Today, rather than my own thoughts, I want to offer for your consideration the wonderful instruction on Psalm 21, the second psalm of Good Friday Tenebrae, offered by the now retired Pope Benedict XVI at a General Audience of 14 September 2011:
"In the Catechesis today I would like to apply myself to a Psalm with strong Christological implications which continually surface in accounts of Jesus' passion, with its twofold dimension of humiliation and glory, of death and life. It is Psalm 22 according to the Hebrew tradition and Psalm 21 according to the Graeco-Latin tradition, a heartfelt, moving prayer with a human density and theological richness that make it one of the most frequently prayed and studied Psalms in the entire Psalter. It is a long poetic composition and we shall reflect in particular on its first part, centred on the lament, in order to examine in depth certain important dimensions of the prayer of supplication to God.
This Psalm presents the figure of an innocent man, persecuted and surrounded by adversaries who clamour for his death; and he turns to God with a sorrowful lament which, in the certainty of his faith, opens mysteriously to praise. The anguishing reality of the present and the consoling memory of the past alternate in his prayer in an agonized awareness of his own desperate situation in which, however, he does not want to give up hope. His initial cry is an appeal addressed to a God who appears remote, who does not answer and seems to have abandoned him: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest” (vv. 3-4).
God is silent and this silence pierces the soul of the person praying, who ceaselessly calls but receives no answer. Day and night succeed one another in an unflagging quest for a word, for help that does not come, God seems so distant, so forgetful, so absent. The prayer asks to be heard, to be answered, it begs for contact, seeks a relationship that can give comfort and salvation. But if God fails to respond, the cry of help is lost in the void and loneliness becomes unbearable.
Yet, in his cry, the praying man of our Psalm calls the Lord “my” God at least three times, in an extreme act of trust and faith. In spite of all appearances, the Psalmist cannot believe that his link with the Lord is totally broken and while he asks the reason for a presumed incomprehensible abandonment, he says that “his” God cannot forsake him.
As is well known, the initial cry of the Psalm, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, is recorded by the Gospels of Matthew and Mark as the cry uttered by Jesus dying on the Cross (cf. Mt 27:46, Mk 15:34). It expresses all the desolation of the Messiah, Son of God, who is facing the drama of death, a reality totally opposed to the Lord of life. Forsaken by almost all his followers, betrayed and denied by the disciples, surrounded by people who insult him, Jesus is under the crushing weight of a mission that was to pass through humiliation and annihilation. This is why he cried out to the Father, and his suffering took up the sorrowful words of the Psalm. But his is not a desperate cry, nor was that of the Psalmist who, in his supplication, takes a tormented path which nevertheless opens out at last into a perspective of praise, into trust in the divine victory.
And since in the Jewish custom citing the beginning of a Psalm implied a reference to the whole poem, although Jesus’ anguished prayer retains its burden of unspeakable suffering, it unfolds to the certainty of glory. “Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?”, the Risen Christ was to say to the disciples at Emmaus (Lk 24:26). In his passion, in obedience to the Father, the Lord Jesus passes through abandonment and death to reach life and to give it to all believers.
This initial cry of supplication in our Psalm 22[21] is followed in sorrowful contrast by the memory of the past, “In you our fathers trusted; they trusted, and you did deliver them. To you they cried, and were saved; in you they trusted, and were not disappointed” (vv. 5-6).
The God who appears today to be so remote to the Psalmist, is nonetheless the merciful Lord whom Israel experienced throughout its history. The People to whom the praying person belongs is the object of God’s love and can witness to his fidelity to him. Starting with the Patriarchs, then in Egypt and on the long pilgrimage through the wilderness, in the stay in the promised land in contact with aggressive and hostile peoples, to the night of the exile, the whole of biblical history is a history of a cry for help on the part of the People and of saving answers on the part of God.
And the Psalmist refers to the steadfast faith of his ancestors who “trusted” — this word is repeated three times — without ever being disappointed. Then, however, it seems that this chain of trusting invocations and divine answers has been broken; the Psalmist’s situation seems to deny the entire history of salvation, making the present reality even more painful.
