The Circle of Life

Your faithfulness continues throughout generations; You established the earth, and it stands.  Psalm 119:90  NASB

Generations – Disney borrowed from Genesis.  “By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, until you return to the ground, because from it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19).  Well, maybe not exactly.  After all, the Disney version is upbeat and entirely circular whereas the Genesis account is a dire consequence of the sinful disruption of God’s projected intention.  Nevertheless, in order to appreciate the scope of this word (dōr), we need to recognize its unusual etymology:

Occasionally there is a Hebrew word wherein etymology, as a route to discovery of ancient thought patterns, is all-important in discovering the true life-situation in which the word must be understood. Such is the case here. Authorities all agree that dôr, the noun, is derived from dûr, the verb. The simple primitive sense, not expressly found in any biblical text, is to move in a circle, surround. Since ashes, grain, meal, etc., when heaped up form a circle on the floor, ancient Semites used this word for “to heap up” or “to pile something”—thinking graphically of the shape of the heap at its base, rather than as we, of the height or outline of the elevation created. Also, since houses were usually a group of rooms surrounding a central court, and perhaps since some very early houses were circular, the word was employed with the meaning, to dwell. This analysis is provided strong support by the fact that dûr, a noun appearing only twice, and likewise from dûr (verb) must be translated a ball (Isa 22:18), round about (Isa 29:3) and pile (Ezk 24:5). In this manner an original meaning of “go in a circle” (as attested by its appearance in cognate Arabic and Assyrian, and inferred by a posteriori reasoning for a common link between the ideas of pile and dwell), though apparently out of use in ot times, provide the basis for a word of important theological meaning.  By a thoroughly understandable figure, a man’s lifetime beginning with the womb of earth and returning thereto (Gen 3:19) is a dôr; likewise from the conception and birth of a man to the conception and birth of his offspring is a dôr. A period of extended time and several other related meanings would be inevitable in a language prone to metaphors.^[1]

So, perhaps “circle of life” isn’t quite as cartoonish as we thought.  At any rate, the poet’s imagination suggests that God’s ʾĕmûnâ extends not only to the individual believer but to the entire “circle” of all ancestry and progeny.  The circle of the generations (plural) extends from the first to the last of us.  Yeshua told us that the Torah will not cease to be active until heaven and earth pass away.  The poet tells us that God’s reliability will not pass away as long as there is a single person still alive.  In a time of great turmoil, of war and rumors of war, this should provide solace.  The “heap” of humanity is of vital interest to the Creator.

We learn one other thing from this metaphor.  It’s not only about us.  I have often noted that the Hebrew meaning of ish, mistranslated “man,” is really the nexus of all relationships that give me identity.  I am because many came before me and many will come after me.  My individual identity, status, and purpose is not found in me.  It is found in the extension of myself into the distant past and into the projected future.  Therefore, I am responsible—not only to those who brought about my life (all the way back to the first) but also to those who will come to be because of my life.  Furthermore, it is not merely a physical connection.  My life is relational, and as relational, it encompasses all those who are affected by me—for good or ill.  I extend in all directions through influence, witness, physical relationship, and spiritual ethos.  My circle—and yours—is enormously large.

And God’s ʾĕmûnâ applies to all of it.

How do I know this?  The psalmist uses the most permanent example he can find—the continued existence of the earth itself.  It lasts.  Things come and go.  Men are born and die.  History is a recitation of the temporary.  But not the earth.  It remains.  And so does God’s faithfulness.  The next time your humdrum trivialities press upon you to the point where you wonder why you even try, remember this—the “Blue Marble” is still here.

Topical Index: dōr, generations, ish, man, ʾĕmûnâ, faithfulness, Psalm 119:90

^[1] Culver, R. D. (1999). 418 דּוּר. In R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 186). Moody Press.

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