Human on human violence in the Psalter

Abstract

Violence takes many forms in the book of Psalms: descriptions of violence against the psalm singer(s), violence inflicted by the wicked upon others, violence enacted by God against the psalm singer(s), and violence enacted by God against the enemies of the psalm singer(s). This study mainly examines the first two categories: human on human violence. Focusing on Psalms 55, 139, and 109, the work explores three types of human on human violence (direct or immediate violence, textual or symbolic violence, and structural and cultural violence), including interpretations from feminist scholars and voices from South Africa. The concluding discussion attempts to answer questions of how people might understand these psalms and incorporate them into their own language of freedom and faith.

Introductory words

Descriptions of and allusions to violence abound in the pages of the Hebrew Bible, and the book of Psalms is no exception. Violence takes many forms in the Psalter: descriptions of violence against the psalm singer(s), ¹ violence inflicted by the wicked upon others, ² violence enacted by God against the psalm singer(s), ³ and violence enacted by God against the enemies of the psalm singer(s). ⁴ This study examines, in the main, the first two categories found in the book of Psalms: human upon human violence.

Scholars maintain that human on human violence in the biblical text can be categorized in three ways. According to Amy Cottrill, the first category of such violence is “direct or immediate,” visible and recognizable violence, such as warfare or sexual assault. The second category is “textual or symbolic,” verbal abuse or threatening speech or behavior. The third category is “structural and cultural,” systemic violence embedded in the invisible structures of everyday life. ⁵

All three types of such violence can be observed in the book of Psalms. In Ps 86:14, the psalm singer is experiencing “direct or immediate” violence, and she laments, “The insolent rise up against me; a band of ruffians seeks my life.” ⁶ In Ps 140:5, the psalmist cries out, “The arrogant have hidden a trap for me, and with cords they have spread a net, along the road they have set snares for me.” “Textual or symbolic” violence permeates the Psalter. Psalm 102:8 reads, “All day long my enemies taunt me; those who deride me use my name for a curse,” and in Ps 109:2–3, the singer laments, “Wicked and deceitful mouths are opened against me, speaking against me with lying tongues. They beset me with words of hate, and attack me without cause.” “Structural and cultural” violence in the Psalter may be found in words such as those in Ps 10:2 and 8–9, “In arrogance the wicked persecute the poor . . . They sit in ambush in the villages—in hiding places they murder the innocent. They seize the poor and drag them off in the net.” In Ps 12:5, “the poor are despoiled . . . the needy groan.” ⁷

One of the difficulties of easily categorizing the kinds of human on human violence in the Psalter, however, is the literary genre of the book itself. Much violence narrated in the book of Psalms is cloaked in the language of poetic metaphor. The “howling dogs” in Psalm 59, the “wicked who sit in ambush” in Psalm 10, the “lions” in Psalms 7, 17, and 57, and the “nets” and “pits” in Psalms 35, 57, and 140 are graphic metaphors for the oppression the psalmists are experiencing. Thus, while the categories scholars suggest for human on human violence in the biblical text are a helpful beginning point for discussion, assigning specific instances narrated in the Psalter to one category or another can be problematic. In addition, the “actors” in the psalms are rarely named and thus allow the psalms to be read and appropriated in a myriad of ways.

In this article, I study the three types of human on human violence in the Psalter’s poetic words through an examination of Psalm 55 (direct or immediate violence), Psalm 139 (textual or symbolic violence), and Psalm 109 (structural and cultural violence). I begin with a brief interpretation of each psalm by various commentators. I then present a reading and understanding of each psalm by a feminist scholar, alongside a reflection from a voice from South Africa, voices I encountered during a sabbatical journey I undertook there as I was writing a commentary for Liturgical Press. I conclude by attempting to answer two questions: How do the psalms that narrate human on human violence speak to people in various life situations, and how might people incorporate them into a language of freedom and faith that they can call their own?

Psalm 55

Psalm 55 is an example of “direct or immediate” violence. The psalm singer is in anguish, filled with fear, trembling, and horror (vv. 6–7) and cries out, “O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; truly I would flee far away; I would lodge in the wilderness.” The specific occasion on which the psalm singer uttered or composed these words is virtually impossible to discover. Verses 12–14 may offer a clue:

It is not enemies who taunt me—I could bear that; it is not adversaries who deal insolently with me—I could hide from them. But it is you, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend [literally, “my friend who knows me”], with whom I kept pleasant company.

J. Clinton McCann describes Psalm 55 as a “prayer for help” that includes some of the major elements of an individual lament, but he cites Erhard Gerstenberger, who describes the elements as “astonishingly unique,” as the psalm contains many unusual words and difficult expressions, as well as an abrupt and disorderly movement. ⁸ McCann, however, sees in the erratic movement of the psalm “an apt representation of the chaotic conditions that prevail in the life of the psalmist.” ⁹ Frank-Lothar Hossfeld writes,

In normal times the city is a place of refuge in which one can live safely, while the wilderness is the place of death, hopelessness, and un-livability. These conditions have been reversed; the city has become unlivable, and the wilderness is the only hope for survival. ¹⁰

Scholars have speculated on the life situation(s) that might prompt such a heartfelt and seemingly erratic lament. Some suggest the exilic situation of the Israelites, who found themselves in the strange cities in Babylon. ¹¹ Others link the psalm, because of the military imagery and the betrayal theme, to the betrayal of David by Ahithophel when Absalom usurped the throne in 2 Samuel 15. ¹² Hossfeld sees parallels with the stories of Hagar, Moses, David, and Elijah. ¹³ James L. Mays suggests the life-settings narrated in Jeremiah 9 and Micah 7 as “possible hints of the circumstances for which the prayer was composed.” ¹⁴

In a 1994 essay, Ulrike Bail offers a reminder that the poetic quality of the psalmic texts prevent readers from making “linear connections from such texts back to the situation that gave rise to them.” ¹⁵ She therefore maintains that, while readers may not find in the words of Psalm 55 “a reconstruction of a historically identifiable distress,” ¹⁶ they may be permitted to hear in its words the cries of a woman who has suffered the violence of rape by a friend, a companion. Bail states, “In speech the ‘I’ turns itself into a dove and allows the bird to act as a kind of substitute and to do what the ‘I’ in this situation of violence is unable to do, namely, to find a means of escape and flight.” ¹⁷ But the psalm does not end there. Bail points out that in v. 23 the “I” expresses her trust in God and “makes it possible to name the action, to accuse the perpetrators and to hope for an end to the violence.” ¹⁸

One voice from South Africa I encountered reflected similarly on Ps 102:1–2, “Hear my prayer, O Lord; let my cry come to you. Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress. Incline your ear to me; answer me speedily in the day when I call.” She states that, in her culture, it is better for women to stay silent about the bad things that happen to them, to act as if everything is fine regardless of the inner pain and turmoil, particularly verbal and physical abuse at the hands of the men in their lives. She says, however, “Psalm 102 gives words to those who long to cry out, those who have no words of their own. Its words say, ‘Yes, we can cry out.’” ¹⁹ In the same way, Psalm 55 gives words to the psalm singer to cry out, to name the gross injustices against her and to demand that God respond.

The focus of Psalm 55 is the “I,” the victim of the violence. Bail suggests, however, that readers might hear in the “I” voice the cries of the psalm singer and the cries of the city (vv. 9–11). The walled city, a place of refuge and safety for its inhabitants, has become a place of oppression and violence for them, and thus, it is also the object of oppression and violence (vv. 9–11). Acts of oppression and violence against individuals multiply into acts of oppression and violence against the many, until the voice of the “I” is mingled with the voice of the city in crying out to God for help and deliverance. ²⁰

Psalm 139

The second category of human on human violence narrated in the biblical text is “textual or symbolic,” violence found in verbal abuse and/or threatening behavior. ²¹ While traditional interpretations of Psalm 139 do not find such violence in the words of the psalm, Carolyn Pressler offers an intriguing counter-interpretation. I begin with traditional interpretations of Psalm 139.

McCann points out that words from the Hebrew root yādāʿ (עדי, “to know”) occur seven times in Psalm 139, emphasizing that the theme of the psalm is God knows the psalmist “fully and completely.” ²² Mays states the psalm “portrays human existence in all its dimensions in terms of God’s knowledge, presence, and power.” ²³ Hossfeld finds connections in Psalm 139 to the laments of David found in Book I of the Psalter, to the poetry in the book of Job, and to the book of Jeremiah. He summarizes the message of the psalm: “Psalm 139 concentrates particularly on the intimate relationship of the petitioner to the transcendent and simultaneously present God.” ²⁴

Carolyn Pressler states that, while Psalm 139 is

lauded as a hymn praising God’s all-encompassing knowledge, presence, and power, it has also been interpreted as the cry of one for whom God is an ambiguous and even oppressive presence. ²⁵

In the psalm’s first eighteen verses, God knows, knows, knows (vv. 1–4); God searches (vv. 1, 4); God discerns (v. 2); God hems in behind and before (v. 5). God’s hand is upon the psalmist (vv. 5, 10). God knows every word the psalm singer is going to say, even before it is on her tongue (v. 4). No matter where the psalmist flees, God will find her, even if she tries to hide in the darkest places (vv. 7–12). In fact, God was there at her conception and watched her carefully throughout her gestation (vv. 13–16). Pressler states, “Whether near (v. 5) or far off (v. 2), the psalmist is never outside of the sphere of divine consciousness.” All of this seems to be too much for the psalm singer, who says, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me (v. 6)” and “How weighty to me are your thoughts, how vast the sum of them (v. 17).” ²⁶

For women and girls relentlessly controlled by husbands, boyfriends, fathers, and others, many sentiments of Psalm 139 present difficulties. Rather than finding comforting assurance in verse 5’s “You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand on me,” an abused woman might wonder, “Is God another ‘male figure’ in my life who ‘hems me in,’ restricting and controlling me, never letting me out of his sight?”

Carolyn S. Stauffer writes of a number of factors causing the subordinated position of black women in South African society. First, traditional South African culture, like many others, is highly patriarchal, in which women are commodities purchased for a “bride price” (lobola) and who can be bought, sold, or exchanged at the will of male relatives. ²⁷

Second, while apartheid-era legislation restricted the rights and movements of all indigenous African people, it particularly reinforced patriarchal control of women. Following customary South African law, apartheid legislation deemed women as minors under the guardianship of their husbands. Women were not allowed to own property, open a bank account, or travel without their husbands’ consent. ²⁸

Third, in the apartheid era, white males dominated the public domain; white women dominated the private domain, and black women, as domestic laborers, were able to integrate themselves into the “private domain,” thus establishing for themselves a place in the societal order. For black males, however, according to Stauffer, “no provision was made for them to receive legitimation by an externally validated masculinity script.” ²⁹ For these men, a “validated masculinity script” still does not exist, and thus, left adrift in the social order, searching for a “script,” a “narrative of identity,” such men may turn to domestic domination to find their “script,” their “identity.” ³⁰

Pressler resolves what she reads as the ambiguity of the psalm singer in Psalm 139 by moving on to verse 18, in which the singer states, “I am still with you,” and then on to the entreaty and petition in vv. 19–24 (“O that you would kill the wicked, O God”). ³¹ I wonder, however, if women living in an oppressive, male-dominated society who read Psalm 139 and question if God is only another controlling male figure in their lives are able to move to the resolution to which the singer of Psalm 139 seems to move so quickly. ³²

Psalm 109

The third category of human on human violence narrated in the biblical text is “structural and cultural violence,” systemic violence, embedded in the invisible structures of everyday life. ³³ Psalm 109, characterized as an “imprecatory psalm,” one that wishes for harm to come to those who are victimizing or persecuting the psalm singer, is an apt example of such violence.

