Psalm 38:5
the time that is and is not
I spoke with my tongue: O Lord, make me know my end. And what is the number of my days: that I may know what is wanting to me. (Psalm 38:5 DR)
There is a great paradox for we humans, as we are both rational and (as a result of the Fall) mortal. Our minds are capable of apprehending infinity and eternity without, however, being able to lay hold of them (cf. Ecclesiastes 3:11). Unlike the irrational beasts which have no true concept of time nor are able to self-reflexively contemplate their own existence, we can both perceive a time before and beyond ourselves and recognize the finitude of our existence. This forms the existential crisis of mortal existence, for we cannot by nature grasp that which we also by nature are endowed to perceive.
The Psalmist gives voice to this dilemma, beseeching the Lord to make him to “know my end.” This “end,” of course, has a two-fold meaning woven into the paradox mentioned above. On the surface it speaks to the finitude of mortal existence, but he is not merely musing about his own lifespan. Rather, the “end” to which he refers is the the very telos of existence, that for man is made, and which the finitude of this life brings into sharp relief. The very transitory nature of this world and its desires and goods points to an “end” beyond them:
“O Lord, make me know my end, and what is the number of my days;” we are not to imagine, for a moment, that he asked to know how long he had to live; that would have been a sinful and an idle curiosity; and, therefore, he prefaced it by saying, “I spoke with my tongue,” in language of my own, with a meaning of my own. He meant then to convey that the life of man is extremely short, and next to nothing. But as very few seem to know such truth, however clear and confirmed by experience, he prays to God not to let him fall into the error so many have fallen into, of looking upon that to be lasting that was so very transitory. (St. Robert Bellarmine, A Commentary on the Book of the Psalms, 38, 4.)
If the transitory things of this world are not the “end,” then we must needs look to an “end” that is eternal. For although our bodies (and thus our bodily existence) are mortal, our minds (as rational) can grasp universals and thus the concept of infinity and eternity. We cannot encompass either due to our finitude, by we can discursively arrive at the reality of each and that they must coalesce in God as the supreme End. It is this understanding which lurks in the background of our hearts and minds in respect to the transitory nature of the material universe, even if we are not consciously aware of it. For the “loss” that we feel over the transitory essence of things is a result of the intrinsic apprehension of eternity, which however wounded and darkened by sins our intellects may be can still recognize the disjunction between a heart that longs for eternity and an existence that cannot attain it.
The very short number of our days (which we have the blessing and curse of knowing) follows from the apprehension of the “end” which we ask to know. For as we contemplate days and time we see that even there lies a disjunction between a sequential or definitive number and that which is “number without number,” as St. Augustine describes. If we think of a sequence of numbers counting up, once can continue counting forever, yet without reaching infinitude. After all, no matter how high one might count, one can always increase that number by 1, ad infinitum. Similarly, one could have years upon years or days upon days and always add one more day or year to that, all without ever attaining eternity.
But the difference between a theoretically infinite numbers of days and eternity is like the difference between a forever increasing sequential number and numerality, the number without number, as it were. The “end” of man—to which the limited nature of our existence tied to the rational apprehension of eternity points—is thus found in God alone. St. Augustine has an interesting meditation on the nature of time and how we perceive it, in that when we speak of the days that we “have” we are actually speaking only half-truthfully, for they have no true being in that their transitory essence deprives them of what it means to be in the true sense:
These days then have no true being; they are gone almost before they arrive; and when they have come, they cannot continue; they press upon one another, they follow the one the other, and cannot check themselves in their course. Of the past nothing is called back again; what is yet to be, is expected as something to pass away again: it is not as yet possessed, while as yet it is not arrived; it cannot be kept when once it has arrived. He asks then concerning “the number of his days, which is;” not that which is not: and (which confounds me by a still greater and more perplexing difficulty) at once “is,” and “is not.” We can neither say that “is,” which does not continue; nor that it “is not,” when it has come and is passing. (St. Augustine, Exposition on the Psalms, 38, 7.)
We are back again at the paradox we opened with, for the days in which we exist certainly “are” in that they are not illusions or phantoms, yet their ability and inevitability to “not be” creates a sort of shadow existence in which things both are and are not, which makes it difficult to truly predicate “being” of them, since “being” always speaks to “what is.” It is this disjunction then that leads St. Augustine to conclude that the “end” is obviously the “number without number,” the One who Always Is:
It is that absolute “IS,” that true “IS,” that “IS” in the true sense of the word, that I long for; that “IS;” which “is” in that “Jerusalem” which is “the Bride” of my Lord; [Revelation 21:9] where there will not be death, there will not be failing; there will be a day that passes not away, but continues: which has neither a yesterday to precede it, nor a tomorrow pressing close upon it. [Revelation 21:25] This “number of my days, which is,” this (I say), “make Thou me to know.” (ibid.)
The recognition of this “end” and the “number of my days” brings about the concomitant realization that we have not attained it. It is, however, in this humility that we receive the grace the attain it, as St. Paul describes:
Not as though I has already attained, or were already perfect; but I follow after, if I may by any means apprehend, wherein I am also apprehended by Christ Jesus. Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended. But one thing I do: forgetting the things that are behind, and stretching forth myself to those that are before, I press towards the mark, to the prize of the supernal vocation of God in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:12-14 DR)
St. Augustine concludes:
This let me receive as the prize of my running the race! There will be a certain resting-place, to terminate my course; and in that resting-place there will be a Country, and no pilgrimage, no dissension, no temptation. Make me then to know “this number of my days, which is, that I may know what is wanting unto me;” because I am not there yet; lest I should be made proud of what I already am, that “I may be found in Him, not having my own righteousness.” [Philippians 3:9] (St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 38, 8.)
I didn’t really have a defined concept for this animation when I began working on it, but I did find this really cool marble texture background which I thought might make a nice base for something. As I was playing around with it I used loopFlow to get the vein in the marble to move, which to me seemed a bit like a flowing river, which I think fits nicely with the image of time flowing and tumbling along, although I’m totally ret-conning that.
I added another instance of loopFlow to another blended image to get more movement and I thought it turned out really nicely; simple yet elegant, which is always a nice touch.
Enjoy.
I spoke with my tongue: O Lord, make me know my end. And what is the number of my days: that I may know what is wanting to me.
(Psalm 38:5 DR)
View a higher quality version of this gif here: