The summer of 2020 will be remembered by many as the summer of lament. The persistent COVID-19 pandemic lingered on, putting many people out of work, making travel difficult, and shutting down popular sports and entertainment venues. Political polarities mounted in the tension between those who were more concerned with public health and those more focused on the economy. 

 

With the nation already under stress, George Floyd was mercilessly killed by a rogue policeman in Minneapolis, sparking a season of protests for racial justice that occasionally grew violent, along with divisive presidential threats of even more violence. 

 

As ministers and others sought to deal with their own grief and offer comfort to others, the perfect storm of misery drove many to the psalms of lament to join the poets of Israel in crying “How long?”

 

Israel’s hymnbook contained many laments, including Psalm 80. We can’t be sure what particular situation led to this mournful prayer, but it clearly emerged from a perspective of deep loss and frustration on a national level. [DD] [DD] The psalmist wrote in behalf of a people who had fallen far from their ideals and were in danger of losing their identity.  

 

Psalm 80 is preceded by a lengthy superscription that probably has to do with the song’s tune, which seems to be something like “Lilies of the Testimony.” [DD] If the psalmist had written Psalm 80 today, it probably would have sounded like a sad country song. [DD]

 

 

 

The psalm is a prime example of a communal lament in which a leader either sang in behalf of the community or led the congregation in a plaintive prayer to God. Laments typically contain an address to God, a complaint about the present plight, a plea for help, and often an expression of trust. 

 

A threefold appeal for Yahweh to save (vv. 3, 7, 19) divides the psalm into an invocation and appeal (vv. 1-3), a complaint (vv. 4-7), and a melancholy plea comparing Israel to a ruined vine and asking God to restore it, concluding with a vow (vv. 8-19). [DD]

 

The psalmist plaintively addresses God as “Shepherd of Israel,” “you who lead Joseph like a flock,” and “you who are enthroned upon the cherubim” (v. 1). These epithets recall the tradition of God visibly leading Israel through the wilderness after the Exodus from Egypt. [DD][DD]

 

The psalmist pleads for the exalted God who had led Israel in the past to “shine forth” before Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh, to “stir up” divine power, and to come with salvation. 

 

Did you wonder why he mention only three of the twelve tribes? 

 

The account of Israel’s wilderness journey in Num. 2:17-24 says that each time the Israelites set out, the first three tribes to follow the Ark of the Covenant were Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh: the same order as Ps. 80:2. It is as if the psalmist is praying for God to come again and lead the tribes through their present trial. 

 

Those three tribes were also the most influential tribes in the northern kingdom of Israel, after the split from the southern kingdom of Judah. This may suggest that the psalm has its roots in a time of crisis in the northern kingdom, which was conquered by Assyria in 722 BCE. 

 

The psalmist’s imaginative prayer asked God to “shine forth” and come to save Israel. The plea is repeated three times: “Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved” (v. 3, see also vv. 7 and 20).

 

Hebrew tradition held that God’s face glowed with glory, so much that ordinary humans could not bear a direct view and live. Moses’ face was said to have shone after being in God’s presence, as if reflecting the divine glory or radiating sacred energy he may have absorbed (Exod. 34:29). [DD] 

 

Readers may also contemplate a connection with the Aaronic blessing of Num. 6:24-26: “The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.” 

 

Calling upon God to “shine forth” was a poetic way of asking God to show favor toward Israel and come with saving power. [DD]

 

 

 

Why would this request be appropriate? Because the people seemed convinced that God was furious with them and no longer listened to their prayers. God’s face, rather than beaming with beneficence, was wreathed in the smoke of smoldering anger (v. 4). 

 

The people had been praying, the psalmist implies, but God had responded with fumes rather than favor. How long (literally, “until when?”) would God allow this state of affairs to continue? 

 

The psalmist laments that God had not only allowed their troubles to occur, but had caused them, giving the people “the bread of tears” to eat and buckets of tears to drink (v. 5). [DD] 

 

“You have made us a source of contention to our neighbors,” the psalmist cried, “and our enemies mock us” (v. 6). 

 

The belief that God would bless or curse the people in keeping with their behavior lies behind the contention of the books of Judges, Samuel, and Kings that God used foreign nations as divine agents to punish the Hebrews when they chose to reject God’s leadership and follow other gods. 

 

The books of Job and Ecclesiastes questioned the adequacy of such a quid pro quo theology, and the New Testament introduced a new covenant in which salvation comes by grace rather than works. Even so, the notion that “you get what you deserve” remains a popular belief. 

 

In the psalmist’s mind, good or bad fortune was always divinely determined. We may not hold to the same theology, but we still have a tendency to blame our troubles on God rather than accepting responsibility for our own actions. As a result, we sometimes think of God more as a cosmic repairman we call on to fix things rather than a loving shepherd we follow every day. 

 

 

 

A second plea for God to “restore us” is followed by an extended metaphor in which the psalmist pictures God as a planter who took a grape vine from Egypt, cleared out the promised land, and transplanted it in a new home (vv. 8-9). The verdant vine then spread from the mountains of the southern Negev to the cedars of Lebanon, from the Mediterranean Sea to the Euphrates River – borders reportedly promised in Deut. 11:22-25 and approximately realized under David’s rule (vv. 10-11).  

 

But that was in the past. The psalmist mourns that God had broken down the protective walls of the vineyard, allowing anyone to pick its fruit and wild animals to ravage it (vv. 12-13, compare Isa. 5:1-7). He cries for the community as the personified vine, pleading for God to have pity on it as “the stock that your right hand planted” (v. 15), but which had been cut and burned (v. 16). 

 

The psalm would be particularly appropriate if expressed near the time when the Assyrian armies devastated the area, scattering the population of the northern kingdom while subjugating Judah as a vassal forced to pay tribute. 

The request of favor for “the one at your right hand” (v. 17) parallels “the stock that your right hand planted” in v. 15. The straightforward allusion is to Israel, the vine that God had initially blessed and later cursed. 

 

Our national grief is not the same. We are in no immediate danger of being conquered by a foreign foe – but we have felt what it is like to be weakened by internal division, torn by persistent injustice, and threatened by a deadly virus. 

How long, O Lord?

 

 

 

How might the psalmist persuade God to show favor on the desolate nation? In times of extremity, ancient peoples often resorted to making vows to the gods, and the Hebrews were no exception. Such “vows” were actually conditional promises that asked God for a favor and promised something in return. 

 

Thus, the prayer for the hand of God’s blessing in v. 17 is followed by the promise “then we will never turn back from you” (v. 18a). The vow is then repeated, in different words: “give us life, and we will call on your name” (v. 18b).

 

The closing verse repeats the refrain found in vv. 3 and 7, asking God to come with shining face to deliver the people from their trouble. 

 

Does this psalm reflect the way we sometimes pray? Have we ever prayed: “Oh God, if you will get me out of this mess, I promise to straighten up” – or “I promise to get back in church,” or “I’ll do whatever you want me to do”?   

 

It’s not that easy, is it? We cannot blame God for national unrest provoked by centuries of systemic racism, decades of growing wealth disparity, and the failure of political leaders to work for the good of all people. Nor can we blame God for the coronavirus. 

 

But we can take the psalmist’s prayer to heart. We can grieve over what we have lost and what we have become. We can pray for God to turn our hearts from selfish goals to mutual care and a more just society. We can ask God to show us the world through Jesus’ eyes by listening to our neighbors, even those who don’t live in our neighborhoods, and by rebuilding community one relationship at a time. 

 

Perhaps God is asking us, “How long?”