Psalm 4, Anger, and Joy

For my weekly quiet time this Sabbath, I studied Psalm 4. What I like about this Psalm is that the Psalmist urges his enemies to desist from sin, to offer the sacrifices of righteousness, and to trust in the LORD. Here, the Psalmist doesn't want his enemies to be destroyed, as he does in so many Psalms; rather, he desires for them to rest in the LORD.

V 4 is interesting. The KJV renders it, "Stand in awe, and sin not: commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still." Scholar Peter Craigie's paraphrase of this verse is: "You can tremble with anger and rage, but don't sin by doing anything! You can speak your words within your hearts, but don't speak them out loud! Lie still and silent upon your beds, where you can do no harm."

I like Craigie's paraphrase because I think it's unrealistic for me to try to get rid of my anger, or to feel guilty because I'm angry. But I can choose not to act on my anger. And, paradoxically, once I accept my anger, my anger becomes defused. For a similar scenario, see Elizabeth's post,The Bible Does Not Interpret Us, We Interpret The Bible (And A Little Tidbit About Loneliness).

But the Septuagint offers a slightly different twist in its rendition of Psalm 4:4. It says (in my translation): "Be angry, and sin not; speak in your hearts and on your beds be stabbed." The Brenton translation of the Septuagint says this is saying that the wicked should feel "compunction" about their angry thoughts. Maybe there's wisdom in this, too. There are times when I just have to put a halt to my angry thoughts---either by thinking about positive things, or by talking to God about my anger (which can take quite a bit of time, but it's worth the effort).

What's interesting is that Ephesians 4:26---the part about being angry and sinning not---is actually a quotation of Psalm 4:4. I wonder if the part in Ephesians 4:26 about not letting the sun go down on your wrath is an allusion (in some manner) to Psalm 4:4: we deal with wrath on our beds, at the end of the day. Of course, I don't know when people in the ancient world went to bed. Before sunset? That's pretty early!

I also enjoyed Keil-Delitzsch's comments on v 7, which affirms that God put joy in the Psalmist's heart, more than in the time that their corn and wine increased. Keil-Delitzsch tie this to the story of David's flight from Absalom. David and his men had to receive their provisions by stealth, or, more accurately, David relied on the generosity of his friends (II Samuel 17:26-29). Keil-Delitzsch speculate that David talked about his enemies' corn and wine increasing during the Feast of Tabernacles, which was a harvest festival. Here was Absalom and his allies, in the city of Jerusalem, enjoying the bounty of the land, without worry about where they would receive their provisions. And here was David, exiled from the city, rendered dependent upon the generosity of others. But David still has joy because of his faith in God.

Of course, many scholars don't relate this Psalm to David's flight from Absalom. They may interpret v 7 to mean that the poor Psalmist is talking about his rich oppressors, for the oppression by the rich of the not-so-rich is a theme that occurs throughout the Hebrew Bible. Consequently, Psalm 4 can be a general Psalm, not one written by David for his specific situation.

I admire the Psalmist finding joy in the midst of his suffering. I don't like it, however, when Christians impose on me some legalistic requirement that I have to have joy, according to their standards, or when they put on some phony happy-happy facade to show how much better they are than others because they're joyful. Or, if they really are joyful, I wish they'd cut the not-so-joyful people some slack, rather than judging them.

But here's the paradox: when I read the Psalms, I encounter prayers that are honest about anger and grief. When I encounter Christians, I see a lot of happy-happy facades. I find more reality in the Bible than I do among Christians. Or let me say this: I identify more with the Bible than I do with Christians.

But to arrive at a state of joy that rises above the bad circumstances around me? I certainly do wish for that!