Pope John Paul II’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 11

A prayer of trust to the Lord
who is not indifferent to right and wrong

1. We continue our reflection on the Psalms, which comprise the essential element of the Liturgy of Vespers. We have just made ring out in our hearts Psalm 11[10], a brief prayer of trust that, in the original Hebrew, is studded with the holy name ‘Adonaj, the Lord. This name echoes at the beginning (cf. v. 1), is found three times at the heart of the Psalm (cf. vv. 4-5), and returns at the end (cf. v. 7).

The spiritual key of the entire psalm is well-expressed in the concluding verse:  “For the Lord is just, he loves just deeds”. This is the root of all trust and the source of all hope on the day of darkness and trial. God is not indifferent to right and wrong:  he is a good God and not a dark, incomprehensible, mysterious destiny.

2. The psalm unfolds substantially in two scenes: in the first (cf. vv. 1-3), the wicked man is described in his apparent victory. He is portrayed in the guise of a warrior or hunter:  the evildoer bends his long or hunter’s bow to violently strike his victim, that is, the just one (cf. v. 2). The latter, therefore, is tempted by the thought of escape to free himself from such a merciless fate. He would rather flee “to the mountain like a bird” (v. 1), far from the vortex of evil, from the onslaught of the wicked, from the slanderous darts launched by treacherous sinners.

There is a kind of discouragement in the faithful one who feels alone and powerless before the irruption of evil. The pillars of a just social order seem shaken, and the very foundations of human society undermined (cf. v. 3).

3. Now, the turning point comes in sight, outlined in the second scene (cf. vv. 4-7). The Lord, seated on the heavenly throne, takes in the entire human horizon with his penetrating gaze. From that transcendent vantage point, sign of the divine omniscience and omnipotence, God is able to search out and examine every person, distinguishing the righteous from the wicked and forcefully condemning injustice (cf. vv. 4-5).

The image of the divine eye whose pupil is fixed and attentive to our actions is very evocative and consoling. The Lord is not a distant king, closed in his gilded world, but rather is a watchful Presence who sides with goodness and justice. He sees and provides, intervening by word and action.

The righteous person foresees that, as happened in Sodom (cf. Gn 19: 24), the Lord makes “rain upon the wicked fiery coals and brimstone” (Ps 11[10]: 6), symbols of God’s justice that purifies history, condemning evil. The wicked man, struck by this burning rain – a prefiguration of his final destiny – finally experiences that “there is a God who is judge on earth!” (Ps 58[57]: 12).

4. The Psalm, however, does not end with this tragic image of punishment and condemnation. The final verse opens onto a horizon of light and peace intended for the righteous one who contemplates his Lord, a just Judge, but especially a merciful liberator:  “the upright shall see his face” (Ps 11[10]: 7). This is an experience of joyful communion and of serene trust in God who frees from evil.

Down through history, countless righteous people have had a similar experience. Many stories tell of the trust of Christian martyrs during torment and their steadfastness that kept them firm in trial.

In the Atti de Euplo, the deacon martyr from Sicily who died around 304 A.D. under the rule of Diocletian spontaneously exclaims in this sequence of prayers:  “Thank you, O Christ:  shield me as I suffer for you…. I adore the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. I adore the Holy Trinity…. Thank you, O Christ. Come to my aid, O Christ! For you I suffer, Christ…. Great is your glory, O Lord, in the servants whom you count worthy to call to yourself!… I thank you, Lord Jesus Christ, because your strength has comforted me; you have not permitted my soul to be lost with the evildoers and you have given me the grace of your name. Now confirm what you have done in me, so that the shameless enemy is put to confusion” (cf. A. Hamman, Preghiere dei Primi Cristiani, Milan, 1955, pp. 72-73). [source]

Pope John Paul II’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 47 (46)

In the Greek Septuagint and Latin Vulgate this is Psalm number 46. In most modern bibles it is identified as Psalm 47.

PRAISE THE LORD, KING OF ALL THE EARTH

1. “The Lord, the most high, is a great King over all the earth!”. This initial acclamation is repeated in different tones in Psalm 46 (47), which we just prayed. It is designed as a hymn to the sovereign Lord of the universe and of history:  “God is king over all the earth … God rules over all nations” (vv. 8-9).

Like other similar compositions in the Psalter (cf. Ps 92; 95-98), this hymn to the Lord, the king of the world and of mankind presumes an atmosphere of liturgical celebration. For that reason, we are at the heart of the spiritual praise of Israel, which rises to heaven from the Temple, the place where the infinite and eternal God reveals himself and meets his people.

2. We will follow this canticle of joyful praise in its fundamental moments like two waves of the sea coming toward the shore. They differ in the way they consider the relationship between Israel and the nations. In the first part of the psalm, the relationship is one of domination:  God “has subdued the peoples under us, he has put the nations under our feet” (v. 4); in the second part, instead, the relationship is one of association:  “the princes of the peoples are gathered with the people of the God of Abraham” (v. 10). One can notice great progress.

In the first part (cf. vv. 2-6) it says, “All you peoples clap your hands, shout to God with joyful cries!” (v. 2). The centre of this festive applause is the grandiose figure of the supreme Lord, to whom the psalm attributes three glorious titles:  “most high, great and terrible” (v. 3). They exalt the divine transcendence, the absolute primacy of being, omnipotence. The Risen Christ will also exclaim:  “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Mt 28,18).

3. In the universal lordship of God over all the peoples of the earth (cf. v. 4) the psalmist stresses his particular presence in Israel, the people of divine election, “the favourite”, the most precious and dear inheritance (cf. v. 5). Israel is the object of a particular love of God which is manifested with the victory over hostile nations. During the battle, the presence of the Ark of the Covenant with the troops of Israel assured them of God’s help; after the victory, the Ark was returned to Mount Zion (cf. Ps 67 [68],19) and all proclaimed, “God mounts his throne amid shouts of joy, the Lord amid trumpet blasts” (Ps 46 [47],6).

4. The second part of the Psalm (cf. vv. 7-10) opens with another wave of praise and festive chant:  “Sing praise to God, sing praise; sing praise to our king, sing praises … sing hymns of praise!” (vv. 7-8). Even now one sings to the Lord seated on his throne in the fullness of his sovereignty (cf. v. 9). The royal seat is defined as “holy”, because it is unapproachable by the finite and sinful human being. But the Ark of the Covenant present in the most sacred part of the Temple of Zion is also a heavenly throne. In this way the distant and transcendent God, holy and infinite, draws near to his creatures, adapting himself to space and time (cf. I Kgs 8,27.30).

