One Thing I Ask (Psalm 27)
As the winds shift and the seasons change, a little gust lifts up the page of the Great Jewish Book and moves us from text to text, matching each moment in time with its literary-theological partner.
In the month of Elul, leading up to the Days of Awe, we linger on the words of Psalm 27. Some of us may be most familiar with the verse Achat Sha’alti, often sung to this traditional tune (check out this arrangement for piano and flute, Chava Mirel’s setting, and Aly Halpert’s setting as well).
“One thing I ask of God, only this do I seek
to live in the house of God all the days of my life
to gaze upon the beauty of God, to return again and again to the Holy palace.”
Only one thing, the psalmist asks - and proceeds to ask for many things! The whole psalm is strangely complex. Rabbi and scholar Benjamin Segal describes it this way:
The first half of the psalm bespeaks assurance. The psalmist, while describing the enemy from a distance (from whom will I be afraid), approaching (as evil men come near), preparing (should an army besiege me), and attacking (should war come against me), nevertheless is calm, above all danger, sacrificing and thanking the Lord… Facing all these threats, the psalmist feels the peace of unity, and throughout this first half the reader senses no doubt, no real threat.
How strange it is that the second half of the psalm depicts a world so totally opposite. (Many scholars even conclude that these are separate psalms!) Here we find a desperate search, a constant request, a pleading before the Holy One (“do not hide Your face … do not thrust [me] aside … do not forsake me, do not abandon me”). The author is abandoned by parents and surrounded by enemies. At the apex of this section, the psalmist cries out in agony, with a sentence he cannot finish, for it depicts the worst of all: Had I not the assurance that I would enjoy the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living …. His faith is his sole remaining thread connecting him to the land of the living. If he did not have this faith, then…
But the two psalms are indeed one…Throughout the second half, the reader hears the echo of the central term: One. The psalmist cries out, demands, asks and pleads that his two worlds are one. I, the sufferer, depressed to the ultimate limits, am that same I who trusts, who is safe, who sits in the presence of the Lord.
This Elul perhaps you, like me, move back and forth from bursts of gratitude to bouts of dread, from a calm groundedness to a restless worry, whether about parenting, politics, or just being a person. Psalm 27 offers no answers exactly, but rather a prayer for holding paradox, for internal coexistence of quite different experiences, yearnings, fears, and dreams.
Last year around this time, Kavana partner Amy Holden was teaching our Middle School Program students and paired students up to create their own interpretation of a verse. When all of the students had shared their verse, she put it all together, into our very own “Psalm 27 as Interpreted by the Kavana Middle School Program Students.” May these words open up the depth and possibilities of the season’s text, and nourish our souls for the year ahead.
When the lord is on my side I have no one to fear.
When people do hurtful actions, it not only hurts the target, but everyone.
Even through great threats and dangers, I won’t be afraid, I won’t shed a tear, just as long as
you stand, stand by me.
One thing I have asked from the lord is to be under protection and to see beauty in life.
When I’m in trouble, he will hide me in his safe space or in a sacred tent. He will hide me and
put me on a rock.
G-d will save us from the enemies, then I will be loyal and thankful forever. I will sing for g-d.
When I ask for you, answer me.
My heart will always seek hope and salvation.
Don’t hide your face far.
If my parents abandon me, you will still be there. God is close to me.
Tell me how to learn from others’ mistakes.
Let me be the better person and less violent than my enemies.
I will see goodness in all of nature!
Have patience, for hope will always come.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Jay LeVine
