The Gradual Psalms and Acts - when God was a mathematician**Updated

Death and Testament of Moses  (at the age of 120) by Luca Signorelli

I'm not quite ready to resume my notes on the Gradual psalms yet, but I thought I would share with you today some comments that I came across in the course of my lectio divina, in St Bede's commentary on Acts that I think relate to the Gradual Psalms.

It is one of those bits of mathematical symbolism in Scripture that we tend to downplay the significance of, but which the Fathers saw as pointing to the beautiful order of the universe, reflected in the mathematical properties programmed by God into both the natural law and history.

There is a bit of hard work involved in following the logic here, but bear with me and see what you think.

Acts 1:15

Verse 15 of Acts One says:

15 In diebus illis, exsurgens Petrus in medio fratrum, dixit (erat autem turba hominum simul, fere centum viginti):

15 In those days Peter rising up in the midst of the brethren, said: (now the number of persons together was about an hundred and twenty:)

Number properties

St Bede focuses in on the idea of a gradual growth in the number of believers, and points out that 120 can be seen as being 'built up' in fifteen stages:

These hundred and twenty, built up gradually by addition [of the numbers] from one to fifteen yields fifteen as the number of steps*

That is, 120 is a triangular number, made up of fifteen components, ie:

 1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13+14+15=120.

The psalter, the law, and grace

St Bede then uses this mathematical connection between 15 and 120 to make several spiritual connections between the two numbers, one of which is an allusion to the psalms:

By reason of the perfection of both laws, this [number 15] is mystically contained in the psalter...

The references to the perfection of the law comes from bringing together two different Patristic memes.

A common Patristic theme expounded most fully in St Augustine, is that the number 15 can be seen as made up of 7+8.  The number 7 in this case represents the Old Law (for the seven days of creation), while 8 represents the New, since Christ rose on the 'eighth day'.  But there is also a connection between 120 and the law, for, Bede points out, Moses, the Old Testament lawgiver, died at the age of 120.

Accordingly, the number 120 is both mathematically and symbolically linked to fifteen and the law, and to the number of psalms in the book of psalms (multiply fifteen by the Decalogue, the ten commandments given to Moses).

Gradual Psalms

But it probably makes most sense, in my view, given the wording of the Latin (per incrementa surgentes quidecim graduum numerum efficiunt) to see it more specifically as a reference to the fifteen Gradual Psalms, and the number of steps in the temple, in particular.

The Gradual Psalms (Psalm 119-133), I have previously noted, are often seen as being about the ascent of grace, building on the psalm that immediately precede them, the great psalm of the law, Psalm 118.  Bede makes this connection in part through a cross-reference to Galatians 1:18 (see my previous note on the significance of the number in that context), which refers to St Paul staying with St Peter for fifteen days in Jerusalem before beginning his first mission journey.  St Bede says:

By reason of the perfection of both laws, this is mystically contained in the psalter, and for this [number of days] the 'vessel of election' [St Paul] dwelled with Peter in Jerusalem. For it was necessary that the preachers of the new grace would designate by their number the sacramental sign which the lawgiver [Moses] exhibited [in the years of his life].

**And in fact I have now found St Bede's source for this comment (not noted in the edition of the commentary I am using) I think, in St Gregory the Great's On Job.  St Gregory implies a similar link (though he is more explicit about the connection to the psalter in general).  St Gregory provides an exposition of the symbolic meaning of seven and eight, and then adds them together saying:

Hence it is, that the Temple is ascended with fifteen steps, in order that it may be learned by its very ascent that by seven and eight our worldly doings may be carefully discharged, and an eternal dwelling may be providently sought for. Hence also it is that, by increasing a unit to ten, the Prophet uttered a hundred and fifty Psalms. For on account of this number ‘seven’ signifying temporal things, and the number ‘eight’ eternal things, the Holy Spirit was poured forth upon a hundred and twenty of the faithful, sitting in an upper room. For fifteen is made up of seven and eight, and if in counting from one to fifteen we mount up by adding the sums of the numbers together, we reach the number a hundred and twenty. By this effusion of the Holy Spirit they learned in truth both to pass through with endurance things temporal, and eagerly to seek after those that are eternal...(BK 35:17)

The growth of the Church depends on our growth in humility

What St Bede is getting at in all this then, I think, is something that in his later works he draws out much more clearly, namely that the expansion in the number of believers, the growth of the Church, is linked to each of our own growth in humility.

In the case of Acts 1, we see the Apostles transformed: chastened by their loss of faith at the Crucifixion, they are now reinvigorated by Christ's Resurrection and instruction during these days.  And their spiritual progress, their mystical ascent of the steps of the temple towards heaven, draws in new believers.

And of course, the principle applies to us as well: our spiritual progress in the pilgrimage of life represented by the Gradual Psalms helps builds up the Church, helps rebuild its broken walls...

Versification of Acts

Finally, as an aside, you would have to think the sixteenth century editor who added verse numbers to Scripture, Robert Estienne, must have been aware of the connection between the number one hundred and twenty to the number fifteen as well...

**The translations come from The Venerable Bede, Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles, Translated, with an introduction and Notes, by Lawrence T Martin, Cistercian Publications, 1989

St John Chrysostom, Commentary on the Psalms

As well as some notes on selected psalms, such as those in the Mass propers, I plan to have a series of posts on this blog on the major patristic and later commentaries on the psalms, providing a little context for them.  And today, to start the ballrolling, a look at St John Chrysostom.  Tomorrow I'll post a short extract from one of his psalm commentaries in order to give a flavour of his work.

St John Chrysostom (349-407), bishop and Doctor of the Church, tends to be rather neglected in the West (though he is cited extensively in the Catechism of the Catholic Church), but undeservedly so in my view.  His commentaries on the psalms are particularly worth reading, filled with gems of expositions on key topics, and clearly directed at a lay audience.

The author

Pope Benedict XVI gave two General Audiences on the saint in 2007, the year of the sixteen hundredth anniversary of his death.  Here are some extracts on his life:

"He was born in about the year 349 A.D. in Antioch, Syria (today Antakya in Southern Turkey). He carried out his priestly ministry there for about 11 years, until 397, when, appointed Bishop of Constantinople, he exercised his episcopal ministry in the capital of the Empire prior to his two exiles, which succeeded one close upon the other - in 403 and 407. Let us limit ourselves today to examining the years Chrysostom spent in Antioch.

He lost his father at a tender age and lived with Anthusa, his mother, who instilled in him exquisite human sensitivity and a deep Christian faith.

After completing his elementary and advanced studies crowned by courses in philosophy and rhetoric, he had as his teacher, Libanius, a pagan and the most famous rhetorician of that time. At his school John became the greatest orator of late Greek antiquity.

He was baptized in 368 and trained for the ecclesiastical life by Bishop Meletius, who instituted him as lector in 371. This event marked Chrysostom's official entry into the ecclesiastical cursus. From 367 to 372, he attended the Asceterius, a sort of seminary in Antioch, together with a group of young men, some of whom later became Bishops, under the guidance of the exegete Diodore of Tarsus, who initiated John into the literal and grammatical exegesis characteristic of Antiochean tradition.

He then withdrew for four years to the hermits on the neighbouring Mount Silpius. He extended his retreat for a further two years, living alone in a cave under the guidance of an "old hermit". In that period, he dedicated himself unreservedly to meditating on "the laws of Christ", the Gospels and especially the Letters of Paul. Having fallen ill, he found it impossible to care for himself unaided, and therefore had to return to the Christian community in Antioch (cf. Palladius, Dialogue on the Life of St John Chrysostom, 5).

The Lord, his biographer explains, intervened with the illness at the right moment to enable John to follow his true vocation. In fact, he himself was later to write that were he to choose between the troubles of Church government and the tranquillity of monastic life, he would have preferred pastoral service a thousand times (cf. On the Priesthood, 6, 7): it was precisely to this that Chrysostom felt called.

It was here that he reached the crucial turning point in the story of his vocation: a full-time pastor of souls! Intimacy with the Word of God, cultivated in his years at the hermitage, had developed in him an irresistible urge to preach the Gospel, to give to others what he himself had received in his years of meditation. The missionary ideal thus launched him into pastoral care, his heart on fire.

Between 378 and 379, he returned to the city. He was ordained a deacon in 381 and a priest in 386, and became a famous preacher in his city's churches. He preached homilies against the Arians, followed by homilies commemorating the Antiochean martyrs and other important liturgical celebrations: this was an important teaching of faith in Christ and also in the light of his Saints.

The year 387 was John's "heroic year", that of the so-called "revolt of the statues". As a sign of protest against levied taxes, the people destroyed the Emperor's statues. It was in those days of Lent and the fear of the Emperor's impending reprisal that Chrysostom gave his 22 vibrant Homilies on the Statues, whose aim was to induce repentance and conversion. This was followed by a period of serene pastoral care (387-397)..."

In his the second General Audience on the saint Pope Benedict XVI continued:

"...After the period he spent in Antioch, in 397 he was appointed Bishop of Constantinople, the capital of the Roman Empire of the East. John planned the reform of his Church from the outset: the austerity of the episcopal residence had to be an example for all - clergy, widows, monks, courtiers and the rich. Unfortunately, many of those he criticized distanced themselves from him. Attentive to the poor, John was also called "the Almoner". Indeed, he was able as a careful administrator to establish highly appreciated charitable institutions. For some people, his initiatives in various fields made him a dangerous rival but as a true Pastor, he treated everyone in a warm, fatherly way. In particular, he always spoke kindly to women and showed special concern for marriage and the family. He would invite the faithful to take part in liturgical life, which he made splendid and attractive with brilliant creativity.

St John confronts the Empress Eudoxia,

c19th painting, J-P Laurens

Despite his kind heart, his life was far from peaceful. He was the Pastor of the capital of the Empire, and often found himself involved in political affairs and intrigues because of his ongoing relations with the authorities and civil institutions. Then, within the Church, having removed six Bishops in Asia in 401 A.D. who had been improperly appointed, he was accused of having overstepped the boundaries of his own jurisdiction and thus he easily became the target of accusations. Another accusation against him concerned the presence of some Egyptian monks, excommunicated by Patriarch Theophilus of Alexandria, who had sought refuge in Constantinople. A heated argument then flared up on account of Chrysostom's criticism of the Empress Eudoxia and her courtiers who reacted by heaping slander and insults upon him. Thus, they proceeded to his removal during the Synod organized by the same Patriarch Theophilus in 403, which led to his condemnation and his first, brief exile. After Chrysostom's return, the hostility he had instigated by his protests against the festivities in honour of the Empress, which the Bishop considered as sumptuous pagan celebrations, and by his expulsion of the priests responsible for the Baptisms during the Easter Vigil in 404, marked the beginning of the persecution of Chrysostom and his followers, the so-called "Johannites".

John then denounced the events in a letter to Innocent I, Bishop of Rome, but it was already too late. In 406, he was once again forced into exile, this time to Cucusus in Armenia. The Pope was convinced of his innocence but was powerless to help him. A Council desired by Rome to establish peace between the two parts of the Empire and among their Churches could not take place. The gruelling journey from Cucusus to Pityus, a destination that he never reached, was meant to prevent the visits of the faithful and to break the resistance of the worn-out exile: his condemnation to exile was a true death sentence! The numerous letters from his exile in which John expressed his pastoral concern in tones of participation and sorrow at the persecution of his followers are moving. His journey towards death stopped at Comana in Ponto. Here, John, who was dying, was carried into the Chapel of the Martyr St Basiliscus, where he gave up his spirit to God and was buried, one martyr next to the other (Palladius, Dialogue on the Life of St John Chrysostom, 119). It was 14 September 407, the Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross..."

The Commentaries on the psalms


c9th Chlkudov Psalter

 St John Chrysostom wrote his Commentaries on the Psalms roughly between 386-398. He may have written notes on all of them, but all that survives today is Psalms 4-12; 43-49; and 108-150 (omitting Ps 118).

In general he starts from a historical perspective, attempting to set each psalm in its original context, making his commentary particularly approachable to modern readers, even if modern critics will sometimes disagree with his particular conclusions.  His orientation is practical rather than mystical, but often all the more helpful for that.

The commentaries can be found online in Greek on Migne's Patrologia Graceca.  A modern English translation is available in two volumes in a translation by Robert Charles Hill (Holy Cross Orthodox Press, Brookline MA, 1998).  Be warned though: treat the footnotes and accompanying materials with extreme caution!   Hill is not an appreciative translator of his subject, and his footnotes are almost uniformly critical of the work.  In general he seems not to be aware of the latest scholarship that attests to the integrity of the Septuagint, and takes what can only be described as a modernist perspective on St John's theology. Nonetheless, the text speaks for itself.

In addition, St John draws on and comments on many of the psalms in the course of his other (vast volume of) homilies on Scripture, and many of these commentaries can be readily accessed online, including through Bibliaclerus, CCEL and New Advent.

Lectio notes on the propers for the Eighth Sunday - Psalm 47/2

Tres Riches Heures, Purification of the BVM

The Introit for this week in the Extraordinary Form (on days not displaced by feasts) is, like the Alleluia discussed in my last post, also from Psalm 47, verses 10, 11 and 2:

10 Suscépimus, Deus, misericórdiam tuam, * in médio templi tui.

11 Secúndum nomen tuum, Deus, sic et laus tua in fines terræ: * justítia plena est déxtera tua.

2 Magnus Dóminus, et laudábilis nimis * in civitáte Dei nostri, in monte sancto ejus.

A translation is 'We have received God (suscepimus Deus), your mercy (misericoridam tuam) in the midst (in medio) of your temple (templi tui). According to your name O God,(secundem nomen tuum Deus), so also is your praise (sic et laus tua) unto the ends of the earth (in fines terrae): your right hand (dextera tua) is full of justice (justitia plena est).

Commentary

The text points us to the Sunday Gospel story of the unjust steward, with its reminder that we will all be called to account before God at some point, and fall in need of his mercy. 

St Augustine points out that the wording of the verse suggests that while we have received mercy, others have not.  St Thomas Aquinas explains this idea further: we have received mercy, he suggests, in the form of faith; in the form of grace conferred through the sacraments; and in the form of Christ himself (note that the text and chant setting is also used on the feast of the Purification of the BVM), whose message has been spread by the Church to the ends of the earth.  Thus, he argues, those who receive the sacraments unworthily, or who do not accept the teaching of the Church do not receive God's mercy...

A tough, counter-cultural message to meditate on indeed, that should make us think and do something about our own sins, encourage us to give thanks and praise for the graces we have received, and encourage us to pray and work ever harder for the conversion of others.

Why a particular focus on the psalms?

The psalms are probably the most read, said and sung book of Scripture: they form an important part of the Mass; are the backbone of the Divine Office; and many have been turned into popular hymns. 

Despite this, they are also, paradoxically, amongst the most poorly understood texts of Scripture.

Why have the psalms become so hard for us?

In part the problem is a matter of literary genre: poetry is never easy to understand at the best of times. 

In part because of the bowdlerization of the psalms that has occurred in the modern liturgy, which systematically edits out the 'hard' verses and even entire psalms from the Liturgy of the Hours and the Mass.

In the main though the problem is the psalms have suffered from the same affliction as the rest of Scripture as a result of the popularity of the historico-critical method of interpretation.

There are hundreds of contemporary books that purport to provide commentaries on the psalms. 

Some of these commentaries even claim to be Catholic. 

Yet few of them are in any real sense.

Even standard works such as the New Jerome Biblical Commentary, for example, as Scott Hahn has pointed out (Introduction to Michael Barber, Singing in the Reign The Psalms and the Liturgy of God's Kingdom, Emmaus Road Publishing: Stubenville, Ohio; 2001; pp19), fall into the trap condemned by the Fifth Ecumenical Council, of entirely omitting a Christological perspective on the psalms.

Pope Benedict XVI on the psalms

But some of the reasons why we should devote considerable attention to the psalms are nicely summarized by Pope Benedict XVI when at his General Audience of 22 June 2011, he spoke on the psalms as the prayerbook of the Bible:

"...we shall enter “the book of prayer” par excellence, the Book of Psalms. In the forthcoming catecheses we shall read and meditate on several of the most beautiful Psalms that are dearest to the Church’s tradition of prayer. Today I would like to introduce them by talking about the Book of Psalms as a whole.

The Psalter appears as a “formulary” of prayers, a collection of 150 Psalms which the Biblical Tradition offers the people of believers so that they become their and our prayer, our way of speaking and of relating to God. This Book expresses the entire human experience with its multiple facets and the whole range of sentiments that accompany human existence.

In the Psalms are expressed and interwoven with joy and suffering, the longing for God and the perception of our own unworthiness, happiness and the feeling of abandonment, trust in God and sorrowful loneliness, fullness of life and fear of death. The whole reality of the believer converges in these prayers. The People of Israel first and then the Church adopted them as a privileged mediation in relations with the one God and an appropriate response to God’s self revelation in history.

Since the Psalms are prayers they are expressions of the heart and of faith with which everyone can identify and in which that experience of special closeness to God — to which every human being is called — is communicated. Moreover the whole complexity of human life is distilled in the complexity of the different literary forms of the various Psalms: hymns, laments, individual entreaties and collective supplications, hymns of thanksgiving, penitential psalms, sapiential psalms and the other genres that are to be found in these poetic compositions.

Despite this multiplicity of expression, two great areas that sum up the prayer of the Psalter may be identified: supplication, connected to lamentation, and praise. These are two related dimensions that are almost inseparable since supplication is motivated by the certainty that God will respond, thus opening a person to praise and thanksgiving; and praise and thanksgiving stem from the experience of salvation received; this implies the need for help which the supplication expresses.

In his supplication the person praying bewails and describes his situation of anguish, danger or despair or, as in the penitential Psalms, he confesses his guilt, his sin, asking forgiveness. He discloses his needy state to the Lord, confident that he will be heard and this involves the recognition of God as good, as desirous of goodness and as one who “loves the living” (cf. Wis 11:26), ready to help, to save and to forgive. In this way, for example, the Psalmist in Psalm 31[30] prays: “In you, O Lord, do I seek refuge; let me never be put to shame... take me out of the net which is hidden for me, for you are my refuge” (vv. 2,5). In the lamentation, therefore, something like praise, which is foretold in the hope of divine intervention, can already emerge, and it becomes explicit when divine salvation becomes a reality.

Likewise in the Psalms of thanksgiving and praise, recalling the gift received or contemplating the greatness of God’s mercy, we also recognize our own smallness and the need to be saved which is at the root of supplication. In this way we confess to God our condition as creatures, inevitably marked by death, yet bearing a radical desire for life. The Psalmist therefore exclaims in Psalm 86 [85]: “I give thanks to you, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify your name for ever. For great is your steadfast love toward me; you have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol” (vv. 12-13). In the prayer of the Psalms, supplication and praise are interwoven in this manner and fused in a single hymn that celebrates the eternal grace of the Lord who stoops down to our frailty.

It was precisely in order to permit the people of believers to join in this hymn that the Psalter was given to Israel and to the Church. Indeed the Psalms teach how to pray. In them, the word of God becomes a word of prayer — and they are the words of the inspired Psalmist — which also becomes the word of the person who prays the Psalms.

This is the beauty and the special characteristic of this Book of the Bible: the prayers it contains, unlike other prayers we find in Sacred Scripture, are not inserted in a narrative plot that specifies their meaning and role. The Psalms are given to the believer exactly as the text of prayers whose sole purpose is to become the prayer of the person who assimilates them and addresses them to God. Since they are a word of God, anyone who prays the Psalms speaks to God using the very words that God has given to us, addresses him with the words that he himself has given us. So it is that in praying the Psalms we learn to pray. They are a school of prayer.

