Workshops delivered by the Revd Andy Angel, Director of Formation for Ministry, at the 2023 LLM Conference.
Psalm 74: Looking forward in anger
Psalm 74 reflects the situation of those left in the land when the leaders of the nation of Judah were carried off into exile in Babylon in the sixth century BC. The book of Lamentations offers a gut-wrenching picture of the devastation of Jerusalem. Rape, starvation and torture are overlaid by national humiliation (Lam 2:1−2; 5:1−12). In terms of trying to work out where God is in all of this, the book moves from speaking of the anger of God (Lam 1:12-18) with terror at the violence of God’s judgment (Lam 2:1-8), through a sense of reconciliation to the discipline of God (Lam 3:19−33), to a sense of abandonment by God accompanied by a desperate plea that God might heal and restore (Lam 5:19−22). This devastation and these reactions to it offer us insights into the religious, political and human situation from which Psalm 74 was written and spoken.
Psalm 74 opens with a direct accusation. The psalmist asks why God has abandoned the covenant people (Ps 74:1−2). They invite God on a guided tour of the temple in Jerusalem, stopping to view its ruins and describe in intricate detail the events which led to its destruction (Ps 74:3−8). They follow this with a direct address in which they ask exactly how long God intends to allow this situation to continue (Ps 74:9−11). Before moving on to demand that God remembers the covenant, rescues the people and attends to the victory shouts of their enemies, the psalmist sings the following hymn (Ps 74:12−17).
You divided the sea by your might; you broke the heads of the dragons in the waters. You crushed the heads of Leviathan; you gave him as food for the creatures of the wilderness. You cut openings for springs and torrents; you dried up ever-flowing streams. Yours is the day, yours also the night; you established the luminaries and the sun. You have fixed all the bounds of the earth; you made summer and winter.
The psalmist bursts into praise of God. God divided the sea and destroyed Leviathan. God conquered chaos and created the world. The cutting open of the earth for springs and torrents may reflect the kind of scene we find in the Enuma Elish where Marduk creates holes in the carcass of Tiamat for the waters to flow through in a controlled and life-giving manner (Enuma Elish V 50−56).God dried up the chaos waters and in doing so defeated them. Then God completes creation, fixing everything in its proper order (Ps 74:16−17).
The contrast between the orderliness of creation and the chaos of the ruined temple could not be starker or more deliberate. The irony could not be more vicious. The psalmist takes God on a tour of the destruction of the temple (Ps 74:3−8). Standing in its ruins, they point out the absence of prophetic ministry in the temple (Ps 74:9). The psalmist then stands there, surrounded by destruction, and sings a hymn in praise of the mighty acts of the God who destroys chaos and creates order. It is unlikely that the psalmist is suddenly moved from despair to praise because immediately after the hymn of praise comes this accusation: “Remember this, O LORD, how the enemy scoffs, and an impious people reviles your name” (Ps 74:18). Rather the psalmist performs a remarkably pointed act of protest.
The temple was the meeting place of heaven and earth. Just as God sat enthroned above the subdued waters of chaos in heaven (Ps 104:3a), so God dwelt in the temple on earth. The temple represented God’s mastery over the universe and God’s gracious rule over the covenant people. During festivals in the temple, the covenant people would recite psalms celebrating God’s victory over chaos and gift of peace and prosperity to the people.
Now the temple lies in ruins. The people are conquered and their leaders are in exile in Babylon. Peace and prosperity have been replaced by political domination and the aftermath of violent invasion. The psalmist stands amongst the ruins and sings a song of the LORD of Zion who had conquered chaos and created order. Sitting in between rebukes the psalmist fires off at God, the hymn takes on an angry, almost sarcastic tone.
But there is faith in these rebukes. The psalmist asks God how long this situation will continue (Ps 74:10). They assume that God can do something about the situation, accusing God of choosing not to act (Ps 74:11). They cajole God into action noting that their enemies insult God (Ps 74:18). They call on God to rise up and persuade the court of heaven that it is time to reverse the situation on earth (Ps 74:22). The psalmist knows that God can act and tries to persuade God to act.
The chaos myth is used here to rebuke God and persuade God into action, much as Levenson suggests. However, the mimicry of temple worship in a situation which is as far a cry from the vision of the songs of worship is not simply angry. It is also quite pathetic. The psalmist cannot sing the songs of Zion in the heart of Jerusalem without their seeming laughably inappropriate. The beliefs to which they bear witness could not be further from the present reality. The scene of the psalmist singing the song can only evoke sympathy.
There is something quite powerful about the way in which the psalmist sings of God’s conquest over chaos. At one and the same time, this song embodies both the despair and the faith of the psalmist. The scene itself highlights the reason for despair: given the contemporary situation of Jerusalem, there simply was no reason to praise God for eliminating evil. However, the myth speaks of a God who will do these things and so, from anger and despair, the psalmist cries out in fragile faith for God to rise up and take action.
