FOR THE DIRECTOR of music. To the tune of “The Doe of the Morning.” A psalm of David.
1My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving me,
so far from the words of my groaning?
2O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
by night, and am not silent.
3Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;
you are the praise of Israel.
4In you our fathers put their trust;
they trusted and you delivered them.
5They cried to you and were saved;
in you they trusted and were not disappointed.
6But I am a worm and not a man,
scorned by men and despised by the people.
7All who see me mock me;
they hurl insults, shaking their heads:
8“He trusts in the LORD;
let the LORD rescue him.
Let him deliver him,
since he delights in him.”
9Yet you brought me out of the womb;
you made me trust in you
even at my mother’s breast.
10From birth I was cast upon you;
from my mother’s womb you have been my God.
11Do not be far from me,
for trouble is near
and there is no one to help.
12Many bulls surround me;
strong bulls of Bashan encircle me.
13Roaring lions tearing their prey
open their mouths wide against me.
and all my bones are out of joint.
My heart has turned to wax;
it has melted away within me.
15My strength is dried up like a potsherd,
and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;
you lay me in the dust of death.
16Dogs have surrounded me;
a band of evil men has encircled me,
they have pierced my hands and my feet.
17I can count all my bones;
people stare and gloat over me.
18They divide my garments among them
and cast lots for my clothing.
19But you, O LORD, be not far off;
O my Strength, come quickly to help me.
20Deliver my life from the sword,
my precious life from the power of the dogs.
21Rescue me from the mouth of the lions;
save me from the horns of the wild oxen.
22I will declare your name to my brothers;
in the congregation I will praise you.
23You who fear the LORD, praise him!
All you descendants of Jacob, honor him!
Revere him, all you descendants of Israel!
24For he has not despised or disdained
the suffering of the afflicted one;
he has not hidden his face from him
but has listened to his cry for help.
25From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly;
before those who fear you will I fulfill my vows.
26The poor will eat and be satisfied;
they who seek the LORD will praise him—
may your hearts live forever!
27All the ends of the earth
will remember and turn to the LORD,
and all the families of the nations
will bow down before him,
28for dominion belongs to the LORD
and he rules over the nations.
29All the rich of the earth will feast and worship;
all who go down to the dust will kneel before him—
those who cannot keep themselves alive.
30Posterity will serve him;
future generations will be told about the Lord.
31They will proclaim his righteousness
to a people yet unborn—
for he has done it.
Original Meaning
A POWERFUL INDIVIDUAL psalm of deep lament, Psalm 22 shares a number of connections with Psalms 69, 70, and 71 toward the end of the second book of the Psalter. In particular Psalms 22 and 70–711 share similar phrases. The similarities include: (1) the plea that Yahweh “be not far” from the narrator (22:11, 19; 71:12); (2) reference to divine support from the psalmist’s birth (cf. 22:9–10; 71:6); and (3) the plea for quick relief (22:19; 70:1, 5; 71:12). In the New Testament, Psalm 22 is used on a number of occasions to interpret the suffering and death of Jesus, and he himself quotes portions of its text from the cross.2
In my reading of Psalm 22, I have divided the text into three balanced sections of ten verses introduced by the thematic verse 1. Each of the larger sections must be further divided as well, with internal divisions being indicated by certain repeated features. The first two sections focus on the psalmist’s complaint, while the final section features the psalmist’s promise to praise Yahweh for deliverance and salvation. The psalm can be outlined as follows: thematic introduction (22:1); the silence and absence of God (22:2–11)—divine silence (22:2–5) and divine absence (22:6–11); vicious attacks by humans (22:12–21); promise of praise (22:22–31)—promise and call to praise (22:22–24) and vow of continued praise (22:25–31).
THE HEADING BEGINS with a reference “for the director of music” and concludes with the common description “a psalm of David.”3 Between these elements appears the new phrase ʾayyelet haššaḥar (lit., “according to the Doe of Dawn”)—a probable reference to the ancient tune to which the composition was to be sung.4
Thematic Introduction (22:1)
MY GOD, MY GOD, why have you forsaken me? The opening words of this psalm have become so familiar to us from Jesus’ use of them (in an Aramaic version)5 from the cross that it is difficult for us to separate them from that much later context and read them as an integral part of Psalm 22. If we read these words only as words about Jesus, we ignore the original and continuing word of God to us this psalm in its entirety represents. These opening words encapsulate the thematic agony of the first two-thirds of this psalm. The psalmist feels totally abandoned. The use of the perfect verb ʿazabtani (“you have forsaken me”) with its sense of completed action makes God’s abandonment seem more complete and final—an act accomplished in the past with effects extending into the present and beyond.
