Darkness Is My Only Companion

Psalm 88 is a psalm of lament like no other.

person standing next to tree
Photo by Suliman Sallehi on Pexels.com

It’s a common misperception that the Old Testament psalms are all songs of praise or thanksgiving. The reality is that the majority of them are desperate pleas for help in times of trouble. Scholars label them psalms of lament.

The troubles listed in these laments are the many troubles and tribulations that afflict human beings. They include: life-threatening illness, anxiety, malicious gossip and reputation smearing, social ostracism, betrayal by friends, murder by ambush, oppression by the rich and powerful, defeat in battle, foreign invasion, even old age.

What is striking about these lament psalms is that the psalmists bring all these troubles before God. The lament psalms are poetic prayers. They plead for God’s saving intervention.

And in most, there is not only a fervent plea but also an ardent hope that God will come soon to save them. Yet if God delays, the psalmist remains confident that God will nonetheless come. A good example is Psalm 22, where after the psalmist expresses his torment in anguished terms, he concludes the psalm in confident praise.

The Israelite Horror before Death

Psalm 88, however, stands apart from all the other lament psalms. For one thing, it contains one of the most vivid descriptions of the ancient Israelite’s expectation on the afterlife. That expectation did not involve a belief in either a heaven or a hell. Instead all the dead, righteous or evil, entered the subterranean world of Sheol (also called the Pit). We see this world described in verses 3-6 and again in verses 10-12.

This land of the dead was a shadowy world where the dead subsisted in a drained-out ghostly existence. We might think of them as zombies. What was most distressing about this world of the dead was that God was not present in it. God abandoned them.

We experience the bleakness of this vision of the afterlife when we hear the psalmist talk of the dead as …those whom you [God] remember no more, for they are cut off from your hand. (Verse 5). This is intensified when the psalmist rhetorically asks: Do you work wonders for the dead? Do the shades rise up to praise you? (Verse 10) The implied answer, of course, is No.

In this language we see how much of an existential horror death is to the ancient Israelite mindset. The expectation of resurrection has yet to dawn in the Israelite consciousness. This is important to remember when we read the language of salvation in the Old Testament. It does not mean going to heaven when we die. Rather salvation language talks of God’s intervening rescue of us in the trials and tribulations of this life. The Exodus story is the great epic of salvation in the Old Testament.

A Dialogue of Accusation

The second striking feature of Psalm 88 is the psalmist’s boldness in accusing God as the source of his troubles. In Verses 6-7, he moves to second-person address, saying, You [God] have put me in the depths of the Pit…your wrath lies heavy upon me.

This accusatory speech continues as the psalm progresses. Inverses 13-18, one accusation piles onto another:

O Lord, why do you cast me off?

            Why do you hide your face from me? (Verse 14)

I suffer your terrors; I am desperate. (Verse 15)

Your wrath has swept over me;

            your dread assaults destroy me. (Verse 16)

 I am astounded at the psalmist’s boldness in accusing God of being the cause of all his troubles, in effect, his enemy. If biblical faith is to be understood as trust, then here we see its almost negation. The only vestige of faith that I can identity in this psalm is the fact that throughout the psalm, the psalmist continues to address his complaints to God.

The psalm in fact is a prayer, for it begins O Lord, God of my salvation(Verse 1). The psalmist has not cut off his dialogue with God, even though the tone has turned angry and vituperative. This psalm calls to mind the boldness of Job as well as he contends with God over the cause of his misery.

At the Bottom, Despair

The final striking feature of this psalm is its ending. The psalm comes to an abrupt stop on a bottom note of deep despair:

You have caused friend and neighbor to shun me;

            my companions are in darkness.(Verse 18)

This is how the New Revised Standard Version translates the verse. But the Psalter in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer gives it an even more desolate expression.

My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me,

            and darkness is my only companion.

Here the psalmist finds himself in profound and deep isolation. He sees no reason for hope or confidence that God will hear his prayer or reverse his situation. It is certainly the starkest verse in all the psalms and possibly in all of the Bible. Whereas the other psalms of lament have various expressions of hope and confidence in God, this one stands apart in its utter hopelessness.

A Psalm for Humanity in Its Depths

I find myself amazed that the editors of the psalms should have included this psalm in their collection of ancient Israelite poetry. The tendency of most pious would have been to exclude it as a perversion of faith.

I am glad the editors did not. It seems to me this psalm gives expression to those times when our own faith hangs on by something as fragile as a spider’s silk strand. These are the times when life experiences throw us into such confusion and despair that we can see no light at the end of our tunnel.

At such times, we, too, know darkness as our only companion. I certainly have experienced such times in my own life, especially in my young adult years. It is reassuring that the psalmist seems to give us sanction for lifting up such times of depression to God, even if it must be in the words of accusation, desperation, and despair.

