Psalm 39

In the summer of 2012 Betty Bracha Stone began what she describes as a "serious Jewish practice: strenuous introspection and prayer during the month of Elul." This practice prepares one for the High Holy Days - Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kipur which I believe begins this year on August 21.  She and a group of other Jewish women committed themselves to supporting one another in this practice that included the tradition of reciting Psalm 27 twice daily. Her struggle with some of the language of the psalm would eventually lead her to writing her own translations and interpretations of Psalm 27 and thirty five other psalms. Her book, Let us Praise, is the result. I have come to believe that struggling with the psalms is a holy endeavor, even if one cannot read Biblical Hebrew. I have always felt a lacking, or an emptiness, for not being able to do so, but I continue the work of learning to trust that God can always make use of inadequacies and empty spaces.   

When I undertook the practice of reading and sharing a psalm a day, I could not find my copy of this book. I was sorry because I remembered the night it was passed on to me by the author's husband as we were leaving a choral gathering. We did not know one another, but he had spotted the clergy sticker on my car, and thought I might appreciate receiving it. Fortunately, it resurfaced in time for Psalm 39. In gratitude, I will copy, in its entirety, this psalm of great poignancy.     

Although some modern translations leave out the word Selah, Bracha Stone includes it. I thought the word appeared only in the psalms, but I have just learned it also appears in the book of Habakkuk. The meaning of the word is unclear. It could be a musical notation or simply an encouragement to pause and make an empty space - an invitation for God to join in.

      

  

"Oh, God, I have loved my words

But now I watch lest they betray me

I must guard what I say 

Because I am soon to die 

Yah, You have robbed me of my voice

And sealed my mouth 

Silence has struck me hard 

I must hold my peace 

But my suffering is great 

And goodness does not approach

My heart burns within me 

My meditation is consumed by the fire

And I must speak: 

  

God! Stop afflicting me!

I am finished by the blow of your hand  

You rebuke me for my foolishness 

My beauty lasted a day 
And has melted like the moth's 

I am only vapor 

Selah  

  

Yah, tell me of my end 

Is this my last day? 

I would know of my frailty

You have given me a life hardly worth the measure 

Its duration does not register on your scale 

We are all mist, established for the length of a breath

Selah 

We walk the dusty road like shadows 

And our plans are all in vain

Even when we heap up treasure 

We do not know who will enjoy it 

Now, where is my hope, O God

Except that it resides with You?  

Deliver me from my failings

Do not make me the scorn of fools 

Oh, God, listen to my prayer!

Give ear to my cry!

Do not respond to my tears with silence 

I am a newcomer to you 

As are we all - just sojourners 

Turn your sweet gaze toward me and I will find comfort 

Then you will gather me in your dark embrace 

Then I will go. I will be no more" 
  

  

Please note that there is only one period in this psalm, and it occurs in the middle of the last line.  Also, the author writes of the word, Yah: "It derives from the pronunciation of the first two letters of the unpronounceable four-letter name for God. It is spoken with an out-breath and I think of it as a spiritual sigh."