Final Destination

There is sometimes a rather stupid and platitudinous phrase bandied about that “it’s not about the destination, but the journey.” This is, of course, utterly devoid of meaning, as a journey is specifically the act of traveling from one place to another. Traveling without a destination is either simply wandering or being lost, which naturally gives rise to the equally facile phrase of “not all who wander are lost.” Wandering, of course, is to be aimless in one’s traveling, so I suppose if it’s not about the destination but about the journey, then it’s really about being aimless, which probably doesn’t convey the same sort of saccharine banality or fit as well on a hoodie or a bumper sticker.

Whenever I am traveling—especially on long trips by car—there is a certain psychological and physical relief that occurs when I reach the city limits of wherever I am traveling to. I will see the distance signs that are either tantalizing or torturous, depending on how far away it is, but there is something about reaching the outer limits of the destination that gives the sense of “I’m finally here.” This occurs especially when I am returning home. If I am coming from the north, it still takes about 30 minutes or so to go through the city to get to where I live, but for whatever reason just reaching the limits of the city itself is like already being home.

Into the Courts

The Psalmist expresses something similar in which the part stands in for the whole, for he finds that his feet were standing in thy courts, O Jerusalem. The Hebrew has gates (portis) rather than courts (atriis), but both stand for the entry point of the city itself:

Here he uses “courts” to signify the inner chambers; for a court is the entrance of a house, where the inhabitants do not reside permanently. But this is spoken figuratively, using a part to represent the whole. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 121, 2)

In the previous passage the Psalmist spoke of the joy of entering into the house of the Lord, and the courts or gates are a foretaste of the house itself, even though one does not dwell within the courts or gates themselves. In my own house I have an entryway that one enters immediately upon entering the house, and while it is certainly part of my house, it is only used as an entryway. To be in it is to be in the house, but it is meant to lead to other rooms, into the house wherein one will dwell.

Similarly the Psalmist’s feet are standing in the courts of Jerusalem, which on the literal and historical level likely refers to the return of the exiles from captivity or the end of the journey for pilgrims. They have entered into the city, but they are meant to go deeper into the city, into the house of the Lord. In the courts they are truly there, but there yet still exists a not yet to their journey.

On the spiritual level the Jerusalem of which the Psalmist speaks is the heavenly Jerusalem, for the earthly city is one which will pass away:

Our feet stood in the courts of Jerusalem. What Jerusalem? This earthly Jerusalem also is wont to be called by the name: though this Jerusalem is but the shadow of that. And what great thing is it to stand in this Jerusalem, since this Jerusalem hath not been able to stand, but hath been turned into a ruin? Doth then the Holy Spirit pronounce this, out of the kindled heart of the loving Psalmist, as a great thing, when he saith, Our feet were standing in the courts of Jerusalem? Is not it that Jerusalem, unto whom the Lord said, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the Prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee (Matt. 23:37)? What great thing then did he desire, to stand among those who slew the Prophets, and stoned them that were sent unto them? God forbid that he should think of that Jerusalem, who so loveth, who so burneth, who so longeth to reach that Jerusalem, our Mother (Gal. 4:26), of which the Apostle saith, that She is eternal in the Heavens (II Cor. 5:1). (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 121, 3)

For the exiles returning to Jerusalem, they were returning to their true house, even though many of them had never set foot there, having been born in captivity. Their journey out of bondage to the earthly Jerusalem was certainly about the destination and not about the journey, for this journey was undertaken in faith to reach a city they had never known in a land they had never seen. Even for pilgrims the same was true, for many of them came from distant lands which were their homes, even though the house of the Lord was their true dwelling.

Yet the Psalmist declares the joy of being told that he will go into the house of the Lord, for this longing of faith is not located in a specific place in this world but prefigures the heavenly city which he already dwells in by faith, even though he awaits the final day for faith to be made sight:

Because the prophet had stated that the eternal home was promised to him, he speaks of himself as already standing in it through the prefiguration of things to come—that home which he desired to reach with the greatest zeal. This is so that we may recognize that holy men, who are proven to persevere in the Lord’s commandments, already dwell in spirit in that Jerusalem even while they are still here. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 121, 2)

This already but not yet characterizes the life of the Christian who dwells as an exile in this world, on pilgrimage to the heavenly city. St. Paul captures this when he says that our conversation is in heaven (Phil 3:30). Conversatio has the sense of way of life, which certainly includes the manner in which we speak. Thus on this pilgrimage we are journeying as if we are already in the courts of Jerusalem, of the heavenly city, and therefore our way of life is that of heaven, rather than of earth.

Pilgrims generally have to travel light, and on the spiritual level the same is true, in that the more we weigh ourselves down with the things of this world—whether in possessions or cares or concerns—the more we become attached to this life and its loves and goods. We can forget that we are on pilgrimage, that we currently live in exile, and that we do not journey for the sake of journeying, but to reach the homeland of the heavenly Jerusalem. If our feet are already standing in the courts, it remains to enter.

In our own houses the entryways or courts often serve as a means of separating family from friend and friend from stranger. When some service professional comes to fix something, I will often invite them into the entryway, but unless there is specific work to be done in one of the more private rooms, the entryway remains their only access to my house. Friends and acquaintances we will often invite into more public areas like living rooms or kitchens, but it is usually reserved for family members to truly come into the house in full. This is why St. Paul speaks of how we are no longer strangers but the domestics of God, brought into His family and thus into His house, where only the pure and undefiled may enter:

Would ye learn how to secure [thy feet] from defilement, hear the beloved Psalmist, Our feet shall stand in thy gates, O Jerusalem. This Jerusalem is not the earthly but the heavenly one, the city of the living God, and we plant our feet therein, as the Apostle teaches us, by having our conversation in Heaven, living in constant virtue, righteous deeds and living faith. (Saint Ambrose, On Virginity, Chapter 10)

It thus behooves us to have our conversation in heaven, to enter into the house of the Lord. The courts or entryways are also in some sense the place where we leave behind what we bring into a house, things like coats and shoes and the like. In a similar manner we must, as St. Paul says, [lay] aside every weight and sin which surrounds us, so that as the domestics of God we may enter fully into His house:

And though this great place in question is sometimes called the house of the Lord, sometimes the city of Jerusalem, still it is all one and the same place; for our heavenly country is one time called a kingdom, sometimes a city, and at other times a house. It is a kingdom by reason of the multitude and the variety of its inhabitants, as St. John observes, Apoc. 7, “It is a great multitude which no man could number, of all nations, and tribes, and peoples, and tongues.” It is a city by reason of the friendship and fellowship that exist between the saints and the blessed; for, however great their number may be, they know, recognize, and love each other as so many fellow citizens; and, finally, it is a house by reason of the elect having only one father, one inheritance, in which they are all brethren, under the one Father, God. (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 121, 2)

I isolated the city and the martyr figures from some Beatus Apocalypse manuscripts, which are amazing in their own right. For the figures I precomped them, added some Puppet Pins and used the script AutoSway to create the swaying. In the background I used Pixel Sorter with a phase shift to create the movement, and then finalized this with some color correction and some noise overlays.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

Stepping Up to the Plate

We often use idioms without really thinking about either their origin or what the words themselves actually mean, which I suppose is what makes an idiom an idiom. I was thinking about steps for some reason, and I called to mind the notion of stepping up, such as when someone tells you that you need to step up and take responsibility for something or do better. We could obviously use those words that express the intent, but the idiomatic usage has a certain heft, perhaps by means of saying something without saying it.

At any rate, I decided to look into the origins of this phrase, and it’s of relatively recent usage, being an Americanism that comes from the game of baseball, the phrase step up a shortened version of step up to the plate. Oddly enough, there are apparently almost 80 American idioms that have their origin in baseball.

That being the case, in the context of baseball it perhaps has some more weightiness, for when the batter steps up to the plate, he is one-on-one with the pitcher, and unassisted by the rest of his team. I’ve never been much of a fan of baseball, but I do remember playing it when I was a kid, and I always hated when I had to step up to the plate to bat. The pressure of it was just not something I handled well, especially when I had teammates on base. I suppose stepping up brings you face-to-face with the thin line between success or failure, between joy and sorrow, and it’s not always within your control which one it will be.

The virtue of stepping up, however, is in doing it anyway.

Moving On Up

Psalms 119-133 are known as the Gradual Psalms or the Songs of Steps or the Songs of Ascent, owing to the inscription before each one, in the Vulgate canticum graduum. These are conjectured to be Psalms which were sung or recited by pilgrims on their way to the temple in Jerusalem, and are sometimes connected with the number of steps of Solomon’s temple. In the Christian era these Gradual Psalms naturally were folded into the Divine Office. The Benedictines spread them over the Little Hours (as does the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary), whereas in the Roman Office they were spread over Vespers and Compline. Radulph de Rivo in the late 14 century mentions that the religious of his day were required to say all fifteen of them prior to Matins on days with only three lessons, but this was eventually relaxed after the reform at Trent, although their recitation was still indulgenced.

There had also been associated with them—especially the first five—the charitable work of praying for the dead. Radulph notes that the first set of five are said for the dead with the Requiem aeternam, and then the two remaining sets are said for the faithful. In breviaries published after Trent one will often find these fifteen Gradual Psalms immediately printed after the Office for the Dead, which has come to associate all of them with praying for the dead, surely a worthy act.

Psalm 121 fits in very nearly at the beginning of these Psalms of Ascent, and just as every journey begins with one step, so every journey is marked by continuing with one step after another. In this sense the third Psalm is the beginning of a new stride, as it were, the resolution to ascend higher actualized in perfecting the initial movement. The inscription of this Psalm—canticum graduum—is thus not simply a note defining its genre but rather the emphasis of repetition, much like the steady footfalls of a man with his face set towards his goal so as to reach perfection:

The perfection [of the good] signified by “ascents” and “alleluia” (Psalms 119-133) requires no additional words because it is the fulfillment of our notions about the ultimate good. Thus these inscriptions fully contain the perfection of the good. (St. Gregory of Nyssa, On the Inscriptions of the Psalms, Book 2, Chapter 10, Hellenic College Press)

These Psalms thus in some sense mark a step up in the movement from Psalm to Psalm, each new canticle drawing the soul higher on the divine ladder to the contemplation of heavenly things. At Mass the altar is situated above the nave, visually and physically separated by steps which the priest ascends, symbolically moving from the plane of this earth to a higher one, for on the altar heaven meets earth in the holy sacrifice of the Mass. The union of the spiritual reality with the physicality of the elements of consecration and the very actions of the priest and assisting faithful places in view that supernatural ladder which reaches down from heaven and touches earth. The ladder also becomes a mirror for the person whose soul not only inhabits a body but who as a person is a body. In the Incarnation our Lord came to heal not only our souls but the entirety of our nature, both body and soul, and thus the ascending by steps to the contemplation of the divine is not merely a spiritual or mental exercise, but encompasses the totality of who we are, consummated in the receiving of the Blessed Sacrament in which there is a foretaste of this union with God and man.

The Psalmist says in Psalm 83 that blessed is the man whose help is from Thee; in his heart he hath disposed to ascend by steps, in the vale of tears. Thus the perfection which awaits on the Last Day is glimpsed and realized little by little in the gradual perfection that sanctification works within the human soul, as in this vale of tears we continue to take step after step towards heaven, disposing our hearts and minds to higher things:

We have heard of a “step” (gradus); let us understand it as an ascent to higher things. But that ascent is firm which is preserved by the Lord’s guarding; for the more one progresses in merit, the more one prostrates oneself in the subjection of the mind. Behold, the prophet is now raised up by the third step, having been made higher than the second, and it is declared that he has taken the beginning of the psalm from that very joy. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 121, 1)

The Third Step

The Psalmist thus wastes no time in declaring the cause of his joy, which ultimately is in going into the house of the Lord. On the literal level some regard this as historically grounded in the song of the exiles returning to Jerusalem, their seventy years of captivity fulfilled and their joy at returning to their homeland—which most had never known—now brought to completion as they ascend unto Mt. Sion:

Such is the language of God’s people, expressive of their joy on hearing the welcome news of their return to their country. Jeremias was the person to announce that, after seventy years, there would be an end to the captivity, and that the city and the temple would be rebuilt. Daniel, Aggeus, and Zacharias, who lived at the time the captivity was ended, foretold it more clearly; and they, therefore, created much joy among the people, when, on the completion of the seventy years, they said, “We shall go into the house of the Lord;” that is to say, we shall return to our country, where we shall get to see mount Sion and the site of the house of the Lord; and then, when we shall have rebuilt the temple, we will again “go into the house of the Lord.” (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 121, 1)

And while this joy was a very worthy joy, it was still a temporal joy, for the temple of Solomon had been destroyed, and the rebuilt temple was a lesser version than what had been. Such joy at returning to the house of the Lord could not therefore be primarily located in a particular geographical location nor in a particular historical time, but rather prophetically anticipates the house of the Lord which will be Christ Himself. After all, when He spoke of destroying the temple and restoring it in three days, He spoke not of the physical temple but rather of His own body. In like manner the Psalmist foresees joy in the coming of Christ, the perfect and holy house of the Lord to which he and his people will come:

Christ, however, was the bearer of a far and away more happy message when he announced, “Do penance, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand;” and when he said more clearly, “In my Father’s house there are many mansions. If not, I would have told you; because I go to prepare a place for you. And if I shall go and prepare a place for you I will come again, and will take you to myself, that where I am, you also may be.” Such news fills with unspeakable joy those who have learned the value “of going into the house of the Lord;” and to hold in that house, not the position “of a stranger or a foreigner, but of a fellow citizen with the saints and a domestic of God’s.” (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 121, 1)

This house of the Lord has a heavenly origin, which then becomes for us pilgrims in this vale of tears a heavenly destination. Yet this same house does not stand abstractly separate from those who are members of Christ’s Body the Holy Catholic Church, for by the sacrament of Baptism they themselves have been incorporated into this very same house as living stones, such as St. Peter speaks of in his epistle. This incorporation builds us into the house of God, for as we partake of the divine nature we share in the very life of Christ, the indwelling of the Blessed Trinity within us. The steps by which we ascend unto the contemplation of God are marked by sanctification and going from virtue to virtue, as the Psalmist will say, for the house of the Lord is holy, and those who desire that house do so because they have the charity and righteousness of God poured into their souls by the Holy Ghost:

A house which receives only the just, contains angels, and is worthy to behold the Author of all creatures Himself; a desirable house, a house built of living stones; about which it is said in another psalm: One thing I have asked of the Lord, this I will seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 121, 1)

The Homeland of Joy

The prophets declared to the exiles the joyous news that they were free from their captivity and would now go into the house of the Lord. Christ fulfills and perfects this prophetic action by proclaiming that the captivity to sin is over, that our slavery to wickedness and the devil is at an end. A new end is proclaimed, that man who formerly was scourged by sins along the road to hell is now led by Christ through righteousness into the heavenly kingdom. The house of this world formerly filled him with its paltry joys and delights, but in the regeneration of baptism and the infusion of God’s charity and righteousness he finds a new and perfect joy in the house of the Lord. His heart is now disposed to ascend by steps into everlasting blessedness, where formerly he was falling into eternal destruction.

He does not generate this joy out of himself by the sheer grit of his will but accepts it as a gracious gift from God, the giver of all good gifts. The joy of the Psalmist at being told of going into the house of the Lord is not feigned but spontaneous in a good way, the fruit of a heart which is disposed to ascend by steps in the vale of tears. The joy that this world holds out to us as a tantalizing bauble is really the bait hiding the hook of sin. For even the good and right pleasures of this life can obscure our vision from heavenly things; we can find joy in the house of this world which will unfailingly keep us from having joy in journeying towards the house of the Lord.

Yet the soul which has its sights set on heavenly things, which is setting one foot in front of the other, which ascends each rung of the divine ladder—such a soul can find the joy of Christ in submission to God’s will, in accepting from God’s hand what He is pleased to give us, whether we think it joyful or not. Our Lord in His human nature possessed at all times the Beatific Vision, yet still suffered the agony in the garden, still labored under the lash of scourges and the biting nails that pierced His flesh. Yet within that vision He also saw the object of God’s love and the underlying reason for His Passion—the human race which He desired to save and to make part of His Mystical Body:

But this most loving knowledge of our Divine Redeemer, of which we were the object from the first moment of his Incarnation, exceeds all that the human intellect can hope to grasp. For hardly was he conceived in the womb of the Mother of God, when he began to enjoy the beatific vision, and in that vision all the members of his Mystical Body. (Pope Pius XII, Mystici Corporis)

Rungs on the Ladder

The joy which our Lord Jesus Christ held within Himself was not the sort of joy that this world gives, which comes and goes and fades as soon as it flares, but was rather located precisely in doing the will of the Father, in bearing within His own flesh the costliness and depth of God’s love for His creation which He was loathe to see fall into the nothingness of sin. In the midst of His bitter and sorrowful Passion our Lord Jesus Christ thus nevertheless disposed His heart to ascend by steps for the joy placed before Him, for He set the will of the Father in His heart as was prophesied by the Psalmist:

Then said I, Behold I come. In the head of the book it is written of Me, that I should do Thy will: O my God, I have desired it, and Thy law in the midst of My heart. (Psalm 39:8-9 DR)

The Psalmist then follows this with our Lord declaring the same to His Mystical Body:

I have declared Thy justice in a great Church, lo, I will not restrain My lips: O Lord, Thou knowest it. (Psalm 39:10 DR)

The descent of our Lord in the Incarnation—taking upon Himself our nature, making Himself in the form of a slave, and becoming obedient unto death—these three steps are in fact the steps of ascent by which He was glorified and given the name above all names. In humility our Lord Himself sets forth the path to the house of the Lord, for He is both the house and the steps to that house, and thus those who would enter into the house of the Lord must walk as He walked, must empty themselves as He emptied Himself, must humble themselves that they might be exalted. This is the means by which we can truly step up, to find our joy along the path to the house of the Lord, even as we journey through this vale of tears:

As impure love inflames the mind, and summons the soul destined to perish to lust for earthly things, and to follow what is perishable, and precipitates it into the lowest places, and sinks it into the abyss; so holy love raiseth us to heavenly things, and inflames us to what is eternal, and excites the soul to those things which do not pass away nor die, and from the abyss of hell raiseth it to heaven. Yet all love hath a power of its own, nor can love in the soul of the lover be idle; it must needs draw it on. But dost thou wish to know of what sort love is? See whither it leadeth. We warn you not then to love nothing; but that ye love not the world, that ye may freely love Him Who made the world. For the soul when bound by the love of earth, hath as it were birdlime on its wings; it cannot fly. But when purged from the sordid affections of the world, extending as it were its pair of wings, and freeing them from every obstacle, it flieth upon them, that is, upon the two commandments of love unto God and our neighbour. Whither, save rising by flight unto God? for it riseth by loving. Before it can do this, it groaneth on earth, if it hath in it now the desire for flight; and saith, O that I had wings as a dove, for then would I flee away, and be at rest (Psalm 54:7)! But whither will it fly, save from the midst of offences, where he also, whose cry I have here quoted, was groaning? From the midst of offences, then, from the medley of evil men, from the chaff mingled with the wheat, it longeth to fly, where it may not endure the society of any wicked one, but may live in the holy company of angels, the citizens of the everlasting Jerusalem. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 121, 1)

I didn’t really have this post in mind as I was creating this animation, but in retrospect it works nicely, since the Blessed Virgin through her fiat to God’s will imitated her Son in submission to the will of the Father. In her Magnificat her soul in humility “magnifies the Lord” and the result is that she rejoices in God her Savior.

I found an image of this statue of the Blessed Virgin and isolated it in Photoshop. I removed the orb and replaced it with a 3D sphere in After Effects, mapping a marble texture onto it for some nice visual interest, which sadly gets lost a bit in the .gif. I then applied some Deep Glow and some volumetric rays to several layers and created a light emission of sorts behind the orb with a sphere with a lot of glow on it.

I finally added in some color correction and a bot of movement on the glow sphere to have the light move about a bit.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

Praise in the way of a canticle, for David himself, on the day before the sabbath, when the earth was founded. The Lord hath reigned, he is clothed with beauty: the Lord is clothed with strength, and hath girded himself. For he hath established the world which shall not be moved. (Psalm 92:1 DR)

Thy throne is prepared from of old: thou art from everlasting. (Psalm 92:2 DR)

The floods have lifted up, O Lord: the floods have lifted up their voice. The floods have lifted up their waves, (Psalm 92:3 DR)

With the noise of many waters. Wonderful are the surges of the sea: wonderful is the Lord on high. (Psalm 92:4 DR)

Thy testimonies are become exceedingly credible: holiness becometh thy house, O Lord, unto length of days. (Psalm 92:5 DR)

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

Use Your Little Grey Cells

When we evaluate the testimony of some person, we have many tacit premises of which we may not be (and usually are not) aware, which color and bias to one extent or another how we receive that testimony. A random stranger’s word or account of something we may take or leave, whereas with someone we know we will often give them the benefit of the doubt. Other factors such as the person being a purported expert in something may cause us to give undue weight to their testimony, although a certain unnamed event occurring within the past few years may prompt an inverse reaction.

I have recently been reading through some of the Hercule Poirot mysteries of Agatha Christie, and the character of Hastings—who serves somewhat as a foil to Poirot as does Watson to Sherlock Holmes—often illustrates the manner in which the acceptance of testimony can go awry. In Hastings’ case he is easily led astray by a pretty face, and is therefore inclined to take the word of the women he finds attractive, and thus invariably gets played for the fool by them, even if they don’t intend it. Poirot, on the other hand, never takes it for granted that he is being given the truth, and ends up having to painfully reveal to Hastings that he has yet again been deceived by appearances. Poirot instead judges based upon the evidence that he finds, weighing the testimony of the suspects against what manifests in reality. He allows the testimony received and the evidence apprehended to be sifted according to his logical method, what his little grey cells can piece together rather than what his personal feelings might be.

Making Things Believable

In this final passage of Psalm 92 the Psalmist brings together the testimony presented so far in the previous passages, concluding that the testimonies of the Lord are become exceedingly credible. It will be remembered that the Psalmist opened Psalm 92 with a reference to the sixth day—the day on which man was created—which corresponds to the sixth age of man following the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. His coming in the flesh becomes the evidence, as it were, demonstrating the truth of God’s testimonies, the fulfillment of the prophecies and promises made:

The prophet spoke concerning the coming of the Lord, truly foreseeing the things that were to happen. Now, he explains the nature of this praise: the testimonies of the prophets have been rendered “exceedingly credible” because the Incarnation of the Word, which had been foretold, has now appeared as salvation to the world. Through this glorious coming, those things which were held hidden in the sacred books have been revealed. For who among the wise could doubt the promise of gifts once the very fullness that was promised has arrived? (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 92, 6-7)

Cassiodorus no doubt has in the back of his mind St. Paul’s words which open the epistle to the Hebrews:

God, who, at sundry times and in divers manners, spoke in times past to the fathers by the prophets, last of all, in these days hath spoken to us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the world. Who being the brightness of his glory, and the figure of his substance, and upholding all things by the word of his power, making purgation of sins, sitteth on the right hand of the majesty on high. (Hebrews 1:1-3 DR)

St. Paul’s words here are crucial, for the same God that spoke to the prophets of old now speaks in the Person of the Son, Who speaks with the voice of God precisely because He is consubstantial and co-eternal with the Father, being the brightness of His glory and the figure of His substance. In the Incarnation the testimonies of the prophets are fulfilled because God Himself makes good on them not merely through external miracles or working in the world but in Himself in the flesh. St. Paul is perhaps alluding to the second verse of Psalm 92 here, for the Son sits at the right hand of the majesty on high, which is that throne which was prepared from of old, by Him Who is from everlasting.

Prophecies Fulfilled

The Incarnation of our Lord—in which He was clothed in beauty—provides this unshakable testimony of the truth of God’s words and works, for those very same words and works are now manifest in the flesh. Our Lord said that He only spoke and worked what He had been taught by the Father. That is, there is perfect congruity between them; our Lord thus says that:

He that believeth in me, doth not believe in me, but in him that sent me. And he that seeth me, seeth him that sent me. (John 12:44-45 DR)

This becomes manifest in how the prophecies and promises of God were fulfilled in His own Person:

Prophecies of future events, which bore witness to the Kingdom of the Lord, did not allow for the full credibility of their words to be seen before the events themselves occurred. For it is only after the outcome and the completed works that the testimonies of God are truly made credible. Indeed, these things—which concerned the Kingdom of God over all nations—had been spoken of and announced long ago, and had been long expected. That testimony has now been made credible because the oracle is seen to be fulfilled by the works themselves. (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 5)

These testimonies can then be mapped onto the works of the Lord:

Of old it was said of the Lord that He had “clothed Himself in beauty”; now, however, with the word confirmed by His works, the truth of the prediction has appeared. Having stripped off the “form of God” and put on the “form of a servant,” progressing even unto a shameful death, He afterwards laid aside that dishonor and clothed Himself in the beauty of His Father’s glory, crowned with a kingdom over all things, both heavenly and earthly.

Furthermore, the prophetic testimonies announced that the Lord, clothed in strength, had established the world so that it should be moved no more. The truth of these things was proven when, after His passion and having received His own power, He established His Church throughout the whole world, so that human souls—previously wandering here and there in impious superstition—should be moved no more.

Again, the testimonies of the prophets foretold that “the rivers would lift up their voice” and other “rivers would lift up their waves.” These testimonies have been found true when, in all the Churches of God and throughout the whole world, according to the Gospel, the assemblies of the pious send forth voices of thanksgiving to God through prayers and hymns. By these, the arrogant “wise men of this age” were brought low and their pride destroyed, such that their philosophy has been utterly extinguished.