It is also why this psalm can speak powerfully to people trapped in a downward spiral. Once when I was serving as a hospital chaplain, I visited a patient who was suffering from a serious kidney disease that had endured for ten years. She was a good church woman. But as we talked, she expressed her weariness with God who did not seem to respond to her prayers for healing. She felt, she said, so utterly alone and abandoned, especially as her friends at church continued to enjoy robust health.

I suggested that I read a psalm to her and then ask if it expressed how she was feeling. I read Psalm 88. When I finished, she looked at me and said, “Chaplain, I don’t feel that bad yet.” This psalm may have been helping her to realize that her faith was not yet at such an end as she thought it was.

One of the things that has always drawn me to the Bible is the astonishing range of human experience that its words give expression to. Its understanding of the realm of faith is far more expansive of human experience and emotions that most religious people dare go.


Watching Consciousness Expand

In Psalm 139 we glimpse a new insight into God as it emerges.

Christians are often surprised when they learn that there is no concept in the Old Testament of the afterlife being divided between the two realms of a heaven and a hell. They assume that is the one consistent Biblical viewpoint. It is not.

The ancient Israelites who wrote the Old Testament had a very different idea about what faced the dying after the death. All the dead had the same fate, whether they were righteous or evil. They all entered into the underworld realm of the dead. This place bore the name Sheol. Hebrew poetry also often refers to it as the Pit.

Sheol was a gloomy, vaporous place where the dead existed (if you call it existence) in a semi-alive condition. They were shadows of their former selves, not creatures of flesh and blood, something like zombies. In this respect, the ancient Hebrews shared a parallel view of the afterlife with the ancient Mesopotamians and the ancient Greeks. Remember the shades of the Trojan war heroes that Odysseus meets in Hades.

The shocking thing in this ancient Hebrew belief was that in Sheol God was not present. It was a godless place, and so the dead could not enjoy any kind of relationship with God. One did not praise God in Sheol. (See, for example, Psalm 6:4-5.) Nor could one expect any succor from God. (See Isaiah 38:18-19.)

This was true for all the dead, whether they had lived good lives or bad. Religion therefore served as no opiate for the oppressed masses by promising them a better hereafter in the sweet bye and bye. A relationship with God was something one enjoyed only in this life. And the only immortality that one could hope for was the continuing of one’s seed in one’s line of descendants. This is one reason why a barren woman was such a tragedy. It meant the family line would come to an end.

This view of the afterlife is what gives poignancy to all the repeated pleas in the psalms that God will spare the psalmist from entering Sheol or going down into the Pit. (See Psalm 28:1 and Psalm 143:7.) Sometimes we find the psalmist bargaining with God, arguing that God will get no praise if God allows the psalmist to die. It is in God’s self-interest to keep the psalmist alive. (See Psalm 30:8-10.)

Psalm 88: Darkness Descending

There is no more gloomy psalm than Psalm 88. It is classic in expressing this view of death. The psalmist, for example, finds his soul full of troubles. He fears his life is drawing near to the doors into Sheol. He describes himself as one who has no help, like the forsaken among the dead. That sense of abandonment comes through clearly in verses like these:

Is your [God’s] steadfast love declared in the grave,
or your faithfulness in Abaddon?
Are your wonders known in the darkness,
or your saving help in the land of forgetfulness?

The psalm ends on one of the gloomiest notes in all Scripture:

You [God] have caused friend and neighbor to shun me;
my companions are in darkness.

Psalm 139: A Seed of Hope is Planted

Given this pervasive belief in ancient Israel, I for one am quite startled when I read Psalm 139. This is a beloved psalm celebrating God’s constant presence with the psalmist in all circumstances of life. In a series of lines (verses 7-12), the psalmist asserts that there is no place where he can flee that he can escape God’s presence.

If [for example] I take the wings of the morning
and settle in the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.

In this wonderful litany of how God’s presence goes with the psalmist wherever he goes or into whatever the conditions of his life he endures comes this unexpected note:

If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. What gives here? We do not expect such a positive assertion from an Old Testament writer.

This line is no assertion of a belief in a resurrection, nor any awareness of a heaven or hell. But the psalmist does seem to sense Sheol may not be eternal finis. Maybe God has not given up on the dead. At least God is present in Sheol. For what purpose is not clear. But that very fact is a cause for hope.

The seeds of a belief in a Paradise and a Gehenna do emerge in the inter-testamental period in Judaism. They are active ideas in Jesus’ day. But they are not here in Psalm 139.

And yet in this one line in Psalm 139, we get a glimpse of how a new insight into God is emerging in the Hebrew consciousness. Sheol may just not be the end of the story. A seed has been planted. It will bloom into full flower in later Jewish literature and the New Testament.

A Note to My Readers:
There has been a long gap in my postings because of a serious family illness that I needed to care for. Now that recovery is under way, I am hoping to resume my postings on a more regular basis.