5. The psalm finishes on a surprising note of universalist openness:  “the princes of the peoples are gathered with the people of the God of Abraham” (v. 10). One goes back to Abraham the patriarch who is at the root, not only of Israel but also of other nations. To the chosen people who are his descendents, is entrusted the mission of making converge towards the Lord all nations and all cultures, because he is the God of all mankind. From East to West they will gather on Zion to meet the king of peace and love, of unity and brotherhood (cf. Mt 8,11). As the prophet Isaiah hoped, the peoples who are hostile to one another, will receive the invitation to lay down their arms and to live together under the divine sovereignty, under a government of justice and peace (Is 2,2-5). The eyes of all are fixed on the new Jerusalem where the Lord “ascends” to be revealed in the glory of his divinity. It will be “an immense multitude, which no one can count, from every nation, race, people and tongue … they (all) cried out with a loud voice:  Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on his throne and to the Lamb” (Apoc 7,9.10).

6. The Letter to the Ephesians sees the realization of this prophecy in the mystery of Christ the Redeemer when it affirms, addressing Christians who did not come from Judaism:  “Remember, that one time you pagans by birth,… were without Christ, excluded from the citizenship of Israel, extraneous to the covenant of the promise, without hope and without God in this world. Now instead, in Christ Jesus, you who were once far off have been brought near thanks to the blood of Christ. In fact, he is our peace, he who made of the two one people, destroying the dividing wall of enmity” (Eph 2,1-14).

In Christ then, the kingship of God, sung by our psalm, is realized on earth in the meeting of all people. This is the way an anonymous 8th century homily commented on this mystery:  “Until the coming of the Messiah, hope of the nations, the Gentiles did not adore God and did not know who he is. Until the Messiah redeemed them, God did not reign over the nations through their obedience and their worship. Now instead, with his Word and his Spirit, God reigns over them because he saved them from deception and made them his friends” (Anonymous Palestinian, Arab-Christian Homily of the Eighth Century, Rome 1994, p. 100).

Pope John Paul II’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 148

PRAISE TO HIM WHO SITS UPON THE THRONE

1. Psalm 148 that we have just lifted up to God is a true “canticle of creatures”, a kind of Old Testament Te Deum, a cosmic “alleluia” that involves everyone and everything in divine praise.

This is how a contemporary exegete has commented on it:  “The Psalmist, calling them by name, puts beings in order. Above are the heavens with two heavenly bodies, that move according to time, and then the stars; on the one side are the fruit-trees and on the other the cedars; on one level the reptiles, on the other birds; here the princes, over there the people; in two lines, perhaps holding hands, young men and maidens …. God has established them, giving them their place and role; the human being accepts them, giving them their place in language, and arranged in this way, introduces them into the liturgical celebration. Man is the “shepherd of being’ or the liturgist of creation” (L. Alonso Schökel, Trenta salmi:  poesia e preghiera [Thirty Psalms, Poetry and Prayer], Bologna, 1982, p. 499).

Let us too follow this universal chorus that echoes in the apse of heaven and whose temple is the whole cosmos. Let us join in the breathing forth of the praise that all creatures raise to their Creator.

2. We find in the heavens the singers of the starry universe:  the remotest heavenly bodies, the choirs of angels, the sun and moon, the shining stars, the “highest heavens” (v. 4), that is, the starry space and the waters above the heavens, which the man of the Bible imagines were stored in reservoirs before falling on the earth as rain.

The “alleluia”, that is, the invitation to “praise the Lord”, resounds at least eight times, and has as its final goal the order and harmony of the heavenly bodies:  “He fixed their bounds which cannot be passed” (v. 6).

We then lift our eyes to the earthly horizon where a procession of at least 22 singers unfolds:  a sort of alphabet of praise whose letters are strewn over our planet. Here are the sea monsters and the depths of the sea, symbols of the watery chaos on which the earth is founded (cf. Ps 23[24],2), according to the ancient Semite conception of the cosmos.

St Basil, a Father of the Church observed:  “Not even the deep was judged as contemptible by the Psalmist, who included them in the general chorus of creation, and what is more, with its own language completes the harmonious hymn to the Creator” (Homiliae in hexaemeron, III 9:  PG 29,75).

3. The procession continues with the creatures of the atmosphere:  the flash of lightening, hail, snow, frost and stormy winds, thought to be a swift messenger of God (Ps 148,8).

Then the mountains and hills appear, popularly held to be the most ancient creatures (cf. v. 9a). The vegetable kingdom is represented by the fruit-trees and cedars (cf. v. 9b). The animal kingdom is represented by the beasts, cattle, reptiles and flying birds (cf. v. 10).

Finally, the human being, who presides over the liturgy of creation, is represented according to all ages and distinctions:  boys, youth and the old, princes, kings and nations (cf. vv. 11-12).

4. Let us now entrust to St John Chrysostom the task of casting a comprehensive look upon this immense chorus. He does so in words that refer also to the Canticle of the three young men in the fiery furnace, which we meditated upon in the last catechesis.

The great Father of the Church and Patriarch of Constantinople says:  “Because of their great rectitude of spirit, when the saints gather to thank God, they used to invite many to join with them in singing his praise, urging them to take part with them in this beautiful liturgy. This is what the three young men in the furnace also did, when they called the whole of creation to praise and sing hymns to God for the benefit received” (Dn 3).

This Psalm does the same calling both parts of the world, that which is above and that which is below, the sentient and the intelligent. The Prophet Isaiah also did this, when he said: “Sing for joy, O heavens, and rejoice, O earth! … for the Lord has comforted his people and shows mercy to his afflicted” (Is 49,13). The Psalter goes on:  “When Israel went forth from Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language … the mountains skipped like rams, the hills like lambs” (Ps 113[114],1,4); and elsewhere in Isaiah, “Let the heavens rain down justice like dew from above” (Is 45,8). Indeed, considering themselves inadequate on their own to sing praise to the Lord, the saints “turn to all sides involving all things in singing a common hymn” (Expositio in psalmum CXLVIII:  PG 55, 484-485).

5. We are also invited to join this immense choir, becoming the explicit voice of every creature and praising God in the two fundamental dimensions of his mystery. On the one hand, we must adore his transcendent greatness, “for his name alone is exalted; his glory is above earth and heaven” as our Psalm says (v. 13). On the other hand, we should recognize his goodness in coming down to us because God is close to his creatures and comes especially to help his people:  “He has raised up a horn for his people … for the people of Israel who are near to him” (v. 14), as the Psalmist re-affirms.

