詩篇註釋 第 13 章

For the end, a psalm of David.

Another version: A triumphal ode of David.

How long, O Lord, will you forget me utterly? Another version: Will you wholly forget me?

How long will you turn your face away from me? Another version: You hide it.

How long shall I lay up counsels in my soul? Another version: Shall I set purposes.

Sorrows in my heart day and night.

Another version: Anxiety in my mind day by day.

This too is no small good—to gain a perception of God's forgetting.

But do not suppose this forgetting to be a passion; rather, understand it to be abandonment.

Many at any rate, though they suffer this, do not even know it, nor do they lament;

but this blessed man not only knew it, but also reckoned up the length of time.

For the phrase 'How long' belongs to one who shows that the time was long;

and for this reason he both laments and mourns.

But do you observe with me how nowhere does he grieve for the sake of anything belonging to this life—not for money, not for glory—but everywhere for the sake of God's favor.

And whence, one asks, did he know that God had forgotten him? Since he knew also when God had remembered him, and clearly understood what forgetting is and what remembering is;

not like the multitude of men, who, when they are rich, when they are held in esteem among men, when all things go smoothly for them, when they prevail over their enemies, then think that God remembers them;

and for this reason they do not even know when he forgets them.

For those who do not know the sign of remembering, neither do they understand that of forgetting.

For if they do not understand the tokens of friendship, neither do they recognize those of enmity.

For God forgets many of those who possess these things, and these most of all;

but those who are in the opposite condition he oftentimes remembers.

For nothing so makes for remembrance with God as the doing of some good, as being sober, as being watchful, as taking care for virtue;

and, on the other hand, nothing so brings forgetting as to be in sins and covetings and robberies.

And you therefore, beloved, when you are in misfortunes, do not say, 'God has forgotten me';

But when you are in sins, and yet all things flow for you as with a favorable current.

For if you know this, you will quickly withdraw yourself from wicked deeds.

How long do you turn away your face from me? This means an intense forgetfulness.

For from human attributes he sets forth the operations of God, and portrays his wrath and his chastisement.

And God again turns away his face, when we do things unworthy of his commandments.

For when you stretch out your hands, he says, I will turn away my eyes from you.

For your hands are full of blood.

But this too, again, is a mark of much tender care—both the forsaking and the turning away of the face;

and he does this in order that he may draw us to himself more forcefully.

Since even a passionate lover lets go of the beloved who scorns him and abandons him—not casting him out of his mind, but wishing to turn him back and to join him to himself.

And having spoken of the turning away, he speaks also of the forgetfulness, and of the things that came upon him from it.

What then are these things? Those which he goes on to add, saying:

How long shall I take counsels in my soul? For just as one who has gone out of the harbor wanders about everywhere, and as one who has been deprived of light stumbles against many things;

so too the one who has fallen into forgetfulness of God is given over continually to cares, and anxieties, and pains.

And this too is no small thing toward turning God back to oneself—the being anxious, the being careful, the wasting away, the being in pain, the taking account of his turning away.

Which also Paul, writing to the Corinthians concerning himself, declares:

And who is it that makes me glad, if not the one who is made sorrowful by me? For this is no small gain, beloved—to perceive the turning away of God, to grieve, to be in pain.

For in this way we shall quickly turn him back toward us.

How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? Look upon me, hearken to me, O Lord my God.

Enlighten my eyes, lest at any time I sleep unto death.

For just as, when God holds fast to us and is with us, all the things that grieve us are put out of the way;

so, when he has departed and has forgotten, the soul is cut asunder, and the heart is in anguish, and those who grieve us trample upon us, and everything is precipices and crags.

But these things are permitted for our benefit, so that the more slothful, being stung through all these things, may return more earnestly to the place from which they had fallen.

For your apostasy shall chasten you, he says, and your wickedness shall reprove you.

So that even the forsaking by God is a form of providence.

For when, while exercising providence and taking care, he is despised, he lets go a little and forsakes, in order that then, the slothfulness being cast out, the negligent may become more earnest.

Look upon me, he says; see the enemy being exalted over me;

and if not for the sake of my wretchedness, yet for the sake of his arrogance and senselessness, hearken to me.