So far from saving me. The last half of verse 1 is awkward. The questioning “why” of the first half of the verse must be taken to refer also to both of the remaining phrases, while the plaintive “so far” of the second phrase must also govern the last phrase. The interpretive rendering of the rather difficult literal Hebrew can be illustrated below, where the italics in parentheses represent words that are not in the original text but are supplied to clarify the meaning. (Delete the parenthetical phrases to get a sense of the literal Hebrew text.)
Why have you forsaken me?
(Why are you) so far from my deliverance?
(Why are you so far from) the words of my groaning?
Such ellipses of significant material from parallel lines is not uncommon in Hebrew poetry, but it often renders the interpretive task more difficult and ambiguous.
The NIV’s “saving me” renders a noun construction (mišuʿati; lit., “from my salvation/deliverance”) as a verbal phrase. While this clarifies the meaning in the context, it obscures the connection that exists between this phrase and the thematic use of the same noun (yešuʿah) in Psalms 18, 20, and 21.6 In those passages the term speaks of the “deliverance” that Yahweh has given his king or that is anticipated as sure to come. The use of the term in the present psalm creates a stark contrast as the psalmist agonizes over clear evidence that Yahweh is “far” from providing “deliverance.”
The Silence and Absence of God (22:2–11)
THE FIRST MAJOR section of the psalm emphasizes the theme of abandonment through two sets of contrasts between the psalmist’s current sense of God’s complete absence and past reports of God’s very present help in time of trouble. The first contrast focuses on God’s silence (22:2–5) while the second is concerned with his failure to act (22:6–11). The NIV marks these contrasts by the use in both instances of the expression “yet you . . .” (22:3a, 9a) to introduce the earlier experience so contrary to the psalmist’s own.7
You do not answer. When God does not reply to the psalmist’s repeated cries, it is not because he is unable to speak or is unaware of the psalmist’s plight. Divine silence is for the psalmist an example of the mysterious exercise of God’s free will. It is this difficult circumstance—that God is aware and could answer but does not—that fuels the psalmist’s painful confusion and dismay. Note the intentional contrast between the psalmist’s almost garrulous attempts to persuade God with many words (22:1b–2: “my groaning,” “I cry out,” “[I] am not silent”) and God’s complete silence (22:2a: “you do not answer”).
Note also the further contrast established between the psalmist’s present experience of abandonment and the reports of Yahweh’s earlier quick response to the cries of the “fathers” (22:5). When the ancestors of Israel cried out for help, God not only heard but answered and acted. The ancestors were “not disappointed” (22:5), as the psalmist is. The fact that Yahweh is the Holy One8 who “is seated [on] the praises of Israel” (22:3)9 implies there is no failure of faithfulness on Israel’s part that might explain any lack of divine responsiveness. Israel trusted (22:4a, 4b, 5b)10 Yahweh, and that trust was rewarded when God “delivered” them from their distress (22:5). Once again the contrast between God’s past active deliverance and the present experience of his complete silence and absence heightens the psalmist’s confusion and pain.
I am a worm and not a man. The contrast continues and is heightened in the second set of oppositions offered. The psalmist’s situation feels even more desperate than that of the ancestors, and yet Yahweh still does nothing. He feels reduced and degraded below the status of a human being by the taunts of his enemies as well as the lack of divine concern. The “worm” (tolaʿat/toleʿah) is a destructive creature mentioned in agricultural contexts.11 In Jonah 4:7, the worm is significant by virtue of its insignificance. Jonah is chided for having more concern for the plant destroyed by the worm than for the inhabitants of Nineveh, who stood to lose their lives because of their sins. Jonah would have God destroy the insignificant worm to preserve his comfort, but he would not intercede to seek forgiveness for the Ninevites in order to save them.
Like Jonah, the opponents viewed the psalmist as worthy of destruction. They express “scorn” (ḥerpah), they “despise” (bzh), “mock” (lʿg), and “insult” (pṭr) the psalmist, they “wag their heads” in ridicule (22:6–7). Their public articulation of scorn once again emphasizes the contrast between the psalmist’s experience of abandonment and God’s deliverance of the ancestors.
Although the Hebrew behind “trust” in this verse is not the same as in 22:4–5, the ideas are parallel and link the two passages together. Like the ancestors the psalmist relies on Yahweh, but unlike them he experiences no divine protection and deliverance. Moreover, the public taunts of the enemy grind this home in the most painful way possible.
You made me trust in you. The study in contrasts is not over yet. Again the psalmist shifts to second-person address of Yahweh, introduced with the phrase “yet you” (22:9).14 This leads to the final contrast between the psalmist’s present circumstance and past experience. In a passage much like 71:5–6, the psalmist recalls events of birth and early childhood as evidence of absolute trust and commitment to Yahweh. Yahweh is depicted as the midwife (from gḥh [“draw out (from the womb)]”) upon whom the child is “cast out/down” from the mother’s womb.15 The helpless infant must rely on the waiting midwife to catch it as it departs from the protective care of the mother’s womb into the harsh realities of life. Because of the infant’s helplessness, the psalmist finds it appropriate to acknowledge that Yahweh “made me trust” while at his mother’s breast (22:9b) so that his commitment to Yahweh as “my God” dates “from my mother’s womb” (22:10b).
This sense of early protective care contributes to the growing feeling of abandonment that permeates the psalmist’s present. As near as the midwife must be to catch the birthing child, as close as a nursing infant must feel snuggled to its mother’s breast, so far does the psalmist feel from the God who still delays to act. “Don’t be far from me,” he cries (22:11a)16 as trouble closes in and he realizes “there is no one to help.” The opening phrases of verse 11 constitute the first plea in the psalm and give voice to the sense of abandonment that has been building.
Vicious Attacks by the Enemies (22:12–21)
THE PSALMIST’S ENEMIES are depicted as fearsome beasts that surround him and cut off all escape. The animals are introduced in a particular order—bulls (22:12), lions (22:13), and dogs (22:16)—that is reversed in the plea for deliverance: dogs (22:20), lions (22:21a), and wild oxen (22:21b). Bashan (22:12), where the bulls originate, was a lush region in the north Transjordan, east of the Sea of Galilee and known for its well-fed cattle.17 The lions are caught in the midst of a grisly meal, “tearing” (ṭorep) at their prey and “roaring” (šoʾeg) to warn off any competitors.
The fierce attack reduces the psalmist to fear and weakness. The signs of physical weakness are common ones. His strength departs like water “poured out” on the ground (22:14a), so that his body feels awkward and out of control (“all my bones are out of joint”). Similarly, the psalmist’s heart (courage) melts away like wax before a fierce flame (22:14c–d). He feels weakened by fear (22:15a, “dried up like a potsherd”) and has a bad case of “cotton mouth” (22:15b, “my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth”), fearing the approach of death (22:15c).
They have pierced my hands and my feet. Evil men surround the psalmist like “dogs” (22:16a–b), but the result of this attack is a matter of debate. The primary Hebrew text reads “like a lion [are] my hands and my feet.” This makes little sense in the context. Considerable literature has been generated, and a variety of emendations has been suggested to resolve the issue. Various Greek, Latin, and Syriac versions offer translations suggesting “seek to bind” or “pierce.”18 The latter option resonates, of course, with the crucifixion of Jesus, though the supporting evidence is not particularly strong.
The psalmist’s desperate circumstances are illustrated by the physical deterioration of the body—the bones stand out through the skin. The enemies, anticipating the fast-approaching end, “stare” and “gloat”19 and even raffle off the hapless psalmist’s clothing before he is dead.20 The similarity to events surrounding the crucifixion, where soldiers raffle off Jesus’ garments while he is dying on the cross, have been noted at least since the collection of traditions on which the Gospel accounts are based (cf. Matt. 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34; John 19:23–24).
Be not far off. The second stanza of ten verses closes as does the first—with the plea that Yahweh “be not far off” (22:19a; cf. 22:11a). Verse 19 is introduced by the second-person pronoun weʾattah (“and you”), so that the conclusion of this stanza links back to the internal divisions of the first stanza, where the pronoun ʾattah was twice used to introduce structural contrasts (cf. 22:3, 9). This subtle literary shaping helps unite the first two stanzas, with the common theme of complaint, in distinction from the final stanza, with its emphasis on praise.
Whereas stanza 1 ushered in despair and additional complaint, stanza 2 shifts at the end to a direct and succinct plea for deliverance. The desperate nature of the circumstances becomes apparent in the urgency with which the psalmist calls for aid. As a soldier surrounded and about to be overwhelmed by the enemy in close hand-to-hand combat might call out to his comrades for assistance, the psalmist calls out to God for deliverance: “To my aid, hurry!” (lit. trans., 22:19b).21
Deliver my life from the sword. In the two verses that follow this initial plea, the psalmist continues to seek rescue first from the more general threat of “the sword” (22:20a) and then from each of the metaphorical categories of attackers envisioned at the beginning of the stanza: dogs (22:20b; cf. 22:16a), lions (22:21a; cf. 22:13a), and wild oxen (22:21b; cf. 22:12).
My precious life. The precious character of the psalmist’s life that hangs so precariously in the balance is stressed by the use of the more unusual word yaḥid (“only”)22 to expand on the parallel “my being.” The “only child” is normally referred to in contexts of threat or mourning for the loss of a precious child.23
Promise to Praise (22:22–31)
THE FINAL STANZA of ten verses turns decisively toward praise. The stanza is subdivided into two segments, each introduced by a second-person address to Yahweh promising to proclaim praise to the psalmist’s fellow worshipers in the temple (cf. 22:22, 25). Both promises are followed by a passage in which Yahweh is mentioned in the third person, and others are encouraged to praise him by a rehearsal of reasons he is praiseworthy (cf. 22:23–24, 26–31).
I will declare your name to my brothers. The first subsection of this final stanza begins with a vow to declare Yahweh’s name to the psalmist’s brothers in worship.24 A subtle wordplay is introduced with the verb spr (“count, recount, declare”) to describe the psalmist’s proclamation of the goodness of Yahweh in the temple. This same verb form appeared in 22:17a at the moment of despair when the psalmist was “counting” the bones that poked through his emaciated body. That temple worship is intended is clearly indicated by the phrases “in the congregation” (22:22b) and “in the great assembly” (22:25b). Note also that to “declare the name of the LORD” is equivalent to “praising the LORD,” as the use of these phrases in parallel implies. To make known the name Yahweh is to reveal something about his praiseworthy character.
You who fear the LORD. The psalmist’s promise to praise Yahweh now becomes a call to others—that is, the psalmist’s fellow worshipers—to join in the praise of Yahweh. Those who “fear the LORD” (i.e., those who adopt the appropriate attitude of trust and dependence on him25) are further identified as the “descendants [zeraʿ ] of Jacob” and the “descendants [zeraʿ ] of Israel” (22:23b–c). Three imperative verbs enjoin the gathered worshipers to glorify Yahweh: “Praise him,” “honor him,” and “revere him.”26
The reasons for Yahweh’s praiseworthiness are clearly related to the psalmist’s need to experience the presence of God and the assurance of his concern for the psalmist’s plight. His hope and assurance are grounded in Yahweh’s past history of action for those who are afflicted.
In this reflective meditation on Yahweh’s faithfulness the psalmist affirms that God has never “despised or disdained the suffering [ʿenut]27 of the afflicted one [ʿani].” The ordering of this verse, with the two negative verbal phrases, each with its own negative particle (loʾ ), loaded up front in the verse, emphasizes the unbelievable quality of Yahweh’s failure to act in behalf of those who call on him. This has the effect of strengthening the ground of hope while at the same time heightening the pain of the psalmist’s experience of abandonment in the opening lines. This tension between hope and despair is carried on into the second half of the verse, where Yahweh is said not to have “hidden his face” from the afflicted but to listen “to his cry for help”—both statements at odds with the psalmist’s own experience to this point.
The theme of my praise. This is certainly a nice turn of phrase, but it is not a direct rendering of a clear underlying Hebrew. It is rather an interpretive understanding of the slight awkwardness encountered in the more literal rendering, “From with you [is] my praise in the great assembly.” Dahood’s creative suggestion that the Hebrew be repointed and understood as a verb based on the noun “one hundred” and meaning “say 100 times” is amusing but not worthy of serious consideration. Craigie is certainly more nearly right in recognizing that only some prophetic experience within the context of worship can explain the psalmist’s sudden shift from despairing language at the beginning of the psalm to the affirmations of complete assurance in 22:24–26. Either the psalmist has heard some priestly/prophetic pronouncement of deliverance or has had a renewed personal experience of the presence and mercy of Yahweh in the midst of worship. It is in this sense, then, that the psalmist can say that “my praise” is “from you [the LORD]”—either as a pronouncement from God or from being in his presence.
The return in 22:25 to direct address to Yahweh signals the second subsection in this final ten-verse stanza. Once again the worship context is made explicit with the mention of the “great assembly” (22:25a; cf. “congregation” in 22:22b) and the psalmist’s promise to fulfill vows (22:25b; cf. the promise to praise in 22:22b). The reference to “those who fear you” also refers back to the same group called to join in the psalmist’s praise in 22:23a.
They who seek the LORD will praise him. The concluding praise section of the psalm (22:26–31) moves out in almost apocalyptic fashion to describe the global effects of Yahweh’s righteous rule. The themes addressed include: (1) the welfare of the poor who are satisfied (22:26a); (2) the submission of the nations to the rule of Yahweh (22:27–28); (3) the leveling of society in acknowledged dependence on Yahweh (22:29); (4) the continued praise and proclamation of the righteousness of God (22:26b, 30–31). The psalmist envisions a future in which the current state of affairs is turned on end and the true purposes of Yahweh are realized in the world of human events. God comes near, and humans—rich or poor, Israelite or non-Israelite—will acknowledge his lordship and bow before him.
The poor will eat and be satisfied. The “poor” are the ʿanawim, those whose rights are denied in an oppressive society—the weak, the widow, and the orphan, who have no one to offer protection and advocacy.28 The synonymous parallelism of 22:26 links these forgotten ones with those “who seek the LORD” (dorešayw)29 and praise him in the second half of the verse. By means of this linkage the psalmist marks out these despised and exploited members of society as the seriously faithful, who because of their fragile circumstances have been led into the appropriate acknowledgment of their absolute reliance on the provision of Yahweh. It is this awareness and acceptance of dependence that constitutes the primary meaning of the Israelite concept of “fear of the LORD”—the attitude that dominates the remainder of the psalm.
All the ends of the earth. The psalmist emphasizes the universal, apocalyptic vision with this all-encompassing phrase. Each of the thirteen occurrences of this phrase in the Old Testament—all in poetic contexts—is tinged with apocalyptic expectation. The tribe of Joseph will “gore” the nations at the ends of the earth (Deut. 33:17). Yahweh will shatter all opposition and judge the ends of the earth (1 Sam. 2:10). Yahweh’s salvation will extend out to include the nations at the ends of the earth (Ps. 67:7; 98:3; Isa. 45:22; 52:10; Jer. 16:19). Israel through her king will rule to the ends of the earth (Pss. 2:8; 72:8; Mic. 5:4; Zech. 9:10). Yahweh is the acknowledged creator of the ends of the earth (Prov. 30:4), gives it to whom he wills (Ps. 2:8), and retains the right of authority and judgment over it (1 Sam. 2:10; Jer. 16:19).
That the ends of the earth can “remember” and “return” to Yahweh indicates that it is the scattered inhabitants of the earth whom the psalmist really has in view. Those sinful nations who at the tower of Babel (Gen. 11) were scattered across the face of the earth are here envisioned as drawn, as if by a magnet, to worship Yahweh in fulfillment of the promise to Abraham in Genesis 12:2–3, that through him and his descendants “all the families of the earth” would find blessing.30 The hope expressed here is for the ultimate fulfillment of God’s purposes for Israel through the restoration of his creation. This acknowledgment of Yahweh’s authority through obedience and worship is only right, the psalmist suggests, because “dominion [hammelukah (“position or right of kingship”)] belongs to the LORD and he rules over the nations” (22:28).
The rich . . . will feast and worship. In an intentional contrast that constitutes a sort of merism with the “poor” in 22:26a, the psalmist introduces the “rich of the earth,” who both eat like the poor and worship like the families of the earth in 22:27b. These linkages draw the whole passage together into a literary unity. The purpose is to indicate that all humanity—Israelite or non-Israelite, rich or poor—will acknowledge the rulership of Yahweh and bow to it.31 The latter part of verse 29 makes this dependence clear. As in Ecclesiastes 3:18–21; 9:1–6, “all who go down to the dust32 . . . who cannot keep themselves alive” (Ps. 22:29) refers to all humanity, who are ultimately absolutely dependent on Yahweh for the very breath that sustains life.
Posterity will serve him. The final subsection of the last stanza describes a continuing proclamation of Yahweh’s righteousness coupled with endless praise (22:30–31). In an awkward but clear reference back to 22:23, where the “descendants” (lit., “seed”) of Jacob and of Israel are called to honor and fear Yahweh, the word “seed” (NIV “posterity”) is again used in 22:30 to describe those who will continue to “serve” Yahweh into the future.
The remainder of verse 30 is more difficult, with the LXX and other versions suggesting a variety of minor textual emendations. As it presently stands, the Hebrew text reads something like, “It will be recounted concerning my Lord to a generation.” In this case the beginning of 22:31 would be “They will come and they will declare. . . .” Some commentators, sensing the awkwardness of the reference to “a generation,” include the first word of verse 31 (“they will enter”) in some adapted form at the end of verse 30 and interpret the emended phrase as “to a coming/future generation.” This seems to be the route taken by the NIV. Other commentators, linking this half verse with what follows in verse 31, interpret the passive verb “will be told” as an active form and read the whole phrase as “[posterity] will tell the coming generation about my Lord; they will declare his righteousness to a people yet to be born.” This does, however, involve considerable adjustment to the underlying consonantal text—albeit relatively minor ones.
The path followed by the NIV seems a reasonable response to the text and produces a kind of attractive progression if not exact parallelism. After a more general opening statement “Posterity [seed] will serve him,” the psalmist describes two stages by which the proclamation of Yahweh’s righteousness is made known. First, God’s faithfulness is recounted (presumably by the psalmist’s own generation) to the coming generation; these in turn proclaim it to “a people yet unborn.” By this means the psalmist fulfills the “vow” mentioned in 22:22, 25.
For he has done it. God’s righteousness is not simply a quality of Fcharacter but the result of having done something. Once again it is necessary to recall that the Hebrew word “righteousness” is essentially a legal term, which describes the status of the one who has been determined by a judge to have done all that is proper in a particular circumstance or case.33 Therefore, when used of God (or of humans, for that matter) righteousness never describes a sinless quality or attitude but is an evaluation of one’s course of action. Thus, it is entirely understandable in this context to conclude this description of Yahweh’s righteousness by proclaiming, as the psalmist does, “for he has done it.” Yahweh has in all things fulfilled the demands of appropriate action in relation to his creatures and all creation.
PSALM 22 AND JESUS. In the opening paragraphs, I spoke briefly regarding the difficulty of interpreting this psalm in contemporary Christian circles other than as a prediction of the suffering and death of Jesus on the cross. The use of the psalm to understand the death of Jesus is well entrenched since the New Testament writers initiated the movement.
According to the indices of Old Testament quotations, allusions, and verbal parallels in the United Bible Societies Greek New Testament,34 Psalm 22 is referred to some twenty-four times in the New Testament. Three of the four direct quotations listed and fourteen of twenty allusions/parallels are found within the narratives of Jesus’ passion and crucifixion, indicating that this psalm had already been received as an important resource for understanding and explaining the suffering and death of Jesus at an early date. This is certainly true. Jesus himself affirmed that connection when he chose verse 1 as his statement of agony from the cross. Nevertheless, I caution against any exclusive understanding of Psalm 22 only in light of Jesus.
One negative tendency of such an exclusive approach to this psalm has been to mine the psalm for its prophetic references to Christ while ignoring its long history within the community of faith before Jesus knew or used it. It is because of this long history of meaning in the community of faith that Jesus understood it to have special significance to his own life, ministry, and death. Only as we understand what the psalm means on its own are we better able to understand why Jesus chose these words to reflect his own agony of abandonment by his Father at the final moment of crisis represented by the cross.
Far from being just a prediction of events surrounding Jesus’ death, the psalm reflects a model of response to abandonment and divine delay with which Jesus could identify and by which he could open windows for others into his own spiritual conflict. By quoting just verse 1 of this psalm, Jesus could draw on a long history of awareness on the part of his listeners who knew how the first nineteen verses illustrate the struggle of the faithful sufferer who waits for deliverance by God. It is important to realize that even the New Testament writers were able to read Psalm 22 as encouragement to the faithful in their contexts of suffering.35 If we read this psalm only as prediction of Christ, we obscure our own obligation to see and hear ourselves in these words. That is certainly what Jesus did and what he calls us to do—to identify with the pain of those, including himself, who have come under the weight of the seemingly unconquerable distance that can separate God from his faithful one(s) in a time of deep suffering.
Eschatological vision of hope. The psalmist’s faithful response to the absence of God is placed within a broader context of an eschatological vision of hope. In the midst of fulfilling a vow of praise “in the congregation”—a praise grounded in the past history of Yahweh’s faithfulness even in the face of his absence (22:22–24)—the psalmist suddenly shifts gears with a remarkable profession: “My praise in the great assembly [is] from with you!”36 This phrase is remarkable because the psalmist realizes that even when Yahweh is most distant and entirely absent from our experience, the ability to praise him is a testimony to his enduring presence with those who fear him. The very ability to praise comes from God himself.
This realization catapults the psalmist from a historical reflection to a vision of eschatological hope. Note how the verbs suddenly shift to the future and remain there until the end of the psalm. Note also the universal and eschatological tone that invades his hopes. The poor will eat and be satisfied; all the “ends of the earth” will turn to Yahweh; the “families of the nations” will submit to his rule. Thus, in the final analysis, the problem of divine absence in the face of righteous suffering is resolved through recourse to eschatological hope. The move is similar to that of apocalyptic, where a situation of “primary deprivation” without hope of present deliverance leads to apocalyptic thinking in which God will ultimately set all things right and honor the faithfulness of those who suffer and even die.
This kind of resolution acknowledges that our present world does not coincide with the will and purposes of God for his creation. It admits the possibility that faithful living may not result in deliverance—that suffering and death are realities for the faithful. But, at the same time, it also understands that present suffering and evil will not ultimately prevent the fulfillment of God’s plans. God still rules over his creation, and his word accomplishes what he purposes. This kind of praise that accepts the real potential for death of the faithful aligns itself with the true nature of God and does not pragmatically adopt the ways of the world as an action plan in the face of divine absence. The faithful psalmist remains loyal and takes solace in the knowledge that regardless of the personal outcome, God’s will will be done.
WORMS, DOGS, LIONS, AND OXEN. Psalm 22 offers insight into how the act of oppression has the effect of dehumanizing both oppressed and oppressor. Because of the relentless attacks of the enemy, the psalmist feels less than human—even a worm. When I was a college freshman, years before recent attempts to eliminate the dehumanizing effects of college “hazing,” all freshmen were required to wear beanies in school colors from school opening until homecoming in November. The beanies were called “slime caps” because, according to upperclassmen, freshmen were slime—the only form of life known to be insignificant enough to crawl under the belly of a worm without touching it! “Slimes” were expected to do work for upperclassmen on request and could be required to drop and do pushups if caught not wearing a cap.
I never thought of all this “hazing” as dehumanizing or oppressive at the time. We freshmen knew that we were equal to—no, even better than—any upperclassman, and we took pains to show them so in organized and unorganized contests (some of which got way out of hand). The beanies that were intended to mark us out as “slime” also had the opposite effect of building freshman community and esprit de corps. I have to admit that I did my share of “slime baiting” when my junior-year roommate turned out to be an unsuspecting slime! It was not until some of the extreme hazing carried out by a fraternal organization led to the illness and death of a pledge that the administration (and we, I must admit) began to recognize the destructive potential present in such activities.
The psalmist felt dehumanized by the attacks of the enemies—reduced to a despised worm, mocked, scorned, and insulted by “all who see me” (22:6–7). The ridicule of the enemy even twisted the devastating experience of divine abandonment into a proof of God’s lack of care for the psalmist. Their searing taunts (repeated by Christ’s detractors as he hung on the cross) assumed God had no interest in the psalmist and no intention to deliver: “He trusts in the LORD; let the LORD rescue him. Let him deliver him, since he delights in him” (22:8). As a “worm,” the psalmist felt beyond the care and concern even of God.
