I don’t know what to make of the 77th Psalm.
It starts out provocatively, with the psalmist, identified as Jeduthun, speaking frankly about God’s troubling unresponsiveness to prayers. It may not be as profane, but this kind of disarming honesty is similar to the lament that Levee Green makes in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” remembering how his mother cried out, “Help me, Jesus” when being raped by a gang of white men, and Jesus was nowhere to be found. If that kind of questioning feels uncomfortable, then the psalmist’s question will as well: “Has God forgotten to be gracious?” If God forgets to be gracious, is God even God? It would be like water that isn’t wet.
To that extent, the 77th Psalm really speaks to human experience in a way that most pious folks would never do aloud. Finally comes the declaration: “It is my grief that the right hand of the Most High has changed.” Water is not wet; God is not just. It grieves the psalmist/us to say it.
Then, the psalm takes a very curious turn. The psalmist, in response to God’s present absence, looks to the past and remembers the powerful deeds of old that God once did. God did this, God did that, clouds poured out water, thunder crashed, the sea parted. It all ends abruptly, “You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” Fini. Caput. Show’s over.
What I cannot understand is how the remembrances of the past tense resolve questions in the present tense. I need to hold this psalm for a long time and quiz myself about my own reactions. It’s not going to be fun.
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