Psalm 32:1-11
I’m still stuck on yesterday, although if I moved to today’s readings I would get the Ten Commandments—that’s pretty important—another fascinating bit of 2nd Corinthians, and Psalm 130, “Out of the depths I cry to you,” a beautiful psalm, in Latin De profundis clamavit and a great text for Renaissance music.
There are several points where the psalms neatly sum up the psychology of evil people. 130 contains one of those passages that feels closely observed in a Scott Peck sort of way. “Transgression speaks to the wicked deep in their hearts; there is no fear of God before their eyes. For they flatter themselves in their own eyes that their iniquity cannot be found out and hated. The words of their mouths are mischief and deceit; they have ceased to act wisely and do good. They plot mischief while on their beds; they are set on a way that is not good; they do not reject evil.”
There it is, the arrogance of those who wreak havoc on the world, who take advantage of the weak. They believe that no one sees the evil they do, their corrupt motives. Maybe they once tried to do what was good but at some point figured out that was for suckers. You think “this is them exactly.” And “them” is not just an abstraction. You can think of the people who exhibit these behaviors. George Bush and Ralph Reed, Jeff Skilling. The person who stabbed my good boss in the back. You’ll have your own list (although I’m pretty confident about mine).
Some of the passages continue to lament the free pass these people get, holding out for eventual judgment, others like Psalm 36 turn right away to God’s love and all it holds out.
Unfortunately, the satisfaction of seeing evil called out doesn’t hold up too long, because as much as you know who qualifies as evil, there’s no way it’s that simple. The Bible never is. As a category, “the wicked” includes you. It just works that way. The harsh light of this observation cuts into your own soul. It doesn’t mean I have to approve of Ralph Reed, but that gets deferred to another realm, another day.
The Psalms rock back and forth, between God’s wrath and love, so wait for it and you get some relief from the harsh judgment of first four lines of Psalm 36. Try the evening Psalm for June 1, Psalm 32: “Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not hide my iniquity; I said, ‘I will confess my transgression to the Lord’, and you forgave the guilt of my sin.”
I want to take this past a simplistic, ritualistic process of acknowledging sin and asking for forgiveness. These passages do several things. They describe the capacity of people for deeply flawed behavior, and the ways it is seductive and easy to fall into. They also force you to acknowledge the fraternity you have with someone engaged in evil behavior. “Mon semblable, mon frère” as Baudelaire put it. Once you do that, you have to realize that want you do can matter—in a negative way. You see how the bad actor is having a negative impact on the world. Guess what. So do you. To get past this state of affairs, to move to some sort of life as humans together that is not infinitely painful and mutually destructive requires people to get out of themselves somehow. They have to see a bigger picture. God, religion, they do this. I think other things can do it.
As a closing, my favorite line in Psalm 130: “you save human and animals alike, O Lord.” My 3 dogs are waiting for their last walk of the night. The Lord must feel affection for them. Or for the phoebe nesting on the light fixture in our carport, the baby bunny that’s taken up residence in our blackberry bramble, or the skunks that come around at night. There aren’t so many passages in the Bible that offer encouragement to those of us who feel a deep kinship with the rest of the natural world. S. Francis was borderline heretical. I’ll take what I can get.
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