FOR THE DIRECTOR of music. A psalm of David.
1Blessed is he who has regard for the weak;
the LORD delivers him in times of trouble.
2The LORD will protect him and preserve his life;
he will bless him in the land
and not surrender him to the desire of his foes.
3The LORD will sustain him on his sickbed
and restore him from his bed of illness.
4I said, “O LORD, have mercy on me;
heal me, for I have sinned against you.”
5My enemies say of me in malice,
“When will he die and his name perish?”
6Whenever one comes to see me,
he speaks falsely, while his heart gathers slander;
then he goes out and spreads it abroad.
7All my enemies whisper together against me;
they imagine the worst for me, saying,
8“A vile disease has beset him;
he will never get up from the place where he lies.”
9Even my close friend, whom I trusted,
he who shared my bread,
has lifted up his heel against me.
10But you, O LORD, have mercy on me;
raise me up, that I may repay them.
11I know that you are pleased with me,
for my enemy does not triumph over me.
12In my integrity you uphold me
and set me in your presence forever.
13Praise be to the LORD, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting.
Amen and Amen.
PSALM 41 STANDS as the last psalm of the first book of the Psalter (Pss. 1–41), and the doxology that stands at the end of the psalm (41:13) actually serves as the conclusion for the whole book.1 This psalm is a complaint in response to the malicious plotting of the psalmist’s enemies during a debilitating sickness. The illness has reduced his capacity to respond effectively to hostile innuendo, has raised his enemies’ hopes for an imminent demise, and offers them (and even some friends) opportunity to plan for personal benefit in the vacuum left by his impending death. The psalm has particular poignancy since it is attributed to David, who late in his reign experienced a lengthy illness marked by similar plotting and intrigue by his associates and family. Whether or not David actually wrote this piece, it serves appropriately to mirror his experience and to conclude the first, most Davidic book of the Psalter.
The psalm is composed of twelve verses (omitting the doxology in 41:13, which concludes Book 1 of the Psalter), which are divided into four stanzas of three verses each, with the thematic movement of the psalm following the same division: the foundation of confidence (41:1–3), the complaint (41:4–9, two stanzas), and final plea and confidence (41:10–12).
The Heading (41:0)
NO NEW TERMS appear in the heading to Psalm 41. The poem is referred to “the director of music” and is described simply as “a psalm of David.”2 Omitting Psalms 1 and 2 as introductory and recognizing the tradition of linking psalms without headings with the preceding psalm (as in the case of Pss. 9–10; 32–33), Psalm 41 marks the conclusion of the first long run of entirely Davidic psalms (Pss. 3–41). Beginning with Psalm 42, a person other than David appears in the attribution of the psalm heading (“Sons of Korah”). In this literary context, Psalm 41 raises the specter of the king’s illness and approaching death, and the change from Davidic psalms to the first Korahite collection creates an unsettled sense of transition and potential chaos in the reader.
The Foundation of Confidence (41:1–3)
THIS FIRST STANZA begins with the important Hebrew word ʾašre (“blessed, happy”), which also marks the beginning of the whole Psalter in 1:1.3 While the term is employed elsewhere in the psalms,4 its appearance here, at the beginning of the last psalm of Book 1, seems hardly fortuitous.5 This term here seems intentionally positioned to cause the reader to reflect back to the opening blessings in Psalms 1 and 2 and to read the present psalm—with its rather tenuous portrait of a king at risk—against that more powerful earlier picture of the king as established and empowered by God presented in Psalm 2.
As noted by others,6 the placement of Psalm 2 suggests a messianic interpretation, in which human hopes are no longer to be pinned on a human kingship but on an anticipated “Anointed One,” who will be divinely empowered to fulfill the role that the Israelite monarchs failed to satisfy. In this light, the positioning of Psalm 41 at the end of this Davidic collection tends to support a messianic reading of the royal psalms by highlighting the vulnerability of the human king, who can be undone by sin, illness, and disease, and for whom the whispering conspiracy of enemies and close associates is no laughing matter (cf. 2:4; 41:4–9).
Regard for the weak. The blessing is invoked on the one “who has regard for the weak.” This phrase has certainly two (and possibly three) levels of meaning. (1) The blessing is a rather backhanded (and not so subtle) plea for deliverance. The suffering narrator turns out, as the psalm progresses, to be “the weak” in need of Yahweh’s attentive “regard.” By this blessing, then, God is reminded both of the psalmist’s need and of God’s power to save.
