The image depicts King David at prayer from The Book Of Hours
Miserere Mei. Psalm 51/50. Have mercy upon me, oh Lord. Here the KJV King James Bible text.
YouTube: Psalm 51 KJV Audio | King James Audio Bible
Traditionally ascribed to King David, upon the discovery of his adultery, this psalm represents and enacts a perfect act of contrition, from the awareness and acknowledgement of sin, through acknowledgement of God, to celebration and renewal in faith with God.
It is to the choirmaster, a Psalm of David, when Nathan the prophet came to him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba. There is lust and in effect murder – as recounted in The Second Book Of Samuel, Chapter Eleven. King David’s is the behaviour of a despot. David has engaged multiply in evil.
The psalm is a plea to God for purification from sin and for a heart made clean.
The progression of the psalm is both exquisitely beautiful and in its way obvious and perfect. This is a model for Christian confession, for the sacramental reconciliation with God.
King David wholly acknowledges his sins. He acknowledges the blameless perfection of God, and that his sin is against God. He acknowledges the justice of God’s judgement, and he yet pleads clemency – mercy.
King David acknowledges his low state – his being born a sinner, through frailty of human condition. This saying acknowledges our imperfect relationship with sex. We are called to acknowledge disorderly aspects of our sexual instincts. We do not know specificity how King David was conceived. We may sense through the the saying that he was conceived in sin and iniquity that there is a strong sense of divergence from God as regards sexual matters. It might seem abundantly clear that there is a very serious need for purification as for a more orderly disposition regarding sex.
King David throws himself upon God’s mercy and begs for healing and wisdom in his inmost heart. There is a longing for Jesus – for deliverance from sin. This is an immensely complex psalm. There is an equation of sin, transgression, confession, and of God’s mercy, with the renewal of a capacity for prayer.
This new spirit – which is Christian – directs the sinner to unity with the Church in God – as the psalm anticipates Jesus.
It is transcendent – perfect. And yet so simple – as a sinner’s tears when we own up to God our sins. It is good to love this psalm. It is a model for all of us. There often should be tears at confession – and additionally joyful beyond remorse.
For Jesus we can all be sinners returned home. The psalm is of a piece with Jesus’ saying to the rich young man: ‘Sell everything you have and give the money to the poor and follow me.’ This is faith in Jesus. Amen.
Psalm 75 is a hymn of praise and reflection on the righteous judgment and sovereignty of God. It opens with an acknowledgment of gratitude and thanksgiving to God, whose name is near, and whose wondrous works are declared. This psalm contains themes of divine judgment, the importance of humility, and the contrast between the wicked and the righteous [ … ]
The Carrefour will be open, where I can buy nuts for the red squirrel, who lives in Campo Grande. The red squirrel is Valladolid’s best bit. Even as a child, I had never seen one before, apart from in picture books. It was last term’s discovery. The most beautiful encounter. I didn’t know it was there – in the park. A complete surprise. The tiny little thing bobbled and hopped, as it received in its little hands a nut from the man’s hands. Each surprising instant – it was childlike. I whispered: ‘Oh my wow.’ I walk toward the El Cortes Ingles. There is, for now, that settled feel of friends in bookshops. Though a null-affect, neutral day – it won’t glean, it is not to be scratched at. The queues are long in the Carrefour. Though, as it might be, on relatively modest incomes, many people live centrally. Their behaviours neither pinched nor stark. Yet the shop so busy while the street so empty… An error in the simulation, a glitch in the code. I potter about the aisles, which are pleasant enough, then at the tills I flinch at how expensive a little bag of up-sold nuts can be. Nonetheless, I queue for a packet of almonds. Two English men queue directly ahead of me. They are stocky, and have gay voices, their wheelie-bucket piled with soft drinks and party food, while they bitch to one another about the obviously terrible party they’re going to. The air heaves relief as I wander up the way to the broad plaza fringing Campo Grande. This is a place to see – a piece of Spain. There is a tourist information office, though unopened. At these fountains, three girls take selfies. Pompous-looking buildings, the military offices aside, line the park’s nearest vicinities. Hotel-bars have their patches. Liveried doormen idle time, for there are no paying customers, in and out the doorways’ shadows. A mixed group of kids play at the hoops on the pedestrian boulevard, and two boys practise on skateboards, working the thing out. I pass by them, touched by the thought, and happy that they are there. Wistful, I smile at the odds of the ball spilling over to me, and play in mind the agreeable scene of a fleeting connection. Then I am through the park gates. An air now – of humanity become self-selecting. Modestly understated. Understatedly modest. Campo Grande is nice but it isn’t grande… I walk slowly, and very soon hear for a second time English voices. Not them – it is an English family, just a little way ahead, a Dad and a Mum and a younger boy and an older girl, and theirs are Midlands accents. Dad seems to have been here and to know the place. He gestures panoramically. Mum wants her lunch. The girl at a difficult age. She carries a balloon-on-a-stick. Though she is sprouting – yet wears a loud dress. Then leggings, trainers. Her hair is nice… Maybe she is being okay about it. And not horrific. It’s okay once they get into it, but those months… Yet then, they mostly blossom, if they come from a good home, and become rounded personalities, entering into their womanhood. It was that… when yet they weren’t… I shudder to think of it. They walk toward the pond, and I trail, and would follow had I not been going that way. I wish I could say something so they might hear I am English too. (Fake a phone call?) How my voice might sound – there’d be all college hurling around in such matter I… a demented thing, ludicrous blurt – of Henry, Geoff, and all of them – not to mention the personal predicament. Maybe they’re a nice family. She is letting him explain what he needs to explain. And it would blow his fire, me being English. Mum and Dad. You’d probably see them all having their lunch in a little while. All sat round the table. With napkins and the menus out. Dad looks safe. I look into the pond. Terrapins live in there. But not today. I walk toward the join in the paths where the squirrel lives. There, I crumple the packet of almonds, making noise. I peer and I squat and crouch – chewing a mouthful. All the peacocks have perched right up in the trees’ branches. That never looks like something they should be doing. It’s disappointing that the squirrel isn’t here – but then the not-knowing-if is a part of it. Now, next, my visit to the National Sculpture Museum is an obligation. Canon Peter stood literally aghast when I hadn’t heard of it. Mortified, I made resolute promises. Though a few weeks have passed, it isn’t just any old something I could do on the hoof. A great commitment – it must command a known and prepared and anticipated not-just-any-old-time. But, rather, the sort you must wait for – and listen for. [ … ] Beyond Plaza Mayor, there would be a brief series of old-town alleyways. The National Sculpture Museum would be – just up there, this archway, this next…They are bleached and forgotten-looking walls, and the smoothed paving could be medieval. Not that it is making Tomàs anxious – I follow the map. A kind of place – uneasy credit-cards, and modern vaccinations, and a phone, might not help much. I fancy I feel the back-wall of a church, and that – fancifully – pressure-release drawn out of me. Only I am playing games in a nice way – making play-scared on the uncertainty – with only myself to see. The National Museum is there, modestly signed on stencilled plexiglass stuck to the stone wall. A uniformed lady sits just a little way inside the doorway. She reassures me there is no money required, and directs me over the courtyard into the planned route, showing me where I can pick up a free map. I get my […]
Our relationship with God is a call to love. Our Father loves us unsparingly. He gave to us and for us His only begotten Son. Christ gave himself to free us from sin and death, to reconcile us with God. All we are asked to do is to believe in Jesus and to respond to God’s immeasurable love with a reciprocal love, through faith in Christ. It is through love and faith that we discover our dignity [ … ]
