When the ancient psalmists gazed into the heavens, they did not behold an endless abyss of cosmic nothingness; rather, they beheld a God with whom they could audaciously and personally address as “You.” All these sundry personal pronouns and anthropomorphic metaphors serve to convey something profound about the mystery of God’s Presence and closeness to the world, without which God could not be known. Martin Buber notes that in addition, anthropomorphic language reflects.
Certain psalms give expression to our deepest yearnings that God is attentive to our prayers. Jewish mystics seem to believe that the psalms act as spiritual conduits, providing the worshiper with a language of prayer since not everyone is articulate!
· Our need to preserve the concrete quality is evidenced in the encounter. . . .It is in the encounter itself that we are confronted with something compellingly anthropomorphic, something demanding reciprocity, a primary You. This is true of those moments of our daily life in which we become aware of the reality that is absolutely independent of us, whether it be as power or as glory, no less than of the hours of great revelation of which only a halting record has been handed down to us. [1]
When viewed from this perspective, the God we encounter in the Psalms is not the God of the philosophers who often conceived God as the Creator of the Cosmos. In the Psalms, God is also a Redeemer Who takes cognizance of human prayer and the heart that suffers. In the final analysis, to the Psalmists of old, God is a relational Being Who seeks to heal the shattered human heart (Psalm 147:2). The psalmists believe in a concept that is sometimes better described as “cosmic personalism.”
Psalm 8:5-10 really captures the beauty of this theological and spiritual concept in a way that captures the fragility and potential greatness of the human condition.
· What are humans that you are mindful of them,
mere mortals that you care for them?
Yet you have made them little less than a god,
crowned them with glory and honor.
You have given them rule over the works of your hands,
put all things at their feet:
All sheep and oxen, even the beasts of the field,
The birds of the air, the fish of the sea,
and whatever swims the paths of the seas.
O LORD, our Lord,
How awesome is your name through all the earth!
Not all Psalms are the same; the Psalter (i.e., the composer) expresses feelings of doom and gloom, sickness, homelessness, birth and rebirth, death, joy, reflections, gratitude—a cacophony of emotions that even the most common worshiper in a synagogue or church can readily identify and understand.
Jewish tradition has long encouraged Jews of all generations to see their personal narrative as something that is embedded in the words of the Psalms. The Psalmist in essence created a liturgical template for all Jews to use regardless of their spiritual circumstances.
Psalms of healing vary from community to community; Chabad is fond of saying Pss. 20, 6, 9, 13, 16, 17, 18, 22, 23, 28, 30, 31, 32, 33, 37, 38, 39, 41, 49, 55, 56, 69, 86, 88, 89, 90, 91, 102, 103, 104, 107, 116, 118, 142, 143, and 148—a total number of 36, which equals 2 x 18 (chai, “life”). Bratzlav Hassidim are fond of saying Psalms 16, 32, 41, 42, 59, 77, 90, 105, 137, 150 during their midnight prayers that mourn for the loss of the Temple.
Sephardic and many Kabbalistic Jews are accustomed to recite Psalm 119, which is an acrostic psalm that contains all the letters of the Hebrew alphabet. It is apropos to say out loud the verses letters of the verses corresponding to each of the sick person’s—or deceased person’s Hebrew name (i.e., the latter would apply on a Yahrzeit).
Lastly, you may want to read the Psalms just to familiarize yourself with these ancient prayers and personally choose the Psalms that speak directly to you and your situation.
Answered by: Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel