A what? “A Maskil.” You’ve noticed, I am sure, the odd little headings in front of many of the Psalms. There are all sorts of them and many of them have caused some confusion and debate in biblical scholarship. Even something as simple as “Of David” causes considerable debate. Some argue that a Psalm with the heading “Of David” or “a Psalm of David” means that David wrote it. Duh. But wait, say others. It would be that it is in the style of David. Or that it means in honor of David. Or that someone had what they thought was a hit on their hands but since they were relatively unknown they put David’s name on it so that it would get more airplay by the Temple D Js. (Or should that “Priest Jockeys” since they didn’t actually have Disks to spin - but then no one would take them seriously if we called them P Js, now would they?)
Where was I? As you can see, debate and disagreement is not confined to Congress. Biblical scholars have made it a spectator sport. Even where there is general agreement, the nuance continues. One heading says “The Lilies” or “To the Lilies.” Most agree this is a musical notation of some sort, a tune by which the psalm would have been sung or chanted. But was this fast or slow? Happy or sad? No one knows. And most of us don’t care all that much, to be honest. You’re probably wondering why I am taking even this much space to bring it up.
Well, because I learned something this week and just had to share it. The heading on the Psalm I have chosen as our scripture for this week’s worship says “A Maskil.” Well, it actually says “Of David. A Maskil.” But we’ve already covered the “Of David” meme here. So, I slid over to the other one. A Maskil, it says. If you’re like me then you just bleep over that and get on to the verse. How many times have I seen that word and never really bothered to figure out what it means? Well, lots. And the truth is I get tired of the “we don’t really know” kind of response that biblical scholars give all the time. So, I usually ignore it, and was all set to do so again this week.
But then I had a short course of writer’s block and needed to get this done today (more on that later). So, I started to panic and scan around for a straw to grasp. And my eyes landed on “a maskil” sitting there at the top of the page. So, I started to work. Got out the old seminary texts, even dusted off the Hebrew Old Testament text for a look see. Even looked it up in a dictionary. I know, amazing.
The first thing I saw was this: “a maskil is a member or adherent of the haskalah.” Helpful. Don’t you just love dictionaries? Haskalah is a European Jewish intellectual movement in the 18th and 19th Centuries. Wait. What? A word that appears in the Old Testament is a reference to18th Century Judaism? Call Tim LaHaye, I feel a book coming on.
Dig a little deeper and you discover that the “maskilim” (the plural form of maskil) chose that descriptor because of the references it held in Jewish tradition. The Hashalah movement was designed to reclaim the Jewish culture and tradition, but not so much in terms of artifacts or even of rituals, but in philosophy or theology. It was an intellectual movement, remember. It was a way of thinking, and thinking deeply about what it meant to be Jewish, to be a part of the chosen people, the beloved of God.
A way of thinking. We tend to separate thinking and doing into separate categories of human existence. And that makes sense on some levels. But followers of God know that believing (which is a way of thinking) is only effective when the thinking comes out in living. We understand that to claim certain intellectual certainties without concurrent behavioral responses is to live an inauthentic life.
But since we are all prone to such living, to acting in ways that are often contrary to our beliefs, to living in ways that deny our commitment to our faith, we need reminders from time to time. We need an intellectual kick in the pants to get us back on track. A Maskil psalm is just such a kick in the pants. It is a reminder that we live in certain ways. A psalm that teaches you something, is one definition. I would extend it to a psalm that reminds you of something. There may not be an “aha” moment in the reading for this week, but is certainly an “oh, yeah, I knew that” moment.
Psalm 32:1-11Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. 2 Happy are those to whom the LORD imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit. 3 While I kept silence, my body wasted away through my groaning all day long. 4 For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Selah 5 Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not hide my iniquity; I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD," and you forgave the guilt of my sin. Selah 6 Therefore let all who are faithful offer prayer to you; at a time of distress, the rush of mighty waters shall not reach them. 7 You are a hiding place for me; you preserve me from trouble; you surround me with glad cries of deliverance. Selah 8 I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. 9 Do not be like a horse or a mule, without understanding, whose temper must be curbed with bit and bridle, else it will not stay near you. 10 Many are the torments of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds those who trust in the LORD. 11 Be glad in the LORD and rejoice, O righteous, and shout for joy, all you upright in heart.
But then, you knew that, didn’t you? You knew, maybe from experience, maybe from observation, that sin has a way of messing with you. You knew that guilt erodes any sense of self confidence we might have, makes us feel unworthy even of love, and love from the God who wants to love everyone. You knew that carrying around a burden of brokenness becomes a weight that destroys rather than builds up.
More than that, you knew that confession is good for the soul! And not just in a cliche sort of way. In a real way. In a finally able to breathe, weight of the world off of your shoulders kind of way. You knew that, because you have been there and felt that release. You knew that because you have lived through broken relationships that have been healed through confession and you know the joy of that healing.
We know it. So why don’t we do it more often? The confessing and healing thing I mean. Why do we need a kick in the pants, a maskil to come around every now and then and remind us? Because we’re human? No, because it is hard. It is hard to forgive and hard to be forgiven. We have to swallow some pride, we have to acknowledge that we’ve hurt someone, we have to live with the consequences. It’s hard. Which is why we need teachers. We need mentors in the faith who will show us what a life of graciousness looks like.
Which brings me to why I am doing this epistle now instead of tomorrow like usual. Saturday and Sunday I am going to participate in a Memorial Service for one of my mentors in the faith. On Saturday, I will teach in the morning and then head to Bloomington for the first service. And then on Sunday after church here in Fort Wayne, La Donna and I will travel to Elkhart where I served alongside this amazing man. Jack Pavy was my Senior Pastor when I came back from Scotland with a PhD and a lot of stuff in my head, but still pretty green on how to live in the real world of the church. Jack was patient and supportive and encouraging. He put me in situations that an associate doesn’t normally get to experience. But it revealed a trust and a confidence in me and my abilities that I so wanted to live up to. And sometimes he was a maskil, a kick in the pants kind of reminder that I needed. In short, I am where I am and who I am because of Jack Pavy. It was my honor to be asked to preach at the services being held on opposite ends of the state to honor him, and to celebrate this faith that we shared.
Shalom,
Derek
Where was I? As you can see, debate and disagreement is not confined to Congress. Biblical scholars have made it a spectator sport. Even where there is general agreement, the nuance continues. One heading says “The Lilies” or “To the Lilies.” Most agree this is a musical notation of some sort, a tune by which the psalm would have been sung or chanted. But was this fast or slow? Happy or sad? No one knows. And most of us don’t care all that much, to be honest. You’re probably wondering why I am taking even this much space to bring it up.
Well, because I learned something this week and just had to share it. The heading on the Psalm I have chosen as our scripture for this week’s worship says “A Maskil.” Well, it actually says “Of David. A Maskil.” But we’ve already covered the “Of David” meme here. So, I slid over to the other one. A Maskil, it says. If you’re like me then you just bleep over that and get on to the verse. How many times have I seen that word and never really bothered to figure out what it means? Well, lots. And the truth is I get tired of the “we don’t really know” kind of response that biblical scholars give all the time. So, I usually ignore it, and was all set to do so again this week.
But then I had a short course of writer’s block and needed to get this done today (more on that later). So, I started to panic and scan around for a straw to grasp. And my eyes landed on “a maskil” sitting there at the top of the page. So, I started to work. Got out the old seminary texts, even dusted off the Hebrew Old Testament text for a look see. Even looked it up in a dictionary. I know, amazing.
The first thing I saw was this: “a maskil is a member or adherent of the haskalah.” Helpful. Don’t you just love dictionaries? Haskalah is a European Jewish intellectual movement in the 18th and 19th Centuries. Wait. What? A word that appears in the Old Testament is a reference to18th Century Judaism? Call Tim LaHaye, I feel a book coming on.
Dig a little deeper and you discover that the “maskilim” (the plural form of maskil) chose that descriptor because of the references it held in Jewish tradition. The Hashalah movement was designed to reclaim the Jewish culture and tradition, but not so much in terms of artifacts or even of rituals, but in philosophy or theology. It was an intellectual movement, remember. It was a way of thinking, and thinking deeply about what it meant to be Jewish, to be a part of the chosen people, the beloved of God.
A way of thinking. We tend to separate thinking and doing into separate categories of human existence. And that makes sense on some levels. But followers of God know that believing (which is a way of thinking) is only effective when the thinking comes out in living. We understand that to claim certain intellectual certainties without concurrent behavioral responses is to live an inauthentic life.
But since we are all prone to such living, to acting in ways that are often contrary to our beliefs, to living in ways that deny our commitment to our faith, we need reminders from time to time. We need an intellectual kick in the pants to get us back on track. A Maskil psalm is just such a kick in the pants. It is a reminder that we live in certain ways. A psalm that teaches you something, is one definition. I would extend it to a psalm that reminds you of something. There may not be an “aha” moment in the reading for this week, but is certainly an “oh, yeah, I knew that” moment.
Psalm 32:1-11
But then, you knew that, didn’t you? You knew, maybe from experience, maybe from observation, that sin has a way of messing with you. You knew that guilt erodes any sense of self confidence we might have, makes us feel unworthy even of love, and love from the God who wants to love everyone. You knew that carrying around a burden of brokenness becomes a weight that destroys rather than builds up.
More than that, you knew that confession is good for the soul! And not just in a cliche sort of way. In a real way. In a finally able to breathe, weight of the world off of your shoulders kind of way. You knew that, because you have been there and felt that release. You knew that because you have lived through broken relationships that have been healed through confession and you know the joy of that healing.
We know it. So why don’t we do it more often? The confessing and healing thing I mean. Why do we need a kick in the pants, a maskil to come around every now and then and remind us? Because we’re human? No, because it is hard. It is hard to forgive and hard to be forgiven. We have to swallow some pride, we have to acknowledge that we’ve hurt someone, we have to live with the consequences. It’s hard. Which is why we need teachers. We need mentors in the faith who will show us what a life of graciousness looks like.
Which brings me to why I am doing this epistle now instead of tomorrow like usual. Saturday and Sunday I am going to participate in a Memorial Service for one of my mentors in the faith. On Saturday, I will teach in the morning and then head to Bloomington for the first service. And then on Sunday after church here in Fort Wayne, La Donna and I will travel to Elkhart where I served alongside this amazing man. Jack Pavy was my Senior Pastor when I came back from Scotland with a PhD and a lot of stuff in my head, but still pretty green on how to live in the real world of the church. Jack was patient and supportive and encouraging. He put me in situations that an associate doesn’t normally get to experience. But it revealed a trust and a confidence in me and my abilities that I so wanted to live up to. And sometimes he was a maskil, a kick in the pants kind of reminder that I needed. In short, I am where I am and who I am because of Jack Pavy. It was my honor to be asked to preach at the services being held on opposite ends of the state to honor him, and to celebrate this faith that we shared.
Shalom,
Derek
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