Before the almighty and merciful Creator, let us take up St Augustine’s invitation to praise him, exalt him and celebrate him in his works:  “When you observe these creatures and enjoy them and rise up to the Architect of all things and of created things, when you contemplate his invisible attributes intellectually, then a confession rises on earth and in heaven…. If creation is beautiful, how much more beautiful must its Creator be?” (Esposizioni sui Salmi [Expositions on the Psalms], IV, Rome, 1977, pp. 887-889).

Pope John Paul II’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 93 (92 in Vulgate)

God is our strength in the storms of life
Psalm 92 [93]

1. The essential content of Psalm 92 [93] on which we are reflecting today is evocatively expressed by some verses of the Hymn in the Liturgy of the Hours for Vespers of Monday:  “O, immense Creator who, in the harmony of the cosmos laid out a path and a limit for the pounding waves of the sea, you gave to the harsh deserts of the parched earth the refreshment of rivers and seas”.

Before entering the heart of the Psalm with its powerful image of the waters, let us understand its basic tone, the literary genre that supports it. In fact, our Psalm, like the following Psalms 95-98, is described by Bible scholars as “a song acclaiming Our Lord the King”. It exalts the Kingdom of God, the source of peace, truth and love, which we pray for in the “Our Father” when we implore:  “Thy Kingdom come!”.

Indeed, Psalm 92 [93] opens precisely with a joyful acclamation:  “The Lord reigns!” (v. 1). The Psalmist celebrates the active kingship of God, that is, his effective and saving action which creates the world and redeems man. The Lord is not an impassive emperor relegated to his distant heavens, but is present among his people as Saviour, powerful and great in love.

2. The Lord, the King, occupies the first part of this hymn of praise. Like a sovereign, he is seated on a throne of glory, a throne that is indestructible and eternal (cf. v. 2). His mantle is the splendour of transcendence, the belt of his robe is omnipotence (cf. v. 1). The omnipotent sovereignty of God is revealed at the heart of the Psalm, which compares it to the striking image of turbulent waters.

The Psalmist mentions in particular the “voice” of the rivers, in other words, the roaring of their waters. Actually, the thundering of great waterfalls produces a sensation of tremendous force in those whose ears are deafened and whose whole body is seized with trembling. Psalm 41 [42] evokes the same sensation when it says:  “Deep is calling on deep, in the roar of waters; your torrents and all your waves swept over me” (v. 8). The human being feels small before this natural force. The Psalmist, however, uses it as a trampoline to exalt the power of the Lord, which is greater by far. The triple repetition of the words:  “have lifted up” (cf. Ps 92 [93], 3) their voice, is answered by the triple affirmation of the superior might of God.

3. The Fathers of the Church like to comment on this Psalm by applying it to Christ, “Lord and Saviour”. Origen, translated into Latin by St Jerome, says:  “The Lord reigns, he is robed in beauty. That is, he who formerly trembled in the misery of the flesh, now shines in the majesty of divinity”. For Origen, the rivers and waters that lift up their voices represent the “authoritative figures of the prophets and the apostles” who “proclaim the praise and glory of the Lord and announce his judgements for the whole world (cf. 74 omelie sul libro dei Salmi, Milan 1993, pp. 666; 669).

St Augustine develops the symbol of the torrents and oceans even further. Like swollen rivers in full spate, that is, filled with the Holy Spirit and strengthened, the Apostles are no longer afraid and finally raise their voice. However, “when many voices begin to announce Christ, the sea starts to get rough”. In the ebb and flow of the ocean of the world, Augustine says, the little barque of the Church seems to rock fearfully, menaced by threats and persecutions, but “the Lord is full of wonder on high”; he “walked upon the waters of the sea and calmed the waves” (Esposizioni sui salmi, III, Rome 1976, p. 231).

4. Yet God, sovereign of all things, almighty and invincible, is always close to his people, to whom he imparts his teachings. This is the idea that Psalm 92 [93] expresses in the last verse:  the highest throne of the heavens is succeeded by the throne of the ark of the temple of Jerusalem, the power of God’s cosmic voice is replaced by the sweetness of his holy and infallible words:  “Your decrees are very sure; holiness befits your house, O Lord, for ever more” (v. 5).

Thus ends a short hymn, but one with real prayerful breadth. It is a prayer that instils confidence and hope in the faithful who often feel restless, afraid of being overwhelmed by the storms of history and struck by dark, impending forces.

An echo of this Psalm can be detected in the Apocalypse of John when the inspired author, describing the great gathering in heaven that is celebrating the fall of oppressive Babylon says:  “I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunderpeals, crying, “Alleluia! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns’” (19,6).

5. Let us end our reflection on Psalm 92 [93] by listening to the words of St Gregory of Nazianzus, “the theologian” par excellence among the Fathers:  We do so through one of his beautiful poems in which praise to God, Sovereign and Creator, acquires a Trinitarian dimension:  “You, [Father], have created the universe, giving everything its rightful place and preserving it through your providence…. Your Word is God the Son:  indeed, he is consubstantial with the Father, equal to him in honour. He has harmoniously tuned the universe to reign over all things. And in embracing them all, the Holy Spirit, God, safeguards and cares for all things. I will proclaim You, the living Trinity, the one and only monarch … steadfast strength that sustains the heavens, a gaze inaccessible to our sight but which contemplates the whole universe and penetrates every secret depth of the earth to its abysses. O Father, be good to me:  … may I find mercy and grace, because glory and grace are to you to the age without end” (Carm. 31 in Poesie/1, Rome 1994, pp. 65-66).

Pope Benedict XVI’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 130

Psalm 130[129]
“Lord, hear my voice!’
Evening Prayer – Sunday of Week Fourth

1. One of the Psalms best-known and best-loved in Christian tradition has just been proclaimed:  the De profundis, as it was called from its beginning in the Latin version. With the Miserere, it has become one of the favourite penitential Psalms of popular devotion.

Over and above its use at funerals, the text is first and foremost a hymn to divine mercy and to the reconciliation between the sinner and the Lord, a God who is just but always prepared to show himself “a merciful and gracious God, slow to anger and rich in kindness and fidelity, continuing his kindness for a thousand generations, and forgiving wickedness and crime and sin” (Ex 34: 6-7).

