Author: Administrator

This is a long, bootlicking psalm written by a young guy named Ethan the Ezrahite. Basically, he was to his king what MAGA pundits and plotters are to their preferred president: a propagandist.

According to Wikipedia — the last word on all things, until the article’s next edit — Ethan was “a boy at King David’s court well known for his wisdom.” Well, he knew how to shovel shit, anyway.

In a nutshell, Ethan’s 52 verses claim that all-powerful YHWH chose David and his descendants to rule Israel forevermore, and that anyone who opposes David’s reign also opposes YAH’s will.

And so, erudite little Ethan wants to know why YHWH won’t just smack David’s enemies down. “How long, Lord?” Ethan poses. “Will You hide Yourself forever? / Will Your wrath burn like fire?”

There are so many contentions in this screed that I could jump on, but the worst idea deals with why YHWH ever chose David to be king. Spoiler alert: Little David rocked big ol’ Goliath’s world.

“I have given help to one who is mighty,” says Lord YHWH. “I have exalted one chosen from the people.” (That’s “from,” not “by,” in case you were thinking that YAH might advocate democracy.)

So, might does make right? Is that our lesson here? I mean, I’m not a policy geek like Ethan the Ezrahite, but didn’t YAH also say, “The meek shall inherit the earth” and “Turn the other cheek”?

Without a doubt, this is the most depressing psalm I’ve ever read, written by an old guy named Heman the Ezrahite, a son of Korah. Like Asaph, Heman was one of David’s main musicians and prophets.

When I saw ol’ Heman’s name, what popped into my ol’ noggin was Alfalfa Schwitzer and Spanky McFarland’s He-Man Woman-Haters Club in an Our Gang comedy that cowboy Fred Kirby would show.

But this Heman is seriously depressed about his lot in life, and I don’t think his despair has to do with a woman — not even one who might have tried to turn him into a pillar of salt like Lot’s wife.

No, he feels as if YHWH doesn’t give a shit about him, even though he prays to YAH every day and every night for deliverance. He says he’s dead to YHWH, a person “whom You remember no more.”

He calls death “the land of forgetfulness” with no afterlife, not even one of simple remembrance by friends and family. I know how poor Heman feels, today of all days. I’m reminded every dark January.

And finally, “Your terrors have cut me off; / They came around me all day long like water; / [and] engulfed me altogether. / Loved one and friend You have put far from me, / [and] into darkness.”

That’s how this sad psalm ends — with no hope, in utter despair, because this real Heman’s prayers all go unanswered by a jealous, capricious, tribal god who “gives a damn” but has forgotten how to care.

This is the 10th of 11 psalms by the sons of Korah. It’s short and sounds like something written for the local chamber of commerce.

The psalmist praises “Zion” as the greatest city on earth — better than Jericho, Babylon, Philistia and Tyre, and every city in Ethiopia.

I don’t know about that. I lived in Zion for two years — Zion, IL, that is — and it wasn’t better than Jericho or Babylon, in NY or TX.

Of course, the poet is referring to Jerusalem, the “city of God.” The name actually means “city of peace,” but we know that ain’t true.

The megalomaniacal king returns with this psalm called “A Prayer of David.” Despite what the Rev. Spurgeon calls humility, this is a list of demands: “Preserve my life,” says the king; “Save Your servant”; “Be merciful to me” — 15 demands in all, in a psalm that is only 17 verses long.

Yeah, sure, there’s also plenty of apple-polishing going on here, like, “Among the gods there is none like You, O Lord” — again, another admission that gods other than YHWH existed in King David’s cosmology. So I imagine a fundamentalist reads that part of the Bible literally, too, huh?

And in his most tiresome way, David whines that “the proud have risen against me, / And a mob of violent men have sought my life … / Show me a sign for good, / That those who hate me may see it and be ashamed, / Because You, Lord, have helped me and comforted me.” Brown-noser. 

Like few others so far, this psalm plainly shows why state religion — Christian nationalism being the lunacy du jour —  is ungodly. Who decides which god is worshiped or not? Who spots every sign and declares it good or bad? Who judges right and wrong? Why, the lunatic king, of course.

When it comes to life, the sons of Korah are positive thinkers, as they’ve got to admit it’s getting better, a little better all the time. “Mercy and truth have met together,” they sing. “Righteousness and peace have kissed.” Basically the boys are saying that everything has come together again.

But remember, these are the boys whose family was cursed. Once their father, their mother and their siblings fell to their deaths in the dark crevasse that YHWH had dug just for them, the lives of these surviving sons — as four other fabulous lads would later sing — couldn’t get no worse.