Psalm 77: Looking back in hope
The psalmist cries out in anguish. They cry out day and night, continually bringing their complaint to God (Ps 77:2). Their style of prayer involves meditating and moaning (Ps 77:3). They are determined to bring their complaint before God and meditate, and they are determined to bring before God how they feel about it and are not afraid of admitting that they cannot cope ― “my spirit faints” (Ps 77:3). The psalmist models praying despair. In this they turn inwards, too troubled to speak (Ps 77:4). As prayer turns silent they turn over again and again in their mind and heart the question of whether God really is faithful or whether God has abandoned them (Ps 77:6−10). They refuse to accept easy answers (Ps 77:2d). With all this going round and round in their spirit, the psalmist cannot sleep (Ps 77:4).
The situation the psalmist faces is not described. The questions in vv.8−10 use terms like “steadfast love” which are used elsewhere of the relationship God has with the covenant people (e.g. Psalm 89). This might suggest that the situation concerning our psalmist is a crisis affecting the whole people of God. However, this is slim evidence on which to suggest that the psalmist is petitioning God in time of national crisis as God can surely also be faithful and favourable to an individual ― to which truth the story of Noah bears eloquent witness. It would be safer not to build an argument out of silence. There is no description of the situation facing the psalmist. There is also no indication that others are involved in a similar process of doubt and questioning. They appear to be alone in their despair.
Interestingly the psalmist discovers the answer for which they are looking in the heart of their despairing thoughts. They are meditating on the “days of old” and the “years of long ago” (Ps 77:5). Presumably as they do this they are thinking through the mighty and miraculous actions of God to save the covenant people. They must be thinking on this or very similar lines to be wondering why God is no longer faithful ― which is the essence of all their questions in vv.7−10. The meditation the psalmist undertakes in misery becomes the key that unlocks their questioning and opens them up to hope once again.
Having asked the questions of God’s faithfulness, the psalmist muses on the mighty acts of God and in doing so finds renewed hope. The psalmist thinks through the events of the Exodus from Egypt and recounts them in full mythological colour (Ps 77:16−20):
When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were afraid; the very deep trembled. The clouds poured out waters; the skies thundered; your arrows flashed on every side. The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind; your lightnings lit up the world; the earth trembled and shook. Your way was through the sea, your path, through the mighty waters; yet your footprints were unseen. You led your people by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
The reference to Moses and Aaron ensures a reference to the Exodus, not least when mentioning them in the same breath as making a path through waters. This text must at some level refer to the events of the Red (or Reed) Sea. Nonetheless, the language used here goes beyond the accounts of the event in Exodus 14―15. The motifs used are unmistakably those of the myth of the divine warrior conquering the chaotic waters. The waters were afraid at the sight of the divine warrior (Ps 77:16). The divine warrior opened fire on the sea from the cloud chariot, casting thunders, lightnings, and whirlwind at the enemy (Ps 77:17−18). The happy ending for the covenant people being led through the Red Sea assumes that the divine warrior wins a victory over the sea. The psalmist uses as much of the myth as necessary to picture the Exodus events as a victory of God over the powers of chaos.
The psalm ends poignantly. The psalmist simply breaks off in the middle of reciting the wonderful saving acts of God. There is no evidence of a resolution. The psalmist does not move from petition to thanksgiving. We do not know whether they gave up their introspective wrangling with God at this point or whether they continued to wrestle with God in prayer until the situation was resolved. We do not even know whether the contemplation of the mighty acts of God soothed the tensions they experienced. We leave the psalm at the point at which the psalmist is beginning to recall these acts.
Again we find we have a psalm that gives us tension and space within it to explore our own reactions. The psalmist does not hold back from describing the despair they feel. They give us a very clear picture of their reactions to their situation and how they suffer. They offer us a testimony of a movement they make from introspection to meditation on the goodness of God. They leave us no clue as to how far they move towards praise although they clearly move from despair to contemplating reasons for hope. The movement has a wonderful authenticity about it as it is not forced. The reason that the psalmist makes this movement is because their misery took them to the place where this path begins. Out of the disappointment, they wondered why God would not act as in ages past. This very contemplation transmuted itself into meditation on how God had acted in ages past which the psalmist commits to thinking through.
I wonder what we learn from this psalm. Goldingay writes as others have spoken: Refuse to be comforted; do not give in to acceptance too soon . . . Think about God, about the days when you enjoyed God’s blessing, about the praise you used to be able to offer. Face tough questions, and face the hurt. Remind yourself and remind God of the great things that God did in delivering us as his people at the beginning. Only if you do that can you look to God to give an ear to you.
Much as there seems to be wisdom in such an interpretation, I wonder if this is more prescriptive than the psalm itself. Nobody told the psalmist to praise or to recount the mighty acts of God. Much as I think that such activity is to be highly recommended, I cannot help thinking that prescribing this activity to those in despair can sometimes be counterproductive. The testimony of the psalmist is one of touching the hem of grace. Out of nowhere, the very expression of their misery becomes the impetus for looking towards a more hopeful future and so they take the first tentative steps. Perhaps the real lessons of this psalm (if any) are different. The psalmist sets an example by being honest about how they experience their suffering. They open themselves up fully to God. They have the courage to take their first faltering steps on a more hopeful path when it presents itself. I would like to suggest that the “nowhere” from which the first rays of hope sprang was the providence of God ― but that would be an argument out of silence.
The workshops were delivered by Andy Angel and based on his book Playing with Dragons: Living with Suffering and God. Eugene.