Series editor’s note: Throughout 2023, “Deeper understandings” will feature biblical scholars reflecting on one of the books of the Old Testament. Rolf Jacobson will conclude this theme in the next issue. —Kathryn A. Kleinhans, dean of Trinity Lutheran Seminary at Capital University, Columbus, Ohio, on behalf of the ELCA’s seminaries
Picture a 10-year-old Bible scholar. Well, picture the 10-year-old precursor to a Bible scholar: all the curiosity, none of the knowledge, talks too much in class.
At her summer camp, this budding scholar has recently been introduced to the beauty of the Bible: the language, the images, the personal way God speaks through the text. The 10-year-old wants more. She asks her (long-suffering and patient) mother, “What’s a good book of the Bible to read before bed?” (The reasons behind the need for bedtime-specific Bible readings are unknown.)
“The Psalms,” her mother immediately replies. So began my first steps down a road that, again and again, brings me back to the Psalms.
I adore the authenticity of the Psalms. Commentators since the time of Augustine (and arguably prior) have marveled at their range of human emotion. Anger, joy, sadness, exultation, despair, victory and quiet, humble reflection—all are present in the Psalms. When you’re looking for language to understand the human experience of God or life, the Psalms consistently offer resources. These resources come highly recommended: as Jesus was dying on the cross, he turned to Psalm 22:1 to make sense of his experience, crying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
The Psalms consistently offer us assistance as we struggle for words in difficult situations.
I delight in the imagery of the Psalms, which are, at their heart, poetry. Though poetic speech is uncommon in everyday language, there’s something about poetry that speaks to our most vulnerable moments.
I witnessed the power of poetry during clinical pastoral education at an elder care facility (all Lutheran seminarians must complete this three-month stint as a chaplain-in-training). I was conversing with a brilliant, contrarian, funny Irishman as he awaited a potentially dangerous operation. We turned to discussing his fear and the impending operation. He grew quiet. Staring at the ceiling, he mused how, despite years of avowed atheism, there was a part of him that yet hoped, as the poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson, wrote, “to see my Pilot face to face when I have crost the bar.”
In our darkest moments, poetry can facilitate our expression of hopes that may otherwise remain unspoken. For my cantankerous old friend, it was Tennyson who gave him those words; for me, it has been, and always will be, the majestic language of the Psalms.
Verses of comfort
At the funerals of those we love, we put psalms to music and sing the mystery of faith in “Beautiful Savior” (ELW, 838). Through long nights of doubt and sorrow, we murmur to ourselves, “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4). The Psalms consistently offer us assistance as we struggle for words in difficult situations.
Two years ago my family and I moved from Georgia to Ohio. The transition was exciting yet painful. We were moving to a place that would become our permanent home but from a place that we all dearly loved. That summer was hard, full of challenges and change. Long before that, I had gotten some wonderful advice: when you’re going through a difficult season, ask God to give you a theme verse, one you can cling to for support. I prayed and asked for a verse. The gift offered came from a personal translation of Psalm 1:1-2:
Happy is the one
who does not walk with the counsel of the wicked
nor stand in the path of sinners,
nor sit in the seat of scoffers.
Instead, the word of the Lord is their delight;
they croon God’s word, day and night …
in all that they do, they thrive.
Amid geographic, familial, professional and personal upheaval, I would croon Psalm 1 to myself, sometimes day and night. Psalm 1 became my hope, my desire, my prayer for our family as we were uprooted and replanted in new places. Let there be water there, God; let us once again find delight; let us thrive.
They say the Bible is a book through which a lamb can wade and an elephant can swim, meaning that it’s accessible for those new to the faith yet offers stimulating insights even to well-seasoned biblical explorers. This is a perfect description of the Psalms. Through the Psalms a sleepy 10-year-old child wades, unaware that her future self will spend long, faithful years submerged in their life-giving waters.