For this very reason, our Psalm is inserted into the liturgy of Vespers for Christmas and for the whole Octave of Christmas, as well as in the liturgy of the Fourth Sunday of Easter and of the Solemnity of the Annunciation.

2. Psalm 130[129] opens with a voice that rises from the depths of evil and sin (cf. vv. 1-2). The person who is praying addresses the Lord in the first person: “I cry to you, O Lord”. The Psalm then develops in three parts, dedicated to the subject of sin and forgiveness. The Psalmist first of all addresses God directly, using the “Tu”: ”If you, O Lord, should mark our guilt, Lord, who would survive? But with you is found forgiveness:  for this we revere you” (vv. 3-4).

It is significant that reverent awe, a sentiment in which respect and love are mingled, is not born from punishment but from forgiveness. Rather than sparking his anger, God’s generous and disarming magnanimity must kindle in us a holy reverence. Indeed, God is not an inexorable sovereign who condemns the guilty but a loving father whom we must love, not for fear of punishment, but for his kindness, quick to forgive.

3. At the centre of the second part is the “I” of the person praying, who no longer addresses the Lord in the first person but talks about him: I trust in the Lord. “My soul is waiting for the Lord, I count on his word. My soul is longing for the Lord more than watchman for daybreak” (vv. 5-6). Expectation, hope, the certainty that God will speak a liberating word and wipe away the sin are now blossoming in the heart of the repentant Psalmist.

The third and last part in the development of the Psalm extends to the whole of Israel, to the people, frequently sinful and conscious of the need for God’s saving grace: ”Let Israel… count on the Lord. Because with the Lord there is mercy and fullness of redemption; Israel indeed he will redeem from all its iniquity” (vv. 7-8).

The personal salvation that the praying person implores at the outset is now extended to the entire community. The Psalmist’s faith is grafted on to the historical faith of the people of the Covenant, “redeemed” by the Lord not only from the distress of the Egyptian oppression but “from all its iniquity”. Only think that it is we who are now the chosen people, the People of God. And our faith grafts us on to the common faith of the Church. In this very way it gives us the certainty that God is good to us and sets us free from our sins.

Rising from the shadowy vortex of sin the supplication of the De profundis reaches God’s shining horizon where “mercy and fullness of redemption” are dominant, two great characteristics of God who is love.

4. Let us now entrust ourselves to the meditation that Christian tradition has woven into this Psalm. Let us choose St Ambrose’s words: in his writings he often recalled the reasons that motivated him to invoke pardon from God.

“We have a good Lord who wants to forgive everyone”, he recalled in his Treatise on Penance, and he added: “If you want to be justified, confess your fault: a humble confession of sins untangles the knot of faults…. You see with what hope of forgiveness you are impelled to make your confession” (2, 6, 40-41:  Sancti Ambrosii Episcopi Mediolanensis Opera [SAEMO], XVII, Milan-Rome, 1982, p. 253).

In the Exposition of the Gospel according to Luke, repeating the same invitation, the Bishop of Milan expressed his wonder at the gifts that God added to his forgiveness: “You see how good God is and ready to pardon sins:  not only does he give back everything he had taken away, but he also grants unhoped for gifts”. Zechariah, John the Baptist’s father, lost the ability to speak because he did not believe the angel, but subsequently, in pardoning him, God granted him the gift of prophecy in the hymn of the Benedictus: “The one who could not speak now prophesies”, St Ambrose said, adding that “it is one of the greatest graces of the Lord, that those who have denied him should confess belief in him. Therefore, no one should lose trust, no one should despair of the divine reward, even if previous sins cause him remorse. God can change his opinion if you can make amends for your sin” (2, 33:  SAEMO, XI, Milan-Rome, 1978, p. 175).

Pope Benedict XVI’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 23

This talk was delivered as part of the Pope’s Wednesday catechesis on prayer (scroll down to the heading “Catechesis On Prayer”).

Psalm 23
Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Turning to the Lord in prayer implies a radical act of trust, in the awareness that one is entrusting oneself to God who is good, “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Ex 34:6-7; Ps 86[85]:15; cf. Joel 2:13; Jon 4:2; Ps 103 [102]:8; 145[144]:8; Neh 9:17). For this reason I would like to reflect with you today on a Psalm that is totally imbued with trust, in which the Psalmist expresses his serene certainty that he is guided and protected, safe from every danger, because the Lord is his Shepherd. It is Psalm 23 [22, according to the Greco-Latin numbering], a text familiar to all and loved by all.

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want”: the beautiful prayer begins with these words, evoking the nomadic environment of sheep-farming and the experience of familiarity between the shepherd and the sheep that make up his little flock. The image calls to mind an atmosphere of trust, intimacy and tenderness: the shepherd knows each one of his sheep and calls them by name; and they follow him because they recognize him and trust in him (cf. Jn 10:2-4).

He tends them, looks after them as precious possessions, ready to defend them, to guarantee their well-being and enable them to live a peaceful life. They can lack nothing as long as the shepherd is with them. The Psalmist refers to this experience by calling God his shepherd and letting God lead him to safe pastures: “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake” (Ps 23[22]:2-3).

The vision that unfolds before our eyes is that of green pastures and springs of clear water, oases of peace to which the shepherd leads his flock, symbols of the places of life towards which the Lord leads the Psalmist, who feels like the sheep lying on the grass beside a stream, resting rather than in a state of tension or alarm, peaceful and trusting, because it is a safe place, the water is fresh and the shepherd is watching over them.

And let us not forget here that the scene elicited by the Psalm is set in a land that is largely desert, on which the scorching sun beats down, where the Middle-Eastern semi-nomad shepherd lives with his flock in the parched steppes that surround the villages. Nevertheless the shepherd knows where to find grass and fresh water, essential to life, he can lead the way to oases in which the soul is “restored” and where it is possible to recover strength and new energy to start out afresh on the journey.

As the Psalmist says, God guides him to “green pastures” and “still waters”, where everything is superabundant, everything is given in plenty. If the Lord is the Shepherd, even in the desert, a desolate place of death, the certainty of a radical presence of life is not absent, so that he is able to say “I shall not want”. Indeed, the shepherd has at heart the good of his flock, he adapts his own pace and needs to those of his sheep, he walks and lives with them, leading them on paths “of righteousness”, that is, suitable for them, paying attention to their needs and not to his own. The safety of his sheep is a priority for him and he complies with this in leading his flock.