If you were to run through the remaining predictions of the prophecies in like manner, you would fit each one to this phrase: Your testimonies have been made exceedingly credible. Thus, the testimonies of the Divine Scriptures have turned out to be quite believable because of the truth of the events. (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 5)

As Eusebius notes, these testimonies find their fulfillment in Christ, but also are extended into the world through His mystical Body the Holy Catholic Church. The propagation of the faith to the ends of the earth through the preaching of the apostles and the expansion of the Church into all the world serve as proof of her divine constitution in Christ, of her union with Him.

The Seed of the Church

In the Septuagint the term which gets rendered as testimonia in the Vulgate is μαρτύριά, from which English gets the term martyr, which is ultimately someone who gives witness or testimony of something. While in Greek it does not necessarily have the sense of giving one’s life in testimony as it does in English, it is nevertheless an apropos term which provides further witness to the credibility of God’s word and promises, and the divine origin of the Church. Tertullian famously said that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church, and this witness through blood bears powerful testimony of the truth of the faith, which is manifest both in our Lord’s own martyrdom for the truth and the sufferings which His apostles underwent for the truth:

Thy testimonies are very surely believed. Thy testimonies, because He had said beforehand, These things I have spoken unto you, that in Me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation. Because the world will give you tribulation, I tell you this. They began to suffer, and verified in themselves our Lord’s predictions, and they became stronger. For when they saw that the sufferings were fulfilled in them, they hoped that the crowns would be fulfilled in them also; and hence, mighty are the overhangings of the sea: but yet the Lord, Who dwelleth on high, is mightier… Dost Thou think the world will not overpower and extinguish us? at once He added, but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world (John 16:33). If then He saith, I have overcome the world, cling unto Him Who overcame the world, Who overcame the sea. Rejoice in Him, because the Lord, Who dwelleth on high, is mightier, and, Thy testimonies are very surely believed. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 7)

The Final Day

The final clause of this passage and of this Psalm provides the end to which the sixth day and the sixth age are oriented, which is that holiness becometh Thy house, O Lord, unto length of days. This sanctification of the house of the Lord—which is His Holy Catholic Church—is the very essence of our Lord’s offering of Himself upon the cross, not merely to forgive sins but to make His bride like unto Himself:

Christ also loved the church, and delivered himself up for it: That he might sanctify it, cleansing it by the laver of water in the word of life: That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy, and without blemish. (Ephesians 5:26-27 DR)

The Lord who clothed Himself in beauty thus wishes to clothe His Bride the Church in beauty also, giving her a partaking in the holiness in which He exists, a participation in the divine nature. Holiness becometh or befits the Church precisely because she is the body of Christ and shares in His holiness. This end of sanctification in which the Church has her being becomes the end to which all of her members are called, for this is God’s will, the reason our Lord gave up His very life for us. If holiness becometh the Church, then it also becometh her members, meaning that they must strive to live in holiness, to increase in virtue, to grow in grace. These gifts given by God are for us to cooperate with that we might not walk in uncleanness, but in sanctification:

Nothing, however, so befits Your house—that is, Your Church—so that it may be preserved unto length of days, as holiness. Just as Your testimonies possess their own truth and faith, so holiness befits Your house; under its protection, the house remains and perseveres unto length of days. For if it should ever happen that dishonor is found in Your house, or if a profane, impure, and cursed deed is discovered in the place of holiness, it is impossible for it to persevere unto length of days. For if—God forbid!—anything indecent or foreign is discovered in the house of God, surely God, who dwells within her and who is holy and rests among the holy, will say: “Behold, your house is left to you desolate.” (Matthew 23:38) Therefore, we who have entered the house of God ought to strive for holiness and temperance above all else and beyond all things. (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 5)

Enter into Rest

As this Psalm concludes, the holiness of the house of the Lord is seen to be unto length of days, in longitudinem dierum in the Vulgate, an expression which is used in many Psalms as a circumlocution for eternity or everlasting-ness. In this case the use of the term day is apropos as the Psalm began with the inscription of it being for the sixth day, which looks forward to the Sabbath, the day of rest. This is the day of which the Lord spoke, figuring the rest into which His people will enter:

There remaineth therefore a day of rest for the people of God. For he that is entered into his rest, the same also hath rested from his works, as God did from his. Let us hasten therefore to enter into that rest; lest any man fall into the same example of unbelief. (Hebrews 4:9-11 DR)

It is the unbelief of God’s people in the Old Testament which kept them from that rest, but here in Psalm 92 the testimonies of the Lord are become exceedingly credible, and thus the promise of rest remains to those who believe.

In Cassiodorus’ conclusion of this Psalm he develops the idea that there are seven parts of this Psalm which belong to the demonstrative class of rhetoric, this seven naturally holding forth the perfection of God’s testimonies fulfilled in the Incarnation of our Lord. The sixth day thus looks forward to the final day of rest which is unto length of days which conclude this Psalm, when all of God’s promises are fulfilled, when His testimonies are seen face to face in the Beatific Vision, and in which the consummation of all things comes to pass and the Lord will be all in all:

Thus, through these seven parts of the demonstrative class, the perfection of the Lord’s coming is praised. Behold, the “sixth day of the Sabbath” in the Incarnation of the Lord, which the title foretold, has been revealed.

1. Through Him, the power of the most holy Trinity has been declared to men.

2. Through Him, the washings of sacred baptism have come forth.

3. Through Him, the gifts of blessed communion have been conferred.

4. Through Him, various spiritual gifts have flourished.

5. Through Him, death has fallen and life has risen.

6. Through Him, the devil is conquered.

7. Through Him, man is known to be liberated.

The angels exult, the heavens glory, and yet—oh, the wickedness!—man remains ungrateful, though it is shown that it was for him specifically that the Lord came to help. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 92, 6-7)

I added in some slightly billowing fog using the Fractal Noise effect in After Effects, and then used Trapcode Shine to bring in some volumetric rays to shine through them. I then applied Shadow Studio to the test to pull it away from the background a bit, and finally concluded with some slight camera movement and some color correction.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

The Endless Sea

In the second book of C.S. Lewis’ phenomenal Space Trilogy, the protagonist Ransom is taken on an unknown mission to planet Perelandra; that is, the planet Venus. His journey had taken place in a small casket-sized craft that was propelled by means unknown to him, and as the craft makes planetfall it lands in the middle of the ocean and begins to dissolve around him. His senses are overwhelmed by the alien world, and it takes him some time to recognize that he has been dropped in the middle of a seemingly endless sea:

At the same moment he felt that he was being lifted. Up and up he soared till it seemed as if he must reach the burning dome of gold that hung above him instead of a sky. Then he was at a summit; but almost before his glance had taken in a huge valley that yawned beneath him—shining green like glass and marbled with streaks of scummy white—he was rushing down into that valley at perhaps thirty miles an hour….He was riding the foamless swell of an ocean, fresh and cool after the fierce temperatures of Heaven, but warm by earthly standards—as warm as a shallow bay with sandy bottom in a sub-tropical climate. As he rushed smoothly up the great convex hillside of the next wave he got a mouthful of the water… He buried his flushed face in the green translucence, and when he withdrew it, found himself once more on the top of a wave. (C.S. Lewis, Perelandra, Chapter 3)

This continual surging of waves—some literally the height of mountains—seems to go on forever, a never-ending undulation of height and depth, of ascent and and descent, of lifting and falling. What would be on Earth a terrifying experience is for Ransom on Perelandra one filled with immense joy, and one which he looks back on with tears after returning to Earth.

The Agony and the Ecstasy

For us humans the experience of intense pleasures or of intense pain has an exquisite sense that is sometimes difficult to distinguish. We speak of someone in love as wounded in heart, and this metaphor tries to capture both the ecstasy and the agony of perhaps trying to cram something transcendent into a finite soul that is stretching forth its hand to that which is beyond itself. The saints likewise crest these same waves, as their own wounding in love is often accompanied by a martyrdom or great sufferings. The sting and clarity of joy and pain coalesce in the same limitless ocean with its surging waves of divine charity.

The Psalmist now completes the thought from the previous passage, for the floods which have lifted up their voices also have lifted up their waves, now with the voice of many waters.

This is variously understood by the Church Fathers and other ancient Christian writers, but one particular approach is to distinguish between the floods which lift up their voice and those which lift up their waves withe voice of many waters. The former floods refer to the teaching of the Apostles and the proclamation of the Gospel, as seen in the previous passage, whereas the latter has reference to the nations of this world which clash with the Church, in some respect like waves crashing against the shore in their violence:

Just as when great rivers flow into the ocean and check the force of the waves against the sand, the sea’s waves are driven back over a great distance because of the clash with the river waters. In this same way, when the sweet and drinkable teaching of the apostles was brought to the false and bitter sea of the world, a certain storm arose, and continual waves surged up. (Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 4)

The Scriptures often use the image of waters or many waters for that of the nations, and this initial storm from the nations is transformed into an exaltation of Christ and His Church as the nations are converted and brought into her:

By “the voices of many waters,” he signifies the nations, which come together in the Catholic faith by praising the Lord. From these voices, then, the “surges of the sea” have become wondrous—meaning that from the salt-tide of this world arises the saving ascent of souls. For the sea is a vast collection of salt waters; likewise, the Church embraces wise peoples in Catholic unity, whose “surges” become wondrous when they stand with a firm mind in the commandments of the Lord. And all these things refer back to Him from whom all good things come, as the apostle James says: “Every best gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights.” (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 92, 5)

Noise Into Voice

The noise of the many waters of the nations—which was formerly that of blasphemies against the Lord and His Christ—now is lifted up in praise and adoration to the self-same Lord. The many waters of the nations are joined to the river that makes glad the city of God, in that they too receive of the Holy Ghost and have the charity of God poured forth into their souls and becomes themselves those out of whom flow streams of living water. The noise is thus transformed into a voice, and the din of the storm is replaced by the tranquility of peace:

The blessed Habakkuk also prophesied this. For when he had said, “The earth shall be torn by rivers; the peoples shall see you and be in pain, dividing the waters of the journey,” he added: “The abyss uttered its voice, the height of its thought.” With this disturbance, every city was filled. For it is the voice of the Lord Himself: “I came not to send peace on the earth, but a sword, to separate a man from his neighbor, a son from his father, a daughter from her mother, a bride from her mother-in-law.” But indeed, the beginning of the divine preaching contained a storm; now, however, the Lord of the sea has rebuked the storm, and it has settled into a breeze, and its waves were silenced, and there was a great calm. (Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 4)

This peace and calm which comes to the may waters is not something natural to themselves, for in and of their own power the nations are constantly in turmoil, and even their greatest wisdom is likened unto noise. The highest philosophy that man can attain still speaks from out of the clamor of the waves of these many waters, drowned out by the tumult and cacophony of violence and sin. And just as a single wave is taken along by the rest of the surgings of the sea and the storm, so left to himself man cannot help but be driven along by the billows which overwhelm and incessantly rage.

Competing Wonders

The Psalmist brings this to bear by drawing a contrast through the parallelism in the final two clauses, for wonderful are the surges of the sea; wonderful is the Lord on high. These surges of the sea give the vivid picture seen in the great waves of the ocean which hurtle down into the depths, only to then in the next moment rise up into the sky. The Old Latin has altitudinis rather than the elationes of the Vulgate, the former capable of meaning height or depth, which is an appropriate image for the surging of waves. Elationes tends to capture the ascending action of the waves as they surge, which loft up only to eventually crash back down.

On the moral level this encompasses the inconstancy of this world:

Many a man, indeed, we have witnessed raised on high upon the surging billows and suddenly dashed to the bottom; then, again, we witness others, who have been crushed by the floods, just as suddenly elevated to greater heights. We find nothing constant in this world, nothing stable. Where you think there is a calm, there awaits shipwreck. Where there is the appearance of peace, there lurks the violence of storm and hurricanes, and unless we cry out: ‘Master, save us,’ that very moment we are lost. (St. Jerome, Homily 70 on Psalm 92, Fathers of the Church)

These surges or liftings—although they be the inconstancy of this world and of the many waters of the nations and man within his own power and wisdom—are transformed and elevated by grace, for as wonderful and impressive as the natural storms and waves of the seas are, even more so is the Lord on high:

If anyone has ever marveled at the “surges of the sea”—that is, the storms and waves of mortal life raised against the knowledge of God—let him know that, above all, the Lord is wondrous on high. Thus, those who trust in the Lord should no longer rightly fear the surges of the sea. It is likely that these “surges” represent the persecutions rising against the Church, stirred up by that dragon dwelling in the sea, who lifts its waves to the sky, roaring and disturbing everything, all but threatening to flood and utterly destroy the Church of God. (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 4-5)

These surges may threaten the Church through persecution and all the railing of nations and men against her, but her hope is not in her own power and strength, but rather in her Lord. The river which issues forth from the Church is the power of the Holy Ghost, by which the nations are converted and brought to faith and repentance; thus their surges are calmed and they now are truly lifted as the Church expands throughout the earth:

“Wonderful is the Lord on high;” more wonderful than them all is the Lord who dwells on high, having obtained a victory over all his persecutors; and having, in spite of them all, propagated his kingdom throughout the entire world. (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 92, 4)

As with Ransom’s experience with the surging waves of Perelandra, so the storms of this life take on their aspect depending on the orientation of one’s own heart and soul:

The soul becomes wondrous [when] raised high [into the air] and separated from the waves of this [present] life. (Evagrius of Pontus, Scholia on the Psalms, 92, Scholia 3)

The Exaltation of Humility

The man that in humility turns his eyes to the Lord and hopes in Him need not fear the surging of the waves of persecution or of trouble or of suffering. His heart can be wounded by love in all its agony and ecstasy, for those very waves in some sense lift him to the Lord by drawing him more deeply into union with Christ’s own Passion and sufferings. Those who, on the other hand, exalt themselves in pride, will find themselves tossed to and fro by the surgings of these same seas, plunged into the darkness of the deep:

The man who is able to withstand the stormy billows of this world with his dwelling firmly fixed upon the rock is the one who is able to experience how ‘powerful on high is the Lord.’ “The Most High dwells on high who is Holy among the holy”; just as it says elsewhere: “For I, the Lord, am your God; and you shall make and keep yourselves holy, because I am holy.” But to the man laid low by the consciousness of sins and unable to raise his eyes to heaven with Jesus, the Lord is not wonderful on high, but terrible to those plunged below. (St. Jerome, Homily 70 on Psalm 92, Fathers of the Church)

The knowledge that the Lord is high above all things, that He holds all things in His hand and accomplishes them all with His will—this provides the confidence to hope in Him, even amidst the surging waves of the sea, the rising and falling of fortunes and the cacophony of the roaring storm that envelops us in this vale of tears. Faith in God’s goodness, hope in His promises, submission to His will—this turns the dark storm-tossed waves of Earth into the emerald billows of Perelandra, whose heights and depths wound the heart with love and fill it to overflowing with divine charity, so that every crest is a vision of Heaven, every lifting a foretaste of the Beatific Vision:

Let the waves hang over as they choose; let the sea roar as it chooses; the hangings of the sea indeed are mighty, mighty are the threatenings, mighty the persecutions; but see what follows: but yet the Lord, who dwells on high, is mightier. Let therefore the sea restrain itself, and sometime become calmed; let peace be granted by Christians. The sea was disturbed, the vessel was tossed; the vessel is the Church: the sea, the world. The Lord came, He walked over the sea, and calmed the waves. How did the Lord walk over the sea? Above the heads of those mighty foaming waves. Principalities and kings believed; they were subdued unto Christ. Let us not therefore be frightened; because the Lord, who dwells on high, is mightier. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 6)

I decided to go with the on high portion of this passage and found some mountain images that I cutout in Photoshop and animated in After Effects. I used some pixel sorting to also make the mountains have a bit of surging or undulation to them to tie back into the surges of the sea. Not sure how successful that, but there it is.

I then created a text precomp and use Motion Tile to animate the offset, and finally employed some color correction and Pixel Galactic to roughen up some of the edges.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

The Flood

Several years back I played this fantastic video game called The Flame in the Flood, which, incidentally, has an equally impressive soundtrack. In the game some sort of cataclysm has occurred in which everything is flooded, and the inhabitants of some secure island send out dogs with backpacks to find survivors and lead them to this sanctuary from the flood. The game requires you as one of those survivors to spend most of the time on a flooded river, avoiding obstacles and stopping at various non-flooded locations along the way to find food, water, medical supplies, and things to fix your raft.

It is balanced in such a way that you are nearly always in crisis mode, and often have to choose between stopping and potentially getting killed by wolves, or continuing and maybe dehydrating on your raft. There are no “safe” spots, just places that are less deadly than others, and you have to respect the river and the flood which is always on the knife’s edge of killing you. This constant tension is, I suppose, what makes the game fun and a challenge, until you can finally breathe a sigh of relief when you get out onto the ocean and coast into the sanctuary. I suppose in the end the flood which was threatening your life now becomes proof against all the dangers which were faced along the way.

In the Scriptures the waters and the floods are often portrayed in this sort of chaotic and dangerous guise. In the story of creation the Holy Ghost hovers over the waters before things were created, in which these waters stand in for the nothingness out of which God brought forth all things by His power, and uses the many waters to delineate creation:

In the beginning of creation the waters covered the whole earth, and in consequence of a great inundation were raised considerably above it; but God, being brighter and more elevated again, and infinitely more powerful than them, rebuked and restrained the waters, and shut them up in the caverns of the earth, with strict orders never to return thence. (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 92, 3)

It is because of God’s power over the seas and the waves—which in the Scriptures are often seen as the most powerful of natural elements—that there is an association of God’s mysterious ways with the seas and the waves. The Psalmist elsewhere gives voice to this in the sense of God walking upon the waters:

Thy way is in the sea, and thy paths in many waters: and thy footsteps shall not be known. (Psalm 76:20 DR)

It is of course not an accident that our Lord Jesus Christ reveals His own power and authority to His disciples by walking upon the waters, such that His way is in the sea and His path is in many waters. But now in the Incarnation His footsteps will be known, for He was not a ghost as His disciples thought, but God Incarnate, the self-same One Who brought forth the earth from the waters in creation.

The Source

The Psalmist brings the power of God over the waves and the floods to bear, for in this passage the floods have lifted themselves up, have lifted up their voice. This lifting—elevaverunt flumina in the Vulgate—is set as a response to the eternality and dominion of the Lord as set forth in the previous passage. The seas and floods are to man chaotic and ungovernable, but when compared to God’s power are as nothing. In fact, in their lifting up they are themselves doing so in response to God’s power and might. On the literal level there is perhaps a harkening back to creation, as St. Bellarmine suggests, in which the waters envelop the earth as clothing, as set forth elsewhere in the Psalms:

This is expressed more clearly in Psalm 103, where he says, “Who hast founded the earth upon its own basis, it shall not be moved forever and ever. The deep like a garment is its clothing; above the mountains shall the waters stand;” that is to say, the earth was originally so formed that an abyss of water completely enveloped it, covering even the tops of the highest mountains; but, “At thy rebuke they shall flee, at the voice of thy thunder they shall fear;” that means, but you, O Almighty, rebuked the waters and so confused them by your thunder, that they fled and hid themselves in the depths of the earth; and then “you set a bound which they shall not pass over; neither shall they return to cover the earth.” (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 92, 3)

On the spiritual level, however, these floods go even deeper, for since the Psalms are ultimately about Christ, the Psalmist is not merely recounting the days of creation, but rather looking forward to the new creation that Christ will make in Himself.

St. Augustine notes that the literal floods and waters did not lift up their voices at the time of Christ, even when they might be expected to, such as at His baptism. Instead, these waters or floods now have their source elsewhere, in the voice of His apostles:

Jesus stood and cried, it is said in the Gospel. What did He cry? Behold now the head of those rivers crieth out: the very source of life, whence the rivers are to flow, first lifted up His own voice. And what did Jesus stand up and cry? He that believeth on Me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water. The Evangelist subjoineth, But this spake He of the Spirit, which they that believe on Him should receive: for the Holy Ghost was not yet given, because that Jesus was not yet glorified (John 7:37-39). (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 3)

This might seem an arbitrary application by St. Augustine, but he demonstrates its applicability by linking the Holy Ghost as the source of these waters with another passage in the Psalms:

The Spirit itself was a mighty river, whence many rivers were filled. Of that river the Psalmist saith in another passage, The rivers of the flood thereof shall make glad the city of God (Psalm 45:5). Rivers then were made to flow from the belly of the disciples, when they received the Holy Spirit: themselves were rivers, when they had received that Holy Spirit. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 3)

The Flame in the Flood

The flood—that is, the Holy Ghost flowing into the Church—thus makes the city of God to be joyful, for the rivers come forth from this flood, joined in the unity of the waters of the Holy Ghost which flow forth from those who believe in Jesus Christ. They have these rivers of living water flowing forth from them because they have the source of those rivers within them, the Holy Ghost. As such, the lifting up of the voice and the waves of these floods is nothing other than the outpouring of the Holy Ghost in Baptism, by which the Holy Ghost is received in the soul and the charity of God is poured forth. All of these water images coalesce in the same reality, our Lord consummating in Himself what God had begun in the beginning at creation.

Nor is St. Augustine alone in this interpretation, which is shared by many early Fathers and commentators. Theodoret of Cyrus links this passage of Psalm 92 and John 7 to other passages in the Old Testament:

He calls the holy apostles “rivers,” along with those who undertook the preaching of the Gospel after them. For they, like rivers, brought abundant watering to mankind. Thus the blessed Habakkuk also referred to them: The earth shall be cleaved by rivers [Habakkuk 3:9], that is, it will be divided, and will receive watering. Thus also the Lord says: He who believes in me, as the Scripture says, rivers of living water shall flow from his belly. (Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 3)

This exposition from Habakkuk is fascinating, for the cleaving of the earth by the rivers creates the conditions of the earth being watered by those same rivers. The eroding action of water upon the land to make it fruitful is, by analogy, a painful one, yet in the end this cleaving brings about its good:

Therefore, those rivers lifted up their voice, preaching divine dogmas, and forging their own paths. For he called these paths “dashings” [illisiones]. Because the nature of water is accustomed to wear away the earth beneath it and forge a path, he rightly called the dashing of the waters a path: because those first men, to whom the divine preaching was entrusted, prepared the way for those who followed, and rendered the teaching unhindered and easy. (Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 3)

One is reminded of St. Peter’s sermon on the Day of Pentecost when he and the other disciples were filled with the Holy Ghost:

Now when [the people] had heard these things, they had compunction in their heart, and said to Peter, and to the rest of the apostles: What shall we do, men and brethren? (Acts 2:37 DR)

Cut to the Heart

The term for compunction in the Vulgate is compuncti, meaning to prick or puncture severely; in English this can be expressed more idiomatically by the phrase cut to the heart. One can see here how the floods lifting up their voice are cleaving the earth of the hearts of the people on the day of Pentecost, such that they are brought to repentance. The cleaving and wounding brought about by this river or flood leads them to the waters of baptism, such that out of their own hearts comes forth the same flood of waters of the Holy Ghost. Our Lord’s words about this outflowing of the Holy Ghost bring to mind the image of a well or spring issuing out of the earth, by which analogy is the Holy Ghost coming forth from the heart.

The cleaving of the earth—of which Habakkuk prophesies—comes to pass in each heart that is cleaved by the river of the voice of the Gospel preached, and by the waters of Baptism wearing away the soil of the heart dried out by Original Sin, until the life-giving waters bring forth an abundance of virtue in that same soul, now renewed in Christ and brought into the city of God His holy Catholic Church, wherein the flood of the rivers of the Holy Ghost make it to be glad:

For since these things had been hidden in ancient times, now they have been heard by all who have been deemed worthy of the Holy Spirit: prophets, apostles, and evangelists, and countless peoples who announce the saving kingdom in churches throughout the whole world, who likewise have lifted up their voice, loudly preaching the grace of God poured out upon all…

Likewise, the multitudes of the churches of our Savior established among men—with the nations who believed flocking there like a river, and lifting up their voice in prayers sent up to God, and in praises uttered through hymns and psalms—can be called rivers. For our Lord Himself compares those who would draw from His divine teaching and drink of the Holy Spirit to rivers, saying: “Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him, rivers of living water shall flow from his belly, springing up into eternal life.” (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 3)

I used Trapcode Mir to create the water effect here and animated the evolution and offset to make it move. I used a combination of lights and reflection mapping to colorize it and then used a light dusting of pixel sorting and a plugin call Pixel Galactic to roughen it up a bit.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

How a Then Becomes A When

Time is one of those concepts that we perhaps intuitively know to exist, but have notorious difficulty in describing exactly what it is. Is it some sort of objective sequence that can be split into parts, like we do with lengths on a ruler? Do times that have been or times that will be have the same sort of reality as the time of that which is now? And what precisely constitutes now? Does it have a specific duration that can be measured in seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, etc? Does memory constitute a present experience of the now-ness of times past, or does expectation or anticipation vicariously participate in a now-ness of future time? Such questions do not admit of easy answers, which St. Augustine illustrates in a manner apropos to the reading of the Psalms:

I am about to repeat a psalm that I know. Before I begin, my attention is extended to the whole; but when I have begun, as much of it as becomes past by my saying it is extended in my memory; and the life of this action of mine is divided between my memory, on account of what I have repeated, and my expectation, on account of what I am about to repeat; yet my consideration is present with me, through which that which was future may be carried over so that it may become past. Which the more it is done and repeated, by so much (expectation being shortened) the memory is enlarged, until the whole expectation be exhausted, when that whole action being ended shall have passed into memory. And what takes place in the entire psalm, takes place also in each individual part of it, and in each individual syllable: this holds in the longer action, of which that psalm is perchance a portion; the same holds in the whole life of man, of which all the actions of man are parts; the same holds in the whole age of the sons of men, of which all the lives of men are parts. (St. Augustine, Confessions, Book 11, Chapter 28, 38.)

In the simple action of reciting a Psalm there is a certain permeability between the categories of past, present and future, and they all pass through the same experience of the same action. For in the same moment that the determined future action is taken in the present it enters into the memory, and what is now being recited in the Psalm goes from desire to recollection while the mind holds the entirety as a single action in the now as it is being done.

As I was out walking this morning I was reciting some Psalms, and it never occurred to me while doing so that this dynamic was unfolding within my mind; it is perhaps only in recollection of the action that I can see that the action moved fluidly from future to present to past, although this action of recollection now seems in some respect to reverse or recapitulate it all again. As I hear St. Augustine describe it, I cannot within myself locate the moment these shifts occur as if there are neat durations or lines at which the future becomes the present or the present becomes the past or in which my memory of the past is brought into the present or extended back into the future.

Things in the past do not exist outside of my mind as they do in the present, no do things in the future, but yet they have a present reality to me in my mind in the present as I remember or anticipate. Their length is not long in respect to themselves, but rather in respect to the quality of my memory or anticipation:

Who denies that future things do not exist as yet? But still there is already in the mind the expectation of things still future. And who denies that past things now exist no longer? Still there is in the mind the memory of things past. Who denies that time present has no length, since it passes away in a moment? Yet, our attention has a continuity and it is through this that what is present may proceed to become absent. Therefore, future time, which is nonexistent, is not long; but “a long future” is “a long expectation of the future.” Nor is time past, which is now no longer, long; a “long past” is “a long memory of the past.” (St. Augustine, Confessions, Book 11, Chapter 28, 38.)

St. Augustine deals with this partially to answer the question of what was God doing before creation? For if God perceives or experiences time as we do, then there was a duration of sorts before creation in which He must have been doing something, even it were contemplating the act of creation. St. Augustine’s response is that time only exists with created being. When we use the phrase before creation we cannot conceive of a timeline extending infinitely into the past, for in God there is no time, no distinction between past, present or future. Time is not an addition to eternity but in some respects a diminution, for changeable things move from one state to another, and this changeableness is what constitutes the passage of time:

Let them therefore see that there could be no time without a created being, and let them cease to speak that vanity. Let them also be extended unto those things which are before, [Philippians 3:13] and understand that you, the eternal Creator of all times, art before all times, and that no times are co-eternal with You, nor any creature, even if there be any creature beyond all times. (St. Augustine, Confessions, Book 11, Chapter 28, 38.)

The experience of reciting the Psalm provides the faintest glimmer in a dark glass of how all times are present to God, but only in the most remotely analogous sense to how things are present to us in the present. For while the verses recited are virtually present in the memory and those to come in the expectation of the will, for God all things and all times are—in reality—in the now of His eternity. For God the answer to the question of when is always then.

The Mists of Eternity

Such ruminations become pertinent to the next passage in Psalm 92, for the Psalmist proceeds from God’s establishment of the world to His establishment of His throne: Thy throne is prepared from of old. In the Vulgate the term for of old is tunc, which literally means then or at that time. The Douay-Rheims renders this idiomatically as of old since tunc is paralleled and pointing to from everlasting in the following clause. It is a fascinating passage, for the phrase from everlasting—which is a saeculo in the Vulgate and ἀπὸ τοῦ αἰῶνος in the Septuagint—is about as indefinite a then as one could imagine. Our limited minds and language force us to find a point on a timeline that does not exist, for finding a moment of time in a timeless eternity can never be accomplished. Much like St. Augustine noted that it is senseless to ask what God was doing before time was, so the Psalmist contents himself with locating God’s reign in eternity, a poetic manner of describing God’s lordship over all time from all eternity:

“Your throne stands firm, from then, from everlasting you are.” The statement: “Robed is the Lord and girt about with strength,” proceeds from the meanness of the flesh, nevertheless, Your kingdom has always been. Your throne stands firm, always established, never beginning. “From then.” From when? From what time? It cannot be specified because it has no beginning. Whenever you say, “from then,” time never runs out, but is undetermined; when you say, “then,” it is proper that you be asked, when? So you see that the prophetic utterance was set down without limitation, and you perceive that it contains a syllogism. From then, from everlasting, You are. Excellently said, “You are”; it did not say, from everlasting “You began,” but from everlasting “You are.” You are who always are, who said to Moses: “This is what you shall tell the Israelites: I AM sent me to you.” (St. Jerome, Homily 70 on Psalm 92, Fathers of the Church)

Plunging into Time

On the other hand, there is perhaps a sense in which from of old has a specific referent in time, specifically to the Incarnation. After all, in the previous passage it was seen that the Lord being clothed in beauty had reference to His Incarnation in the flesh, whereas His being clothed with strength referred to His divinity, both joining in union within Christ as the God-man in whom the divinity of the Word is united hypostatically to His human nature in Jesus Christ. This uniting of natures in Jesus, of the timeless God with the time-bound flesh He assumed, has a specific tunc, a definite then:

“Prepared” signifies predestination, because whatever happens in the administration of the world consists entirely within that Truth. “From of old” signifies the Incarnation of Christ, which occurred from the Virgin Mary, when He instructed His apostles and other faithful ones in the fullness of His majesty. “From eternity” signifies the Deity, by which, reigning co-eternally with the Father, He knows not how to be subject to time. Indeed, through these words, one person is signified, but two natures of the Lord Christ. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 92, 3)

Within Himself our Lord Jesus Christ held eternity as He was the Eternal Word of the Father, yet placed Himself within time, subject to its passage from times to come to now to times past. His human mind—like ours—had the experience of moving from expectation to experience to reminiscence, while His divine mind remained unchanging in considering all things and all times as the eternal now in which God is always present. This interplay between eternity and time within the union of the divine and human in Jesus Christ is embedded in the very language of the Scriptures:

To sit at the right hand of the Father is a mystery belonging to the Incarnation. For it does not befit that incorporeal nature without the assumption of flesh; neither is the excellency of a heavenly seat sought for the divine nature, but for the human. Whence it is said of Him, Your seat, O God, is prepared from thence forward; You are from everlasting. (Rufinus of Aquileia, Commentary on the Apostle’s Creed, 32)

How To Make a Throne

The language of to sit or to prepare signifies in its literal sense an act moving from one state to another, and Rufinus sees in these acts an indication of the reality of the Incarnation as unfolding within history. The Divine Word in His eternal Divinity does not begin to sit at the right hand of the Father nor is His throne prepared, for as co-equal and co-eternal with the Father these things have always been true. But in the assumption of the human nature the divine Word enters into time, and in His human nature undergoes change within time as all created, time-bound beings do. The Incarnation does not exist in some mythical mode of eternal un-history but unfolded at a specific tunc, a specific then. The ascension of our Lord into heaven likewise was a specific then, and thus at this time He sat down at the right hand of the Father in respect to His Incarnation, for in His divinity He has always been. In some sense, then, the actions of our Lord in His economic mission in the Incarnation set forth the eternal reality of the communion and relation between the Father and the Son, the eternal Trinitarian mystery unfolded within time:

Your throne, O Lord, he says, was not first prepared for You just now, when You ascended into heaven after the Incarnation; rather, it was yours long ago and before all ages, and has always been prepared for You, since You Yourself exist from eternity—indeed, before all ages—as You Yourself taught with these words: The Lord created me as the beginning of His ways for His works; He established me before the age, and before the mountains were settled, and before all the hills He brought me forth. Therefore, Your throne existed even before all ages; moreover, even when You emptied Yourself and took the form of a servant, it was kept ready for You again, because to You alone and to no one else had it been said by the Father: Sit at My right hand, until I make Your enemies Your footstool. Thus, the throne was prepared for You, upon which the Father, who begot You, commanded You to sit with Him. And it was prepared “from of old, from eternity,” because You Yourself are from eternity. (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 2)

This profound connection to the Incarnation and God’s eternity is not simply an obscure theological mystery to be unraveled, but injects itself into the very nature and constitution of the Church as the mystical Body of Christ. The entire purpose of Christ’s assumption of our flesh was to reconcile us to the Father; as the patristic maxim goes, God became man that man might become God. We do not take upon ourselves the divine nature or get absorbed into God, but we do, as St. Peter says, partake of the divine nature, a participation by grace into His very Trinitarian life, the perichoresis of charity that permeates the relations within the Godhead and brings about the divinization or theosis of man. As Christ took upon Himself our nature, He brought it into God, so to speak, elevating us into union with the Godhead in a manner in which the Church and the saints therein become members of our Lord’s own Body, a mystical union in which the Trinity indwells our souls, in which we ourselves become the temple of the Holy Ghost and the throne of God prepared from of old:

What is, from thence? From that time. As if he said, What is the throne of God? Where doth God sit? In His Saints. Dost thou wish to be the throne of God? Prepare a place in thy heart where He may sit. What is the throne of God, except where God dwelleth? Where doth God dwell, except in His temple? What is His temple? Is it surrounded with walls? Far from it. Perhaps this world is His temple, because it is very great, and a thing worthy to contain God. It contains not Him by Whom it was made. And wherein is He contained? In the quiet soul, in the righteous soul: that is it that containeth Him. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 6)

In the Brightness of the Saints

A common gloss or interpretation of Wisdom 7:27 in writers like St. Augustine and St. Gregory the Great is that “the soul of the righteous is the seat of Wisdom,” for Wisdom—which is “the brightness of eternal light”—“conveyeth herself into holy souls, she maketh the friends of God and prophets.” This friendship with God is not merely the sort of fellowship we have with other men, but is a transformation and transfiguration into the likeness of Christ, Who is Himself the “brightness of [the glory of God], and the figure of His substance.” Our Lord’s humility in taking upon Himself our nature in the Incarnation is the prepared throne upon which He will sit, for in bringing many sons to glory He humbled Himself, that in the humble He might make His home, might prepare His throne in them:

Behold, thou art humble and tranquil, and God dwelleth in thee. God is exalted, He dwelleth not in thee, if thou shalt choose to be exalted thyself. Surely thou dost wish to be exalted, that He may dwell in thee; be humble, and tremble at His words; and therein He dwelleth. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 6)

The opening of this Psalm confirms this, for the sixth day in the title corresponds to the sixth age of mankind in which our Lord took flesh, this being foreseen by God and prepared from all eternity:

Thy throne is established from thence, O Lord. From thence, that is, from then. This expression signifieth some particular time. From then. From when? Perhaps from the day before the Sabbath: From thence, because the title of the Psalm certifies us from whence; for on the sixth day, that is, in the sixth period of this world, the Lord came in the flesh. Plainly then, it must mean from the time when He came according to His humility, from the time He came from the womb. For what saith another Psalm? In the shining of Saints from the womb; that is, that the saints may be enlightened, that they may see God in the flesh; and that the heart may be cleansed, that He may be seen in the Divine Nature. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 6)

From Beginning to End and Back Again

In the mystery of the Incarnation the wisdom of God from all eternity unfolds and is revealed; the endless ages of forever are brought into time in our Lord’s assumption of a human nature. He in whom there is no change made Himself subject to the future to come, to the present that slips away and to the past that can only be grasped at in the memory. The One to Whom all time and eternity is open and one feels within His own flesh the movement of change. In His eternal existence He had no need, being all sufficient within Himself, yet in His merciful condescension He shared in the lot of creation, bringing it into Himself in the deepest possible sense, drawing creation to its Creator, diffusing the endless abyss of His eternal charity through all that He has made:

Though your reign commenced with the creation of the world, or with the resurrection, your existence did not date from it; for, “thou art from everlasting;” which means that he not only existed, but that he had within him the fullness of existence, which contains everything; for, before the creation, God was not a pauper, nor did he need anything, nor did he become richer or more wealthy by the creation of the world, for God did not create the world to enrich himself, but to share his riches with us. Thus, it was not from coercion that he created the world, but from mercy and love, which same mercy and love led him to make atonement for the world. “For God so loved the world as to give his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him may not perish, but may have life everlasting.” (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 92, 2)

I found this fantastic polaris timelapse image and used LoopFlow on it in After Effects with a circular mask to create the forward motion on it, which I wasn’t expecting to work, but happily it did. I added in some glow and color correction and was thinking of adding additional particles, but it turned out to have enough movement on its own.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

WYSIWYG

Many say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and they are obviously completely wrong about this, if by this they mean that beauty is determined by the subjective experience and desire of the one beholding, rather than something objective which presents itself to the beholder.

But taken in a deeper sense, there is perhaps some truth to this. For if things are received according to the mode of the receiver, then the difference in the perception of beauty is not in the thing itself—which may or may not be beautiful—but rather in the ability or capacity of the receiver or beholder to perceive it. On the natural level a person with eyes yet possessing weak or impaired sight sees the same objects in the same light, but has a limited or diminished capacity to perceive them. Likewise a person with a cultivated palate can discern and appreciate the nuances in the flavors of truly well-prepared food, which will be completely lost on someone who is only accustomed to fast food slop. Those subtleties do not cease to be there simply because the taster has a diminished palate for discerning flavors.

This explains much of pop culture, modern art and the perception of beauty, or what is taken as such. The constant onslaught of dreck that constitutes modern “art”—whether in music, movies, architecture, fine arts, etc.—is the aesthetic equivalent of only eating Big Macs and then being constitutionally unable to palate truly beautiful things. The capacity to receive them is diminished and twisted, so that not only can truly beautiful things not be perceived, but there is a turn to perceive the slop to be good, and any number of rationalizations are employed to buttress this diminished state. If you have ever visited a museum of modern “art,” you’ve no doubt read the placards on the side which attempt to explain (that is: BS) the purported depth of the work, even if it’s only several shades of brown paint on a square canvas; sadly, this is not even slightly a joke.

The twisted-ness of this comes in that the entire purpose of such “art” is to subvert the notion of the true, the good and the beautiful. This twisted “good” is the reason so much of the modern world is so atrociously ugly. It would be more comforting if it were merely a lack of technique, but it certainly is not; it is a purposeful flattening of beauty to be simply the expression of the will, the exertion of desire over against something that must be received and expressed as a means of capturing a facet of what is transcendent.

And since beauty is truly transcendent, its expression in the arts is necessarily an elevation of the soul, which must submit itself in humility to receiving beauty on its own terms, rather than those dictated by the will. This is expressed in innumerable styles and instantiations and can succeed or fail to one degree or another, but it begins by seeking that which is above one’s own will, and seeking to express that reality in some manner. The capacity to receive this then moderates how one perceives beauty, either with eyes opened to the light or with diminished sight that cannot see beyond itself. Beauty finds itself in the eye of the beholder because the beholder is able to perceive it, whereas for the one who cannot behold or chooses not to, beauty is unattainable or twisted to be ugliness. And since the transcendentals like beauty and goodness are convertible, there is an unavoidable moral dimension always intertwined:

The light of thy body is thy eye. If thy eye be single, thy whole body shall be lightsome. But if thy eye be evil thy whole body shall be darksome. If then the light that is in thee, be darkness: the darkness itself how great shall it be! (Matthew 6:22-23 DR)

Taking It All In

As the Psalmist opens this Psalm, he becomes, as it were, a beholder of creation in its cosmic scope. Set before his mind is the vast sweep of God’s handiwork in fashioning the universe, and the earth specifically, which in the narrative of Genesis culminates on the sixth day in which God creates the animals and finally mankind in His own image.

The Psalmist alludes to this in the inscription, which in the Vulgate is die ante sabbatum, on the day before the Sabbath. In Genesis the Sabbath is the seventh day on which God rested from all his works, and thus this day before or the sixth day is the finale of creation, consummated in the creation of humankind. Of course, the natural question is why the term founded—fundata—is used, which would seem to be more naturally used in reference to the third day when the earth was created or founded. The Septuagint employs the term κατωκισται, which is generally rendered as inhabited or settled, which would seemingly apply more naturally to the sixth day in which the earth becomes inhabited. Indeed, some versions of the Old Latin use inhabitata rather than fundata.

That being said, there is perhaps good reason for the earth’s founding being seen as when it is inhabited, for man is taken from this same earth and has the breath of God breathed into him, that he might become a living being. The earth—though created on the third day—is now perfected through Adam on the sixth day as Adam is lifted from the earth and joined to God to share in His likeness and image:

But here we ought to understand man, who is fittingly perceived through the “earth,” just as it is written: “Earth thou art, and unto earth shalt thou go,” whom we read the Creator established among the beginnings of things on the sixth day. And just as He made him on the sixth day, so by coming in the same age He restored him. For the first age is read to be comprised from Adam to Noah by the authority of the Fathers. The second from Noah to Abraham. The third from Abraham to David. The fourth from David to the Babylonian Captivity. The fifth from the Babylonian Captivity to the preaching of John. The sixth age, however, is passed from the preaching of John until the end of the world, in which it is manifest that the Lord Savior came, when, having been moved to pity, He bestowed the foundations of His faith upon man who was tossing about in various misfortunes. For then the earth was founded, when the belief of the human race was made firm in Him. And therefore the praise of His holy incarnation is sung in the context of this psalm. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 92, 1)

There is thus in the primordial account of creation mystically signified both the Incarnation of the Word and the foundation of faith in Him, for just as man was created in the sixth day to inhabit the earth—in which the earth was perfected and founded—so in the sixth age the Word is made flesh, takes upon Himself the same earth from which man was made, and perfects and founds the new earth, perfecting mankind within Himself, through His own flesh. What is begun on the sixth day is fulfilled in the sixth age, that just as God rested from His work on the seventh day, so man, after being re-founded in the sixth age in Christ, can enter into that same rest:

There remaineth therefore a day of rest for the people of God. For he that is entered into his rest, the same also hath rested from his works, as God did from his. Let us hasten therefore to enter into that rest; lest any man fall into the same example of unbelief. (Hebrews 4:9-11 DR)

On the moral level, the work of God in creation pre-figures our own good works, in which we imitate God in His action in creation that we may enter into the Sabbath rest:

For these days were not without reason ordained in such order, but for that ages also were to run in a like course, before we rest in God. But then we rest if we do good works. As a type of this, it is written of God, God rested on the seventh day, when He had made all His works very good (Gen. 1; 2:1-3)… We also, then, whom God willed then to figure in Himself, shall have rest after all good works. And indeed, our good works, brethren, which we do here in the world before our rest, are in a manner toilsome; and that rest is in hope, it is not attained in its reality: and unless it was in hope, we should fail in our labor; but our toilsome and good works pass over… And because these good works are doomed to pass away, that sixth day also, when those very good works are perfected, hath an evening; but in the Sabbath we find no evening, because our rest shall have no end: for evening is put for end. As therefore God made man in His own image on the sixth day: thus we find that our Lord Jesus Christ came into the sixth age, that man might be formed anew after the image of God… When, therefore, was the earth founded? when, unless when that which hath been but now read in the Apostle taketh place: If, he saith, ye are stedfast, immoveable (I Cor 15:58). When all who believe throughout all the earth are stedfast in faith, the earth is founded: then man is made in the image of God. That sixth day in Genesis signifieth this. But how did God make it? How was the earth founded? Christ came, that He might found the earth; For other foundation can no man lay than is laid, which is Jesus Christ (I Cor 3:11). (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 92, 1)

The Eye or the Beholder?

The Psalm proper begins with a declaration of the Lord having reigned, which is placed within the context of creation’s beginning in the far reaches of time. For if the Lord is the One Who created on all the days of creation, He is by definition the Lord Who hath reigned, since creation cannot be greater than its Creator. His rule extends from the mists of eternity unto the farthest horizons of everlasting worlds without end, and yet within time He is seen to be clothed with beauty and with strength. Cassiodorus labels this figure of speech epembasis, in which something is repeated—in this case the phrase is clothed—so as to add to the beauty of the diction. Be that as it may, it also follows on the inscription of the Psalm for the day before the Sabbath, signifying that this clothing is not something that God does absolutely—as if God is ever without beauty or strength—but rather portends a change in man, in the one who perceives God and His work in the world:

The psalm foretells a change in men. For God is immutable and invariable, always remaining in one and the same state. Indeed, He does not reign only at certain times while at other times lacking a kingdom, but by nature He is always King, even if this was not always manifest to men. For while most remained ignorant of Him for a very long time, they offered the worship that was due to God to idols; however, after the incarnation of our God and Savior, the knowledge of the divine pervaded the whole world like a light. (Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 1)

This Incarnational reality pervades the sixth age of men, and the splendor of the Incarnation is the beauty of man as the crown of creation being united in the hypostatic union with the Divine Word, the elevation of earth to its new founding or habitation in Christ. It is fitting that St. John describes the Word as having dwelt among us, making His habitation here on earth through His assuming of a human nature in Jesus Christ. On the sixth day man had the breath of God breathed into him so as to become a living being, but now in the sixth age he will receive the Holy Breath of God, the Holy Ghost pouring the charity of God into his soul, making him into a new creation, united to the very life of God in Christ as part of His mystical body. Our Lord takes the earth unto Himself, fashioning Himself in its likeness, and that earth is transfigured and refashioned into His likeness:

Rightly, therefore, the Word of God, which existed before, since it was life itself, assuming a mortal instrument—namely a human body—for the destruction of death, and delivering that very body to death for the demonstration of His own nature; and later receiving the same back from death to declare His divine power, while He looses the power of death, He likewise destroys the tyranny of the devil over men. Indeed, He even extinguishes the working power of malignant demons and impure spirits, who once held command over the human race; and having taken away every power adverse and hostile to God through the preaching of the Gospel, He procures a paternal kingdom for God over all nations. Therefore, the power of death having been loosed, and he who had the power of death—that is, the devil—having been destroyed; with the Lord now reigning in all nations, and that life which is according to God likewise reigning with Him in men; the Holy Spirit, rightly leading the dance for such a great deed and calling us all to the dance, cries out these words: The Lord hath reigned, he is clothed with beauty. (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 1)

Such beauty draws hearts and souls to God, but becomes a stumbling block for those who refuse to believe. Instead of perceiving the beauty with which our Lord clothed Himself in the Incarnation, they will instead only see the fearful judgment that awaits their refusal to acknowledge Him as Lord:

If we take these two things spiritually, they agree entirely: He clothed Himself with beauty for those to whom the Son of God appeared in the truth of faith; but He clothed Himself with strength against those who were unwilling to believe in Him, by foretelling the due punishments that the impious would suffer by threatening judgment. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 92, 1)

Thus, the mode of receiving on the part of man either places that beauty in the eye of the beholder, or blinds him to its grandeur, like the weak-eyed man for whom even the light of the sun cannot illumine the world right in front of him on the clearest of days. Sin creates an analogous darkening of the intellect, obscuring the vision of God and casting shadows over the truth that lies open to be perceived:

Furthermore, the Lord, who is life itself and the very Word of God, reigns in every soul in which madness and folly do not dwell, in which sin does not reign, over which the devil does not command, and over which death does not rule, piercing and killing it with its own stings. Moreover, the Apostle teaches that the sting of death is sin: by which sting the soul is killed, according to the prophecy which says: “The soul that sinneth, the same shall die.” Therefore, we must strive so that neither madness, nor sin, nor the devil, nor death through sin itself may rule in us; but only the Word and life, that is, the Lord, who reigns through every kind of virtue in those who are held worthy of His command. (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 1)

Gird Your Loins

The final phrase of this clause contains somewhat of a curiosity, for the Lord Who has clothed Himself with beauty and strength completes the ensemble with a girding of Himself. St. Jerome explains that there is some sort of mystery here, for to be girded is to have the tunic cinched or held in place, whereas to be ungirded leaves it free to flow about. The Fathers and other early Christian writers see this as both a literal reference to Christ girding Himself when He washed His disciples’ feet, but also mystically as a sort of reining in of His splendor and majesty in the Incarnation:

Because, therefore, we could not bear the full strength of the Lord, He girt His majesty with flesh. (St. Jerome, Homily 70 on Psalm 92, Fathers of the Church)

In the account of the Transfiguration the humility of our Lord in the flesh is pulled back a little, so to speak, and the apostles are given a small glimpse of His glory, which they cannot abide. Yet it was in His humility that His strength and beauty are truly seen, for in taking upon Himself our flesh and in laying down His life in accordance with the Father’s will, His humility becomes the occasion of His exaltation, receiving the name above all names:

But when, having received back that glory which He had first with the Father, He transformed the form of a servant into something better, according to the testimony of the Apostle which says: “Who shall transform the body of our humility, made conformable to the body of the glory of Christ,” then He put on beauty: when, the error of many divinities having been utterly removed, He made firm both the kingdom of the Father and the affairs not only of heavenly things, but of all nations throughout the world. Therefore it is said, The Lord hath reigned, he is clothed with beauty; for that phrase, “he is clothed,” is brought forward as if He had at some time laid beauty aside. Inasmuch as when He sustained the torments of the passion, “he was crucified,” says the Apostle, “out of weakness”; but when death was conquered and He received the kingdom over all, this was fulfilled again: The Lord is clothed with strength and hath girded himself. For “Christ was the power of God and the wisdom of God.” (Eusebius of Caesarea, Commentary on the Psalms, 92, 1)

On the Rock

The concluding clause of this passage thus contains both cosmic and Incarnational significance. On the cosmic level the Lord established the world which shall not be moved, which perceives creation’s dependence on God’s sustaining power to remain in existence. The un-movability of the earth as envisioned by the Psalmist is established in His will, in His strength, rather than in its own immensity or firmness.

