Psalm 92:4

riding the wave

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

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)

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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.

View a higher quality version of this gif here: