The Dead Speak
Because of the loudness of my groaning my bones cling to my flesh. Psalm 102:5 NASB
Loudness – Read this again. How can the volume of my groaning be the cause of bones clinging to flesh? Does sound have anything to do with the consequences of malnutrition? In fact, severely malnourished human beings, bones exposed because of the lack of fleshly tissue, are usually too weak to groan loudly. They have descended into the silence of starvation. What this means is that the psalmist, not surprisingly, is employing a metaphor in order to emphasize the severity of his situation. He isn’t starving, despite his declaration that he forgets to eat. He isn’t severely malnourished. But he feels like it! He is experiencing emotional and spiritual starvation, and in that condition, he is capable of voicing his ṣar (distress).
But even with this new understanding, I’m not sure “because of the loudness” is the right way to read this. The opening preposition (min, shortened here to mi) means “away from, out of, from, since, after, of, without” and “because.” Since “because” seems to be causative, I suggest that we read this as “out of.” “Out of the kôl of . . ,” remembering that the entire phrase is one word in Hebrew. What is kôl? Well, it’s not “loudness.”
kôl [or qôl] primarily signifies a sound produced by the vocal cords (actual or figurative). In poetical passages (for the most part) the denotation embraces sounds of many varieties. Infrequently, qôl denotes the thing said whether spoken (Gen 3:17) or written (II Kgs 10:6). Our word also serves as an exclamative “hark” (cf. GKC, 146b; Isa 13:4; 66:6, etc.). qôl should be distinguished from and compared to hegeh, higgāyôn (a low noise or utterance), hāmôn (a tumultuous, agitated noise or uttering), rēʿa tĕ rûʿâ (a shout of alarm, or joy). Also see šāʾôn “roar” tĕ šûʾâ “noise.”[1]
kôl is the sound of a voice. It’s not loud or soft. The translators might feel as if in this instance it must be a loud cry, but the text doesn’t say that. It only says that the psalmist vocalizes his groaning. He isn’t silent. He makes a sound. That sound might not even be intelligible language, but it communicates. It communicates pain, distress, agony—and need. We know what that’s like, when there aren’t any words to express the suffering we are feeling. Anguish has a language too, and it doesn’t have a nice grammar and vocabulary. But we know very well what it means. I suggest that we could read this phrase as a whimper, a sigh, an unintelligible moan just as equally as we could read it as a cry, a howl or a lament. Either way, it hurts. It hurts so much that I feel as if I am starving to death. And that’s just what the psalmist says.
“Groan” is the Hebrew word ʾănāḥâ. The most important thing to recognize about this word is that it belongs in funerals. It’s a mourning word. It’s a word that has no place among the living. When the psalmist says, “Out of my mouth comes the sound of death,” he basically suggests that he is the corpse here, and if God doesn’t act soon, his emotional death experience will become a physical reality. He is attending his own funeral. He stands at the side of the coffin and sees himself ready for burial. Without God’s help, the box will close and he will be lowered into the ground. No wonder his bones cling to his flesh. Desiccation is a dying process.
I am sure that David was in reasonable physical health when he wrote this. But I am just as sure that he experienced emotional and spiritual death. He might as well be dead if God chooses to ignore him. I am sure that we have all been there, standing over our own graves, ready to give it all up because we are in the midst of abandonment, the terror of indifference. When a funeral becomes a relief, the God of the living seems to have departed for greener pastures. We need Him back. Desperately!
Topical Index: loudness, kôl, groaning, ʾănāḥâ, funeral, death, Psalm 102:5
[1] Coppes, L. J. (1999). 1998 קול. R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 792). Chicago: Moody Press.
