Psalm 80 reveals a flawed faith in Israel, the Church…and us

By Dr. Jeff Mirus ( bio - articles - email ) | Jul 17, 2024

Psalm 80 made its lugubrious appearance in the Liturgy of the Hours about a week ago. Originally a lament over the condition of the Jews when they seem to have fallen out of favor with the Lord, it can just as easily be read as a reflection on the condition of the Church—or on the condition of each of us—materially, socially and, above all, spiritually.

First let us review the text. The first six verses are a plea to God, whom the Psalmist perceives has turned His Face away from Israel, and whom we may feel has turned His Face away from the Church or from ourselves:

[1] Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel,
thou who leadest Joseph like a flock!
Thou who art enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth
[2] before E’phraim and Benjamin and Manas’seh!
Stir up thy might,
and come to save us!
[3] Restore us, O God;
let thy face shine, that we may be saved!
[4] O LORD God of hosts,
how long wilt thou be angry with thy people’s prayers?
[5] Thou hast fed them with the bread of tears,
and given them tears to drink in full measure.
[6] Thou dost make us the scorn of our neighbors;
and our enemies laugh among themselves.

In the next seven verses, God’s past favors are recalled and the Psalmist ask why God has thrust His people into such great distress. Note that in the Old Testament there is rarely a distinction between God’s active and His permissive will. Thus, for God to permit something to happen is often regarded (not unreasonably) as God having caused it Himself (consider, “Why then hast thou broken down its walls?” in verse 12). But this blurring of the distinction makes the plea even more powerful, for the Psalmist understands that absolutely everything is ultimately in the hands of God:

[7] Restore us, O God of hosts;
let thy face shine, that we may be saved!
[8] Thou didst bring a vine out of Egypt;
thou didst drive out the nations and plant it.
[9] Thou didst clear the ground for it;
it took deep root and filled the land.
[10] The mountains were covered with its shade,
the mighty cedars with its branches;
[11] it sent out its branches to the sea,
and its shoots to the River.
[12] Why then hast thou broken down its walls,
so that all who pass along the way pluck its fruit?
[13] The boar from the forest ravages it,
and all that move in the field feed on it.

Which of us today could not apply this lament to the Church, or at times even to our own personal and family lives? Given this sad state of affairs, the Psalmist begs God in verses 14 to 16 to recognize how wrong things have gone, to “look down from heaven and see”:

[14] Turn again, O God of hosts!
Look down from heaven, and see;
have regard for this vine,
[15] the stock which thy right hand planted.
[16] They have burned it with fire, they have cut it down;
may they perish at the rebuke of thy countenance!

Finally, in the closing verses—as in quite a few of the Psalms—we see a dim Messianic reference—a reference that appears to go beyond the mere appointment of a new leader like David. There is a deeper mystery here, perhaps, that the Jews of that time could not fully fathom, but which resonates with Christians today:

[17] But let thy hand be upon the man of thy right hand,
the son of man whom thou hast made strong for thyself!
[18] Then we will never turn back from thee;
give us life, and we will call on thy name!
[19] Restore us, O LORD God of hosts!
let thy face shine, that we may be saved!

Too much like you and me?

Perhaps it is obvious that a great many readings are possible for Psalm 80, applying the text to history or to eschatology, to nations or to persons, to the whole Church or to faithful remnants hanging on against the odds. But no matter the reading, there is a twist in verse 18 which points to a deeper problem with the faith of Israel, the faith of those in the Church, and our own personal faith. For the Psalmist says, in effect, that if God shows His favor, then “we will never turn back from thee”. And if God restores us to life, then we will call on His name.

This is very human, of course, but considered as a fully mature Jewish or Christian prayer, it exposes a genuine spiritual weakness. For each and all of us, the strength of fidelity to God is not measured by how contented we are when His favors are manifest, but by how steadfast we are when His favors appear to be withheld. I think it is fair to say that this paradox is strongest in Christianity, but it certainly was not unknown among the Jews, many of whom suffered deprivations and even execution rather than renounce their trust in God. To Christians, it may seem a paradox that fidelity must be purified under duress—but it is not at all a contradiction. To put the matter bluntly, there is little personal conviction in praising God only when His protection and His care and His favors are grandly manifest.

With an improper understanding and a faulty commitment, our path to union with God turns into a series of detours created by our own wayward desires, our own passions. These uncontrolled and misdirected passions draw us to incomplete forms of happiness (often simply mere temporary pleasures). Our passions can be extraordinarily powerful and even obsessive in the way they press us to pursue ends that cannot lead to genuine happiness even in a purely rational sense, ends that are very frequently immoral in themselves, ends which are in any case destructive of our own personal integrity and which increase a personal selfishness that only excludes God, who is our true End.

The lesson of all this is that even God cannot win us solely through a guaranteed human satisfaction for the simple reason that human satisfaction alone can never prompt genuine love. Genuine love never blossoms in selfishness but only through selflessness. Ultimately, genuine unselfish love can be expressed only through sacrifice, precisely as Our Lord demonstrated on the Cross. In other words, the “what’s in it for me” question must to some extent be answered negatively in this world if our happiness and even our thanksgiving are to be transformed into both genuine love and unfailing trust in God.

Deeper and deeper still

Even for the Psalmist, it is a mistake to condition fidelity to God on an evaluation of His performance. To put the matter in a nutshell, there is simply too much we do not understand about goodness and perfection and even life itself to be allowed to get by with any sort of “grateful when things go my way” attitude.

Indeed, the very fact that God punished the Israelites for their sins is a further sign that not everyone who says “Lord, Lord” will enter into the Kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does God’s will. It is as true today for Christians as it was then for Jews that too many faithlessly change their theology to match their desires. This is primarily because we all fail at times to recognize the gulf between our desires and our happiness. The Jews repeatedly fell into idolatry when they desired things that could never make them happy, and many Catholics do the same thing today—not only by failing to struggle against their habitual temptations but also by either leaving the Church or attempting to change the Church’s theology.

In one way or another, then, they (and sometimes we?) attempt either to ignore or to change the Church’s account of God and His will. They mimic the faulty commitment of Psalm 80. Paradoxically, the solution to all this is to reverse the closing sentiments of Psalm 80. As written, it proclaims that if God shows His favor again to me now, then I will never turn away. This is not a problem with Sacred Scripture, of course, which covers the gamut of human experience to bring us to the understanding and love God wills for us. What we see here instead is actually quite obvious through a deeper reflection on the text.

We must adopt the posture of the one mentioned in verse 17, “the man of thy right hand, the son of man whom thou hast made strong for thyself”. For this Son of Man emphasized his personal preferences only so far and no farther when he expressed the deeper truth of the matter—as recorded in the Gospel according to Luke (22:42):

“Father, if thou art willing, remove this cup from me,” said Jesus Christ. “Nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done.”