But since the Psalmist both looks back into the cosmic past and forward to the Incarnation of our Lord, the two are completely intertwined. It might be said that the earth being established is because it is established in Christ in the Incarnation. If we remember the connection between the sixth day and the sixth age, this comes to light, for the earth, which is founded upon man’s creation, is now established as that earth is taken up into Christ in His flesh. He super-naturalizes this earth, as it were, for in bringing man into union with God within Himself, He anticipates the new creation which will be wrought on the Last Day, the new heavens and the new earth. And just as creation shares in the suffering because of man’s fall, so shall it rejoice in his redemption:

For I reckon that the sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us. For the expectation of the creature waiteth for the revelation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him that made it subject, in hope: Because the creature also itself shall be delivered from the servitude of corruption, into the liberty of the glory of the children of God. For we know that every creature groaneth and travaileth in pain, even till now. And not only it, but ourselves also, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption of the sons of God, the redemption of our body. (Romans 8:18-23 DR)

Christ in His own body of flesh and blood redeems not only mankind but all of creation, overthrowing the bondage to decay wrought by sin. The full consummation of this awaits the Last Day, but is already present within His mystical Body, the Holy Catholic Church. Those who unite themselves to Christ through the sacrament of baptism receive the illumination of faith, the sight with which to perceive what the natural and darkened intellect of its own cannot.

In the midst of the trials and tribulations of this world such suffering can be perceived with joy rather than with despondency, for they issue forth from the Father of Lights, the Giver of all good gifts, Whose will is for our redemption and sanctification. What to the world seems meaningless evil or indifferent chance or crushing defeat is seen with new eyes as the means of being refashioned in and conformed to the image of Christ, of being given new eyes to see the truth, illumined by faith and girded with hope. The founding and establishment of this earth is on a firm foundation, Christ Himself and His Church, which will be immovable unto the end of days:

He has made the world firm, not to be moved. If we take this to mean that this world has been made so firm by the Lord that it is never disturbed by any commotion, what does it mean elsewhere in Scripture where it says: ‘Heaven and earth will pass away’? If heaven and earth will pass away, what is the meaning here of: ‘He has made the world firm, not to be moved’? ‘Oikoumene’ in this passage, translated as ‘the inhabitated earth,’ seems to me to be the Church, of which it says in the Gospel: ‘I and my Father will come and make our abode with him.’ Rightly is that called a habitation which has the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as inhabitant. What we have come to know, therefore, about ‘the inhabited earth,’ that is, about the world having been made firm for all eternity, let us also apply to our soul, for if we have the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as indweller, our earth shall be immovable for all eternity. (St. Jerome, Homily 70 on Psalm 92, Fathers of the Church)

I found a beautiful image of some wildflowers in a field and added some particles to it in After Effects using Trapcode Particular, and then after placing the text applied some slight camera movement. I added some color correction and distortion effects to try and simulate some vintage camera depth of field and edge softness. Simple, but I liked how it turned out.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

The inscription of a title to David himself. Preserve me, O Lord, for I have put my trust in thee. (Psalm 15:1 DR)

I have said to the Lord, thou art my God, for thou hast no need of my goods. (Psalm 15:2 DR)

To the saints, who are in his land, he hath made wonderful all my desires in them. (Psalm 15:3 DR)

Their infirmities were multiplied: afterwards they made haste. I will not gather together their meetings for blood offerings: nor will I be mindful of their names by my lips. (Psalm 15:4 DR)

The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and of my cup: it is thou that wilt restore my inheritance to me. (Psalm 15:5 DR)

The lines are fallen unto me in goodly places: for my inheritance is goodly to me. (Psalm 15:6 DR)

I will bless the Lord, who hath given me understanding: moreover my reins also have corrected me even till night. (Psalm 15:7 DR)

I set the Lord always in my sight: for he is at my right hand, that I be not moved. (Psalm 15:8 DR)

Therefore my heart hath been glad, and my tongue hath rejoiced: moreover, my flesh also shall rest in hope. (Psalm 15:9 DR)

Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; nor wilt then give thy holy one to see corruption. (Psalm 15:10 DR)

Thou hast made known to me the ways of life, thou shalt fill me with joy with thy countenance: at thy right hand are delights even to the end. (Psalm 15:11 DR)

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

Thou hast made known to me the ways of life, thou shalt fill me with joy with thy countenance: at thy right hand are delights even to the end. (Psalm 15:11 DR)

Everyone Hates Running

The end of a matter is better than its beginning, says the writer of Ecclesiastes, which goes far deeper than simply something’s conclusion. To be sure, there are many things we begin that we expectantly anticipate concluding, while others we start with joy and slog through to get over the finish line. But here the end is not merely the wrapping up of a matter, but the very telos, the goal or purpose or reason for the thing in question.

Some people—not me—enjoy running, and run for the sheer joy of it or the purported salutary effects on their health. Others run in races, and while many enter into such events simply for the challenge of the race (such as a marathon), the entire end of a race is to get over the finish line, to finish the race. St. Paul ably employs this metaphor:

Know you not that they that run in the race, all run indeed, but one receiveth the prize? So run that you may obtain. And every one that striveth for the mastery, refraineth himself from all things: and they indeed that they may receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible one. (I Corinthians 9:24-25 DR)

In all our endeavors as humans we have some end in mind as the reason for what we do. We do not always have this end consciously in mind, and the end may be a very base or banal one indeed, but it still forms the motivation for us to strive after something. Even if it is only for something as fleeting as pleasure, we make efforts towards obtaining this end. St. Paul observed that athletes train and discipline and deprive themselves so as to be able to race for a laurel crown that will wilt in time. How much more should the Christian subject his body and master himself so as to obtain an eternal crown? We have admiration for people who reach peak physical performance, even if we would never make the efforts to do as they do. Yet their trainings are for a body that in a few years will naturally fall from its heights through the unrelenting wearing of time, which has a natural sadness to it. Yet far more distressing is how few will make even the slightest efforts towards virtue so as to strengthen their souls for the fight against temptation, that they may grow in charity and eventually behold the Beatific Vision.

Coming to the End

It is this end that the Psalmist now beholds in this final passage of Psalm 15, the culmination and consummation of his hope in the providence of God. As seen through the eyes of Christ as the end, the Psalm takes on eternal significance as His resurrection from the dead has been unambiguously proclaimed, set forth as the hope for His mystical Body the Holy Catholic Church. These ways of life are in Christ Himself, both in His offering of Himself as a pleasing oblation unto the Father, but also in the example of His own humility and surrender to God’s will. These become the ways of life as He speaks through His Church in the prophetic voice of the Psalmist:

You have made known through Me the paths of humiliation, that men might return to life, from whence they fell through pride; in whom because I am, You have made known to Me. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 15, 11)

The sufferings and death of our Lord upon the cross were thus not random or arbitrary means of God redeeming mankind, but in some sense become the medicine for his sickness of heart, humility being the antidote to the deadly poison of pride. Had Jesus Christ come as a glorious conquerer, subduing the nations under the sword and imposing the reign of God upon the world as men might expect Him to, they would be tempted to pride in following after such a glorious king. Instead, as St. Paul will write, the attitude of those who follow after Christ must be of humility, for He Himself veiled His divinity within the flesh He assumed, and was Himself obedient even unto death on the cross. This humility became the cause of His exaltation; not that He was not already exalted as God, but in His humility and submission to the Father He set forth the economy of salvation. As St. James says: Be humbled in the sight of the Lord, and he will exalt you. Sirach expands upon this, in that our humility should be proportionate to our esteem in this world:

My son, do thy works in meekness, and thou shalt be beloved above the glory of men. The greater thou art, the more humble thyself in all things, and thou shalt find grace before God: For great is the power of God alone, and he is honoured by the humble. (Sirach 3:19-21 DR)

Known and To Be Known

There is an interesting textual variant here in respect to the mode of knowing. The Vulgate has notas mihi fecisti vias vitae; Thou hast made known to me the ways of life, situating this knowing in the perfect tense, something that has already occurred. This translates ἐγνώρισάς (egnōrisas) from the Septuagint, itself also in the aorist tense, indicating a past event. Some Hebrew and Greek manuscripts, however, place it in the future: Ostendes mihi semitam vitae; Thou wilt show me the path of life.

In both cases the path or the ways of life is something revealed that had been hitherto unknown. And as it comes immediately following the previous passage in which the Psalmist expresses his confidence that his soul will not be left in hell nor his body see corruption, this way of life is the way of resurrection, which the Psalmist prophetically has revealed to him in the midst of his sufferings and humiliations. And as he speaks in anticipation of Christ’s Passion and death, so also he proclaims the resurrection of the Lord:

“Thou hast made known to me the ways of life;” you have “taught me the way” of returning to life from death. A most beautiful metaphor, by which the mode of resurrection is called a way unknown up to that time, because nobody to that time, with the exception of Christ, had truly risen. (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 15, 11)

In the variant reading this way or path is something that will be known or will be revealed, by which the unity of Christ with His mystical body the Church is manifested. For Christ—Himself being God from all eternity—had known the ways of life from the beginning, and in His Incarnation realized them within His own body, raising Himself from the dead. His Holy Catholic Church and her members—as His body—live in this very hope, for in being united to Him in this manner she also has the promise to come which He has already accomplished in Himself. The entire gamut of His life and sufferings and death and resurrection becomes the ways of life that lead to this resurrection and exaltation, for those who imitate Him in humility will likewise be raised with Him in glory:

Since he had said approaching his Passion, “My soul is sorrowful to the point of death,” it was right for him to use these words to recall the Resurrection, teaching that in place of that discouragement he will be in unceasing joy, having become immune to suffering, to change, to death, even in his human nature. As God, you see, this was always the case, and of course even in his human nature once formed in the womb it was easy to provide him with this. But he allowed the nature he had assumed to travel through the sufferings so as by these means to loose the sway of sin, put a stop to the tyranny of the devil, undo the power of death, and provide all people with the basis of a new life. (Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Psalms, 15, 8, Fathers of the Church)

Entering the Pleroma

The Psalmist fills out this resurrection as not merely a re-instantiation of earthly life or a resuscitation of an earthly body, but rather the plenitude of fullness in the Beatific Vision. The second clause speaks of being filled with joy with Thy countenance, this joy being the vision of God face to face, the wellspring of all goodness and blessing and happiness. The Psalmist leaves no room, as it were, for anything else; it is the countenance of God which fills him with joy, which provides both a prophetic glimpse into the eternal union of the Father and the Son, but also the end of man in participating in the divine nature:

You will fill Me with joy with Your countenance. You will fill them with joy, that they should seek nothing further, when they shall see You face to face; in whom because I am, You will fill Me. (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 15, 11)

The shadowy forms of this world and its loves and pleasures often promise a joy that will fill. And in some sense they do, not because they are capable of filling, but rather because we make our souls too small, we make the longings of our hearts too easily pleased. We can allow the fading and passing mists of this life to become the way of life, one which is scattered just as easily by the winds, but which we will devote so much effort to discover and walk upon.

For the Psalmist, however, nothing but God Himself is enough to fill him. His heart was made to be filled by the brightness of the divine light poured forth into his soul forever. Our souls are not infinite but will be filled with the infinite God, an eternally overflowing wellspring of divine charity that will never run dry. The Divine Son of God has for all eternity received of this Divine Charity, being Himself of One substance with the Father, and by means of the Incarnation He literally incorporates the members of His mystical Body into that union:

In other words, He is saying that the body He had received—and in His body, the entire human race—rejoiced that the divinity of the Son was made known to it. That is why He rejoices, He says, and has the fullness of joy with the Father (meaning, of course, ‘in Your presence,’ in the same sense as the text: ‘You gladdened him with the joy of your presence’), and His delight is full and perfect and His happiness ineffable because He sits at the right hand of the Father and fulfills the Scripture: ‘The Lord said to my Lord: “Sit at my right hand till I make your enemies your footstool.” The Son sits at the right hand of the Father who reigns in majesty; and because He beheld His first martyr, Stephen, contending against the Jews, He rose from His throne and stood at the right hand of the Father as if He were Himself engaging in the combat for His martyr. (St. Jerome, Homily 61 on Psalm 15, Fathers of the Church)

Leave No Room

The final clause serves as a summation of this Psalm and a recapitulation of a previous passage. For whereas earlier he set the Lord always in my sight, for He is at my right hand, that I be not moved, now, after having the ways of life made known to him, he finds himself at the the right hand of the Lord, which obtains delights even to the end. The discipline of keeping the Lord at his right hand in the midst of persecution and suffering is thus mirrored by the delights at the right hand of the Lord. One might say that all these trials and tribulations are the requisite condition for the end to come at the Lord’s right hand.