God, however, cannot deny himself so here the prayer returns to describing the distressing plight of the praying person, to induce the Lord to have pity on him and to intervene, as he always had done in the past. The Psalmist describes himself as “a worm, and no man”, scorned by men, and despised by the people” (v. 7). He was mocked, people made grimaces at him, (cf. v. 8), and wounded in his faith itself. “He committed his cause to the Lord; let him deliver him, let him rescue him, for he delights in him!” (v. 9), they said.
Under the jeering blows of irony and contempt, it almost seems as though the persecuted man loses his own human features, like the suffering servant outlined in the Book of Isaiah (cf. 52:14; 53:2b-3). And like the oppressed righteous man in the Book of Wisdom (cf. 2:12-20), like Jesus on Calvary (cf. Mt 27:39-43), the Psalmist saw his own relationship with the Lord called into question in the cruel and sarcastic emphasis of what is causing him to suffer: God’s silence, his apparent absence. And yet God was present with an indisputable tenderness in the life of the person praying. The Psalmist reminds the Lord of this: “Yet you are he who took me from the womb; you did keep me safe upon my mother’s breasts. Upon you was I cast from my birth” (vv. 10-11a).
The Lord is the God of life who brings the newborn child into the world and cares for him with a father’s affection. And though the memory of God’s fidelity in the history of the people has first been recalled, the praying person now re-evokes his own personal history of relations with the Lord, going back to the particularly significant moment of the beginning of his life. And here, despite the desolation of the present, the Psalmist recognizes a closeness and a divine love so radical that he can now exclaim, in a confession full of faith and generating hope: “and since my mother bore me you have been my God” (v. 11b).
The lament then becomes a heartfelt plea: “Be not far from me, for trouble is near and there is none to help” (v. 12). The only closeness that the Psalmist can perceive and that fills him with fear was that of his enemies. It is therefore necessary for God to make himself close and to help him, because enemies surround the praying man, they encircle him and were like strong bulls, like ravening and roaring lions (cf. vv. 13-14). Anguish alters his perception of the danger, magnifying it. The adversaries seem invincible, they become ferocious, dangerous animals, while the Psalmist is like a small worm, powerless and defenceless.
Yet these images used in the Psalm also serve to describe that when man becomes brutal and attacks his brother, something brutal within him takes the upper hand, he seems to lose any human likeness; violence always has something bestial about it and only God’s saving intervention can restore humanity to human beings.
Now, it seems to the Psalmist, the object of so much ferocious aggression, that he no longer has any way out and death begins to take possession of him: “I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint… my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue cleaves to my jaws… they divide my garments among them, and for my raiment they cast lots” (vv. 15, 16, 19).
The disintegration of the body of the condemned man is described with the dramatic images that we encounter in the accounts of Christ’s passion, the unbearable parching thirst that torments the dying man that is echoed in Jesus’ request “I thirst” (cf. Jn 19:28), until we reach the definitive act of his tormentors, who, like the soldiers at the foot of the cross divide the clothes of the victim whom they consider already dead (cf. Mt 27:35; Mk 15:24; Lk 23:34; Jn 19:23-24).
Here then, impelling, once again comes the request for help: “But you, O Lord, be not far off! O you my help, hasten to my aid!... Save me” (vv. 20; 22a). This is a cry that opens the Heavens, because it proclaims a faith, a certainty that goes beyond all doubt, all darkness and all desolation. And the lament is transformed, it gives way to praise in the acceptance of salvation: “He has heard... I will tell of your name to my brethren; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you” (vv. 22c-23).
In this way the Psalm opens to thanksgiving, to the great final hymn that sweeps up the whole people, the Lord’s faithful, the liturgical assembly, the generations to come (cf. vv. 24-32). The Lord went to the rescue, he saved the poor man and showed his merciful face. Death and life are interwoven in an inseparable mystery and life triumphs, the God of salvation shows himself to be the undisputed Lord whom all the ends of the earth will praise and before whom all the families of the nations will bow down. It is the victory of faith which can transform death into the gift of life, the abyss of sorrow into a source of hope.