But the enemies do not escape their own scathing attack. By tearing at the psalmist, they have thrown off the last vestiges of the divine image that exalts humanity37 and have adopted the methods of carnivorous beasts. God’s original intention for irenic relations between humans and beasts has been disrupted by the human choice for evil, and it results in Genesis 9 in a fearful stand-off in which both humans and beast tear and kill one another. Humans have given up their divine distinctives to become like the beasts, and God holds both accountable for their murderous acts (9:1–6). Like the post-Flood humans, the psalmist’s enemies are described as carnivorous beasts rending and tearing their prey. In their violent pursuit of him they have dehumanized themselves along with their prey and brought down divine condemnation on their own heads.
In our sinful relationships with others, we are often tempted to view them as less than human. In lust we can make others objects that we can use to satisfy our desires. In pursuit of our ambitions our competitors can too easily become rungs to be stepped on as we move “up.” When we use others in this way, we actually give up our exalted status (tarnished though it may be by sin) as the image of God and choose to take our place among the beasts.38
The psalmist offers one significant counterpoint to the enemies’ dehumanizing attack. From the moment of birth Yahweh has valued and supported the psalmist. Verses 9–11 are an interesting blend of protective care and vulnerability. The birth of a child was a time of great vulnerability in the ancient world. Infant mortality was high and still births common.39 God is depicted as the midwife who sees that the child is born safely and nourished by the mother. These verses demonstrate the importance of his presence from the earliest moment of life, as is the vulnerable child’s necessary dependence on God for birth and continued life. This is no insignificant beast left to bear its young on its own, whose offspring must fend for themselves from an early age. This is a cherished and protected human child, who is “cast upon” God from birth and is made to trust in him (22:9–10).
Worship and hope. In the midst of despair the psalmist offers two avenues of hopeful response. (1) The first appears again and again in the psalms and will be treated only briefly here: The psalmist finds support and hope in the worshiping community of the faithful. The enemy may dehumanize and threaten death, but in the congregation of the faithful God’s righteous power is still proclaimed. When our faith is undermined by our circumstances and we are tempted to despair altogether, sometimes our only remaining hope is to place ourselves within the worshiping community of God’s people. There he is praised even if we are unable to praise him. There the mighty acts of God are proclaimed even when we cannot see them. There God is present though he remains absent from our own experience.
(2) The second avenue is the way of hope laid out in the eschatological promises at the end of the psalm. Despite all evidence to the contrary in our own world of experience, God is still on his throne (22:3), and the whole of creation is moving inexorably toward the conclusion of his purposes for it. That purpose is good and praiseworthy (22:3b, 25–26)—the submission of all earthly powers to his own (22:27–28), the leveling of rich and poor in their common realization of their absolute dependence on him (22:26, 29), and an endless future proclamation of God’s righteousness to unborn generations (22:30–31).
How do you respond to the apparent absence of God in our world—the endless dehumanization of others in war and genocide, the exploitation of the poor by those in power, the lustful twisting of divinely gifted persons into objects of sexual fantasy? In a whimsical but bitter mood long ago, I composed a little poem that captured my frustration as youthful idealism eroded into adult realism.
Is mankind kind? Or would you mind,
If I altered the meter to call him maneater?
Not neater or nicer, a constant surpriser
is man, Kind he’s not, nor selfless. What
we need I am sure is a Manicure.
Psalm 22 assures us that the “cure” is at hand. God is present and working for the good purposes for which he created us and the world. That purpose cannot be frustrated but will be accomplished in God’s time. The call in the words and images of this psalm is for us to persevere in faithful reliance on God precisely when he seems most distant!
The faith modeled by Jesus on the cross was no fairweather religion that trusted in God when the going was good. Neither was it a faith that fled like the disciples when confronted by the harsh realities of rejection, persecution, and indeed execution. His was a faith that experienced the worst the world had to offer—knew what it was to feel abandoned by God—and yet just when it was darkest, as life was slipping away, he was able to proclaim with a final certainty: “It is finished!” (John 19:30). This was not a cry of defeat but of victory—a realization that the purpose of God for the creation was made whole in the work of his faithful Son. Having won his way through to the end, Jesus surrendered his spirit into the hand of God the Father (Luke 23:46).40 Psalm 22, with its hopeful vision of a future restored to its original purposes, encourages us to do the same.