(2) On another level, however, the blessing serves as a basis for deliverance. In this reading the psalmist is the one who has regard for the weak, and because of that compassionate concern, Yahweh ought to deliver him from trouble as well. Lest we think of the psalmist as engaging in tit-for-tat theology (“I do, therefore I get”), we should remember that the ʾašre blessing is regularly employed to encourage and inculcate desired behavior rather than to reward it. That is why ʾašre is so often used in the proverbial literature as a motivation to right action.
The same is true of the promise that concludes verse 1: “The LORD delivers him in times of trouble.” Such statements are not simplistic rewards but are teaching models marking out the path of righteousness that is consonant with the will and pleasure of God. Such statements express the psalmist’s confidence and are intended to bolster the commitment of the reader to God’s way of “regard” for the weak.
Just what is this “regard” for the weak that is encouraged? The Hebrew word that underlies “regard” is maśkil (from śkl, “understand, gain insight to”). Rather than a sense of “compassionate concern” that might be expressed with the Hebrew verb rḥm, maśkil is a term associated with the wisdom tradition and reflects a perceptive ability to know the right response in a given situation—here, the treatment of the weak.7 In 1 Samuel 18:14–15, David’s perceptive ability to know how to engage in battle worried Saul, who feared David would turn his skill against Saul. Amos 5:13 uses the term to describe the person who is wise enough to know when to keep quiet in a difficult time.
A related noun (śekel) is used in David’s encouraging words to his son Solomon as the time approaches for Solomon to succeed him as king. David prays, “May the LORD give you discretion [śekel] and understanding [binah] when he puts you in command over Israel, so that you may keep the law of the LORD your God” (1 Chron. 22:12). Here the type of perceptive ability to know the right course of action is attached to the necessary characteristics of the ruling monarch. In the light of the positioning of this psalm at the end of Book 1 of the Psalter, it seems more likely that some translation like “savvy” (ability to know what to do and when) is more accurate than (compassionate) “regard.”
The LORD will protect him. The one who knows how to deal appropriately with the weak can anticipate appropriate treatment from Yahweh when weakness overtakes him. The remainder of this section describes the ways Yahweh will uphold the psalmist in illness. The description is divided into protection from external foes and troubles (41:2) and protection from the internal ravages of disease (41:3). Yahweh will “protect” the narrator and “preserve his life.” Yahweh “will bless him”8 in the land and “[will] not surrender him”9 to his foes. In addition, Yahweh will not allow sickness to undermine him. He will “sustain” the sick person on the sickbed10 and will “change” the patient’s bed as well.11
The Complaint (41:4–9)
A SHIFT FROM a third-person reference to Yahweh to a second-person address signals the beginning of the second section of the psalm. Two stanzas of three verses each expound the malice and calumny of the psalmist’s enemies (41:5–6) and friends (41:9), who speak false cheer to the patient (41:6), spread groundless rumors, and plot together to take advantage of the situation (41:7–8). The section is introduced (41:4) by the psalmist’s confession of sin and a plea to Yahweh for mercy. The description of the enemies’ malice thus serves as illustration of the experience of suffering that might encourage divine mercy.
When will he die? The enemies anticipate the psalmist’s death as imminent and expect his “name” to perish. The preservation of a man’s name was an important aspect of Israelite belief. The reference is probably to the horror of dying childless—with no (male) descendant to carry on the family name. Abram’s prickly response to God’s greeting and promise in Genesis 15:1–2 illumines the great value placed on progeny to secure one’s future place in the world. Equally as pointed is the extreme to which the law of levirate marriage12 was willing to go in order to ensure the “name of the deceased” would not be cut off (Deut. 25:5–10).
In the same vein, the story of Tamar (Gen. 38), who, following the death of her husband, saw one of his brothers die as he attempted to fulfill the obligation of the levir, emphasizes the importance of preserving the name of the deceased. When her father-in-law, Judah, refused to offer his third and only surviving son to fulfill the levirate obligation, Tamar disguised herself as a prostitute in order to become pregnant by her father-in-law and thus preserve her husband’s name at the extreme risk of her own reputation and life. The evaluation of Judah—“She is more righteous than I”—leaves no doubt that such extreme action was considered warranted in light of the importance of preserving the name. If the author of Psalm 41 is David or a later Davidic king, death without a male heir would not only mean the end of a dynasty and the obliteration of the “name” of the deceased, but it would offer opportunity to other contenders to the throne to gain power for themselves and their descendants.
