Psalm 22:1-11
In studying today’s Scripture and reflecting on the times when God feels near and far, my millennial mind hears two distinct voices. The first is “Sesame Street’s” Grover, running close to the camera and exclaiming “Near!” – and then retreating into the distance, barely audible – “Far!”
Second, of course, is Céline Dion singing the love theme from “Titanic:” “Near, far/ wherever you are/ I believe that the heart does go on …” Hold on to that earworm; we’ll come back to it later. For now, it’s good to recognize that, within the confines of Psalm 22, the psalmist identifies a certain distance between themself and God. And unlike the playfulness of Grover, teaching us near and far, the psalmist is quite serious from the get-go: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me [gone far away]? Far from my rescue [salvation] are the words that I roar” (v. 1, from Robert Alter’s translation).
There are definitely times when connecting with the Divine feels like roaring into the void. Tragedy, depression, doomscrolling the news — it can all lead us to call out to God with the deep-seated “Why?!” of lament. And often, immediately thereafter, we add to our difficulties by feeling guilty about calling out God, as though we might have made things worse by venting our anger. But, the psalms remind us, it is good and right to speak to God when we’re overwhelmed and in distress. The pleas of the psalmists do not capture just one person’s feeling but have been echoed and sung together in congregations and by pilgrims for millenniums. The language may be personal, but the experience, especially when sung with others, is one of connection.
That community may seem at odds with the perceived distance from the Divine in the text — but, lamenting together is something that helps bond and reinforce connections in a community, especially a religious community. When the author reminds themself (and the community singing their words) that “the Holy One — enthroned in Israel’s praise” (v. 4) was trusted by the ancestors, and their trust was rewarded with support and freedom, this also helps knit the community together, despite the difficulties any individual was experiencing.
The psalm takes a switchback at this point, with the psalmist referring to themself as “a worm,” mocked and reviled by the people (v. 7-8), immediately followed by verses of God’s tender care for the psalmist from the moment they were born (v. 9-11). The theme of self-denigration is an ancient one, and an impulse that continues today. If we, good people, are experiencing bad things, then maybe we’re not as good as we think we are? But the response to that line of thought is immediate: even if we’re experiencing terrible things, that doesn’t mean we deserve it. After all, birth itself is a traumatic event – for both the baby and the mother – but the psalmist rightly recognizes that God has been with each of us from the beginning, and offers comfort in distress, just as a mother does for her newborn.
In verse 12, the psalmist returns to the theme of near/far, asking God to not be far, because distress is near. The psalmist implies strongly that, if God were near, the distress would be lessened or go away entirely. Indeed, this verse sets the stage for the remainder of the psalm, where the psalmist feels surrounded by enemies (“distress is near”) and blames God for the situation they find themself in (“to death’s dust did you thrust me”). Even with such accusations, God still comes through. By the end of the psalm, lament has turned to praise for God coming near and delivering the psalmist — and, by extension, all those singing the psalms.
Interpreting this psalm has quite a history. It is identified as “a Psalm of David,” which doesn’t necessarily mean that David wrote it, just that it was a part of the collection of psalms David played. In some Jewish traditions, the presumed author is not David but Esther. You can picture Esther, when she learns of Haman’s plans for genocide, crying out with the deep lament, “Why have you forsaken me?” Of course, in Christian tradition, the first verse of this psalm is known as one of Jesus’ last statements from the cross (See: Matthew 27:46).
By hearing the psalm in the voice of David, of Esther and of Jesus, we can hear it in our own voice, too. We are part of the grand tradition of singing the psalms, of emotionally connecting with God, and remembering that, even when God feels far away, we can trust that God is with us. This is the purpose of lament: singing out that deep-seated “Why?!” Hear, then, with new ears the words of Céline Dion: “Near, far, wherever you are — I believe that the heart does go on.”
Questions for discussion
- When you have felt most distant from God? How have you found connection with others?
- How do you cry out for God in times of distress? How would you write v. 1-2 in your own words? How might you include lament in public or private worship?
- If you are not in a time of distress yourself, how might you support those who are suffering?
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