THEOSISAugustine of Hippo
This psalm is titled "For the Sharpened." As we observe together, dear ones (for I perceive your attentiveness), the text does not mention any tools, press, wine-basket, or lathe; it has not alluded to such things in its reading. Thus, we find ourselves contemplating the title inscribed upon it, associated with lathes. If the text had discussed any of the items I just listed, those who are carnal might interpret it as a song about literal lathes. However, due to the ambiguity of this title and the absence of any further references to the familiar lathes, I am convinced that the Spirit of God intended for us to discern deeper truths within it. Let us remember the processes occurring in visible mills, and reflect on how these relate spiritually to the Church. Grapes hang from their vines, and olives cling to their branches, as presses are traditionally constructed for these fruits; while suspended, they seem to bask peacefully in the air, and neither the grapes yield wine nor the olives produce oil. Likewise, those whom God has chosen to be conformed to the likeness of His Son, the first among many brothers (Romans 8:29), experience a phase of delightful liberty before entering into God's service, akin to these hanging grapes and olives. Yet, as it is written, "My son, when you come to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for temptation" (Sirach 2:1). Everyone who approaches the service of God soon discovers they have come to the sharpener, where they will face afflictions, breakings, and oppression—not to perish in this temporary life, but to gain access to the treasures of God.
The veils of earthly lusts are stripped away from them, just like the skin of grapes; for what happens to them in the throes of carnal desires mirrors what the Apostle exhorts us: "Put off the old self and put on the new self." This transformation occurs solely through pressure; thus, the Churches of God are akin to sharpeners. And who are those engaged within these sharpeners? They are the sons of Korah, a phrase further clarified as בני קורח (benai Korach), denoted as "sons of the bald," as far as those familiar with this language can explain according to their service to God.
As we endure this pressure, we are refined, shedding our attachments to worldly, ephemeral matters that have wrought us torments and trials in this life, prompting us to seek a rest that transcends both this world and our earthly existence. The Lord, therefore, becomes our refuge, as described in the Scriptures. What does it mean to be a poor man? It is someone bereft of support, lacking aid or any resting place on earth. In such a state, God draws near. Though many may be wealthy and fruitful upon the earth, they are often filled with dread rather than joy. What is more unreliable than fleeting wealth? Money itself is not evil; what is troublesome is its transient nature. Therefore, those who possess it may still find themselves in poverty. Conversely, those who own nothing but long for it may also fall under the category of the rejected affluent; for God does not measure worth by possessions but rather by the intent of the heart. The truly impoverished are those devoid of worldly riches, aware of their transitory nature, who cry out to God for comfort, yet find themselves whipped by the trials and temptations of life, processing their pain as if in a lathe, transforming into oil or wine, embodying good desires. God stands as their sole aspiration; their affections are no longer rooted in earthly delights, but directed towards Him, the Creator of the heavens and the earth. Their longing for God intensifies in anticipation, for God has promised bountiful gifts for those who genuinely seek Him. Our labor to be prepared for such incredible goodness requires diligent effort; not everything He has made is given indiscriminately, but rather, He Himself, the Creator of all. Strive to receive God, that which you shall possess for eternity, and desire it earnestly.
Therefore, beloved ones, as each is able, let us make vows and offer what we can to the Lord our God. Let no one dwell on past endeavors, nor be lulled by previous comforts; instead, let them press forward until they reach their goal. We race not on foot but with our desires. Yet, no one should assert that they have reached their destination. After all, who could rival the perfection of Paul? (Philippians 3:13). He himself admits, "Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it." If you are to sense the passions of this world even in times of happiness, recognize that you are still struck by the grindstone of life. When the world bears you well with joy, remind yourself you are in the mill and exclaim: "I have encountered trouble and burdens, and I have called on the name of the Lord." He does not reference trivial troubles, hidden from sight; indeed, some sufferings are obscured from those who believe they are happy while distanced from God. As he says, "While we are at home in the body, we are away from the Lord" (2 Corinthians 5:6). If you experience separation from your Father, could you truly rejoice? There are those deceived into believing all is well, yet the discerning recognize that abundance and pleasure do not equate to well-being if they are distanced from the Lord. Though their circumstances may flourish, they still discern trouble and distress, and they hence call upon the name of the Lord. Such is the figure described in this psalm—the body of Christ. Who is this body? It could be you, and it encompasses all of us, as the Body of Christ is the One Body.
"How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of Hosts" (Psalm 82:1). The Lord made Himself manifest within one bush, that is, the sharpened bush: yet He longs for other bushes, wherein there is no pressure. His desire flows forth from that initial bush, connecting Him to them through longing.
And what follows? "My soul yearns and pines for the courts of the Lord" (Psalm 83:2). It is not sufficient that our aspirations fail; why do they fail? Because of the courts of the Lord. A pressed grape personally does not simply fail but rather yields wine, flowing into the vat and the larger storehouse, to remain there in fulfillment. Here, the cherished is found; there, it is received; here sighs are uttered; there joy resounds; here prayers are lifted; there praises are sung; here groans arise; there jubilations spring forth. Let no one be ashamed of the circumstances described, nor refuse to endure. There exists a true danger for those grapes who fear the sharpening; they will not be consumed by birds nor by wild beasts.
You have heard the moaning in the winepress, "My soul is weary and longs for the courts of the Lord"—listen to the steadfast declarations of hope: "My heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God." This rejoicing springs forth due to the presence of joy; what joy is there without hope? What was their rejoicing in? In the living God. What have you rejoiced in? "My heart and my flesh." Why do they rejoice? Because the sparrow has found its nest, and the turtledove a place to lay her young (Psalm 83:3). What do these signify? He identified two aspects—the heart and flesh—drawing parallels with two types of birds: likening the heart to a sparrow and the flesh to a dove. The sparrow has found its dwelling: my heart has located its resting place. It endeavors to soar amidst the virtues of this life—faith, hope, and charity—which grant it wings to ascend towards its true home. Once it arrives, there will be no further lamentations heard by the sparrow. The mourning sparrow, once captured in its solitary plight as described elsewhere, "As a sparrow alone on the rooftop," ascends, leaving its earthly abode behind.
Now, free from earthly constraints, that sparrow will find a heavenly and lasting home, laying to rest its melancholic cries. The dove, too, has been provided with a dwelling, a nest to lay its eggs. The sparrow’s home is eternal, while the dove's nest is temporary; with the heart, we direct our thoughts toward God, as the sparrow finds shelter; with the flesh, we perform righteous acts. Consider how many good works the saints actively fulfill through their flesh; for we undertake these actions as commanded—for instance, sharing food with the hungry and sheltering the homeless (Isaiah 58:7) among others—exclusively through our corporeal existence.
Brethren, it is evident that numerous individuals seem to do good outside the Church. Many—even among the Gentiles—feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, visit the sick, and comfort the imprisoned. Yet, a dove produces young yet finds no secure nest. Many good deeds may exist among heretics devoid of the Church, unable to properly house their young. They will be crushed, forsaken, without protection.
In this faith lies your chick; in this nest, manifest your efforts. What do these nests represent? Your altars, O Lord of Hosts, constitute my King and my God. What does my King and my God signify? You who reign over me, who created me.
"Blessed are those who dwell in your house" (Psalm 83:4). If you possess your own dwelling, you find yourself in a state of poverty; but if you dwell in God's house, you are enriched. In your own domain, you might fear robbers, but in God’s house, He serves as your defense. Thus, blessed are those who reside in Your house; they inherit the heavenly Jerusalem without coercion, without hardship, and without differentiation in boundaries; all possess this, and all possess everything. This wealth is boundless. Brothers do not crowd each other; there exists no need for competition.
What shall they pursue there? Here, indeed, necessity propels human actions. I previously mentioned that necessity alone gives rise to all occupations; consider any profession and discern if necessity is the sole origin. Even the noblest arts—like the power of eloquence in defending the vulnerable or the healing arts—depend upon the presence of need. Should we remove litigants, who could need legal assistance? Should we eradicate wounds and illnesses, what would be left for healers to address? Yet all human endeavors arise from needs—whether plowing, sowing, or swimming; what produces these tasks but necessity? Without hunger, thirst, or nakedness, who desires such undertakings?
For example, "Break bread for the hungry"—for who needs bread if no one is hungry? "Welcome the homeless into your home" (Isaiah 58:7)—who can offer hospitality if you don’t encounter those without a place? Who visits the sick if all dwell in perfect health? Who reconciles the feuding if there is unending peace? In the presence of everlasting life, what remains to bury the dead? None of the esteemed works we currently deem honorable, none of the good deeds will be the labor of that day; then the young swallows will exit the nest.
So, what shall we inherit? You have expressed what awaits; "Blessed are those who dwell in your house." Now, tell me what the dwellers will pursue; I notice no need to urge. Will there be a need to educate the ignorant in that place? Will there be a need for reminders for the forgetful? Or will the Gospel still be read where the very Word of God resides? They will praise you continually. That will be our singular purpose, an unending Hallelujah. Do not assume, dear brethren, that weariness shall arrive there: if you find it difficult to endure lengthy praise here, it is likely that some necessity diverts you from that bliss.