United against the psalmist, foe and friend alike use the power of language to create a distorted picture of reality that fuels their fantasies and encourages their hopes. They “speak falsely” (41:6), “gather slander” (41:6), “whisper together” (41:7), and verbalize their worst imaginings (41:7–8), assuming that the “vile disease” will finish the patient off (41:8).
Even my close friend. The malice extends even to those whom the psalmist has counted as close associates. This passage is well known from Jesus’ use of it at the Last Supper to predict Judas’s coming betrayal (John 13:18). Not only was Jesus familiar with this psalm, but he was well read in the whole collection of psalms that existed at his time and studied them for insights into his own role and circumstances.13 The estrangement and betrayal he experienced with Judas (and ultimately with all the disciples, who forsook him) found clear resonances with the sense of isolation and suffering expressed in Psalm 41. The sharing of bread was one of the most intimate moments in Israelite life, and meals were a time in which participants set aside all enmity and hostility. This being the case, betrayal by one who had “shared bread” was particularly distressing. The fact that it was “my bread” that was shared also suggests that the psalmist had supplied the repast, which thus heightens the sense of betrayal by the guest’s ingratitude.
Has lifted up his heel. Commentators are not certain whether this phrase refers to an actual symbolic act of public rejection or whether it is simply an idiomatic expression for betrayal. A related idiom—“put one’s foot on the neck of another”—describes a symbolic act of victory and subjugation of an enemy, so there may be some actual action involved here. Others suggest a cunning wrestling move or a “great kick” in a fight as the basis.14
Koov mentions that the Hebrew behind the phrase “lifted up” (gdl) “is never used in the OT in the sense of ‘lift up’ or ‘raise,’ but always ‘to act proudly,’ ‘to magnify oneself.’ ” He suggests that ʿaqeb (“heel”) has been displaced from the end of verse 11 and should be eliminated.15 Koov’s conclusion seems apt, regardless of which alternative one chooses: “The emphasis would seem to be that one, with whom one was bound by a covenant of peace, who partook of one’s bread, had violated the laws of hospitality, and had turned on his host.”
Final Plea and Confidence (41:10–12)
HAVING POURED OUT a complaint of isolation and betrayal, the psalmist now seeks mercy from God and restoration to health. The plea for divine mercy relates back to verse 4, where he recalls a previous request for mercy in the face of sin. But he broadens its appeal in light of the merciless attack of the opponents depicted in the intervening verses. The psalmist’s hope is not only for forgiveness and restored health but also for being requited against the enemies—balancing the account sheet between them.16
I know that you are pleased with me. The psalmist expresses a rather unexpected and audacious confidence in the pressing circumstances. Not only will Yahweh act to deliver, but he is actually “pleased” with the psalmist. He knows this because God has not allowed the enemies to triumph regardless of his extreme vulnerability. As a result, he dares to hope that God will honor his continued “integrity”17 by taking a firm grasp18 so that the sufferer is assured of a continued place in God’s “presence.”19
The Doxology (41:13)
VERSE 13 PRESENTS the first of four similar doxologies that function editorially to mark the conclusion of the first four books of the Psalter. This verse marks the end of the first Davidic collection of psalms (Pss. 3–41). The NIV’s consistent translation of the Hebrew baruk (from brk) as “praise be . . .” obscures the fact that this is not an attempt to praise God but is rather an outpouring of the human desire to give back to God in blessing. The difference may seem subtle, but it is significant. To praise God is to call others to awareness of God’s great character, awesome power, and merciful benefactions to humans—a worthy activity. To bless God is a expression of the human desire to return goodness to God—in some way to give goodness and benefaction back to God himself. Although theologically we may bridle at the audacious idea that we might have anything to add to the complete and perfect wholeness that God is in and of himself, that is not really the point. What is at issue, and what is expressed in this doxology, is an attitude of wholehearted giving to God.
God of Israel. The concern with the God of the community betrays the secondary nature of this doxology in relation to Psalm 41, which is wholly focused on the experience and concerns of the individual. The doxology—particularly in concert with the other concluding doxologies—encapsulates the heart of a whole people, who out of a combined, national experience of suffering and restoration in the Exile have assembled this collection of psalms as an example and encouragement of their desire to bless Yahweh.
From everlasting to everlasting. The Hebrew ʿolam has the sense of a long time or time immemorial rather than the more precise term “eternity.” It does have the effect, however, of removing this blessing of God from any specific attachment to an event or experience. This is no tit-for-tat blessing that responds to God’s gifts by returning the favor. It is, instead, the outflowing of the recognition of God’s essential worthiness within himself—without regard to his acts of gracious mercy and blessing on humans. From before he was known to humans until after there is no more knowing, God remains worthy of blessing.