The fact is that in this world, in which He suffered scourgings in the flesh which He assumed, was struck with slaps, and was spattered with spittle yet defeated by none of its hardships, it was fitting to say that the Lord was always seen at His right hand. He overcame the opposition of the world because He moved not an inch from contemplation of the Father. There He has now laid aside the hardships of this world; and His humanity is filled with the glorification of His whole majesty and rules united to the Word with the Father and the holy Spirit for ever. Even to the end signifies perfection and eternity, for His glory abides in its perfection, and will be limited by no season. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 15, 11, ACW)

There are two final numerological considerations to close out this Psalm.

The first is the number seven, which St. Jerome notes is used by Theodotion in his translation of the word fullness, as the Hebrew term saba can, according to St. Jerome, mean fullness, satiety, oath and seven. St. Jerome conjectures that Theodotion chose to render this word as seven because it corresponds to the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost, and thus completely fills or sevens the soul which abides in the presence of God.

The second is the number of this Psalm—fifteen—in which Cassiodorus reads a numerical significance realized within the vision of the Blessed Trinity:

It is appropriate also to examine the significance of the number fifteen; in our opinion it denotes the fifteen steps by which one mounted the wonderful dimensions of the temple at Jerusalem, thus demonstrating that when we overcome the five bodily senses through the grace of the Trinity, we attain by this blessed gift the basilica of holy Church. This gift will be granted also by this psalm, if with the Lord’s protection we hug close His most salutary preaching. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 15, 11, ACW)

As this Psalm concludes, the joy to be found at God’s right hand comes through the way of the cross, the way that our Lord walked and in which He calls us to walk, that we might come to our final end at His right hand and share in the delights of the Lord forever:

Let us meditate on the immensity of the gift of salvation which this psalm offers for our instruction. It gives us confidence in sufferings and promises eternal glory in hope, so that through this teaching of our future happiness we do not fear the hardships of the present. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 15, 11, ACW)

I found this great image and used an abstract image as the base for the streaks, using Stretch to create the flowing animation. I added in some glow and glitch effects, and used Shadow Studio 3 on the text.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here:

Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell; nor wilt then give thy holy one to see corruption. (Psalm 15:10 DR)

Waking Up

In the Gospel of Luke chapter 24 is recounted one of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances to His disciples. According to St. Luke, the Eleven are gathered together and Jesus appears in their midst after some disciples explain their previous encounter with Jesus with unambiguously Eucharistic imagery. After proving to them that He is flesh and blood and not simply a spirit, He says:

These are the words which I spoke to you, while I was yet with you, that all things must needs be fulfilled, which are written in the law of Moses, and in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning me. Then he opened their understanding, that they might understand the scriptures. And he said to them: Thus it is written, and thus it behoved Christ to suffer, and to rise again from the dead, the third day: And that penance and remission of sins should be preached in his name, unto all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. (Luke 24:44-47 DR)

With the two disciples on the road to Emmaus He had done the same, explaining from the Scriptures all the things that had been written and prophesied concerning Him. Which leads the modern reader to perhaps wonder: what exactly were all these passages from the law of Moses and the prophets and the Psalms which He expounded to them and opened their understanding to? One might wish for a list or a commentary, and while perhaps not systematic, the writers of the New Testament constantly point back and link the Lord Jesus Christ to the law and the prophets and the Psalms, just as He Himself did in the Gospels. And at least from His recorded words, the most cited portion of the Old Testament from His lips was the book of Psalms.

It is thus fitting that St. Peter follows in his Master’s footsteps while giving his first sermon on the day of Pentecost, proving from the Psalms that Jesus had to rise from the dead:

Whom God hath raised up, having loosed the sorrows of hell, as it was impossible that he should be holden by it. For David saith concerning him: I foresaw the Lord before my face: because he is at my right hand, that I may not be moved. For this my heart hath been glad, and my tongue hath rejoiced: moreover my flesh also shall rest in hope. Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell, nor suffer thy Holy One to see corruption. Thou hast made known to me the ways of life: thou shalt make me full of joy with thy countenance. Ye men, brethren, let me freely speak to you of the patriarch David; that he died, and was buried; and his sepulchre is with us to this present day. Whereas therefore he was a prophet, and knew that God hath sworn to him with an oath, that of the fruit of his loins one should sit upon his throne. Foreseeing this, he spoke of the resurrection of Christ. For neither was he left in hell, neither did his flesh see corruption. (Acts 2:24-31 DR)

St. Peter makes the point here that David speaks prophetically, both because God had sworn to him that his heir would sit upon the throne in this Messianic fulfillment—which is, incidentally, also prophesied in the Psalms—but also because of the obvious fact that David had died and was buried; everyone knew where his tomb was. Thus, on the literal level the Psalm could not be about David himself but had to be forward looking, prophetic of the fruit of his loins which was to come. The language the Psalmist uses, as St. Peter makes clear, is of death, that the prophesied Messiah will truly die but will not bear the corruption of death:

But the Jews do not expect that the Christ whom they expect will die; therefore they do not think ours to be Him whom the law and the prophets announced, but feign to themselves I know not whom of their own, exempt from the suffering of death. Therefore, with wonderful emptiness and blindness, they contend that the words we have set down signify, not death and resurrection, but sleep and awaking again. But the 15th Psalm also cries to them, Therefore my heart is jocund, and my tongue has exulted; moreover, my flesh also shall rest in hope: for You will not leave my soul in hell; neither will You give Your Holy One to see corruption. Who but He that rose again the third day could say his flesh had rested in this hope; that His soul, not being left in hell, but speedily returning to it, should revive it, that it should not be corrupted as corpses are wont to be, which they can in no wise say of David the prophet and king? (St. Augustine, City of God, Book 17, Chapter 18)

There is perhaps an irony here, for the sense of sleep as a euphemism for death will be taken up by the early Christians, for, after the Resurrection, the power of death is broken forever, and for those united to Christ in this hope, death is more like unto sleep than corruption, for while the body will decay, it will be raised again unto incorruption:

Behold, I tell you a mystery. We shall all indeed rise again: but we shall not all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall rise again incorruptible: and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption; and this mortal must put on immortality. And when this mortal hath put on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: Death is swallowed up in victory. (1 Corinthians 15:51-54 DR)

Prophetic Awakening

In a previous passage the sense of foreseeing the Lord always in his sight or before his face takes on new significance, as David as prophet sees through Christ’s eyes, as it were, sees that his descendent according to the flesh will be greater than him, will be the One Whom death will not conquer. St. Peter will go on to preach that David sees this union of God and Man in the Lord Jesus Christ:

For David ascended not into heaven; but he himself said: The Lord said to my Lord, sit thou on my right hand, until I make thy enemies thy footstool. (Acts 2:34-35 DR)

Jesus, in the weakness of the assumed human nature, is nevertheless divine in His Personhood as the Incarnate Word, which vouchsafes His soul to not be left in hell, nor his body to see corruption:

So at this place, too, Christ the Lord in human fashion says, “Constantly supported by the divine nature, I am in the midst of my saving passion and find gladness in the hope of resurrection. My soul, you see, will not be abandoned in Hades, nor will my flesh suffer natural corruption: I shall achieve a rapid resurrection and return to life, giving all people a glimpse of this path.” (Theodoret of Cyrus, Commentary on the Psalms, 15, 7)

The prophetic witness of the Resurrection as prophesied in this passage also safeguards the integrity of the hypostatic union, for Christ in assuming human nature assumes all that is proper to human nature, not merely the flesh of human nature but also a human soul. He thus truly experiences the severing of the union of body and soul in death, for his body remains in the tomb while His soul descends to Hades:

Because thou wilt not leave my soul in hell: nor wilt thou give thy holy one to see corruption. Where are the misguided Apollinarians who say that the Lord Christ had not a rational soul? See how He himself cries out and gives thanks to the Father because His soul is not in the usual way left abandoned in hell, but is glorified by swift resurrection, and has passed to the kingdom of heaven. This is attested in the gospel in various passages: “My soul is sorrowful even unto death,” and elsewhere: “I have the power of laying down my life and of taking it up again.” You must not think that this is to be accepted complacently, because you find in Psalm 29 what seems to be the opposite view: “What profit is there in my blood, whilst I go down to corruption?” The objection is resolved by this reasoning: in that passage He says that He goes down to corruption when pierced by the impact of the impressed nails and lance, for transfixion of solid flesh is reasonably accounted corruption. But in the present passage He says justly that the corruption of putrefaction which ravages the generality of human flesh does not take place, for when on the third day it happened that His flesh was given fresh life, it was demonstrated that it could not have suffered corruption. (Cassiodorus, Explanation of the Psalms, 15, 10)

The Triumph

As David prophetically foresees God always in his sight through the eyes of Christ, he foresees this defeat of death for both body and soul. In western medieval and modern Easter-related imagery there is often a focus on the body of Jesus, in that we often see Him rising triumphantly from the sepulchre. Yet another powerful image common in iconography is that of Christ in hell, in Hades, rescuing the spirits held captive. One of the most famous is that of the Anastasis, of the Harrowing of Hell, in which the soul of Christ stands upon the broken gates of death and is literally dragging Adam and Eve out of their graves.

David speaks of this event in the negative sense—Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell. The Vulgate has non derelinques animam meam in inferno, the term derelinques translating the Greek ἐγκαταλείψεις (egkataleipseis), both of which mean to forsake, abandon, leave behind. However, Christ’s soul is not abandoned in hell because it is united to the Divine Word, and thus Jesus’ soul enters into the realm of the dead as a conquerer, as the Anastasis imagery depicts.

David sees obscurely a great mystery, the mystery of the Incarnation in which the certainty of the freedom from hell and the resurrection of the body are assured because they are united hypostatically to the Divine Word. Previously he said that he set the Lord always in my sight, for he is at my right hand, that I be not moved. It is this sight of our Lord in which the human nature is always united to the Divine nature which ensures that His soul will not be given to see corruption. Death has no room, so to speak, to claim Him, for the vision of God is ever before Him, ever present in Him precisely because He assumed our nature. Even in the throes of suffering and death that divine vision was before His sight, and thus our Lord freely and willingly gives up His soul unto His Father, speaking yet again the prophetic words of the Psalmist: Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.

Easter in View

The pain and desolation of the cross conceal within it the promise and reality of Easter, for in submitting Himself to death our Lord Jesus Christ defeated it forever. His body did not lie in the tomb subject to the decay and corruption of time, but reposed in hope of the resurrection. In the same manner His soul did not descend to hell into captivity to death but entered it united to the Divine Word to break down its gates, to loose the bonds of those held in captivity, to break the power of death and hell forever:

What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.

Truly he goes to seek out our first parent like a lost sheep; he wishes to visit those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. He goes to free the prisoner Adam and his fellow-prisoner Eve from their pains, he who is God, and Adam’s son.

The Lord goes in to them holding his victorious weapon, his cross. When Adam, the first created man, sees him, he strikes his breast in terror and calls out to all: ‘My Lord be with you all.’ And Christ in reply says to Adam: ‘And with your spirit.’ And grasping his hand he raises him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.

‘I am your God, who for your sake became your son, who for you and your descendants now speak and command with authority those in prison: Come forth, and those in darkness: Have light, and those who sleep: Rise.

‘I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.

‘For you, I your God became your son; for you, I the Master took on your form; that of slave; for you, I who am above the heavens came on earth and under the earth; for you, man, I became as a man without help, free among the dead; for you, who left a garden, I was handed over to Jews from a garden and crucified in a garden.

‘Look at the spittle on my face, which I received because of you, in order to restore you to that first divine inbreathing at creation. See the blows on my cheeks, which I accepted in order to refashion your distorted form to my own image.

‘See the scourging of my back, which I accepted in order to disperse the load of your sins which was laid upon your back. See my hands nailed to the tree for a good purpose, for you, who stretched out your hand to the tree for an evil one.

‘I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side, for you, who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side healed the pain of your side; my sleep will release you from your sleep in Hades; my sword has checked the sword which was turned against you.

‘But arise, let us go hence. The enemy brought you out of the land of paradise; I will reinstate you, no longer in paradise, but on the throne of heaven. I denied you the tree of life, which was a figure, but now I myself am united to you, I who am life. I posted the cherubim to guard you as they would slaves; now I make the cherubim worship you as they would God.

‘The cherubim throne has been prepared, the bearers are ready and waiting, the bridal chamber is in order, the food is provided, the everlasting houses and rooms are in readiness; the treasures of good things have been opened; the kingdom of heaven has been prepared before the ages.’

(Ancient Homily for Holy Saturday)

I used Trapcode Mir along with an image texture map to create the flowing, fiery background. I added in some glitch effects and glow and light rays and color correction to finalize this.

Enjoy.

Subscribe now

Share Psalm GIFs

View a higher quality version of this gif here: