In the previous part of this mini-series on Psalm 101, I looked at the first three verses, which are a plea for the grace to pray properly. Today I want to look at verses 8&9 in the context of the lament in the first half of the psalm.
Individual suffering and penance as a result of sin
Verses 4 to 12 express similar sentiments to the earlier penitential psalms: the psalm is ill with aching bones and fasting, depressed and lonely; hard pressed by his enemies. And the reason is God’s ‘anger and indignation’ (v11).
There are two new elements added in this psalm though. In the next post I will talk about the psalmist’s sense of his ever shrinking life expectancy and the ephemeral of his life when contrasted to God’s unchanging and eternal nature, as he expresses his longing for the restoration of Jerusalem. The other, which I want to look at today, is the isolation of the psalmist as a form of penance.
The symbolism of the three kinds of birds
These verses give us imagery based on three birds, the pelican (pellicano), night raven (nycticorax) and sparrow (passer).
The first two are regarded as solitary birds by choice (the Hebrew actually suggests an owl rather than night raven, though the two are similar symbolically), and are often interpreted as standing for Christ. In Christian iconography and imagery (such as St Thomas Aquinas’ Adoro Te), the pelican is a symbol of the atonement because it was believed to wound itself in order to feed its young with its own blood. Similarly the owl or night raven, lives in the cracks of ruined buildings, and thus symbolizes Christ’s coming to light the darkness so that sinners do not die, but rather are converted and live.
The desert of our enemies
Verse 8, by contrast uses the image of a gregarious bird, the sparrow. St Augustine suggests that the image should conjure up for us Christ preaching from the roof tops, and sympathizing with the weak.
The other words of the verse seven also conjure up a sense of isolation, of living in the wilderness, amongst a scene of desolation. Solitudinis means being alone, or a lonely place, the wilderness; while domicilium means home or dwelling, in this case the sense, in combination with the raven imagery and parallel to the first half of the verse, is, amongst the ruins. The passive case suggests that this has been done to the author, hence the Douay Rheims translates it as ‘I have become like…’. The Collegeville translation of verse 7, however, is, ‘I am like pelican in the wilderness, like an owl in a ruined house.’
In verse 8, vigilare means to keep watch, or be awake, so perhaps the sense is something like, ‘I kept a lonely watch, like a sparrow alone on a rooftop’.
Overall, the picture given to us is of a person isolated and lonely, making atonement for his (and the nations) sins thereby.
It is important to keep in mind here that the psalmist is almost certainly not talking about a literal desert (the pelican after all is a water bird!), but rather the sense of isolation that came from the Babylonian exile: the isolation that comes from living in a strange land and being forced to serve an alien race.
Not unlike the state of the early Christians living in the midst of a pagan Empire. Or indeed of Christians today, under assault from the forces of secularism.
Of the the world but not in it
St Robert Bellarmine interprets the verses as a call to add withdrawal from the world to our fasting and weeping:
“To tears and fasting he unites solitude and watching, the marks of true penance. For if one will not seriously withdraw himself awhile from the world, and, in serious watchings, call up the number and the greatness of his sins, it is hardly possible to deplore them sufficiently.”
The three birds, he suggests, can be seen as representing three classes of penitents: the pelicans are hermits and those who flee to the desert to do battle with demons; and the night raven stands for anchorites and monastics who do penance and sing the Divine Office.