Dear brothers and sisters, if we follow the “Good Shepherd” — no matter how difficult, tortuous or long the pathways of our life may seem, even through spiritual deserts without water and under the scorching sun of rationalism — with the guidance of Christ the Good Shepherd, we too, like the Psalmist, may be sure that we are walking on “paths of righteousness” and that the Lord is leading us, is ever close to us and that we “shall lack nothing”. For this reason the Psalmist can declare his calm assurance without doubt or fear: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me” (v. 4).

Those who walk with the Lord even in the dark valleys of suffering, doubt and all the human problems, feel safe. You are with me: this is our certainty, this is what supports us. The darkness of the night frightens us with its shifting shadows, with the difficulty of distinguishing dangers, with its silence taut with strange sounds. If the flock moves after sunset when visibility fades, it is normal for the sheep to be restless, there is the risk of stumbling or even of straying and getting lost, and there is also the fear of possible assailants lurking in the darkness.

To speak of the “dark” valley, the Psalmist uses a Hebrew phrase that calls to mind the shadows of death, which is why the valley to be passed through is a place of anguish, terrible threats, the danger of death. Yet the person praying walks on in safety undaunted since he knows that the Lord is with him. “You are with me” is a proclamation of steadfast faith and sums up the radical experience of faith; God’s closeness transforms the reality, the dark valley loses all danger, it is emptied of every threat. Now the flock can walk in tranquillity, accompanied by the familiar rhythmical beat of the staff on the ground, marking the shepherd’s reassuring presence.

This comforting image ends the first part of the Psalm, and gives way to a different scene. We are still in the desert, where the shepherd lives with his flock, but we are now set before his tent which opens to offer us hospitality. “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows” (v. 5).

The Lord is now presented as the One who welcomes the person praying with signs of generous hospitality, full of attention. The divine host lays the food on the “table”, a term which in Hebrew means, in its primitive sense, the animal skin that was spread out on the ground and on which the food for the common meal was set out. It is a gesture of sharing, not only of food but also of life in an offering of communion and friendship that create bonds and express solidarity. Then there is the munificent gift of scented oil poured on the head, which with its fragrance brings relief from the scorching of the desert sun, refreshes and calms the skin and gladdens the spirit.

Lastly, the cup overflowing with its exquisite wine, shared with superabundant generosity, adds a note of festivity. Food, oil and wine are gifts that bring life and give joy, because they go beyond what is strictly necessary and express the free giving and abundance of love. Psalm 104[103] proclaims: “You cause the grass to grow for the cattle, and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth, and wine to gladden the heart of man, oil to make his face shine, and bread to strengthen man’s heart” (vv. 14-15).

The Psalmist becomes the object of much attention for which reason he sees himself as a wayfarer who finds shelter in a hospitable tent, whereas his enemies have to stop and watch, unable to intervene, since the one whom they considered their prey has been led to safety and has become a sacred guest who cannot be touched. And the Psalmist is us, if we truly are believers in communion with Christ. When God opens his tent to us to receive us, nothing can harm us. Then when the traveller sets out afresh, the divine protection is extended and accompanies him on his journey: “Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever” (Ps 23[22]:6).

The goodness and faithfulness of God continue to escort the Psalmist who comes out of the tent and resumes his journey. But it is a journey that acquires new meaning and becomes a pilgrimage to the Temple of the Lord, the holy place in which the praying person wants to “dwell” for ever and to which he also wants to “return”. The Hebrew verb used here has the meaning of “to return” but with a small vowel change can be understood as “to dwell”. Moreover, this is how it is rendered by the ancient versions and by the majority of the modern translations. Both meanings may be retained: to return and dwell in the Temple as every Israelite desires, and to dwell near God, close to him and to goodness. This is what every believer yearns and longs for: truly to be able to live where God is, close to him. Following the Shepherd leads to God’s house, this is the destination of every journey, the longed for oasis in the desert, the tent of shelter in escaping from enemies, a place of peace where God’s kindness and faithful love may be felt, day after day, in the serene joy of time without end.

With their richness and depth the images of this Psalm have accompanied the whole of the history and religious experience of the People of Israel and accompany Christians. The figure of the shepherd, in particular, calls to mind the original time of the Exodus, the long journey through the desert, as a flock under the guidance of the divine Shepherd (cf. Is 63:11-14; Ps 77: 20-21; 78:52-54). And in the Promised Land, the king had the task of tending the Lord’s flock, like David, the shepherd chosen by God and a figure of the Messiah (cf. 2 Sam 5:1-2; 7:8 Ps 78[77]:70-72).

Then after the Babylonian Exile, as it were in a new Exodus (cf. Is 40:3-5, 9-11; 43:16-21), Israel was brought back to its homeland like a lost sheep found and led by God to luxuriant pastures and resting places (cf. Ezek 34:11-16, 23-31). However, it is in the Lord Jesus that all the evocative power of our Psalm reaches completeness, finds the fullness of its meaning: Jesus is the “Good Shepherd” who goes in search of lost sheep, who knows his sheep and lays down his life for them (cf. Mt 18:12-14; Lk 15:4-7; Jn 10:2-4, 11-18). He is the way, the right path that leads us to life (cf. Jn 14:6), the light that illuminates the dark valley and overcomes all our fears (cf. Jn 1:9; 8:12; 9:5; 12:46).

He is the generous host who welcomes us and rescues us from our enemies, preparing for us the table of his body and his blood (cf. Mt 26:26-29; Mk 14:22-25); Lk 22:19-20) and the definitive table of the messianic banquet in Heaven (cf. Lk 14:15ff; Rev 3:20; 19:9). He is the Royal Shepherd, king in docility and in forgiveness, enthroned on the glorious wood of the cross (cf. Jn 3:13-15; 12:32; 17:4-5).

Dear brothers and sisters, Psalm 23 invites us to renew our trust in God, abandoning ourselves totally in his hands. Let us therefore ask with faith that the Lord also grant us on the difficult ways of our time that we always walk on his paths as a docile and obedient flock, and that he welcome us to his house, to his table, and lead us to “still waters” so that, in accepting the gift of his Spirit, we may quench our thirst at his sources, springs of the living water “welling up to eternal life” (Jn 4:14; cf. 7:37-39). Many thanks.

Pope Benedict XVI’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 137:1-6

“If I forget you, Jerusalem”

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

1. On this first Wednesday of Advent, a liturgical season of silence, watchfulness and prayer in preparation for Christmas, let us meditate on Psalm 137[136 in the Vulgate], whose first words in the Latin version became famous:  Super flumina Babylonis. The text evokes the tragedy lived by the Jewish people during the destruction of Jerusalem in about 586 B.C., and their subsequent and consequent exile in Babylon. We have before us a national hymn of sorrow, marked by a curt nostalgia for what has been lost.