Amen and Amen. This final phrase denotes an affirmation and acceptance of what has gone before. Related to the verb ʾmn (“be stable, firm, trustworthy, reliable”), the word expresses agreement and solidarity with an oath or a curse—“this is my position as well,” “may this curse happen to me if I fail to keep my obligation.” The Hebrew term comes over into Christian usage through the Greek transliteration amen and reflects similar usage in the New Testament. Jesus used the term to affirm the truth of his teaching by introducing statements with “Amen, Amen, I say to you . . .” (“Truly, truly . . .”). Jesus is also called “the Amen” (Rev. 3:14), affirming the truth of the testimony of his life and ministry. Nowadays “Amen” is a standard closure to public or private prayer, indicating personal or corporate alignment with the sentiments or commitments expressed. In some congregations, an outspoken “Amen!” is one audible way of expressing agreement with and encouragement of the speaker.
BLESSED. AS NOTED above, Psalm 41 begins, as does the whole Psalter, with a promise of “blessing.” The term ʾašre is less common than the usual word for bless, baruk.20 It evokes a circumstance of “wholeness, health, prosperity, balance.” The one who is ʾašre experiences life as God intended it from the beginning. This does not deny that the world in which such blessed persons move and breathe is decidedly corrupted and removed from God’s original intention. But it suggests that Israel believed it was to possible to experience this kind of blessed wholeness, here and now.21
The distribution of ʾašre throughout the Psalter is interesting.22 Of particular note is its occurrence at the “seams” between the five books. We find ʾašre in Psalms 1 and 2 at the beginning of the Psalter, in Psalm 41 at the end of Book 1, in Psalm 89 at the end of Book 3, in Psalm 106 at the end of Book 4, and Psalms 144 and 146, which bracket the end of the final book (145), just before the concluding Hallel (146–150).23
Although ʾašre is most often associated with the biblical wisdom tradition, none of these “seam” psalms (except for Ps. 1) is particularly characteristic of wisdom. Psalms 2; 89; and 144 are “royal psalms” while Psalm 106 is a historical confession of Israel’s sin in a Deuteronomic mode, and Psalm 146 is a praise hymn with connections to the Yahweh malak collection. By contrast, most of the other psalms that use ʾašre do display wisdom characteristics.24 This suggests that nonwisdom compositions with ʾašre statements may have been adapted as part of the final wisdom editing to which the whole Psalter seems to have been subjected.25
The placement of these psalms with their emphasis on “blessing” and “wholeness” at the seams of the Psalter has the effect of following up on the introductory exhortation of Psalm 1 that those who follow the “way” that God knows experience the healing restoration of his intention and purpose in their lives. A return to this important structural theme at these important junctures drives home the intent of the final editors that the psalms are to be read within the new context provided them in the arrangement of the canonical Psalter. While each composition still retains its integrity as an individual expression of faith, the whole concert of songs together provides another way of hearing God’s word within these human words as each individual expression is heard alongside of and in tension with other expressions that mark out the boundaries of faithful life before Yahweh.
Having regard for the weak. According to Psalm 41, it is the one who has regard for the “weak” who experiences the blessing of restored wholeness that ʾašre offers. But just who are the dallim whom the NIV here calls the “weak”? In most occurrences of this word, the connotation has more to do with a lack of financial resources than with physical weakness.26 In Ruth 3:10 the term is contrasted in parallelism with ʿašir (“wealthy”) to describe the two categories of “young men” whom Ruth resisted running indiscriminately after. The tension with the rich is particularly clear in Proverbs: “The wealth of the rich is their fortified city, but poverty is the ruin of the poor [dal]” (Prov. 10:15). “Wealth brings many friends, but a poor man’s friend deserts him” (19:4). “He who is kind to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will reward him for what he has done” (19:17). “A rich man may be wise in his own eyes, but a poor man who has discernment sees through him” (28:11).27
Elsewhere the lack of resources possessed by the dal is noted. “A generous man will himself be blessed, for he shares his food with the poor” (Prov. 22:9). “Nebuzaradan the commander of the guard left behind in the land of Judah some of the poor people, who owned nothing; and at that time he gave them vineyards and fields” (Jer. 39:10).28 Despite their lack of financial and other resources, it appears that the dallim were not entirely destitute. Others could exploit them by stealing their grain (Amos 5:11), and Leviticus 14:21 implies they had the wherewithal to be required to provide sacrifices of a male lamb, one-tenth an ephah of choice flour mixed with oil, and additional oil as well.29
Although the primary connotation of dal seems to be lack of resources, in a few contexts another nuance seems appropriate. In 2 Samuel 13:4, dal describes a visible change of features in response to Amnon’s obsessive preoccupation with his half-sister, Tamar. The NIV’s “haggard” tries to capture this meaning. A similar use of dal occurs in the description of the seven lean cows in Pharaoh’s dream, which were “scrawny [dallot] and very ugly and lean” (Gen. 41:19). Again, in 2 Samuel 3:1, the term describes the declining strength (“grew weaker and weaker”) of the house of Saul in its competition with the rising house of David. On the basis of such nuances it is possible to justify the NIV’s translation of dal in Psalm 41:1 as “weak,” although that is not the most common rendering.30
It was the king’s responsibility to ensure the rights of the dallim and to provide equity for them. “If a king judges the poor with fairness, his throne will always be secure” (Prov. 29:14). “A ruler who oppresses the poor is like a driving rain that leaves no crops” (28:3). “[The king] will take pity on the weak and the needy and save the needy from death. He will rescue them from oppression and violence, for precious is their blood in his sight” (Ps. 72:13–14).31
Contemporary Significance
REGARD FOR THE WEAK. If having regard for the weak is commended to the reader of Psalm 41 and if the consequence of such regard is to experience the restoration of wholeness signified by ʾašre, how can we respond with such regard today? Let me suggest three aspects of what it means to regard the poor/weak in our own time.
(1) The first element of having regard for the dallim is to know how to offer the right and appropriate response in our contacts with them. As we noted on verse 1, the participle maśkil [NIV “regard”] speaks of having insight and understanding into the appropriate response to the “poor/weak” rather than just compassionate concern. Often concerned people fail in their attempts to minister to others because they do not take the time to know whom they are trying to serve and what their needs really are. This kind of understanding requires time in order to build relationships with persons, often in an entirely different cultural setting. It may require us to sit down, shut up, and really spend time listening until others are willing to share their thoughts, fears, and needs.
When we think we can decide from the outside what problems beset a person or community and when we come with a unilaterally determined “program” to solve their problems, we are likely to offend and alienate those we seek to serve rather than gain their confidence and support. As codirector of a Christian nonprofit organization concerned to develop programs of education for ministry for members of underserved ethnic communities in a major urban center, I found myself sitting around a table with representatives of nine educational institutions and of an equal number of Christian service organizations, and with numerous representatives of urban ethnic churches and communities.
One of the first insights we gained was that academic professors and administrators—largely men and mostly from majority culture institutions—were skilled and comfortable with roundtable discussions, pushing forward viewpoints, mustering arguments, and persuading consent. We talked all the time and expected others to adopt our ground rules whenever they broke in to counter our arguments or to express their own views. Soon we realized, however, just how one-sided our “conversation” had become. Those we had invited to the meetings to speak for the ethnic minority communities were not comfortable with this kind of dialogue and remained strangely silent. After some discussion among ourselves, we agreed to sit down, keep quiet, invite input from others, and listen quietly until they began to talk and share. Only after extended silence and patient waiting did the circumstances begin to shift and the real voices of the urban communities emerge. Our hearts had always been in the right place, but first we had to learn the right way to approach and know those we wanted to collaborate with.
(2) The idea of collaboration implies the second aspect of “regarding the poor/weak.” If we are truly committed to those we consider “poor” or “weak” and if we truly want to labor together with them in redemptive ways, we must acknowledge our essential unity with them. This is the message communicated by Psalm 41 when it moves immediately from encouraging the cultivation of regard for the weak to an exposition of the psalmist’s own weakness that pled for the regard of God. The one who has regard for the weak will be blessed because God will protect and bless him (41:2), sustain him on his sickbed, and restore him (41:3).
We are not so different from those we are called to serve. I am reminded again of Jesus’ confrontation with the Pharisees over his association with “sinners” (Matt. 9:9–13). Jesus replied to their criticism: “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” The Pharisees needed to learn that they had much in common with those they called “sinners.” In fact, it was this common bond that offered them their greatest hope; Jesus had come to save all who acknowledged their sinful condition and need. These Pharisees, however, were missing out on his offer because they could not see or accept their oneness with the tax collectors and sinners.
(3) Acknowledging our essential unity with the “poor” and “weak” leads us to the third aspect of “regard.” When we build listening, hearing relationships that allow us to truly know and understand those we seek to serve and when we acknowledge our own needs and desires are essentially the same, we learn that service is a two-way street. As our Christian nonprofit organization began to listen to the urban ethnic minority communities, we discovered there was much they had to offer and teach us. They had insights into the distorted systems of this world that we in our privileged status had not even begun to consider. They had developed strength and patience bred only of struggle and suffering.
I found myself drawn to bring together some of the insights from this fruitful collaboration with my ongoing study of the psalms and was amazed to see how the modern urban experience was reflected in the experience of the righteous sufferers of the psalms. Equally amazing—and frightening—was the realization of how much I had in common with the “enemies” in the psalms, who were the “haves” of their day and who participated explicitly or complicitly in the exploitation of the dallim of their context. This is a lesson I would not likely have sought out by myself. But it has changed the way I look at the psalms, and I have my urban brothers and sisters to thank for the insight.
A life of personal integrity. Psalm 41 also encourages us to adopt a lifestyle marked by personal integrity. The kind of integrity intended by the Hebrew word tom (41:12) is more than just a matter of character, although character is obviously important. It is the psalmist’s integrity that leads to being “upheld” by God and “set” in his presence forever. That is a kind of integrity I would like to have. But how do I go about doing that? I am an imperfect human with a track record of sin, so how can I ever hope to attain such a standard of integrity or even “blamelessness,” as the underlying Hebrew word is often translated?32
Although many of the occurrences of tom receive the English translation “blameless” or “innocent,” only a few appear in contexts that allow us to make a judgment about the basic and original meaning of the term. In Genesis 20:5–6; 2 Samuel 15:11; and 1 Kings 22:34 = 2 Chron. 18:33, events occurred that might or did cause harm, but the participants were declared “blameless” or “innocent” because there had been no premeditation or intent to harm behind their action. This is, perhaps, most clear in the incident in 1 Kings, where the king of Israel is killed by an arrow unleashed by an archer in indiscriminate fire—without intentional aiming—in the heat of battle. It is said that the archer shot his arrow letummo (NIV “at random”) and thus hit the king (who was in any event disguised!) without any specific intention of doing so.
Similarly, Abimelech pleads his innocence (NIV “I have done this with a clear conscience [betom lebabi]”) in Genesis 20:5–6, since he had taken Sarah from Abraham when they concealed their marriage relationship and claimed to be brother and sister. Likewise, the two hundred guests of Absalom, invited to a gathering in order to buttress his growing opposition to his father, David, “went quite innocently [letummam], knowing nothing about the matter” (2 Sam. 15:11). So this kind of “integrity” does not mean that no action resulting in harm occurred. A wife was taken and her virtue threatened. A king was threatened, and a rebellion fomented. But the participants are declared “innocent” or “blameless” because they lacked premeditation and intent.
Integrity of this sort involves no deceit, but it does involve integration of thought, word, and deed. When we have this kind of integrity, we say what we mean, and our words and actions reflect what is actually in our hearts and minds. We are all of a piece and transparent. This is a difficult practice to accomplish, especially when we fear how others will respond to what we think and feel. Perhaps we do need to reflect on our thoughts and emotions before giving them free rein. That is certainly what Psalm 39 seems to counsel when the psalmist talks about putting “a muzzle on my mouth” (39:1).33
Psalm 41 offers two further insights into the kind of integrity that leads to being upheld by God. (1) This kind of integrity is more than just a passive characteristic one can bear. It is a consistent way of acting—a life path, so to speak, that has its beginning and end in God. There may be individual stumbles along the way, but the integrated person is the one whose eyes remain firmly fixed on the goal. It is this person who can cry out with the psalmist: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (139:23–24).
(2) This kind of integrity involves taking a stand in the strength of God. Psalm 41 describes this process as “in my integrity you uphold me and set me in your presence forever.” The second of these two verbs (yṣb) is most often used in contexts where a firm stance in resistance to someone or something is intended. This is so in a military context of the soldier taking the stance for action against the enemy. One may rise and stand about, using the more common verb ʿmd. But yṣb conjures up in my mind the crouching soldier, sword and shield in hand, bracing for the clash with the onrushing enemy.
So Psalm 41 promises that the person of integrity will experience the upholding hand of God, providing bracing support in times of struggle, and will also be empowered by God to face the attack of the enemy. Such integrity does not mean “aloofness” or being above the fray. Instead, it pictures those willing to take a stand in the power of God to confront, resist, and counter wrong and injustice wherever it exists. It is out of this kind of integrated life that true regard for the weak is possible.