Praying the Psalms

    For about twenty-seven years, I have been praying the Church’s Liturgy of the Hours. For those who do not know anything about it, it is a time-tested rotating recitation of the 150 psalms (well, most of them. . . ), with a selection of Biblical texts and non-Biblical spiritual writings.  Every four weeks most of the psalms are prayed, divided up by 7 daily hours that mark the beginning through the end of the day.  Much has been written about the psalms throughout the centuries.  They provide a deep glimpse into the spirituality of the Hebrew people, including both mystical reflection upon God’s providence, as well as historical summaries from a prayerful point of view. Not to be left out are the complaint psalms, as well as the curse psalms. [These were left out from the current rendition of the Breviary, in whole or in part. Those who revised the Breviary after Vatican II felt that praying for God to dash the heads of our enemies’ babies against the rocks was okay in Latin, but might be off-putting in vernacular languages. I read somewhere that Pope Paul VI wasn’t too happy with this omission, but there you go.]
    For a Christian, the psalms are often prophecy of the coming of Christ, and beautifully express His life and mission, most notably His passion, as seen in psalm 22 (“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”)  But a more profound reflection upon the psalms is to consider that Jesus prayed these same psalms as part of His own spirituality as a Hebrew. When we pray the psalms, we are saying the words that Jesus Himself used throughout His life, including His suffering on the cross.  See psalm 22, mentioned above.
    One of the biggest breaks from traditional Judaism after the beginning of the Church was the eventual abandonment of Temple worship and the sacrifices that accompanied it. Geographically, this made sense as the Church spread beyond Judea and into gentile lands and peoples.  With regard to the Gospel, this makes perfect sense as Christians realized that the sacrifice of Jesus consummated, completed and did away with animal sacrifices. That the psalms remained part of Christian worship and prayer is significant, comprising the daily prayer of monks, nuns and priests for centuries.
    What do we find when we pray the psalms? Fundamental to their spirituality is the simple faith of Abraham, and David. God was not far off, though above the heavens. He is a “helper in time of need.” Though He allows the just man to fall onto hard times, difficulty and even persecution, He remains faithful and with a plan for grace and redemption. He cares not just for the lions and the birds and the deer who long for flowing streams, but nourishes the thirsty soul in marvelous ways.
    We do not know the author of all the psalms, though many are attributed to David. Perhaps it’s best that we do not know who they were. It is not that important. Or perhaps, the anonymity of the psalmists benefits us. The world does not know who they are, but God does. They were privileged to contribute something marvelous to the Divine Scriptures, and their words, inspired by God, will last for eternity.
    Consider our situation. Most of us on earth are not known beyond the circle of our family, friends and associates. Our sufferings and trials, triumphs and victories, great or small as they may be, are virtually unknown to the world, and may not have a broad exposure to the world at large, yet they are known to God. He hears our every groan and sigh, our laughter and joy; He knows our inmost sins and desires, and mercifully offers His grace when no one else cares or knows about what we are going through. Indeed, there is a psalm for every circumstance and situation in life. God Who is beyond us and not in need of us for His own happiness, provided the words to match our feelings and prayers; as well as His response to them, if we are attentive to His inspirations.
    And the marvelous thing about being Catholic is that when we pray the psalms, especially in the Breviary, we know that throughout the world there are thousands of others praying those same prayers. We may pray a sad song when happy, but somewhere in the world another Catholic is suffering, and praying those same words. We join our prayers to his (think: Egypt). Or perhaps we pray a joyful song when we are sad; well, another Catholic somewhere is joyful in some manner, yet they join themselves to us in our sorrow by saying the same words. Thus is the reflection of Saint Paul literally put into words that when one member suffers, all suffer with him; when one member rejoices, all share in that joy. Thus the whole Body of Christ struggles and is grateful together in one beautiful hymn of praise.