And what do you ask? To prevail over the enemies? He does not say this, but rather that the eyes of the heart be enlightened, that the darkness be driven away which has been poured over the discerning faculty of my soul and has darkened the spiritual eye.

This I ask: Enlighten my eyes.

Lest at any time my enemy say, having seen me brought down into the death of sin:

I have prevailed against him; that which I wished to see has come to pass for me.

What does it mean, I have grown strong against him? That even if he is not simply strong, yet against me he has become strong.

Our defeat clothes him with strength, declares him strong, and mighty, and invincible.

Do you see that when we sin, we not only put ourselves to shame, destroy ourselves, and cast ourselves into death, but we also proclaim our enemies, by whom we are defeated, to be mighty and powerful;

and not only this, but we do so with exultation and gladness.

Alas, what great folly, what great madness it is to fight in alliance with our foes against ourselves, and to contrive that those who grieve and afflict our soul should rejoice and exult!

When we ought to conquer the enemy—for his swords have failed utterly, and the ungodly one has perished—when we ought to conquer, we are defeated;

and not only this, but we also declare him to be mighty and strong;

and not even up to this point do the marks of our madness and of the uttermost disease come to a stand for us, but we even make preparations for his gladness and exultation.

Truly sin is the uttermost drunkenness, and the uttermost evil.

They will exult if I am shaken.

The Prophet brings forward three grounds of appeal to move the Master, that He might look upon him, and turn His face toward him, and hearken to his supplication:

the might and the strength of his enemies, and before that their haughtiness and arrogance, and third, their gladness and exultation—as though all but saying: Even if not for my supplication's sake, nor for my misery, that You should turn Your face toward me, O Lord, yet at least for the boastfulness of the enemies, since they think great things because of their strength;

because they rejoice over my calamities, and laugh at my downfall.

Hearken to me; enlighten my eyes.

Take away the deep sleep that lies upon my sins, in which, having slumbered, I have well-nigh drowsed off toward the death of the soul.

For if only I be shaken away from Your safekeeping, this is counted by them as joy, and boasting, and strength;

and over this they think great things of themselves, and become insufferable;

but if I be brought down to death, what would these men not do? Do you see the Prophet—how he reckons it a very great loss, and nothing less than chastisement and punishment, to gladden the common enemy, to let him appear strong, to make him seem exalted?

For unless he had reckoned these to be very great and unbearable evils, he would not have put them forward as a plea to God, and as a means to draw down His favor.

Let us also do the same, and take heed, and strive that we may not exalt the enemy, that we may not make him appear strong, that we may not gladden him, but on the contrary, that we may render him lowly, and despised, and weak, and downcast, and gloomy.

For if he should see sinners prospering, all these things at once come to pass.

But I have hoped in Your mercy.

What good work, then, have you accomplished, that you ask these things—that He should look again upon you, hearken to your supplication, enlighten the eyes of your understanding? And whence are these things yours to claim? Let others, he says, speak, if indeed they have anything to say;

but I know one thing, I say one thing—on that alone I have hung all my hope, that is what I put forward: Your mercy, Your loving-kindness toward mankind.

But I, he says, have hoped in Your mercy.

Do you see the humility of the Prophet? Do you see the good sense of the man? For though he had countless righteous deeds, and through them could move God, he speaks of none of them, but takes refuge in the mercy of God alone.

So that it is clear that even when he does say such things—as, 'If I have done this,' 'If I have requited,' and the like—it is because he has fallen into a great necessity of speaking that he says them;

when that necessity is not present, he speaks of none of those things, but puts forward the mercy and loving-kindness of God in place of every entreaty.

Then, being confident that he will not be deceived of his hope, he adds:

My heart shall exult in Your salvation.

Do you see a soul full of good hope? He asked, and before he received, as though he had received he gives thanks, and sings to God, and does all the things that follow upon receiving.

And whence was he thus full of good hope? From great good sense, from great earnestness concerning his petition;

he knew that when one asks in this way God hearkens—from the great warmth and stirring in his heart.

For just as those who ask sluggishly and slackly, even when they have received, scarcely perceive the gift;

so those who make their petition with intense eagerness and earnestness, even before they receive, out of the vehement and pure disposition that is theirs, as though they had already received

have a sense of the gift, since the divine grace sets before them beforehand the gladness of it;

and for this reason they give thanks, and stand near to the receiving.

My heart shall exult in Your salvation.

This, he says, gladdens my soul—to obtain salvation from You;

it gladdens the soul, that You are its salvation.

Do you see one exultation, and another exultation? The exultation of enemies over a downfall, and the exultation of a soul over its own salvation? The former belongs to the Evil One, the latter to those who are being saved.

The former is a bane both to him who seems to exult, and in the very thing over which he exulted;

the latter is salvation and a recalling of him who exults.

With this exultation and gladness let us be glad and exult, but from that other let us flee, and let us abhor it.

I will sing to the Lord who has dealt bountifully with me, and I will make melody to the name of the Lord Most High.

As a memorial, he says, of this benefit I will dedicate a song to the Lord, because He has dealt bountifully with me, has humbled the enemy, has filled him with shame, has convicted him of weakness, has hearkened to my supplication, has turned His face toward me, having scattered the mist and the gloom through which I was being borne toward death;

and exulting in His salvation, as some indelible monument I dedicate this song of the benefits done to me, not now only singing it, and unrolling His benefactions in my thoughts, but for time to come also I will sing and make melody to the name of the Lord, carrying about in my soul, never to be forgotten, the greatness of the benefit.

Such a soul, therefore, not only when entangled in evils is easily delivered from the evils, but also becomes more secure, so as no longer to fall into the like.

For when he keeps the benefit ever in remembrance, it is plain that he also holds in remembrance the hardships from which he was delivered when he obtained that benefit.

And keeping also the remembrance of his evils, he carefully considers whence these things befell him, and for what cause he was brought into so great an evil;

and having so reckoned, he thereafter walls himself about on every side, that he may not be carried round again into the like calamities;

and thus ordering the rest of his life aright, and training himself, he confesses much thanksgiving to Him who delivered him;

so that, as he found a Deliverer, he may likewise, for the things to come, entreat to have Him ever as a Guardian.

Let us too be zealous for this, and if we be swept away into any sin, let us quickly recover ourselves, and make our fall an occasion of safety and a starting-point for sinning no more.

How then shalt thou do this? Thou hast David for a teacher.

Hast thou sinned? Do not slumber over thy sin, but rouse thyself up;

consider at once that God has turned His face away from thee, that He has forgotten thee;

then weep, groan, wash thy bed every night with tears, leap away from those who work iniquity.

For these things too are lessons of David.

'How long, O Lord, wilt Thou forget me utterly? How long dost Thou turn away Thy face from me?' Say it, not with the tongue, but much rather with the heart;

say too the other righteous ordinances of David.

When thou hast said all, hope upon His mercy; hope, doubt not.

'For he that doubteth,' it saith, 'is like a surge of the sea, driven by the wind and tossed.'

'For let not that man think,' it saith, 'that he shall receive anything from God.'

'For a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.'

Hope therefore upon His mercy, doubting nothing, and thou shalt assuredly obtain thy request;

and having obtained it, become not thankless and ungrateful toward thy Benefactor, but make a memorial of the benefit, and dedicate it to the Master as a song of thanksgiving.

Perhaps thou thyself knowest not how to compose one;

call together the poor, and use their tongues, and provide it for thyself.

Know well that God will hear this song, which is offered on thy behalf, as sweeter than the song of David.

For as the melody from strings of differing pitch produces a sweeter strain than a single string, so also the song of the poor, being composed of many voices, will sound something sweet and lovely to God, who hearkens to the voice of the poor.

Set up for thyself and for God such a memorial—to Him a reminder of the benefit, to thyself a proof of thy thanksgiving and gratitude, a token of perpetual remembrance, which, holding ever in thy heart, thou mayest direct thy life aright;

or rather, let us direct our lives, that we may become worthy also of that inheritance of good things yonder, in Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be the glory and the might unto the ages of ages.