This is the eighth psalm credited to the “sons of Korah,” an old Hebrew who made cracks about Moses until YHWH shut him up with a crack of his own — one in the ground that Korah fell into.

And even though the old story claims that Korah’s whole family fell into the hole with him, some of his so-called sons survived to write obsequious songs like this one for the supercilious David.

That’s understandable, considering what YAH supposedly did to their dad. Now, this psalm isn’t all bad. It has nature — birds in nests, verdant valleys with cool springs and pools of clear water.

But it’s main point is that Korah’s kids would rather spend a single day in YHWH’s tabernacle — nothing but a tent, really, not a temple — than a thousand and one days in paradise. Yeah, I bet.

Still, the sons say, “For the Lord God is a sun and shield; / No good thing will He withhold / From those who walk uprightly.” That isn’t wack, ‘cause Korah did stumble and fall into that big crack.

This must be the psalm that modern Israelis read when they’re feeling particularly persecuted — not one for bedtime or for Sabbath morning, but one for wartime or for mourning of another kind.

Asaph turns back into a warrior-poet — regrettable in that this is the last of his 12 psalms — and he lists Israel’s military victories under YHWH’s command, but none of the defeats YAH allowed.

Speaking of propaganda, Spurgeon’s commentary on this psalm is helpful for a change, maybe because Christian soldiers like him seem to study war so much more than they promote peace.

“[Our enemies] have said, ‘Come, and let us cut them off from being a nation, / That the name of Israel may be remembered no more,’” was Asaph’s hit song back then, now just a tired old tune.

“So this is Xmas, and what have You done?” That’s how Asaph would paraphrase this his penultimate psalm if he were writing it today.

This one is an example, I think, of translators or scholars changing a text ever so slightly to alter its meaning — in this case, the letter “y.”

“How long will you judge unjustly, / And show partiality to the wicked?” What if it were “You,” not “you”? Well, then “You” is another person.

I wager that Asaph is addressing the big “You” in this psalm, calling YAH out for favoring evil men and ignoring the poor. And there’s more.

Asaph says YHWH “judges among the gods,” using a little “g” for the first time I can recall. I think scholars saw a big “G” as a big problem.

Even preacher Spurgeon interprets “gods” as “the great ones of the earth” — his words, not Asaph’s. Spurgeon refers to kings and judges.

But that isn’t what Asaph’s really saying, not if we read this psalm in the context of the others he wrote. Now I think this poet also wrote Job.

I think a fundamental problem with organized religion is how we define the divine — in other words, who or what we worship, and whether or not any other gods exist at any given time.

Take the principle of the Trinity, for example — three gods in one. Maybe little children can’t comprehend that concept because it makes little sense in light of the 1st Commandment.

In this psalm, Asaph steps in that same little mess by speaking for YHWH again. I mean, how can we have “no other gods before me” unless other gods exist, either now or later?

But, you say, we can worship anything — a favorite task, a fulsome talent, or a feckless team, even — and let it replace our nameless, binary, triune God with He/Him/His pronouns.

That is to say, we can put making money and spending it on ourselves ahead of helping the poor; love some pop diva or group more than we do our neighbors; or be a diehard fanatic.

Well, hey, that’s human nature — and that’s exactly what I’m trying to say: We will worship Whatever we please, whether it’s good for us, and for this wondrous but fragile world, or not.

I’ve noted that Asaph was a singer-songwriter in the court of King David. Later he performed at King Solomon’s coronation and then stayed on as a court musician. He was their Willie Nelson.

Like our Red Headed Stranger, Asaph was a poet and a wise man. He was even a prophet like Willie, though his books weren’t The Tao of Asaph, or Roll Me Up and Mummify Me When I Die.

The more I read about Asaph, the more I wonder if he was the brains behind the wisdom books in the Old Testament. Tonight’s psalm is the eighth of twelve that he gets actual credit for writing.

Just as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John probably didn’t pen their eponymous gospels, I seriously doubt that kings David and Solomon wrote Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs.

But back to this 80th Psalm by old Asaph, it’s structured like a pop song — verse, chorus, verse, chorus, verse, bridge, verse, chorus. Its superscription pairs it with a tune known as “The Lilies.”

As with any good hymn or pop song, you get the gist of it from the repeated chorus: “Restore us, O God; / Cause Your face to shine, / And we shall be saved!” Also, lilies represent a divine oath.