This heartfelt invocation to the Lord to free his faithful from slavery in Babylon also expresses clearly the sentiments of hope and expectation of salvation with which we have begun our journey through Advent.

The background to the first part of the Psalm (cf. Ps 137:1-4) is the land of exile with its rivers and streams, indeed, the same that irrigated the Babylonian plain to which the Jews had been deported. It is, as it were, a symbolic foreshadowing of the extermination camps to which the Jewish people – in the century we have just left behind us – were taken in an abominable operation of death that continues to be an indelible disgrace in the history of humanity.

The second part of the Psalm (cf. Ps 137:5-6) is instead pervaded by the loving memory of Zion, the city lost but still alive in the exiles’ hearts.

2. The hand, tongue, palate, voice and tears are included in the Psalmist’s words. The hand is indispensable to the harp-player:  but it is already paralyzed (cf. Ps 137:5) by grief, also because the harps are hung up on the poplars.

The tongue is essential to the singer, but now it is stuck to the palate (cf. Ps 137:6). In vain do the Babylonian captors “ask… for songs…, songs… of joy” (cf. Ps 137:3). “Zion’s songs” are “song[s] of the Lord” (cf. Ps 137:3-4), not folk songs to be performed. Only through a people’s liturgy and freedom can they rise to Heaven.

3. God, who is the ultimate judge of history, will also know how to understand and accept, in accordance with his justice, the cry of victims, over and above the tones of bitterness that sometimes colours them.

Let us entrust ourselves to St Augustine for a further meditation on our Psalm. The great Father of the Church introduces a surprising and very timely note:  he knows that there are also people among the inhabitants of Babylon who are committed to peace and to the good of the community, although they do not share the biblical faith; the hope of the Eternal City to which we aspire is unknown to them. Within them they have a spark of desire for the unknown, for the greater, for the transcendent:  for true redemption.

And Augustine says that even among the persecutors, among the non-believers, there are people who possess this spark, with a sort of faith or hope, as far as is possible for them in the circumstances in which they live. With this faith, even in an unknown reality, they are truly on their way towards the true Jerusalem, towards Christ.

And with this openness of hope, Augustine also warns the “Babylonians” – as he calls them -, those who do not know Christ or even God and yet desire the unknown, the eternal, and he warns us too, not to focus merely on the material things of the present but to persevere on the journey to God. It is also only with this greater hope that we will be able to transform this world in the right way. St Augustine says so in these words:

“If we are citizens of Jerusalem… and must live in this land, in the confusion of this world and in this Babylon where we do not dwell as citizens but are held prisoner, then we should not just sing what the Psalm says but we should also live it:  something that is done with a profound, heartfelt aspiration, a full and religious yearning for the eternal city”.

And he adds with regard to the “earthly city called Babylon”, that it “has in it people who, prompted by love for it, work to guarantee it peace – temporal peace – nourishing in their hearts no other hope, indeed, by placing in this one all their joy, without any other intention. And we see them making every effort to be useful to earthly society”.

“Now, if they strive to do these tasks with a pure conscience, God, having predestined them to be citizens of Jerusalem, will not let them perish within Babylon:  this is on condition, however, that while living in Babylon, they do not thirst for ambition, short-lived magnificence or vexing arrogance…. He sees their enslavement and will show them that other city for which they must truly long and towards which they must direct their every effort” (Esposizioni sui Salmi, 136, 1-2:  Nuova Biblioteca Agostiniana, XXVIII, Rome, 1977, pp. 397, 399).

And let us pray to the Lord that in all of us this desire, this openness to God, will be reawakened, and that even those who do not know Christ may be touched by his love so that we are all together on the pilgrimage to the definitive City, and that the light of this City may appear also in our time and in our world.

Pope John Paul II’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 19

The abbreviation “Vulg.” is a reference to the Latin Vulgate which follows the Psalm numbering of the Greek Septuagint. “NAB” is a reference to the verse numbers as given in the New American Bible. Links are to the NRSV which includes the Psalm title under verse 1, thus accounting for the different number schemes.

Psalm 19 (Vulg. 18), God Creator creates brilliance of Sun

1. The sun, with its increasing brilliance in the heavens, the splendour of its light, the beneficial warmth of its rays, has captivated humanity from the outset. In many ways human beings have shown their gratitude for this source of life and well-being, with an enthusiasm that often reaches the peaks of true poetry. The wonderful psalm, 19[Vulg.18], whose first part has just been proclaimed, is not only a prayerful hymn of extraordinary intensity; it is also a poetic song addessed to the sun and its radiance on the face of the earth. In this way the Psalmist joins the long series of bards of the ancient Near East, who exalted the day star that shines in the heavens, and which in their regions dominates with its burning heat. It reminds us of the famous hymn to Aton, composed by the Pharoah Akhnaton in the 14th century BC and dedicated to the solar disc regarded as a deity.

But, for the man of the Bible, there is a radical difference in regard to these hymns to the sun:  The sun is not a god but a creature at the service of the one God and Creator. It is enough to think of the words of Genesis:  “God said, “Let there be lights in the firmament of the heavens to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years…. God made the two great lights, the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night…. And God saw that it it was good” (Gen 1:14, 16, 18).

2. Before examining the verses of the Psalm chosen by the liturgy, let us take a look at it as a whole. Psalm 19[18] is like a diptych:  in the first part (Ps 19:1-6 NAB 19:2-7) – that has today become our prayer – we find a hymn to the Creator, whose mysterious greatness is manifest in the sun and in the moon. In the second part of the Psalm (Ps 19:7-14, NAB 19:8-15 ), instead, we find a sapiential hymn to the Torah, the Law of God.

A common theme runs through both parts:  God lights the world with the brilliance of the sun and illuminates humanity with the splendour of his word contained in biblical Revelation. It is almost like a double sun:  the first is a cosmic epiphany of the Creator; the second is a free and historical manifestation of God our Saviour. It is not by chance that the Torah, the divine Word, is described with “solar” features:  “The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes” (Ps 19:8, NAB 19:9).

3. But let us now examine the first part of the Psalm. It begins with a wonderful personification of the heavens, that to the sacred author appear as eloquent witnesses to the creative work of God (Ps 19:1-4, NAB 19:2-5). Indeed, they “narrate”, or “proclaim” the marvels of the divine work (cf. Ps 19:1, NAB 19:2). Day and night are also portrayed as messengers that transmit the great news of creation. Their witness is a silent one, but makes itself forcefully felt, like a voice that resounds throughout the cosmos.

