Augustine of Hippo
This psalm is labeled ‘For the sharpener.’ As you have discerned, dear friends, nothing within its verses refers to any kind of mill, winepress, vat, or tools resembling a lathe. The absence of these references suggests that the title is not merely a straightforward indication related to physical lathes. Had it discussed these aspects, those inclined towards earthly interpretations might mistakenly conclude it pertains to tangible lathes. However, the title invites us to explore deeper meanings intended by the Holy Spirit. Let us draw parallels between visible mills and their spiritual counterparts within the Church. Just as grapes hang from vines and olives from trees, these fruits symbolize the processes by which we come to be purified. Typically, presses are fashioned for these two fruits, and while they remain on their branches, they enjoy the freedom of air, just as humans, designated by God before time began to be molded into the likeness of His only-begotten Son (Romans 8:29), initially bask in an allure of worldly liberty, akin to grapes or olives. Yet, as Scripture advises, "My son, when you are about to serve God, stand in fear and prepare your soul for temptation" (Sirach 2:1). Thus, anyone who approaches divine service invariably encounters the sharpener, facing afflictions, trials, and oppression—not for their destruction but to access the treasures of God. The veils of earthly desires are stripped away from them, similar to the skins of grapes, rendering visible their carnal lusts as highlighted by the Apostle: "Put off the old man and put on the new man." This transformation comes by way of pressure, which is why the contemporary Churches of God are identified as sharpeners.
Who, then, are we who find ourselves in these sharpeners? The sons of Korah are designated, and that designation, “tochilam,” refers to them as sons of the bald, as far as our understanding of the language allows. Under duress, we undergo a molding that, through our yearning for worldly and transient pleasures, enables us to endure the pains, pressures, and numerous temptations of this life and propels our search for rest that is neither found in this life nor on this earth. The Lord becomes, as it is written, the refuge of the afflicted. Indeed, a poor man is one who lacks help, support, or anything to rely on in this earthly realm. While the affluent may possess material wealth, they remain deeply burdened with anxieties rather than joy. What can be more transient than possessions? Their instability renders those who have them poor, while even those lacking such riches yet longing for them may be counted among the condemned. God values the intent of the heart over mere possessions; therefore, the truly poor realize the fleeting nature of the world's offerings. Crying out to God in their absence of comfort, bearing the weight of overwhelming pressures and temptations, like those undergoing the refining process, they transform into good desires—seeking God as their ultimate fulfillment. Their love no longer clings to the earth, for they cherish the Creator of heaven and earth, desiring Him more than anything else. Their longing is intentionally prolonged—to increase it until fulfillment arises. For God promises great rewards to those who seek Him diligently; exercising ourselves is required to attain such immense grace—the eternal goodness of God Himself, which we shall desire for an eternity.
Therefore, beloved, as each can, let us make vows and offer to the Lord what we are able: let no one look back or cling to past comforts, nor turn from what lies ahead to what is behind, but let him run towards the goal, for we pursue not with our legs but with our longing. Yet let no man in this life claim he has arrived, for who among us can match the perfection of Paul? (Philippians 3:13) He himself professed that he did not regard himself as having attained. If you feel the passions of this world even in your happiness, acknowledge that you are in the grindstone. Thus, when the world appears benevolent, picture yourself at the grindstone and declare, "I have encountered trials and burdens, and I have called upon the name of the Lord." Even when stating that he found insignificant troubles concealed, he recognized some sufferings escape the notice of those who believe themselves joyful while estranged from God. For as he points out, “while we are in the body, we are away from the Lord” (2 Corinthians 5:6). Were you to be distanced from your earthly father, true despair would overtake you; how much greater is it to be without the Lord? Some find contentment in their superficial state, yet those who perceive their plight amidst abundance realize they are absent from the Lord and, with clear insight, recognize the burdensome nature of their existence and thus call upon the Lord. This is the essence of the one who sings this psalm, the Body of Christ. It is you, if you desire, and it encompasses all of us collectively, for there is but one Body of Christ. "How lovely are your tabernacles, O Lord of hosts" (Psalm 82:1). He was found in one tabernacle, the sharpened bush; yet He yearned for others free from pressure, sighing for these, flowing toward them through longing desire.
What then? "My soul yearns and sighs for the courts of the Lord" (Psalm 83:2). The desire for the courts propels such a longing; when grapes are pressed, they are crushed, but for the intent of yielding wine, flowing into the vat and being stored quietly. Here it is desired, and there it is received: here sighs, and there joy; here prayers, and there praises; here groans, and there exultation. Let none among you allow shame about these truths, nor resist the call to suffer. There exists a risk that those afraid of the sharpening may be unfit for consumption by the creatures of the air.
You have heard the groaning from the winepress: "my soul languishes and longs for the courts of the Lord"—observe how it clings in hope: "my heart and my flesh have rejoiced in the living God." Here lies the source of their joy; what brings joy if not hope? What were they rejoicing in? In the living God. In what have you found your joy? In your heart and flesh. Why did they rejoice? Because, as he observes, "the sparrow has found a home and the swallow a nest for herself" (Psalm 83:3). Two elements he mentions, mirroring two forms of birds: the heart likened to the sparrow, the flesh akin to the dove. The sparrow has discovered a dwelling: my heart has secured its dwelling. It flits through the virtues of this life—faith, hope, charity—capturing the ability to soar to its eternal abode: once reaching that destination, it shall find rest; no longer shall it bear the lamenting voice of the sparrow trapped here. It reflects upon the same sorrowful sparrow spoken of in another psalm, "As a sparrow alone on the rooftop." From the edges of the world, the sparrow returns, soaring from its earthly encampment to a heavenly home—the eternal residence which concludes its grief. The dove is granted a nest for her young; she finds sanctuary to raise her chicks. The sparrow possesses a home, whereas the dove cherishes a nest; a dwelling signifies everlasting intent, while the nest serves a temporary purpose. With our hearts, we contemplate God, akin to how the sparrow takes flight to its home. With our flesh, we perform acts of goodness, exemplifying the manifold deeds realized through the actions of saints—fulfilling commanded deeds like feeding the famished or welcoming the homeless (Isaiah 58:7). However, many undertake good works outside the Church, for there are individuals—gentiles even—who still help the hungry, clothe the naked, receive strangers, tend to the sick, or console the imprisoned. And yet, how many among heretics accomplish such work within the Church—they may perform commendable deeds but will not secure their young in the protective embrace of the nest. They risk being trampled and crushed, reckoning their efforts unguarded and unreconciled.
Within this faith lies your chick; that nest is where your works reside. The significance of these nests is self-evident. When it states, "And the dove has found a nest for herself, where she may lay her chicks," it prompts the question: what is the nest? "Your altars, O Lord of Hosts, are my King and my God." Who is my King and my God? He who reigns over me and created me. Blessed are those who inhabit your house (Psalm 83:4). Should you claim your own dwelling, you are impoverished; but in possession of God’s house, you are enriched. In your own home, anxiety about robbery exists; yet in God’s abode, He serves as a fortress. Therefore, blessed are those who dwell in your house, as they possess the heavenly Jerusalem without strife or impediments; all are equally embraced and enriched. The wealth is abundant, for there is no crowding among brethren—no one competes for advancement. In that realm, what will their pursuits entail? For among humanity, necessity breeds all endeavors. I have previously stated, brethren, reflect upon all your undertakings and determine if necessity is the sole catalyst for them. Even the noblest of endeavors—be it the oratory arts or healing professions—require a need from which to spring. Absent litigants, what use is a lawyer? Remove maladies, and what purpose serves a physician? Daily life’s duties are governed by necessity. Should hunger, thirst, or unclothed bodies vanish, who would require these tasks? For instance, "break bread for the hungry" is a call to action—it necessitates the existence of the hungry. How may you welcome the homeless unless they exist? What sick one may you visit in a land of eternal health? What litigants shall you conciliate where everlasting peace reigns? None of the honorable and common undertakings will persist; the fledglings, the young swallows, would depart the nest.
What then? You have stated what awaits us; "Blessed are they that dwell in your house." Now enlighten me about their pursuits, as I perceive no demands pressing me onward. Will there be need for instruction or reminders in that realm? Will the Gospel be cherished in a land where one can directly behold the living God? There, our entire duty will be unending praise. Do not assume, dear brethren, that weariness will emerge in that place; the struggles we encounter in this life stem from distractions derived from necessity interrupting our joy. If the unseen does not incite elation here, how shall we extol what is visibly present? When death devours the victory, when this mortality has clothed itself with immortality (1 Corinthians 15:54), none would utter, "I have endured for a long time"; none would lament, "I have fasted long"; none would say, "I have watched long." Our endurance will be profound, and our immortal beings will be invigorated in the contemplation of God. If the word now shared with you manages to sustain your fragile nature for an extended duration, what transformations await under the influence of overwhelming joy? We will become like Him, as we will see Him as He is (1 John 3:2). In becoming like Him, will we encounter distractions? Brethren, our praise of God’s magnificence and love will never reach completion. If love could falter, so too could praise. However, when love is eternal and beauty unfathomable, fear not, even should you struggle to maintain your praise for the One you may love consistently. Let us yearn for another life.