Psalm 102 (101):6Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

Behold, a humble man prays openly, not in silence. We can hear him and discern his identity: could he be the one of whom the Apostle wrote, "Though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, that ye through His poverty might be enriched" (2 Corinthians 8:9)? If it is He, why does He seem impoverished? How is it that the One who created riches appears destitute? Who is wealthier than He who brought forth even those riches that are not true wealth? Through Him, we receive those treasures such as abilities, memory, character, health, senses, and the structure of our bodies; when these elements are secure, even the destitute are enriched. Through Him, we also possess great riches: faith, godliness, justice, love, purity, and good conduct—none of which can be had except through Him who justifies the sinner. What immeasurable wealth we find! How can we reconcile seeing such abundance in one so seemingly poor? "I ate ashes as bread, and mingled my drink with weeping." Has such great treasure truly led to this? The first fortune is incredibly high, while this is incredibly low. Yet let us test if this poor man is indeed He; for "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us" (John 1:14). Consider also these words: "I am Your servant, and the son of Your servant." Notice, this servant, pure, unblemished, and maternal; for in Him, our poverty was taken up when He assumed the form of a servant, emptying Himself to remove our fear of His wealth and enabling us, in our lowly state, to approach Him. Thus, He assumed the form of a servant, embodying our poverty; in Him, He became poor so that we might become rich. We are beginning to grasp these profound truths about Him; yet we cannot too quickly declare our understanding.

Let Him then add poverty upon poverty: let Him transform our humble bodies to unite with Him; let Him be our Head, and we His members, that the two may be one flesh (Philippians 3:21). For He has purposed to hold us as His members. Those who repent likewise belong to His body. They are neither isolated nor separate from His Church, which would not exist as His beloved if it weren't for the call: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matthew 3:2). Let us listen to what the Head and the body, the Bridegroom and the Bride, Christ and the Church, both one person, pray; though the Word and flesh are not simultaneously the same, the Father and the Word are one and the same; Christ and the Church together form one perfect entity, reflecting His fullness. Thus, let us attune our ears to Christ, who is poor among us, with us, and for us. For the very title refers to the poor. Finally, consider that I suspect who this poor man truly is; let us listen to His prayer and recognize His essence; and do not be misled by anything attributed to His Head; rather, understand that any words from this description stem from the frailty of the body and echo the voice of the members in the Head. The title refers to "The Prayer of the Suffering Man," expressed during his anguished cries before the Lord. This is the same poor man who later proclaims, "From the ends of the earth I will call upon Thee when my heart is in travail." He suffers, for He is also Christ, who, as the Prophet reveals, identifies as both Bridegroom and Bride: "He hath put a diadem upon me as the bridegroom, and as the bride hath adorned me with jewels" (Isaiah 61:10). He calls Himself both Bridegroom and Bride; what is this, if not the Bridegroom representing the Head and the Bride reflecting the body? Thus they are one voice, unified as one flesh. Let us listen and see ourselves in these words; and if we realize that we are outside this unity, let us strive to enter in.

"Hear my prayer, O Lord, and let my cry come unto Thee" (Psalm 100:1). "Hear my prayer, Lord," equates to "Let my cry come unto Thee"; the intensity of the supplicant's yearning is underscored through repetition. "Turn not away Thy face from me." When did God ever turn His face away from His Son? When did the Father forsake Christ? Yet, for the sake of the insufficiency of my members, I plead—turn not away from me. "In whatever day I mourn, incline Thy ear unto me" (Psalm 101:2).

As I now experience distress, so too do I recognize that others in the past and future will face tribulation. Peter prayed, Paul prayed, and the faithful have always prayed—through trials in ancient times and for generations to come. I implore You now for that which You are ready to bestow. My request is not for earthly matters, as a mere earthly man would ask; rather, redeemed from my former bondage, I yearn for the kingdom of heaven. "Hear me soon," for with this longing, You have declared, "Even while Thou speakest, I will say, Here am I" (Isaiah 58:9). What is the nature of your call? What sorrow do you experience? O poor one, at the gates of the all-wealthy, from what desire do you seek relief? From what need do you knock for entrance?

For indeed, "my days have vanished like smoke" (Psalm 100:3). O days! If days are fleeting, then where the day is perceived, there the light is understood. My days, my times; thus, as smoke, is it not due to the arrogance of pride? Look how smoke rises, inflates, and ultimately disappears: this is the fitting fate for such a transient existence. "My bones are burnt as in a furnace" (Psalm 102:3). My bones and my strength are not free from anguish, not devoid of torment. What greater strength exists than that of Christ's body, of the holy Apostles? Yet still, we see that their bones are scorched. Who is offended, yet I remain unscorched? "Who is weak, and I am not weak?" (2 Corinthians 11:29). They are strong, faithful ministers and proclaimers of the Word, living in accordance with what they preach; there exists genuine bravery in them, yet those who take offense to them are like a fiery furnace. From this love, and more so within the bones, lies a foundation that supports all flesh. Should anyone suffer offense and risk their soul, their integrity is compromised proportionately to the extent they embrace it.

Contemplate Adam, the origin of the human race. For from him arose misery—whence this inherited poverty? Let him, who once found despair within his flesh, now placed within the body of Christ, proclaim with confidence, "My heart is afflicted and withered like grass" (Psalm 101:4). This is justly so, for "all flesh is grass" (Isaiah 40:6). But how did this occur? "Because I forgot to eat my bread." God commanded concerning bread. For what is the bread for the soul? The serpent tempted, and the woman sinned; she reached for that forbidden fruit (Genesis 3:6), forgetting the commandment; as a result, her heart was struck as it deserved, withering like grass because she neglected to nourish herself. In forgetting to partake of the bread, she ingested poison: her heart was smitten and dried up like grass.

Now, consume that bread which was neglected. This very Bread has arrived, in whose body you may recall the voice of your negligence and cry out in your poverty for abundance. Now eat, for you are within His body, declaring, "I am the living bread which came down from heaven" (John 6:41). You have forsaken your bread, yet after His crucifixion, all corners of the earth will remember and turn back to the Lord. After forgetting, let remembrance arise; let us consume bread from heaven, that we may live—not that manna they partook of and died (John 6:49)—but that bread of which it is said, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness" (Matthew 5:6).

"From the voice of my groaning my bones have cleaved to my flesh" (Psalm 101:5). For many groan, and I too groan; even concerning this, I groan, as they lament over wrongdoings. If a man loses a coin, he weeps; yet he loses faith and does not mourn. I weigh riches against faith and find much more reason for sorrow for one who does not groan as he should, or does not groan at all. He commits fraud yet rejoices. What gain, what loss? He has acquired wealth but sacrificed righteousness. For this reason, he who truly knows how to mourn, does mourn; he who remains close to the Head, who righteously clings to the body of Christ, finds his lamentue there. However, the worldly do not groan for this cause, and they feign their sorrows; even if we cannot disdain them, we should strive to correct them. When we cannot, we groan; and in our groaning, we remain united with them.

"I have become like a pelican in the wilderness and like an owl among the broken walls" (Psalm 100:6). Here lie three birds and three locations: the pelican, the owl, and the sparrow; these are each found in their distinct places: the wilderness, the ruined walls, and the roof of a house. The pelican dwells in the wilderness; the owl occupies the ruins—walls with no roof or inhabitants, fit for the owl. And the sparrow, you know, finds its perch on the rooftop. Thus, I recognize a member of the body of Christ, a herald of the Word, compassionate towards the weak, and striving for the conquests of Christ, mindful of the coming Lord (Matthew 25:26). Let us consider these three aspects in the exercise of His stewardship. Did such a man approach the Gentiles? He is a pelican in the wilderness. Did he come to Christians and withdraw? Then he is an owl amidst broken walls; he does not abandon even those who dwell in darkness, but seeks to find them. Did he fail to reach out to Christians residing in the house, seemingly without faith, or those who have turned from their beliefs yet still walk warmly within their convictions? The sparrow cries out to them, not in the wilderness because they are Christians; not in ruins because they have not fallen; but under the roof, under the flesh. The sparrow on the flesh cries out and does not shy from the commandments of God, nor behaves carnally to yield to the roof. Whatever you hear in your ear, proclaim on the rooftops (Matthew 10:27). There are three birds and three locations; one person may embody all three, or three distinct individuals may represent them. These three types of places symbolize three kinds of people; indeed, the wilderness, the ruins, and the rooftops represent three groups.

Let the repentant understand the proper way to approach this. I find myself so emaciated that I feel disembodied, with my flesh adherent to my bones. The term 'flesh' is preferred over 'skin.'

I ceased to crave any nourishment, entirely stripped of my previous vitality, as my body withered from grief, leaving only skin stretched over bones laid bare by the absence of flesh.

The sound of my sorrow has caused my bones to cling to my flesh, for genuine grief withers and dissolves all the vitality within the bones and skin. Some interpret flesh as referring to the outer layer; he indicates that my bones are adhered to my skin, as the substance between the bones and the skin has been depleted by anguish.

I implore you, my Father, to clarify the essence of this matter: how can I reach the state you've described? I am uncertain, for despite my efforts to diminish my intake, discouragement and frailty have persisted, compelling me to revert to my previous habits. Why do you assert that only the one who aligns himself with the one who proclaimed, ‘My bone shall cleave to my flesh,’ can find contentment in little? And how can bone adhere to flesh prior to the reduction of food? Please respond. Beloved brother, you urge me to address that which surpasses my understanding, and I am concerned that I may be judged for discussing another’s victory.

In this passage, the Prophet portrays an even greater suffering than in the previous verse, comparing both himself and his spirit to mown grass. Just as cut grass can no longer absorb water to draw strength from its roots, he expresses that his heart, metaphorically severed or split in two, is stripped of its inherent vitality due to overwhelming grief, so intense that it impedes his ability to consume regular nourishment. He further states that his entire being has become so desiccated from unrelenting sorrow and persistent lamentation that his bones cling to his skin.

The passage refers to a beggar, one who is stripped of God's grace due to his failings, and who, yearning to regain it, turns to God in humility and deep remorse, weeping for mercy from the One who is abundant in kindness (Eph. 2:4). This is Christ the Lord, who, during His earthly life, is the source of all, having committed no wrongdoing, yet He chose to free sinners from bondage by lowering Himself even to the point of a crucifixion (Phil. 2:8), thereby restoring those who had fallen into sin. He offered prayers and pleas to God, who has the power to deliver from death, accompanied by intense cries and tears, and having been heard, He became the author of eternal salvation for all who obey Him (Heb. 5:7-9), for in Him we find fullness in everything (1 Cor. 1:5).