Which Is It?

For You do not delight in sacrifice, otherwise I would give it; You do not take pleasure in burnt offering.  Psalm 51:16  NASB

Do not delight – How often we’ve heard the claim that the sacrificial system no longer applies.  After all, David himself tells us that God doesn’t take any pleasure is the religious ritual of slaughtering animals for an offering.  The prophets proclaim the same message.  For example:

For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings (Hosea 6:6 NIV).

It seems clear enough.  The word itself, accompanied by the strong negative lōʾ, is ample evidence.  ḥāpēṣ implies emotional intensity:

The basic meaning is to feel great favor towards something. Its meaning differs from the parallel roots, ḥāmad, ḥāšaq, and rāṣâ, in that they connote less emotional involvement. ḥāmad and ḥāšaq are usually translated “desire,” and rāṣâ “accept,” favor being based on need, or judgment of approval. In the case of ḥāpēṣ, the object solicits favor by its own intrinsic qualities. The subject is easily attracted to it because it is desirable. A fourth root, gîl, somewhat parallel, connotes even greater emotional involvement^[1]

So, David won’t slaughter a bull to placate God and appeal for mercy.  God doesn’t want any of that.  But wait!  Just three verses later in this same poem, David writes:

Then You will delight in righteous sacrifices, in burnt offering and whole burnt offering;
then bulls will be offered on Your altar (Psalm 51:19).

Using exactly the same root, ḥāpēṣ, David now says that God takes delight in precisely that same thing He doesn’t take delight in.  What happened?  Well, what happened is ʾāz, “then.”  The intervening verse (v. 17) changes the meaning of the sacrifice.  That intervening verse tells us that the only true foundation of sacrifice is not the outward ritual act but rather “a broken spirit” and “a contrite heart.”  When those are in place, then outward ritual sacrifice means something to God.  When those are not in place, no religious ritual has any effect.  

What, then, is “a broken spirit” and “a contrite heart”?  “Broken” is a powerful word with serious implications.  It’s used to describe God’s punishment of the wicked, the ruin of kingdoms and cities, the destruction of idols, and retributive justice.  We can think of it in this context as the total annihilation of the ego.  It’s the yetzer ha’ra’s power demolished.  

“Contrite” is the Hebrew term dākâ.  

The verb appears only in laments and is consistently used of one who is physically and emotionally crushed because of sin or the on slaught of an enemy. In Ps 51:8 [H 10] and probably 38:8 [H 9], the psalmist speaks of his bones being broken because of involvement in sin. Psalm 51 refers to David’s adultery with Bathsheba and the subsequent conviction of sin that he experienced. In verse 17 [H 19] he notes with some consolation that God does not despise a broken and contrite (“crushed”) heart. The same parallel (using dkʾ) occurs in Ps 34:18 [H 19]. In Ps 74:21 “oppressed” is parallel to “the afflicted” and “needy.”^[2]

Destroyed and crushed.  That’s what’s necessary.  Then sacrifice makes a difference.  And not until then.  

The end of David’s great poem of humiliation is particularly difficult, not to understand, but to apply.  I struggle with “destroyed and crushed.”  My well-conditioned yetzer ha’ra can always find an excuse to avoid “destroyed and crushed.”  After all, this is a direct challenge to the life of the ego.  It took a divinely-arranged major confrontation for David to see the enormity of his action against God.  David doesn’t hide his humiliation.  There’s no whitewash of his history.  His words reach across the centuries to teach us what it really means to ask for forgiveness, to accept “destroyed and crushed” as a way back.  I am reminded of the words of Jonathan Sacks:

“Nowadays, to win sympathy for your cause, you have to establish your credentials as a victim.  It has overwhelming advantages.  People empathise with your situation, give you support, and avoid criticising your actions.  It has, however, three drawbacks: it is false, it is corrupting, and it is a denial of humanity.  A victim is an object, not a subject; a done-to, not a doer.  He or she systematically denies responsibility, and those who wish to help only prolong the denial.  They become what is known in addiction therapy as co-dependents.  By locating the cause of someone’s plight in factors external to the person, the victim culture perpetuates the condition of victimhood.  Instead of helping the prisoner out of prison, it locks him in and throws away the key.”[3]

It’s so easy to convince myself that I am a victim.  Then I never have to face “destroyed and crushed.”  It’s someone else’s fault—and poor me, what can I do?  David could have opted for such an excuse.  He didn’t.  Neither should we.  “Destroyed and crushed” are the keys that open the prison door.

Topical Index: ḥāpēṣ, delight, sacrifice, broken, contrite, dākâ, forgiveness, Hosea 6:6, Psalm 51:19, Psalm 51:16