At confession today, the priest assigned as my penance praying and meditating on Psalm 51. So here goes the meditating part.
Tradition (and the opening two verses of the Psalm itself) assigns the authorship of the Psalm to King David, who wrote it after being indicted by Nathan for having had Uriah slain and taking Bathsheba for himself. (2 Samuel 12:1-25) The reference to rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem (verse 20), however, is inconsistent with the period of the Davidic kingdom and may suggest a post-Exilic dating.
In any case, it is probably the best known of the penitential psalms. As the Protestant theologian Matthew Henry explains, the psalm breaks down into seven parts:
I. He confesses his sin (v. 3-6).
II. He prays earnestly for the pardon of his sin (v. 1, v. 2, v. 7, v. 9).
III. For peace of conscience (v. 8, v. 12).
IV. For grace to go and sin no more (v. 10, v. 11, v. 14).
V. For liberty of access to God (v. 15).
VI. He promises to do what he could for the good of the souls of others (v. 13) and for the glory of God (v. 16, v. 17, v. 19).
And, lastly, concludes with a prayer for Zion and Jerusalem (v. 18).
I find it critical that David had committed two very serious mortal sins: murder (albeit indirectly) and adultery. The lesson of the psalm, however, is that even the most serious sin can be forgiven if we are truly contrite. As Catholic theologian Graziano Marcheschi notes:
David’s contrast with his royal predecessor is starkly evident. King Saul hadn’t succumbed to temptations of the flesh; he had stopped trusting God. He turned to divination and to mediums, rather than to God, to guarantee his future, so God “repented” of choosing Saul as king. Having lost God’s confidence and hearing of his son’s death, Saul despairs and falls upon his sword.
And then there’s David. Nathan presents David’s own story to him as a hypothetical, asking the king’s judgment. The ploy works and David unwittingly declares his own crimes to be worthy of death. But when he’s identified as the guilty party, David readily admits his guilt and accepts responsibility. And instead of falling on his sword, David falls to his knees and begs God’s mercy. Saul and David both shed light on one of the great truths of Christian faith: God will forgive any sin for which we’re truly sorry.
Speaking of Bible commentaries, I recently started acquiring The Navarre Bible series. I was struck by a comment in the discussion of Psalm 51 in the volume on The Psalms:
It called to mind the scene in Game of Thrones season 6 episode 10 in which Jon is made King in the North:
Lord Glover: I did not fight beside you on the field and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness.
Jon: There's nothing to forgive, my lord.
Lord Glover: There will be more fights to come. House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years. And I will stand behind Jon Snow the King in the North!
It's not a perfect analogy, of course. When we sin, there is something to forgive, although that sin is forgiven in the sacrament of reconciliation. But it outlines the basics: Admit we were wrong. Ask forgiveness. And go forth to sin no more, but rather once again stand in communion with God in the spiritual fights to come.
In the psalm, the author nods to original sin ("I was born in guilt"), but does not seek to shift responsibility to Adam. Rather, the psalmist acknowledges that he has "done what is evil in your eyes." Ultimately, we have to take personal responsibility.
One might read verses 14-17 as the psalmist bargaining with God. Forgive me and take away the temporal punishment for my sins and then I will praise you etc. But I think that passage is better understood as the psalmist acknowledging the joy that forgiveness brings and the desire to share that good news with others. After all, as Bishop Barron observes, quoting St. Therese: “Any sense that God’s love must be earned or that a relationship with him is a product of economic calculation is repugnant to a healthy spirituality: ‘Jesus does not demand great actions from us but simply surrender and gratitude.’”
Finally, the closing verses seem particularly apt to the present moment:
Treat Zion kindly according to your good will; build up the walls of Jerusalem.
Then you will desire the sacrifices of the just, burnt offering and whole offerings; then they will offer up young bulls on your altar.
Henry's commentary, which assumes Davidic authorship, suggests that David feared that, because he was King, his sin might "bring judgments upon the city and kingdom." The psalmist certainly contemplates that sin can have communal, as well as individual, consequences. Hence, as Marcheschi notes, "The nation will pay for the crimes of their king just as children often suffer for the sins of their parents, employees for the sins of their bosses, and citizens and parishioners for the sins of their leaders." The leaders of our nation and our Church ought to bear that in mind.
