.

Ironically, in the final months of his life, Don's eyesight faded until he was completely blind. His caregiver spoke about the doctor's blindness. As he lost physical sight, he began to experience vivid visions of glory. He would take the hands of those around him and ask, "Do you see it? Do you see Jesus in all of his glory?" Don was learning to see in other dimensions, and his faith grew in leaps and bounds over those dark weeks and months. The eye doctor who possessed such extraordinary vision in this life far preferred his new-found spiritual sight.

May we, too, learn to see.

way back when

'friend' used to be a noun
   someone tangible and here
'like' used to be a verb
a 'chat' took place in shared time
   and space
a 'post' was something solid
   driven in the ground
   unmoving
words were reliable,
   predictable,
   stable
   ink on paper,
   book on shelf
a phone was how we called home

but now
friends are virtual
   and transitory
we stare at flat screens
   instead of faces, 'liking' but not talking
and watch words fly up
   as we scroll down (like you just did)
   a moment is all they have
   to make their big impression
posts last one day
   maybe two
   before fading into forgotten history
a phone is a way to leave home
   traveling into other people's lives
hoping they are less empty
than our own

note to self

who i am
cannot be measured
by pages read
words written
or posts published

i am not
quantifiable
defined by success

who i am
cannot be rated
by peer approval
or faculty accolades

i am not
qualitatively
subject to opinion

who i am
is only visible in mercy's light
undeserved redemption

i am not
what i do

i am not
who they think

i am
His

a story he's writing
his treasured possession
designed
equipped
freed
and released
...to magnify His goodness
and celebrate His grace
i am His

how does a poem mean?

The intellectual highlight of my time at ETS/SBL in Atlanta was the Sunday morning session on the Theology of Hebrew Poetry.  An outstanding line-up of scholars presented papers and responses on the topic of how Hebrew poetry conveys theology. It's common, I think, to assume that we have to rely on the prosaic sections of Scripture for our theology (the Old Testament law, for example, or Jesus' Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5, or Paul's letter to the Romans).  This group of scholars explored the ways in which poetry makes a distinctive contribution to theology.


John Goldingay, of Fuller Theological Seminary, suggested that poetic metaphors make it possible to say things that are difficult to express otherwise.  He said, "Poetry makes it possible to describe the indescribable." At the same time, the genius of poetry is that it obscures things.  It makes people think and yield before they fully understand. Difficulties in the text are sometimes deliberate, requiring readers to wrestle with the message.


Andrea Weiss, from Hebrew-Union College, also talked about metaphors.  She focused on cases where mixed metaphors are used to describe God (for example, see Isa 42:13-14, where God is like a warrior and a woman in labor).  She concluded that no one metaphor alone can capture what needs to be communicated about God.  When metaphors are mixed, it sparks our attention and invites our consideration, delight, and surprise.


Julia O'Brien, from Lancaster Theological Seminary, gave the most thought-provoking address. She spoke about the poetry of the Old Testament prophets. The style itself is violent, disruptive and jarring, seeking to shock the reader into new insights about our inscrutable God. Poetry obscures reality, yet translators and commentators try to smooth out and soften it, making the text more coherent. O'Brien urged us to stop trying to tame the Bible, and to enter the fray and experience it the way it was written.  She says that the prophets, by jarring us from our complacency, show us the absolute power of Yahweh.


After a semester of translating Hebrew poetry, I can say that O'Brien is right. The poetry of the Old Testament is jarring.  Short, choppy lines with hardly any connecting words, bizarre metaphors and rapid changes of subject are the norm.  I have always loved the prophets for their boldness and willingness to say what is unpopular because the Spirit of Yahweh burns within them.  Perhaps we do a disservice to the readers of Scripture when we try to tame the text so it can be clearly understood.  We are meant to wrestle with its message, bitter though it may be, so that we can know the will of God.  He is serious about sin and not interested in mincing words.  God is love, but he is also holy, and we cannot have one without the other. 

Psalm 24

The Psalms are beautiful in English; they are stunning in Hebrew.

Hebrew poetry is laid out in exquisitely balanced lines where several components work together to give the sense that the second line belongs somehow with the first and enhances its meaning.  Biblical poetry doesn't have rhyme, rhythm, or meter (the way we think of it), but it is artistically captivating.  If you have studied Hebrew (or if you haven't but are highly motivated), I highly recommend two books on the subject: The Idea of Biblical Poetry by James Kugel, and The Dynamics of Biblical Parallelism by Adele Berlin.  Both were very, very helpful to me.

I've immersed myself in Psalm 24 this week, writing an exegesis paper on it.  Here is my translation, with a few notes on what has stood out to me.

Psalm 24
1 Of David, A song.

The earth and its fullness (are) Yahweh’s,
the world and those dwelling in it.
2 Because he himself laid its foundation upon the seas,
and established it upon the rivers.

Yahweh is the God of the whole earth.  This is remarkable, because other nations of that day claimed to have their own deity, specific to their region.  Israel declares that her God is the Lord of the whole earth.
Why does the whole world belong to Yahweh?  Simple.  He made it!
He subdued the chaos of nothingness and made a place we can inhabit.

3 Who may go up on the mountain of Yahweh?

And who may stand in his holy place?
(One who has) clean hands and a pure heart
who does not lift up my soul to vanity
and does not swear deceitfully.
5 He will carry a blessing from Yahweh
and righteousness from his saving God.
6 This (is the) generation seeking him,
the seekers of your face. Jacob. Selah.

How, then, can those who are citizens of this world made by Yahweh please Him? We must have clean actions and pure motives.  What we say we will do, we must do. That is the kind of person Yahweh blesses.  The descendents of Jacob, the deceiver, are unlikely candidates, but God delights in new beginnings!  Take note that the one who ascends is not bowing in worship but standing, perhaps making a request.  Those who want their prayers to be heard need to be this kind of person.

7 Lift up your heads, O gates

and be lifted up, O ancient doors,
so the glorious king may come in.
8 Who is this glorious king?
Yahweh, strong and mighty;
Yahweh, mighty (in) battle.
9 Lift up your heads, O gates,
and lift up, O ancient doors,
so the glorious king may come in.
10 Who is he then – this glorious king?
Yahweh of armies;
He (is) the glorious king. Selah.

Most commentators suppose that this section of the Psalm is a liturgy celebrating the bringing of the ark of God into Jerusalem.  If they are right, Yahweh would have been seated above it with his feet resting on the cherubim.  The gates would certainly have needed to 'lift their heads' for God to fit through! 

But here's my nagging question, and none of the commentaries are asking it.  David asks who may ascend the hill of the Lord (i.e. Jerusalem), and describes the kind of righteous person who is allowed to stand in the presence of God.  Next we see Yahweh Himself making the ascent and entering the city.  Is this to suggest that He alone is righteous?  Does this hint that He will have to be the answer to the quest for a righteous person who can intercede for the people?  If so, David's song points forward to the New Testament (see John 12:12-16).

N. T. Wright says this: "Jesus' prophetic vocation thus included within it the vocation to enact, symbolically, the return of YHWH to Zion." (Jesus and the Victory of God, 653)

Lift up your heads, O Gates,
And be lifted up, O ancient doors,
That the glorious king - JESUS - may come in!