With the interior gaze of the soul, men and women can discover that the world is not dumb but speaks of the Creator when their interior spiritual vision, their religious intuition, is not taken up with superficiality. As the ancient sage says:  “from the greatness and beauty of created things their original author is seen by analogy” (Wis 13:5). St Paul too, reminds the Romans that “ever since the creation of the world, his (God’s) invisible perfections can be perceived with the intellect in the works that have been made by him” (Rom 1:20).

4. The hymn then yields place to the sun. The shining globe is depicted by the inspired poet as a warrior hero who emerges from the marital chamber where he spent the night, that is, he comes forth from the heart of darkness and begins his unwearying course through the heavens (Ps 19: 5-6, NAB 19:6-7). The sun is compared to an athlete, who does not know rest or fatigue, while our entire planet is enveloped in its irresistible warmth.

So the sun is compared to a bridegroom, a hero, a champion, who, by divine command, must perform a daily task, a conquest and a race in the starry spaces. And here the Psalmist points to the sun, blazing in the open sky, while the whole earth is wrapped in its heat, the air is still, no point of the horizon can escape its light.

5. The solar imagery of the Psalm is taken up by the Christian liturgy of Easter to describe Christ’s triumphant exodus from the dark tomb and his entry into the fullness of the new life of the Resurrection. At Matins for Holy Saturday, the Byzantine liturgy sings:  “As the sun rises after the night in the dazzling brightness of renewed light, so you also, O Word, will shine with new brightness, when after death, you leave your nuptial bed”. An Ode (the first) for Matins of Easter links the cosmic revelation with the Easter event of Christ:  “Let the heavens rejoice and the earth exult with them because the whole universe, visible and invisible, takes part in the feast:  Christ, our everlasting joy, is risen”. And another Ode (the third) adds:  “Today the whole universe, heaven, earth, and abyss, is full of light and the entire creation sings the resurrection of Christ our strength and our joy”. Finally, another (the fourth), concludes:  “Christ our Passover is risen from the tomb like a sun of justice shining upon all of us with the splendour of his charity”.

The Roman liturgy is not as explicit as the Eastern in comparing Christ to the sun. Yet it describes the cosmic repercussions of his Resurrection, when it begins the chant of Lauds on Easter morning with the famous hymn:  “Aurora lucis rutilat, caelum resultat laudibus, mundus exultans iubilat, gemens infernus ululat” – “The dawn has spread her crimson rays, And heaven rings with shouts of praise; The glad earth shouts her triumph high, And groaning hell makes wild reply”.

6. The Christian interpretation of the Psalm, however, does not invalidate its basic message, that is an invitation to discover the divine word present in creation. Of course, as stated in the second half of the Psalm, there is another and more exalted Word, more precious than light itself, that of biblical Revelation.

Anyway, for those who have attentive ears and open eyes, creation is like a first revelation that has its own eloquent language:  it is almost another sacred book whose letters are represented by the multitude of created things present in the universe. St John Chrysostom says:  “The silence of the heavens is a voice that resounds louder than a trumpet blast:  this voice cries out to our eyes and not to our ears, the greatness of Him who made them” (PG 49, 105). And St Athanasius says:  “The firmament with its magnificence, its beauty, its order, is an admirable preacher of its Maker, whose eloquence fills the universe” (PG 27, 124).

Pope Benedict XVI’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 132:1-10

Psalm 132[131]
“A place for the Lord’
Evening Prayer – Thursday of Week Three

1. We have heard the first part of Psalm 132[131], a hymn that the Liturgy of Vespers offers us at two different times. Many scholars think that this song would have rung out during the solemn celebration of the transportation of the Ark of the Lord, a sign of divine presence amid the people of Israel in Jerusalem, the new capital chosen by David.

In the narrative of this event, as told in the Bible, we read that King David “girt with a linen apron (efod), came dancing before the Lord with abandon, as he and all the Israelites were bringing up the ark of the Lord with shouts of joy and to the sound of the horn” (II Sm 6: 14-15).

Other experts, instead, relate Psalm 132[131] to a commemorative celebration of that ancient event, after David himself had instituted the worship in the Sanctuary of Zion.

2. Our hymn seems to suggest a liturgical dimension: it was in all likelihood sung during a procession with the presence of priests and faithful and included a choir.

Following the Liturgy of Vespers, let us reflect on the first 10 verses of the Psalm that has just been proclaimed. At the heart of this section is the solemn oath pronounced by David. Indeed, it says that, having left behind him the bitter struggle with his predecessor, King Saul, David “swore to the Lord, his vow to the Strong One of Jacob” (Ps 132[131]: 2). The content of this solemn commitment, expressed in verses 3-5, is clear: the sovereign will not set foot in the royal palace of Jerusalem, he will not go calmly to rest until he has found a dwelling place for the Ark of the Lord.

And this is a very important thing, because it shows that at the heart of the social life of a city, of a community, of a people there must be a presence that calls to mind the mystery of the transcendent God, a proper space for God, a dwelling for God. Man cannot walk well without God; he must walk together with God through history, and the task of the temple, of the dwelling of God, is to point out in a visible way this communion, this allowing God to guide.

3. Perhaps at this point, after David’s words, a liturgical choir’s words prepare the way for the memory of the past. In fact, it recalls the rediscovery of the Ark in the plains of Yearím in the Éphrata region (cf. v. 6): it had been left there for a long time after the Philistines had restored it to Israel, which had lost it during a battle (cf. I Sm 7: 1; II Sm 6: 2, 11).

Thus, it was taken from the province to the future Holy City; and our passage ends with a festive celebration which, on the one hand, shows the people worshipping (cf. Ps 132[131]: 7, 9), that is, the liturgical assembly, and on the other, the Lord who returns to make himself present and active in the sign of the Ark set in place in Zion (cf. v. 8), that is, in the heart of his people.

The heart of the liturgy is found in this intersection between priests and faithful on one side, and the Lord with his power on the other.

4. A prayerful acclamation on behalf of the kings, the successors of David, seals the first part of Psalm 132[131]. “For the sake of David your servant do not reject your anointed” (v. 10).

One sees, then, the future successor of David, “your anointed”. It is easy to perceive a Messianic dimension in this supplication, initially destined to implore support for the Hebrew sovereign in his life’s trials.