Dear brothers and sisters, this Psalm has taken us to Golgotha, to the foot of the cross of Jesus, to relive his passion and to share the fruitful joy of the resurrection. Let us therefore allow ourselves to be invaded by the light of the paschal mystery even in God’s apparent absence, even in God’s silence, and, like the disciples of Emmaus, let us learn to discern the true reality beyond appearances, recognizing humiliation itself as the way to exaltation, and the cross as the full manifestation of life in earth. Thus, replacing in God the Father all our trust and hope, in every anxiety we will be able to pray to him with faith, and our cry of help will be transformed into a hymn of praise."
Psalm 21
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Vulgate
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Douay-Rheims
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In finem,
pro susceptione matutina. Psalmus David.
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Unto the end, for the morning protection, a psalm for David.
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1
Deus, Deus meus, réspice in me: quare me dereliquísti? * longe a salúte mea
verba delictórum meórum.
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God
my God, look upon
me: why have you forsaken me? Far from my salvation are the words
of my sins.
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2 Deus
meus, clamábo per diem, et non exáudies: * et nocte, et non ad insipiéntiam
mihi.
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3 O my God, I shall cry by
day, and you will not hear: and by night, and it shall not be reputed as
folly in me.
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3 Tu
autem in sancto hábitas: * laus Israël.
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4 But you dwell in the holy place, the praise
of Israel.
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4 In
te speravérunt patres nostri: * speravérunt, et liberásti eos.
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5 In you have our fathers hoped: they have
hoped, and you have delivered them
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5 Ad
te clamavérunt, et salvi facti sunt: * in te speravérunt, et non sunt
confúsi.
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6 They cried to you, and they were saved: they
trusted in you, and were not confounded.
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6 Ego
autem sum vermis, et non homo: * oppróbrium hóminum, et abjéctio plebis.
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7 But I am a worm, and no man: the reproach of men, and the outcast of
the people.
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7 Omnes
vidéntes me derisérunt me: * locúti sunt lábiis, et movérunt caput.
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8 All they that saw me have laughed me to
scorn: they have spoken with the lips, and wagged the head.
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8 Sperávit
in Dómino, erípiat eum: * salvum fáciat eum, quóniam vult eum.
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9 He hoped in the
Lord, let him
deliver him: let him save him, seeing he delights in him.
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9 Quóniam tu es, qui extraxísti me de
ventre: * spes mea ab ubéribus matris meæ.
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10 For you are he
that have drawn me out of the womb: my hope from the breasts of my mother.
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10 In te projéctus sum ex útero: de ventre matris
meæ Deus meus es tu, * ne discésseris a me :
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11 I was cast upon
you from the womb. From my mother's womb you are my God,
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11
Quóniam tribulátio próxima est: * quóniam non est qui ádjuvet.
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12 depart not from
me. For tribulation is very near: for there is none to help me.
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12 Circumdedérunt
me vítuli multi: * tauri pingues obsedérunt me.
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13 Many calves have surrounded me: fat bulls
have besieged me.
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13 Aperuérunt super me os suum: * sicut leo
rápiens et rúgiens.
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14 They have
opened their mouths against me, as a lion ravening and roaring.
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14 Sicut aqua effúsus sum: * et dispérsa
sunt ómnia ossa mea.
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15 I am poured out
like water; and all my bones are scattered.
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15
Factum est cor meum tamquam cera liquéscens: * in médio ventris mei.
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My heart has become like wax
melting in the midst of my bowels.
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16 Aruit
tamquam testa virtus mea, et lingua mea adhæsit fáucibus meis: * et in
púlverem mortis deduxísti me.
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16 My strength is
dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue has cleaved to my jaws: and you have
brought me down into the dust of death.
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17 Quóniam
circumdedérunt me canes multi: * concílium malignántium obsédit me.
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17 For many dogs have encompassed me: the
council of the malignant has besieged me.
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18
Fodérunt manus meas et pedes meos: * dinumeravérunt ómnia ossa mea.
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They
have dug my hands and feet. 18 They have
numbered all my bones.
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19
Ipsi vero consíderavérunt et inspexérunt me: * divisérunt sibi vestiménta
mea, et super vestem meam misérunt sortem.
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And
they have looked and stared upon me. 19 They
parted my garments amongst them; and upon my vesture they cast lots.
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20 Tu
autem, Dómine, ne elongáveris auxílium tuum a me: * ad defensiónem meam
cónspice.
