Commentary on Psalm 50/51

The reason for the numbering confusion is that the numbering and breakdown of the Psalms is a bit different in the Septuagint version, the Greek translation of the Bible that took place in Alexandria, Egypt,  in the third century and that also set the canon of the New Testament.

Koine Greek was spoken everywhere in those days, which is why everyone wanted the Bible in Greek.   Anytime you see this Psalm numbered 50 (most Orthodox sources) that means  it came from the Septuagint version. If it’s numbered 51, that means the Psalms are broken up and numbered according to the Western plan. Like the King James Version and its many spinoffs. Herewith the main text of the 51st Psalm. It is the Revised Standard Version (RSV), which is the one I mostly use:

Have mercy on me, O God,
According to thy steadfast love;
According to thy abundant mercy
Blot out all my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
And cleanse me from my sin! 

For I know my transgressions,
And my sin is ever before me.
Against thee, thee only have I sinned,
And done that which is evil in thy sight.
So thou art justified in thy sentence
And blameless in thy judgement.
Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
And in sin did my mother conceive me.
  
Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward being;
Therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart,
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
Wash me, and I will be whiter than snow,
Fill me with joy and gladness;
Let the bones which thou hast broken rejoice.
Hide thy face from my sins,
And blot out all my iniquities.

Create in me clean heart, O God,
And put a new and right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from thy presence, and take
Not thy Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation, 
And uphold me with a willing spirit.

Then I will teach transgressors thy way.
And sinners will return to thee.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
Thou God of my salvation,
And my tongue will sing aloud of thy deliverance.

O Lord, open thou my lips,
And my mouth shall show forth thy praise.
For thou hast  no delight in sacrifice;
Were I to give a burnt offering, thou wouldst not be pleased.
The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit,
A broken and contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.

Do good to Zion in thy good pleasure;
Rebuild the walls of Jerusalem,
Then wilt thou delight in right sacrifices,
In burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings;
Then bulls will be offered on thy altar.

Pretty unintelligible?  Most people who are
familiar with it, are aware of it through confession. It is read at every one.  It’s also part of the rule of morning prayer that appears in the
Prayer Book. So those who’ve used the Prayer Book (like me) are very familiar with it.

At first it seems like an embarrassment. That we should not think of it much, or that we should just think of repentance whenever we hear it said. But I think it should be looked at head-on whenever we hear it. It can be an education in repentance, a way of how we  understand what came to call God, “his” nature, and how we can fix our relationship with “him” when it is broken. My hope is that this commentary can open this up, to readers interested. My commentary below is in regular type. The text of the Psalm itself is in italic:

Have mercy on me, O God,

According to thy steadfast love;

According to thy abundant mercy 

Blot out all my transgressions.

Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,

And cleanse me from my sin!

It’s interesting to counter this with the Lord’s Prayer, Which is worded as a collective entreaty. This one is radically solitary. We don’t use the comforting “Our Father” language here. It’s almost like when we are fully realized, we are always in communion but when we are sinful, we are always alone. I am thinking of the opening lines of Anna Karenina, “All happy families are alike; All unhappy families are unhappy in their own way.” And we identify God as having qualities of love and mercy, and those qualities are are attributed to “him” not just to sound good, or to kiss the ass of the god who is very angry at us. Divine judgment always comes with love. You can say there is no judgement without mercy. You might even say they’re the same thing.

For I know my transgressions,

And my sin is ever before me,

Against thee, thee only have I sinned,

And done that which is evil in thy sight.

So that thou art justified in thy sentence

And blameless in thy judgement.

Behold, l was bought forth in iniquity,

And in sin did my mother conceive me.

I am always aware of my sin  (whatever separates us) when I am before you (and it turns out that I am always before you). What cuts me off from you becomes obvious to me. Maybe it’s wanting something so much instead of you. Or not wanting something so badly instead of you. Or maybe it’s just ignorance. In any case, everything seems to fall into those three categories: Craving, wanting something to go away, and ignorance. I used to think ignorance was the most innocent of the three, but I was wrong. Whenever see what it is that keeps me from being close to God and my fellow human, its origin doesn’t really matter. Once I see that some roadblock is there, I want to get rid of it. And I am born into a world that inclines me to keep some dividing thing there. “In sin did my mother conceive me.” We are all born into a world that inclines us thus.

Behold, thou desirest truth in the inner being,

Therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.

Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean;

Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.

Fill me with joy and gladness;

Let the bones which thou hast broken rejoice.

Hide thy face from my sins,

And blot out all my iniquities.

This part unabashedly asks for my joy, instead of the the sadness that separation from God naturally means. But it’s not a false, ginned up joy. I also boldly ask for  “wisdom in my secret heart.”  False joy is not joy at all. And as soon as I acknowledge that God desires truth in the inner being, I am freed up to discover what the truth is. It can be something we don’t expect. And words like “joy,” “gladness,” and even “sin,” just don’t do the job. This is where we admit the inadequacy of language.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And put a new and right spirit within me.

Cast me not  away from thy presence, and take

Not thy holy Spirit from me.

Restore to me the joy of thy salvation,

And uphold me with a willing spirit.

Here I beg for cleansing,  and there is no cleansing  unless that which we call God does the cleaning. The alternative is a false cleanness that is really only about clinging to the religious status quo. I think these verses resonate with the language of “thy will be done.” A “willing spirit” means only that God’s will becomes mine. When my will is imposed suffering always results. Aligning myself with God’s will (always before me) brings joy. 

Then I will teach transgressors thy ways

And sinners will return to thee.

Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,

Thou God of my salvation,

And my tongue shall sing aloud of thy deliverance.

Being forgiven, I am then free to teach others. I don’t keep it to myself. Sharing it is totally natural. It arises from me naturally, like compassion. I don’t have to think. It arises on its own.

O Lord, open thou my lips,

And my mouth shall pour forth thy praise,

For thou hast no delight in sacrifice;

Were I to give a bunt offering

Thou wouldst not be pleased.

The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit;

A broken and contrite heart, O God,

Thou wilt not despise.

Whenever I open my mouth—any sound I make—is to praise God. That is how it should be, even if I am not there now. But it’s aspirational. I hope to be like that. Until I am, aspiration will have to do.  The “broken and contrite heart” I refer to here is not the sort “broken-heartedness” we’re familiar with, but it is kind of emotion that arises when I confront truth head-on and realize what separates me from it. That’s why I’m repenting, after all. It’s a dose of pure reality. I know it when I see it.

Do good to Zion on thy good pleasure;

Rebuild the walls of Jerusalem,

Then wilt thou delight in right sacrifices,

In burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings;

Then bulls will be offered on b thy altar.

This coda sometimes repeated with embarrassment. I don’t offer bulls on any altars, right? But these words bring the verse back into daily life. It’s not that I no longer do that (I don’t) but that I need to understand that a contrite heart is the sacrifice God really wants, before I go around sacrificing bulls. I might say, “For thou hast no delight in sacrifices. Then the Sabbath candles can be lit” or “for thou hast no delight in sacrifices. Then an icon can be painted” or “for thou hast no delight in sacrifices.  Then I can wake up to the alarm in the morning.”

Sacrificing bulls is OK, but only when I’ve understood the quality of heart behind it. Without

 it the sacrifice of bulls is an empty gesture. With it rituals begin to make sense.