A major issue in interpreting Psalm 109 is the question of the speaker in vv. 6–20, in which words of imprecation are piled one on another. Although the NRSV translation adds “They say” to the beginning of v. 6, the MT simply begins, “Appoint a wicked man (עשׁר, rš‘) against him.” ³⁴ Thus, are the imprecatory words in these verses those of the psalmist against a group of foes, or are they a direct quote by the psalmist of the words of the foes? In other words, is the psalmist imprecating the judgment of God upon the foes, or is the psalmist recounting to God the unjust words spoken by the foes? ³⁵

Hans-Joachim Kraus, understanding vv. 6–19 to be the words of the accusers now quoted by the accused, suggests the setting for this psalm was in the sanctuary and the accused may have held an important office (see v. 8). ³⁶ McCann concurs, stating that “several” scholars assert the trial would have taken place in the temple before priestly judges. ³⁷

Beth LaNeel Tanner reads the psalm in dialogue with the story of Leah, Rachel, Bilhah, and Zilpah (Genesis 29–30). ³⁸ Such a reading distances the psalm from a courtroom/sanctuary setting and places it within the household. From a twenty-first-century perspective, the four women are seemingly pawns in a patriarchal culture of power and deception. They have no choice. They must live together with the tensions and heartaches that such a situation brings. Were they companions, co-conspirators against the dominate culture, or bitter rivals? The narrative offers only glimpses into their relationships with Jacob, with Laban, and with one another. ³⁹

Tanner suggests Psalm 109 gives voice to all the women characters in the story. She writes, “The story of Leah and Rachel teaches us that life is not lived in a vacuum.” ⁴⁰ The tensions between Jacob and Laban, between Leah and Rachel, the silenced voices of Bilhah and Zilpah all demonstrate that life is lived in a tangled web of interconnectedness. And so, whose words are spoken in Ps 109:6–20? Tanner suggests, “It is not just one of the characters that may cry these words; rather, all share in this complicated tension of love and hate.” ⁴¹ The curses in Ps 109:6–19 thus could be the words of any one or all of the women in the Genesis story, women victimized in various ways by the system and who struggle to find their place in the dominant society.

A contemporary example of structural and cultural violence is the story of the residents of the Umgungundlovi community of Xolobeni in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. Without involving or consulting the indigenous community, the South Africa Department of Mineral Resources issued a permit to an Australian company for titanium dune mining on lands on which, according to the South African newspaper, Saturday Star, “several hundred people and their ancestors have lived according to their customs and traditions for centuries.” ⁴² The newspaper included the content of numerous postcards sent by members of the Xolobeni community to the Department of Mineral Resources, detailing the importance of the land and its water supply to their livelihood. ⁴³ I can imagine the words of Psalm 109 on the lips of the indigenous residents of Xolobeni, who found themselves without a voice, the only life they had ever known in peril. ⁴⁴

Summary and final reflections

In this article, I have discussed three categories of human on human violence observed in the Hebrew Bible in general and the Psalter in particular: direct or immediate, textual or symbolic, and structural and cultural. Despite the fact that the descriptions of such violence are cloaked in poetic, metaphoric language of the Psalter, scholars have posited various “settings in life” (Sitze im Leben) for the heartfelt words about human on human violence and suggested “settings in life” that speak to life in the twenty-first century. The words of the psalms, all the psalms, were the words of our ancestors in the faith as they praised God, pondered over the wonders of creation, cried out to God for help against foes of all kinds, and mused over their lives in the care of God. The psalms they composed, repeated, and handed down over the millennia had meaning in their own time and continue to have meaning today. They provide the words many cannot find to speak as they confront the many forms of violence that come their way.