though fear should arise…
no, I am invincible
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” That was what I started with as I considered this psalm — which makes sense, since it is the beginning! I remembered writing something about that in my journal a couple of years ago, so I went and searched for it. I thought, “That’s a good question. Whom shall I fear? Do I fear myself? My capacity to let myself down? Do I fear my continued indulgence in pseudo-guilt?” (I think I was trying to get pseudo-deep.)
Little did I know, before doing some study of this psalm, I am not alone in asking these questions. There is a long history, especially in Jewish tradition, that mirrors these concerns. Having said that, it still doesn’t absolve me of my self-indulgence! We will follow up on this in a few moments.
Psalm 27 is one that many people have turned to for comfort and reassurance. It’s similar to Psalm 46 (“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble”). It is often used in prayers for healing and at funerals. And aside from healing and funerals, it is simply one of my favorite psalms, although I do treasure many of them.
Whom shall I fear?
This psalm is packed full of goodies. I’ll just use some tidbits here and there. The first six verses are a bold affirmation of faith. It is a poem of unwavering assurance. “The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (v. 1b). Or as another translation puts it: “of whom then should I go in dread?” (Revised English Bible)
The psalmist is convinced. “Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident” (v. 3). That’s some daring talk! The Lord “will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble; he will conceal me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock” (v. 5). Our poet is almost euphoric. We can see a fumbling of images to express this steadfast trust. The Lord will conceal me, and yet, he will set me high.
And then, the psalmist’s voice is raised in joyful song: “Now my head is lifted up above my enemies all around me, and I will offer in his tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing and make melody to the Lord” (v. 6).
(I enjoy singing, although as I’ve told others on many occasions, my voice would fit into the category of “make a joyful noise to the Lord.”)
Life is rock solid for this one! It’s a thing of wonder, a thing of beauty. On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand. Again, the thought is, “Whom shall I fear?”
There’s a real change in tone from verses 6 to 7. Some have said two poems have been fused together. I think it makes more sense if we see the psalm as a unified whole. After the rendition of praise that ends with verse 6, we move abruptly to a distressed plea for help. “Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud, be gracious to me and answer me!” (v. 7).
Have you ever been in a place where you think nothing can touch you? You are invincible? You are immortal? Maybe I should rephrase that: I am immortal!
I think many, if not most, of us feel that way when we’re young (or younger!). In a perhaps more meaningful way, it can be the case when we feel secure in our possessions, our investments, in our bank account. It can be the case when we, at the very least, have a roof over our head, clothes on our back, and food in our belly. Probably the most fundamental way is when we enjoy good health — when we feel strong and vigorous.
As the years go by, we really treasure those times!
Whom shall I fear?
The psalmist utters the plea, “If my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up” (v. 10). Being cast out by family can have dire consequences, indeed.
God is implored, “Do not give me up to the will of my adversaries, for false witnesses have risen against me, and they are breathing out violence” (v. 12). The New English Bible says, “Liars stand up to give to give evidence against me, breathing malice.” The word for “breathing out” (יָפֵחַ, yapeach), also means “exhaling” or “puffing.” Our friend is being hounded by scoundrels huffing and puffing, filling the air with their noxious noise.
Whom shall I fear?
At the beginning I mentioned Jewish tradition in conjunction with fearing myself and what’s within me. This psalm is recited during the month of Elul, which begins on Thursday at sundown. As we have seen, Psalm 27 begins with celebration and then suddenly shifts into a darker tone.
The end of this month of Elul falls on Rosh Hashanah (literally, the “head of the year”). It is the Jewish secular New Year. There are ten days running from Rosh Hashanah to Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.
In Leviticus 16, Yom Kippur was set aside as a communal time of repentance. The High Priest would enter the Holy of Holies, the inner sanctum of the temple, and offer a sacrifice. It should be noted, this was the only day of the year the High Priest was permitted to enter the Holy of Holies, and he was the only one allowed to do it. Following the sacrifice, the High Priest would lay his hands on a goat, which would be released into the wilderness, bearing the sins of the people. The poor animal would eventually die in the desert. It was known as the scapegoat. (Thus, the origin of that word.)
The ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are known as the “Days of Awe.”
The month of Elul is preparation for those High Holidays. It has a theme of repentance and reflection.
(On a side note, with the exception of the Sabbaths, each morning of the month begins with the blowing of the shofar. The idea is to awaken the soul so that a spiritual inventory occurs throughout each day of Elul.)
Jane E. Herman has noted, “It…is a month during which we are encouraged to study and take time for personal reflection around our actions of the past year and to seek forgiveness from those we have wronged or with whom we otherwise have ‘missed the mark’ in our interactions and behaviors.”
Reflecting that mentality, in the Sermon on the Mount Jesus says, “When you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift” (Mt 5:23–24).
(That could be a bit tricky. Perhaps I would suggest we at least try to make a good faith effort. After that, the ball is in their court, so to speak.)
I hope that focus on reflection and seeking forgiveness explains my earlier hints on them.
Alan Cooper, from Jewish Theological Seminary, speaks of the enemies of the psalmist. According to early interpreters, they were seen as solely external: enemies of flesh and blood.
However, as Cooper says, “Later commentators often internalize them, identifying them with the psalmist’s own evil inclination — in some ways the most terrifying enemy of all: ‘the evil inclination and all the forces of uncleanness that are brought into being by transgressions — each one of which is like a warrior attempting to drag [us] into additional sin, ultimately to destroy [our] soul.’”
Okay, that’s not the kind of company I want to identify with, but at least, I’m not alone!
Cooper describes the psalm as a sort of map or path. As we’ve seen, the psalm begins with the speaker in a state of well-being. Then, things move in the direction of concern and supplication to God. Feelings of abandonment appear. But then in verse 13, we come “to the edge of the abyss.”
Wait. What? Doesn’t it say, “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living”? That sounds like a good thing. However, Cooper notes that it’s an unfinished sentence. The verse begins with the Hebrew word (לוּלֵא, lule’), which means “unless.” Unless. So it can also be translated, “Had I not believed that I should see the goodness of the Lord…” We’re left hanging. Cooper says there is “terror inherent in what is left unsaid.”
The reason I mention all of this is to show that in life, as you all know, faith is tested. We don’t always have the mountain top experience in the first half of the psalm. Just like the disciples who witnessed Jesus’ transfiguration, we must come down the mountain. This shouldn’t be seen as simply inevitable, but actually as a positive. Without testing, our faith remains naïve and shallow.
Whom shall I fear?
As Beth Tanner says, “Life without fear is not possible, but faith can call us to live into God’s will for our life instead of reducing our lives because of our fears and insecurities.” Fear causes us to live reduced lives. Just like when we’re thinking with our reptile brain, we aren’t very creative.
When we’re confronted with fear or stress, we might revert to a fallback position. Some become overly emotional. Some retreat into silence. Some fall into despair. Others might bury themselves in meaningless activity.
Though fear should arise…
The psalmist has known the grace and strength and health provided by the Lord. Then the bottom falls out, and the edge of the abyss beckons. But all is not lost.
Our psalm ends on this glorious, triumphant declaration: “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (v. 14).
Come what may for us, a loss of spirit might be a powerful temptation. Perhaps there’s a spirit that says, “Who cares?” There might be a spirit of apathy.
Still, our Lord Jesus Christ, who has been through all of this, reaches out a strong hand of love and hope. He only wants us to repent, reflect, and hold on and join him in the journey of life.