Something similar happens when a child begins to speak, namely, he learns how to express his own feelings, emotions, and needs with words that do not belong to him innately but that he learns from his parents and from those who surround him. What the child wishes to express is his own experience, but his means of expression comes from others; and little by little he makes them his own, the words received from his parents become his words and through these words he also learns a way of thinking and feeling, he gains access to a whole world of concepts and in it develops and grows, and relates to reality, to people and to God. In the end his parents’ language has become his language, he speaks with words he has received from others but which have now become his own.

This is what happens with the prayer of the Psalms. They are given to us so that we may learn to address God, to communicate with him, to speak to him of ourselves with his words, to find a language for the encounter with God. And through those words, it will also be possible to know and to accept the criteria of his action, to draw closer to the mystery of his thoughts and ways (cf. Is 55:8-9), so as to grow constantly in faith and in love.

Just as our words are not only words but teach us a real and conceptual world, so too these prayers teach us the heart of God, for which reason not only can we speak to God but we can learn who God is and, in learning how to speak to him, we learn to be a human being, to be ourselves.

In this regard the title which the Jewish tradition has given to the Psalter is significant. It is called tehillîm, a Hebrew word which means “praise”, from the etymological root that we find in the expression “Alleluia”, that is, literally “praised be the Lord”. This book of prayers, therefore, although it is so multiform and complex with its different literary genres and its structure alternating between praise and supplication, is ultimately a book of praise which teaches us to give thanks, to celebrate the greatness of God’s gift, to recognize the beauty of his works and to glorify his holy Name. This is the most appropriate response to the Lord’s self manifestation and to the experience of his goodness.

By teaching us to pray, the Psalms teach us that even in desolation, even in sorrow, God’s presence endures, it is a source of wonder and of solace; we can weep, implore, intercede and complain, but in the awareness that we are walking toward the light, where praise can be definitive. As Psalm 36[35] teaches us: “with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light” (Ps 36[35]:10).
However, in addition to this general title of the book, the Jewish tradition has given many Psalms specific names, attributing most of them to King David. A figure of outstanding human and theological depth, David was a complex figure who went through the most varied fundamental experiences of life. When he was young he was a shepherd of his father’s flock, then passing through chequered and at times dramatic vicissitudes, he became King of Israel and pastor of the People of God. A man of peace, he fought many wars; unflagging and tenacious in his quest for God, he betrayed God’s love and this is characteristic: he always remained a seeker of God even though he sinned frequently and seriously. As a humble penitent he received the divine pardon, accepted the divine punishment and accepted a destiny marked by suffering. Thus David with all his weaknesses was a king “after the heart of God” (cf. 1 Sam 13:14), that is, a passionate man of prayer, a man who knew what it meant to implore and to praise. The connection of the Psalms with this outstanding King of Israel is therefore important because he is a messianic figure, an Annointed One of the Lord, in whom, in a certain way, the mystery of Christ is foreshadowed.

Equally important and meaningful are the manner and frequency with which the words of the Psalms are taken up in the New Testament, assuming and accentuating the prophetic value suggested by the connection of the Psalter with the messianic figure of David. In the Lord Jesus, who in his earthly life prayed with the Psalms, they were definitively fulfilled and revealed their fullest and most profound meaning.

The prayers of the Psalter with which we speak to God, speak to us of him, speak to us of the Son, an image of the invisible God (Col 1:15), which fully reveals to us the Father’s Face. Christians, therefore, in praying the Psalms pray to the Father in Christ and with Christ, assuming those hymns in a new perspective which has in the paschal mystery the ultimate key to its interpretation. The horizon of the person praying thus opens to unexpected realities, every Psalm acquires a new light in Christ and the Psalter can shine out in its full infinite richness.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us therefore take this holy book in our hands, let us allow God to teach us to turn to him, let us make the Psalter a guide which helps and accompanies us daily on the path of prayer. And let us too ask, as did Jesus’ disciples, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Lk 11:1), opening our hearts to receive the Teacher’s prayer, in which all prayers are brought to completion. Thus, made sons in the Son, we shall be able to speak to God calling him “Our Father”. Many thanks."