The Psychology of Exegesis

This is my comfort in my misery, that Your word has [s]revived me.  Psalm 119:50 NASB

Comfort/misery – The NASB translation renders the Hebrew ʿŏnî as misery.  This derivative comes from the root (ʿānâ) III, afflict, oppress, humble.[1]  “The primary meaning of ʿānâ III is ‘to force,’ or ‘to try to force submission,’ and ‘to punish or inflict pain upon,’ mostly in the Piel.”[2]  Coppes’ explanation should cause us to reconsider the intention of this verse.  You see, when we think of “misery” we think of a state or feeling of distress or discomfort.  The focus is on our reaction to circumstances.  That’s why the Western view can claim that mental prowess can overcome physical suffering.  This is a deeply Stoic idea, that is, that we can mentally remove ourselves from our physical torment and maintain emotional and cognitive calm.  But “affliction” doesn’t have the same psychological focus.  Affliction is not how I feel about some circumstance.  It’s what is being done to me no matter how I react to it.  So, ʿānâ “differs both from ṣārar which connotes restriction or binding; from yāgâ, the emotional side of distress (i.e. sorrow, grief), from šāpal, the objective state or condition of being low and/or humble, and from kānaʿ implying submission to another’s will.”[3]

Robert Alter translates this verse as: “This is my consolation in my affliction, that Your utterance gave me life.”  “Consolation” helps us shift the meaning to something in response to forced pain or punishment.  Despite the actual hardship, I can still find encouragement.  So we should probably think of this verse as a comment on what happens when life turns ugly, when circumstances beyond my control cause me distress and humiliation.  Perhaps this helps:

“consolation is the act of consoling while comfort is contentment, ease; something that offers comfort, something relieving suffering or worry.”[4]  When the poet writes, “This is my consolation,” he is referring to an act of sympathy by someone else.  He focuses on the relationship of empathy.  “Comfort” focuses on the result, not the action.

And what is “consolation” in these situations?  The poet chooses the term, neḥāmâ, found in this form only once more in Job 6:10.  Do you suppose he wants us to connect the two?  Job 6:10 reads: “But it is still my comfort, and I rejoice in unsparing pain, that I have not denied the words of the Holy One” (NASB).  But since we know that neḥāmâ is better translated as consolation, we need to read Job in the same way.  “But it is still my consolation . . .”

The origin of the root seems to reflect the idea of “breathing deeply,” hence the physical display of one’s feelings, usually sorrow, compassion, or comfort. [5]

The second primary meaning of nāḥam is “to comfort” (Piel) or “to be comforted” (Niphal, Pual, and Hithpael). This Hebrew word was well known to every pious Jew living in exile as he recalled the opening words of Isaiah’s “Book of Consolation,” naḥămû naḥămû ʿammî “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people” (Isa 40:1). The same word occurs in Ps 23:4, where David says of his heavenly Shepherd, “Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.”[6]

The passage from Job helps us see the psalmist’s intention.  Job is in the midst of “unsparing pain,” yet he is consoled because he has not denied God.  In other words, the fact of his faithfulness does not relieve his suffering but it assures him that God is still present to him.  God still cares—and this implied divine action gives Job hope.  The psalmist says much the same.  In the midst of his forced submission and humiliation, he discovers God’s consolation, God’s enduring empathy, and this fact revives him.  Actually, “revive” isn’t quite strong enough.  The Hebrew is ḥayyātenî, from the verb ḥāyâ in the Pi’el.  He makes a declaration.  “I’m alive!”  The only possible conclusion is that God wants me to live.  Otherwise these circumstances would have ended me.  That alone is reassuring.  But it is more than this.  I have God’s word on the matter.  No, not some written text.  This is ʾimrâ, spoken word.  God has told me that He wants me alive.  I’ve heard Him.  He cares!

What more could anyone ask.  You agree, right?

Topical Index: ʾimrâ, utterance, word, ḥāyâ, to be, to exist, neḥāmâ, consolation, ʿānâ, affliction, Job 6:10, Psalm 119:50

[1] Coppes, L. J. (1999). 1652 עָנָה. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 682). Moody Press.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] https://dztps.si/doc/slovar/tolazba.pdf

[5] Wilson, M. R. (1999). 1344 נָחַם. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament(electronic ed., p. 570). Moody Press.

[6] Wilson, M. R. (1999). 1344 נָחַם. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament(electronic ed., p. 571). Moody Press.

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Richard Bridgan

He makes a declaration. “I’m alive!” The only possible conclusion is that God wants me to live. Otherwise these circumstances would have ended me. That alone is reassuring. But it is more than this. I have God’s word on the matter. No, not some written text. This is ʾimrâ, spoken word. God has told me that He wants me alive. I’ve heard Him. He cares!

Amen… and amen!

In the present movement of affliction served upon vast masses of humanity to secure their submission to the order of self-aggrandizement, only the fact of God’s consolation, God’s enduring empathy, can revive. One would do well to reinforce God’s ʾimrâ… the fact of God’s consolation and enduring empathy.