The term “anointed”, in fact, expresses the Jewish term “Messiah”: the gaze of the praying person thus extends beyond the events in the Kingdom of Judah to the great expectation of the perfect “anointed One”, the Messiah who will always be pleasing to God, and loved and blessed by him, and will be not only for Israel, but the “anointed”, the king for all the world. He, God, is with us and awaits this “anointed”, come then in the person of Jesus Christ.

5. This Messianic interpretation of the future “anointed” will dominate the Christian reinterpretation and will extend to the whole Psalm.

For example, the analogy Hesychius of Jerusalem, a priest in the first half of the fifth century, was to make between verse 8 and the Incarnation of Jesus is significant. In his Second Homily on the Mother of God, he addresses the Virgin in these words:

“Upon you and upon the One born of you, David does not cease to sing to the zither: “Rise, O Lord, and come to the place of your rest, you and the ark of your sanctification’ (cf. Ps 132[131]: 8). What is “the ark of your sanctification?’”. Hesychius replies: “The Virgin Mother of God, of course. For if you are the pearl, she is rightly the ark; if you are the sun, the Virgin must necessarily be called the sky; and if you are the uncontaminated flower, then the Virgin will be the plant of incorruption, the paradise of immortality” (Testi mariani del primo millennio, I, Rome, 1988, pp. 532-533).

This double interpretation seems very important to me. The “anointed” is Christ. Christ, the Son of God, is made flesh. And the Ark of the Covenant, the true dwelling of God in the world, not made of wood but of flesh and blood, is the Mother who offers herself to the Lord as the Ark of the Covenant and invites us also to be living dwellings for God in the world. (source. The second part of the commentary (on verses 11-18) can be read here.

Pope John Paul II’s Commentary/Meditation on Psalm 147:1-11

The Pope’s commentary/meditation on the second part of this Psalm (i.e, Ps 147:12-20) can be found here.

“Praise the Lord!’

1. The Psalm just sung is the first part of a composition that also includes the next Psalm, n. 147[146], that the original Hebrew had kept as one. It was the ancient Greek and Latin versions which divided the song into two different Psalms.

The Psalm begins with an invitation to praise God and then lists a long series of reasons to praise him, all expressed in the present tense. These are activities of God considered as characteristic and ever timely, but they could not be more different:  some concern God’s interventions in human life (cf. Ps 147[146]: 3, 6, 11) and in particular for Jerusalem and Israel (cf. v. 2); others concern the created cosmos (cf. v. 4) and more specifically, the earth with its flora and fauna (cf. vv. 8-10).

Finally, in telling us what pleases the Lord, the Psalm invites us to have a two-dimensional outlook:  of religious reverence and of confidence (cf. v. 11). We are not left to ourselves nor to the mercy of cosmic energies, but are always in the hands of the Lord, for his plan of salvation.

2. After the festive invitation to praise the Lord (cf. v. 1), the Psalm unfolds in two poetic and spiritual movements. In the first (vv. 2-6), God’s action in history is introduced with the image of a builder who is rebuilding Jerusalem, restored to life after the Babylonian Exile (cf. v. 2). However, this great mason who is the Lord also shows himself to be a father, leaning down to tend his people’s inner and physical wounds humiliated and oppressed (cf. v. 3).

Let us make room for St Augustine who, in the Enarrationes in Psalmos 146 which he gave at Carthage in the year 412, commented on the sentence “the Lord heals the brokenhearted” as follows: “Those whose hearts are not broken cannot be healed…. Who are the brokenhearted? The humble. And those who are not brokenhearted? The proud. However, the broken heart is healed, and the heart swollen with pride is cast to the ground. Indeed, it is probable that once broken it can be set aright, it can be healed. “He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds…’. In other words, he heals the humble of heart, those who confess, who are punished, who are judged with severity so that they may experience his mercy. This is what heals. Perfect health, however, will be achieved at the end of our present mortal state when our corruptible being is reinvested with incorruptibility, and our moral being with immortality” (cf. 5-8: Esposizioni sui Salmi, IV, Rome 1977, pp. 772-779).

3. God’s action, however, does not only concern uplifting his people from suffering. He who surrounds the poor with tenderness and care towers like a severe judge over the wicked (cf. v. 6). The Lord of history is not impassive before the domineering who think they are the only arbiters in human affairs:  God casts the haughty to the dusty ground, those who arrogantly challenge heaven (cf. I Sam 2: 7-8; Lk 1: 51-53).

God’s action, however, is not exhausted in his lordship over history; he is also the King of creation:  the whole universe responds to his call as Creator. Not only does he determine the boundless constellations of stars, but he names each one and hence defines its nature and characteristics (cf. Ps 147[146]: 4).

The Prophet Isaiah sang: “Lift up your eyes on high and see:  who created these [the stars]? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name” (Is 40: 26). The “hosts” of the Lord are therefore the stars. The Prophet Baruch continued: “The stars shone in their watches and were glad; he called them, and they said, “Here we are!’. They shone with gladness for him who made them” (Bar 3: 34-35).

4. Another joyful invitation to sing praises (cf. Ps 147[146]: 7) preludes the second phase of Psalm 147[146] (cf. vv. 7-11). Once again God’s creative action in the cosmos comes to the fore. In a territory where drought is common, as it is in the East, the first sign of divine love is the rain that makes the earth fertile (cf. v. 8). In this way the Creator prepares food for the animals. Indeed, he even troubles to feed the tiniest of living creatures, like the young ravens that cry with hunger (cf. v. 9). Jesus was to ask us to look at the birds of the air; “they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them” (Mt 6: 26; cf. also Lk 12: 24, with an explicit reference to “ravens”).

Yet once again our attention shifts from creation to human life. Thus, the Psalm ends by showing the Lord stooping down to the just and humble (cf. Ps 147[146]: 10-11), as was declared in the first part of our hymn (cf. v. 6). Two symbols of power are used, the horse and the legs of a man running, to intimate that divine conduct does not give in to or let power intimidate it. Once again, the Lord’s logic is above pride and the arrogance of power, and takes the side of those who are faithful, who “hope in his steadfast love” (v. 11), that is, who abandon themselves to God’s guidance in their acts and thoughts, in their planning and in their daily life.

It is also among them that the person praying must take his place, putting his hope in the Lord’s grace, certain that he will be enfolded in the mantle of divine love:  “The eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, that he may deliver their soul from death, and keep them alive in famine…. Yea, our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name” (Ps 33[32]: 18-19, 21).