The Theodicy of Psalm 88
Christian Worship
Everyone including devout followers of Christ can experience debilitating grief, crippling disappointment, or agonizing pain. Psalm 88 is the perfect psalm to use in these circumstances for it is an anti-theodicy lament psalm of Protest. This essay will explore how the psalm’s endless complaints of unmerited suffering can be a vital tool to support those afflicted by tragic circumstances.
Psalm 88 has eighteen verses that can be broken down into Brueggemann’s categories[1] (see Appendix A). Approximately 6% of the verses are “address”, 19% are “petition”, 19% present the psalmist’s motivation as a stifled “praise-offeror”. The remaining 56% are “complaints”.
The psalm begins with a brief address to the God of salvation (v. 1a) followed by a short petition to God to hear the psalmist’s prayer (vv. 1b, 2). Then there is a large chunk of complaint that speaks to a depression so deep it feels like death (vv. 3-9a). The psalmist, confused as to why they are in the pit again, petitions the Lord (v. 9b) with outstretched hands they present themselves as an offeror of praise (vv. 10-12). What is a lover of God doing in the grave? Does God work his wonders there? How is it possible for a worshipper to be in such a place? The psalmist immediately breaks into another petition (v. 13), from the grave where they do not belong, and continues into additional complaint (vv. 14-18). The psalm ends there, unresolved, and offering no hope or praise for how can a psalmist send out praise from the grave?
I come from a mix of traditions that believe good comes from God while evil comes from our enemy. This psalmist, on the other hand, blames God and only God for the evil that has befallen them (vv. 6-8, 14-18). They put the onus on God in their complaints, but they do not say God is punishing them for their individual sin, Israel’s sin, or even humanity’s sin. That would reflect an Augustinian theodicy. Although, there is a slight leaning towards Augustinian when the psalmist says, “Wretched and close to death from my youth up, I suffer your terrors; I am desperate,” (v. 15), there is still no admission of sin. The psalmist may have experienced unexplained recurring depressions throughout their lifetime and wonders when they are going to stop.
The psalmist also does not say their suffering is making them stronger, which would be an Irenaean theodicy. On the contrary, their suffering is separating them from God. It is killing them and so they remind God of how things should be. The psalmist should be a recipient of God’s wonders (v. 10a, 12a). They should be praising him (v. 10b). They should be receiving his steadfast love and saving help (v. 11, 12b). This psalmist is someone who has known God intimately and so they protest their undeserved agony while reminding God that the dead cannot praise him from the grave.
Considering all these things, this psalm presents as an anti-theodicy psalm of Protest. The psalmist’s petitions are a heartfelt cry for God’s attention, an attention they had known in the past for their complaints show no guilt or remorse. The complaints are warranted because they do not deserve what is happening to them. They love God and follow God’s commands so there is no good reason they should find themselves in the pits of hell.
Yet, the psalmist’s confusion is never settled for this dystopian psalm of disorientation offers no praise. It offers no hope that God will restore the relationship that should be. Would it be appropriate then to use it in contemporary worship services? The communal circumstances would need to be dire. During a war as bombs are falling and battle after battle is being lost. Or during intense persecution as church members are being snatched in mass, deported, or worse, murdered. Other than that, I do not think a congregation would be edified by it. But that does not mean there is no pastoral place for it.
The intense unending grief of this psalm reminds me of the wailers in ancient Israel that mourned with families after the death of a beloved family member. I can imagine reciting this psalm in the privacy of a small group where one or more of the members has experienced yet another miscarriage, the sudden death of a child, or the abrupt loss of a beloved mother. Or maybe it was a betrayal of a spouse. A fatal diagnosis. A mental illness that just will not go away. It could be anything that takes our breath away and brings us running to the people who can hold us while we sob. In the style of ancient Israel, I can see us wailing together until the tears finally stop and the silence takes over.
Psalm 88 is a psalm of Protest in its valid complaints against God for God promised to be strong on behalf of those who love him. So, although there may not be a place for a psalm like this within a church service’s liturgy, there is a place for it in mourning with our family, our friends, our neighbors—the people whom God loves. This psalm gives us a place where we can sit in solidarity with those who are bereaved without (or even with) due cause. We can sit with them in their distress while these words release their sorrow. Then, after their tears are spent, they may finally be able to release their praise.
It will take time.
[1] Walter Brueggemann, Spirituality of the Psalms. Minneapolis: Fortress Press 2002, Chapter 3.