In the world but not of it
But the third of St Robert's categories are the laity who live in the world, but are not of the world, to whom the duty of preaching by word and deed is given. His summation of the duties of the laity, and how they relate to penitence, is well worth meditating on closely:
“Finally, others, encumbered with families, or public duties, who cannot retire from the world, still, like the solitary sparrow on the housetop, manage to rise above the world and its cares. These are they who, while they are in the world, are not of the world; being slaves neither to the wealth nor the honors, nor the cares of the world. They make such things slaves to them; they master, they dispose of, and they dispense them, and they do not suffer themselves to be entangled or ensnared by them; so that their minds can revel freely in solitude here, and thus, enjoy heaven hereafter. To such persons it belongs to watch and preach from the housetops, to watch their own temptations and dangers, and to preach both by word and by example to those over whom they may be placed. No penance can be more valuable than for those in high rank to observe the greatest humility, for those who have the wealth of the world to content themselves with moderate food and clothing, that thereby they may be the better able to help those in want; for those who are prone to concupiscence, to chastise their body, and bring it under subjection, by fasting and spare living; and finally, to serve our neighbors from love, to compassionate their sufferings, and to bear with their annoyances and scandals.”
For the next part in this series on Psalm 101, continue on here.
 |
| Ferdinand Olivia, 1785-1841 The Jews in captivity in Babylon |
Verses 4 to 12 express similar sentiments to the earlier penitential psalms: the psalm is ill with aching bones and fasting, depressed and lonely; hard pressed by his enemies. And the reason is God’s ‘anger and indignation’ (v11).
There are two new elements added in this psalm though. In the next post I will talk about the psalmist’s sense of his ever shrinking life expectancy and the ephemeral of his life when contrasted to God’s unchanging and eternal nature, as he expresses his longing for the restoration of Jerusalem. The other, which I want to look at today, is the isolation of the psalmist as a form of penance.
The symbolism of the three kinds of birds
 |
| Night raven, Aberdeen Bestiary (1542) |
7
|
V
|
Símilis factus sum pellicáno solitúdinis: * factus
sum sicut nyctícorax in domicílio.
|
NV
|
Similis factus sum pellicano solitudinis,
factus sum sicut nycticorax in ruinis.
|
|
JH
|
Adsimilatus sum pelicano deserti; factus
sum quasi bubo solitudinum.
|
8
|
V/NV
|
Vigilávi, * et factus sum sicut passer solitárius in
tecto.
|
JH
|
Uigilaui, et fui sicut auis solitaria
super tectum.
|
These verses give us imagery based on three birds, the pelican (pellicano), night raven (nycticorax) and sparrow (passer).
The first two are regarded as solitary birds by choice (the Hebrew actually suggests an owl rather than night raven, though the two are similar symbolically), and are often interpreted as standing for Christ. In Christian iconography and imagery (such as St Thomas Aquinas’ Adoro Te), the pelican is a symbol of the atonement because it was believed to wound itself in order to feed its young with its own blood. Similarly the owl or night raven, lives in the cracks of ruined buildings, and thus symbolizes Christ’s coming to light the darkness so that sinners do not die, but rather are converted and live.
 |
| tapistry c 1504 Hamburg, Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe |
The desert of our enemies
Verse 8, by contrast uses the image of a gregarious bird, the sparrow. St Augustine suggests that the image should conjure up for us Christ preaching from the roof tops, and sympathizing with the weak.
The other words of the verse seven also conjure up a sense of isolation, of living in the wilderness, amongst a scene of desolation. Solitudinis means being alone, or a lonely place, the wilderness; while domicilium means home or dwelling, in this case the sense, in combination with the raven imagery and parallel to the first half of the verse, is, amongst the ruins. The passive case suggests that this has been done to the author, hence the Douay Rheims translates it as ‘I have become like…’. The Collegeville translation of verse 7, however, is, ‘I am like pelican in the wilderness, like an owl in a ruined house.’
In verse 8, vigilare means to keep watch, or be awake, so perhaps the sense is something like, ‘I kept a lonely watch, like a sparrow alone on a rooftop’.
Overall, the picture given to us is of a person isolated and lonely, making atonement for his (and the nations) sins thereby.
It is important to keep in mind here that the psalmist is almost certainly not talking about a literal desert (the pelican after all is a water bird!), but rather the sense of isolation that came from the Babylonian exile: the isolation that comes from living in a strange land and being forced to serve an alien race.
Not unlike the state of the early Christians living in the midst of a pagan Empire. Or indeed of Christians today, under assault from the forces of secularism.
Of the the world but not in it
St Robert Bellarmine interprets the verses as a call to add withdrawal from the world to our fasting and weeping:
“To tears and fasting he unites solitude and watching, the marks of true penance. For if one will not seriously withdraw himself awhile from the world, and, in serious watchings, call up the number and the greatness of his sins, it is hardly possible to deplore them sufficiently.”
The three birds, he suggests, can be seen as representing three classes of penitents: the pelicans are hermits and those who flee to the desert to do battle with demons; and the night raven stands for anchorites and monastics who do penance and sing the Divine Office.
In the world but not of it
 |
| Pericopes of Emperor St Henry II and his wife Kunigunde, c1007-1012, Bayrische Staatsbibliothek, CIm 4452, Fol. 2r |
But the third of St Robert's categories are the laity who live in the world, but are not of the world, to whom the duty of preaching by word and deed is given. His summation of the duties of the laity, and how they relate to penitence, is well worth meditating on closely:
“Finally, others, encumbered with families, or public duties, who cannot retire from the world, still, like the solitary sparrow on the housetop, manage to rise above the world and its cares. These are they who, while they are in the world, are not of the world; being slaves neither to the wealth nor the honors, nor the cares of the world. They make such things slaves to them; they master, they dispose of, and they dispense them, and they do not suffer themselves to be entangled or ensnared by them; so that their minds can revel freely in solitude here, and thus, enjoy heaven hereafter. To such persons it belongs to watch and preach from the housetops, to watch their own temptations and dangers, and to preach both by word and by example to those over whom they may be placed. No penance can be more valuable than for those in high rank to observe the greatest humility, for those who have the wealth of the world to content themselves with moderate food and clothing, that thereby they may be the better able to help those in want; for those who are prone to concupiscence, to chastise their body, and bring it under subjection, by fasting and spare living; and finally, to serve our neighbors from love, to compassionate their sufferings, and to bear with their annoyances and scandals.”
Psalm
101: Domine exaudi orationem meam
Vulgate
|
Douay-Rheims
|
Oratio pauperis, cum anxius fuerit, et
in conspectu Domini effuderit precem suam.
|
The prayer of the poor man, when he
was anxious, and poured out his supplication before the Lord.
|
1 Dómine, exáudi oratiónem meam: * et
clamor meus ad te véniat.
|
Hear,
O Lord, my prayer: and let my cry come to you.
|
2 Non avértas fáciem tuam a
me: * in quacúmque die tríbulor, inclína ad me aurem tuam.
|
Turn not away your face from me: in the
day when I am in trouble, incline your ear to me.
|
3 In quacúmque die invocávero te: *
velóciter exáudi me.
|
In
what day soever I shall call upon you, hear me speedily.
|
4 Quia defecérunt sicut fumus
dies mei: * et ossa mea sicut crémium aruérunt.
|
4 For my days are vanished
like smoke, and my bones are grown dry like fuel for the fire.
|
5 Percússus sum ut fœnum, et
áruit cor meum: * quia oblítus sum comédere panem meum.
|
5 I am smitten as grass, and my heart is withered: because I
forgot to eat my bread.
|
6 A voce gémitus mei: *
adhæsit os meum carni meæ.
|
6 Through the voice of my
groaning, my bone has cleaved to my flesh.
|
7 Símilis factus sum pellicáno
solitúdinis: * factus sum sicut nyctícorax in domicílio.
|
7 I have become like to a
pelican of the wilderness: I am
like a night raven in the house.
|
8 Vigilávi, * et factus sum
sicut passer solitárius in tecto.
|
8 I have watched, and have
become as a sparrow all alone on the housetop.
|
9 Tota die exprobrábant mihi
inimíci mei: * et qui laudábant me, advérsum me jurábant.
|
9 All the day long my enemies
reproached me: and they that praised me did swear against me.
|
10 Quia cínerem tamquam panem
manducábam, * et potum meum cum fletu miscébam.
|
10 For I ate ashes like bread,
and mingled my drink with weeping.
|
11 A fácie iræ et
indignatiónis tuæ: * quia élevans allisísti me.
|
11 Because of your anger and indignation: for having lifted
me up you have thrown me down.
|
12 Dies mei sicut umbra
declinavérunt: * et ego sicut fœnum árui.
|
12 My days have declined like
a shadow, and I am withered like grass.
|
13 Tu autem, Dómine, in
ætérnum pérmanes: * et memoriále tuum in generatiónem et generatiónem.
|
13 But you, O Lord, endure for ever: and your
memorial to all generations.
|
14 Tu exsúrgens miseréberis
Sion: * quia tempus miseréndi ejus, quia venit tempus.
|
14 You shall arise and have mercy on Sion: for it is time to
have mercy on it, for the time has come.
|
15 Quóniam placuérunt servis
tuis lápides ejus: * et terræ ejus miserebúntur.
|
15 For the stones thereof have pleased your servants: and they
shall have pity on the earth thereof.
|
16 Et timébunt gentes nomen
tuum, Dómine: * et omnes reges terræ glóriam tuam.
|
16 All the Gentiles shall fear your name, O Lord, and all the kings of the earth
your glory.
|
17 Quia ædificávit Dóminus
Sion: * et vidébitur in glória sua.
|
17 For the Lord has built up Sion: and he shall be
seen in his glory.
|
18 Respéxit in oratiónem
humílium: * et non sprevit precem eórum.
|
18 He has had regard to the prayer of the humble: and he has not despised their petition.
|
19 Scribántur hæc in
generatióne áltera: * et pópulus qui creábitur, laudábit Dóminum.
|
19 Let these things be written unto another generation: and the people that
shall be created shall praise the Lord:
|
20 Quia prospéxit de excélso
sancto suo: * Dóminus de cælo in terram aspéxit:
|
20 Because he has looked forth
from his high sanctuary: from heaven the Lord has looked upon the earth.
|
21 Ut audíret gémitus
compeditórum: * ut sólveret fílios interemptórum.
|
21 That he might hear the
groans of them that are in fetters: that he might release the children of the
slain:
|
22 Ut annúntient in Sion nomen
Dómini: * et laudem ejus in Jerúsalem.
|
22 That they may declare the name of the Lord in Sion: and his praise in
|
23 In conveniéndo pópulos in
unum: * et reges ut sérviant Dómino.
|
23 when the people assemble
together, and kings, to serve the Lord.
|
24 Respóndit ei in via
virtútis suæ: * Paucitátem diérum meórum núntia mihi.
|
24 He answered him in the way
of his strength: Declare unto me the fewness of my days.
|
25 Ne révoces me in dimídio
diérum meórum: * in generatiónem et generatiónem anni tui.
|
25 Call me not away in the
midst of my days: your years are unto generation and generation.
|
26 Inítio tu, Dómine, terram
fundásti: * et ópera mánuum tuárum sunt cæli.
|
26 In the beginning, O Lord,
you founded the earth: and the heavens are the works of your hands.
|
27 Ipsi peribunt, tu autem
pérmanes: * et omnes sicut vestiméntum veteráscent.
|
27 They shall perish but you remain: and all of them shall grow
old like a garment:
|
28 Et sicut opertórium mutábis eos,
et mutabúntur: * tu autem idem ipse es, et anni tui non defícient.
|
And
as a vesture you shall change them, and they shall be changed. 28 But
you are always the selfsame, and your years shall not fail.
|
29 Fílii servórum tuórum
habitábunt: * et semen eórum in sæculum dirigétur.
|
29 The children of your servants shall continue and their seed
shall be directed for ever.
|
For the next part in this series on Psalm 101, continue on here.