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20 But you, O Lord, remove not your
help to a distance from me; look towards my defence.
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21 Erue a frámea, Deus, ánimam meam: * et de
manu canis únicam meam.
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21 Deliver, O God, my soul from the sword: my
only one from the hand of the dog.
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22 Salva
me ex ore leónis: * et a córnibus unicórnium humilitátem meam.
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22 Save me from the lion's mouth; and my lowness
from the horns of the unicorns.
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23 Narrábo nomen tuum frátribus meis: * in
médio Ecclésiæ laudábo te.
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23 I will declare your name to my brethren: in
the midst of the church will I praise you.
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24 Qui
timétis Dóminum, laudáte eum: * univérsum semen Jacob, glorificáte eum.
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24 You that fear the Lord, praise him: all
you the seed of Jacob,
glorify him.
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25 Tímeat
eum omne semen Israël: * quóniam non sprevit, neque despéxit deprecatiónem
páuperis :
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25 Let all the seed of Israel fear him: because
he has not slighted nor despised
the supplication of the poor man.
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26
Nec avértit fáciem suam a me: * et cum clamárem ad eum, exaudívit me.
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Neither
has he turned away his face from me: and when I cried to him he heard me.
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27 Apud
te laus mea in ecclésia magna: * vota mea reddam in conspéctu timéntium eum.
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26 With you is my praise in a great church: I
will pay my vows in
the sight of them that fear him.
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28 Edent
páuperes, et saturabúntur: et laudábunt Dóminum qui requírunt eum: * vivent
corda eórum in sæculum sæculi.
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27 The poor shall eat and shall be filled: and
they shall praise the Lord
that seek him: their hearts shall live for ever and ever.
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29 Reminiscéntur
et converténtur ad Dóminum * univérsi fines terræ :
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28 All the ends of the earth shall remember, and
shall be converted to the Lord:
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30
Et adorábunt in conspéctu ejus * univérsæ famíliæ Géntium.
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And
all the kindreds of the Gentiles
shall adore in his
sight.
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31 Quóniam
Dómini est regnum: * et ipse dominábitur Géntium.
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29 For the kingdom is the Lord's; and he shall
have dominion over the nations.
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32 Manducavérunt
et adoravérunt omnes pingues terræ: * in conspéctu ejus cadent omnes qui
descéndunt in terram.
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30 All the fat ones of the earth have eaten and
have adored: all
they that go down to the earth shall fall before him.
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33 Et
ánima mea illi vivet: * et semen meum sérviet ipsi.
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31 And to him my soul shall live: and my
seed shall serve him.
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34 Annuntiábitur Dómino generátio ventúra:
* et annuntiábunt cæli justítiam ejus pópulo qui nascétur, quem fecit
Dóminus.
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32 There shall be declared to the Lord a generation to come: and
the heavens shall
show forth his justice
to a people that shall be born, which the Lord has made.
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Tenebrae of Good Friday
Nocturn I: Psalms 2, 21, 26
Nocturn II: Psalms 37, 39, 53*
Nocturn III: Psalms 58, 87*, 93
Lauds: 50*, 142, 84, [Hab], 147
Liturgical and Scriptural uses of the psalm
And notes on the next psalm in the series can be found here.
Liturgical and Scriptural uses of the psalm
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NT
references
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Mt 27:46, Mk 15:34 (1); Romans 9:33 (5); Mt 27:39, Mk 15:29, Lk 23:35
(v7); Mt 27:43 (v8); 1 Pet 5:8 (13); Mt 27:35, Mk 15:24, Lk 23:34, Jn 19:24 (19);
2 Tim 4:17 (22); Heb 2:12 (23); Rev 19:5 (v24); Rev 11:15 (v31); Eph 2:
7(v34)
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RB
cursus
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Sunday M I, 2;
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Monastic/(Roman)
feasts etc
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Good Friday Tenebrae, I,
2
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Responsories
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Easter 4&5 v23
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Roman
pre 1911
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Friday Prime
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Roman
post 1911
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1911-62:
Prime Friday . 1970:
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Mass
propers (EF)
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Stripping of the Altar on Maundy Thursday,
Psalm Sunday IN (1, 20, 22), TR (1-8, 18-19, 21, 24, 34);
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