Psalm 88 - a psalm for our times

In his recent book Living with the Psalms John Bell describes Psalm 88 as “one of the bleakest psalms in the collection.”  He goes on to point out that “it has hardly begun when the author launches into a complaint of how miserable life is. In the middle of the psalm a number of sarcastic questions are directed at heaven.” 

Similarly, Walter Brueggemann, in his book The Message of the Psalms comments, “Psalm 88 is an embarrassment to conventional faith.”  And one other commentator, J H Eaton, states: “The psalm is in effect an archetypal cry of suffering.”  It is therefore no surprise to learn that this one does not appear in the lectionary, nor is one to which we are likely to turn.  However, it is there in the psalter, and sometimes we need the difficult words that express our doubt as well as our faith; and I just wonder if it is a psalm for a time of pandemic.

In the first couple of verses there is an appeal for acceptance by God.  The psalmist cries out to God – let my prayer come before you.  There are two things to note about this beginning to the psalm.  One is that it is an urgent appeal.  The other is that there is a suggestion of intimacy.  The psalmist, presumably, can’t get to sleep and so., at night, cries out to God.  Desperate times.  But the psalmist clearly feels able to cry out to God. 

But then in the next section, from verse 3 to the middle of verse 9, we get an expression of the despair and desolation of the psalmist.  Brueggemann describes it as the speaker addressing a barrage at God.  This is a very strong expression of lament.  We live in a society where it often seems that you are supposed to be successful.  Our emphasis on celebrity culture creates a backdrop that is simply not sustainable for most people, a backdrop that forces us to forget the desperation of Yemen, and other such scenes of tragedy.  But perhaps above all in our time, it has been the death of Princess Diana that has shown us the need for something else. Might that need be re-gaining prominence as we navigate our way through the coronavirus challenge?  I was struck by words that were passed to me as part of a pastoral letter written by Donald Allister, Bishop of Peterborough.  He writes: “We need to re-learn, as a society, to lament – to express at every level the thoughts and feelings of horror and helplessness evoked by this pestilence. I strongly suspect that only the Church, with our deep biblical roots, can teach that lesson: but first we probably need to re-learn for ourselves what lament really is, and how to do it.  ……  Deep Christian lament – expressing grief on our own behalf and for others, talking about Easter hope without minimizing the present horror is part of the wisdom we have received. Before we ask Why him? Why her? may we first experience and express the deep sorrow, and allow others to do the same.”  The speaker feels helpless.  The picture is bleak.  No holds are barred in complaining to God.

In verses 3, 4, 5 the psalmist paints a sad picture, overwhelmed by troubles.  But then, in verses 6 to the middle of verse 9, things are moved up a notch.  The psalmist has been lamenting a desperate situation – my soul is full of troubles etc.

But now a whole bunch of accusations are thrown out at God.  You did this to me.  You did that to me.  It’s your fault.  We understand this.  It fits our blame culture – except, we are Christians, and it is not entirely easy to accept this attack on God.  But it’s there.  You have put me in the depths … Your wrath lies heavy upon me …. You overwhelm me ….  You have caused my companions to shun me …. You have made me a thing of horror ….  No attempt is made to downplay the hard feelings of the psalmist.  As Brueggemann puts it: “The fault is firmly fixed.”  Of course, it could be that the psalmist is hoping to provoke a response.  If the accusations are sufficiently harsh, perhaps God will explain.  Better still, perhaps God will intervene.  Perhaps God will make things better. 

Then, in the next little section, the second half of verse 9 through to verse 12, the appeal to God is renewed.  The picture here is of what the psalmist calls “the land of forgetfulness”.  The psalmist is being tantalized by God.  Some great words and concepts are used, but they are all out of reach.  The psalmist talks about wonders, about steadfast love, about faithfulness, about saving help.  The picture of God’s goodness and grace is painted, but the psalmist is not experiencing any of it, though perhaps it is all to build up a stronger commitment.  As Augustine puts it: “But that those prayers, the blessings of which surpass all words, may be more fervent and more constant, the gift that shall last unto eternity is deferred, while transitory evils are allowed to thicken.”  It’s not a good picture.  The speech is urgent.  God needs to act.  And there is, of course, some hope that God will act, otherwise why bother?  But there is no indication here of that happening.  However, though we don’t see it explicitly, we must surely imply a note of hope.  Augustine puts that like this: “the prayers of the Saints are, as it were, repelled by the delay of so great a blessing, and by the adversity they encounter in the troubles of life, that the flame, thus fanned, may burst into a brighter blaze.”

Then, in the final verses of the psalm, verses 13 to 18, there is a third and final appeal, which is followed by a further descriptive lament.  The psalmist continues to struggle with the situation.  It is affecting everything.  There is no getting away from the sense of abandonment.  At the beginning of the psalm, in verse 1, the psalmist talks about crying out to God at night.  Now, in verse 13, the prayer comes to God in the morning.  In other words, day and night, there is no escape.  The questions continue to stack up.  Why?  Why is this happening?  Why have you done this to me?  Why is it not sorted?  Why is it all still going on? 

The psalmist is not happy.  And that’s where it ends.  This is not a ‘happy ever after’ story.  It is more real life than that.  The psalmist’s struggle continues – and maybe that is a big part of the value of this psalm.  As John Bell says of this psalm, “It articulates the sense of abandonment from God and humanity that very different people have felt.”  Eaton says: “The tone of the psalm is all the more somber for lack of the concluding statement of confidence common in other laments.”

If I am honest, I struggle with this psalm.  I do recognize, as I have said, the critical importance of lament.  We can’t be rejoicing all the time.  We need to weep.  And I do think that is part of this moment.  But I can never ‘do’ Good Friday, if I can put it that way, without remembering that Easter Day is just round the corner – so I tend to think that a psalm shouldn’t end by saying, as this one does, you have caused friend and neighbour to shun me; my companions are in darkness.”

Should lament have the last word?  Well, of course, it should sometimes.  It does.  Equally, of course, it is not the whole story.  Nothing is.  But it is an important part of the story.  So, actually, I am grateful for Psalm 88.

As Walter Brueggemann says: “Psalm 88 stands as a mark of realism for biblical faith.  It has its pastoral use, because there are situations in which easy, cheap talk of resolution must be avoided.  Here are words not to be used frequently, but for the experiences when words must be honest and not claim too much.”