9

Confronting Nihilism:
Towards a Political Theory
of the Psalms
By H. Lee Cheek, Jr.

I
The quest for increased freedom both personal and societal has
been a major concern among students of political philosophy and theology
for many years. However, the temptation to account for the modern project
as a progressive, liberating activity that seeks to recreate human existence has
come under increased scrutiny. The inability of human reason, removed from
the limitations of the older, classical and biblical traditions, to provide for
Bacons relief of mans state, while demonstrating the tremendous destructive
powers of modernity, forces a reassessment of foundational issues. The
intensity of such a re-evaluation has been aided by the decline and in some
cases destruction of the major ideological movements that dominated life in
the 20th century. Most attempts at overcoming these obstacles have proven to
be less than propitious.
In this vein, postmodernisms depiction of life at the end of modernity omits
an appreciation of the many elements of society that are actually pre-modern
and the usefulness of modernity as a mode of discourse.1 More importantly, as
Tom Darby has argued, an incipient nihilism both conflates and distracts from
the process of forming a historical consciousness necessary to resist ideological
formulations.2 Amidst the chaos, one can even find those who are more than
willing to extend the modern project, albeit with some reluctance.3
In contradistinction to the efforts directed towards reviving modernity,
several attempts to recover the older understanding of a common moral order,
grounded in a disciplined habit of mind, offer much hope. Such a pursuit requires
a return to the roots of our understanding of political and societal order. The
movement from such despair to an attempted recovery of an orthodox4 faith
is prefigured in Psalm 73. Unlike Qoheleth, the author of Psalm 73 believes the
Divine Imperative and human will can be assimilated into a coherent, workable
whole. In other words, divine revelation can contribute to the life of the individual

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as well as the regime. Holy teaching as an active element in the manifestation of

God replaces the divine mode of silence. Gerhard von Rad has also attempted
to present the movement within Psalm 73 as a theological and philosophical
periagoge, a turning around, or transitional movement towards following Gods
plan for a holy life.5
The argument in this essay will dispute von Rads claim regarding Psalm
73 as merely a propping up of an order. I assert that the quest is genuine and
one that results in an increased ability to follow God. For Plato, for example, any
turning around always resulted in improvement over the previous way of life.
It allowed for a greater understanding of the good, the true and the beautiful.
The most acute problem associated with humankind was just waywardness at
the core, or an inability to experience such a turn.6 The author of the psalm
under consideration has undertaken a journey to experience the transcendental
pole of the Divine tension in human life and has rediscovered order amidst the
disruptions of the authors world. Unlike the wicked who loathe the prospect of a
theophanic reality, the psalmist approaches a greater understanding of the Divine
through a number of means, including his own suffering, but is eventually able to
experience a union with the Divine.
II
One of the most profound difficulties with Psalm 73 centers on the integrity
of the text, but more importantly, one must also attempt to answer the question
of form. The complexity of the various elements and the question of whether
or not they compose a coherent whole are analyzed to an extreme in Hubert
Irsiglers Psalm 73 Monolog eines Weisen.7 For Irsigler, the psalms, including
73, are a product of both the result of oral transmission as well as written
transcription. Such a process inevitably produces textual variations that must be
examined. His tome is just such an enterprise; however, beneath the extravagant
exegesis, he has engaged in much speculation that may appear more questionable
under closer scrutiny. Hans-Joachim Kraus as well as other scholars suggest that
Psalm 73 forms a coherent text.8 According to Krauss commentary, no major
(textual) flaws are to be registered.9 In opposition to this view, Claus Westermann
argues that the text of Psalm 73 is potentially corrupt. In the case of verse 10,
Westermann argues that any effort at recovering the original text is probably
impossible.10 Accordingly, Westermann prefers to accept the tenor of the text
and he employs a paradigmatic hermeneutic as the guide for understanding the
psalm. Of course, this interpretative decision places particular restrictions upon
the reader of the text that Westermann appears unable to accept; namely, the

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imposition of theological claims for organizing the text. Westermann prefers to

place Psalm 73 within an existential context, limiting its applicability for a larger
audience. It is an account of the meaning of one life, not the account of a people.
Perhaps more alluring and accurate are the enhanced philosophical and
contextually oriented guides offered by Martin Buber and James L. Crenshaw.
Buber presents Psalm 73 as the converse of Job. Whereas Job pondered why the
good did not flourish, the author of Psalm 73 seeks an answer to the problem of
why the wicked always prosper. Bubers psalmist is a pietist of sorts, preferring
a model of personal religious devotion to the more dilettantish Job.11 Even
though Bubers essay is devoid of textual criticism, it provides a framework for
understanding Psalm 73 as a progression of political and theological insight
predicated upon an extensive appreciation of the text and a recognition of
the authors use of contrast. For Buber, the psalm forms a connected literary
unit that presents an intense appreciation of the difficulties associated with
following God in a confused world. For Bubers argument to sustain itself, the
text must not only be coherent, it must be void of serious flaws. In other words,
he assumes it forms a pericope, functioning as an authentic, self-contained
unit. He refuses to accept the modern divisions of the text and defines the
psalm according to movements within the narrative, rather than following
a more arbitrary method. While neither Buber nor Crenshaw is engaged in
commentary assessments, both offer illustrative criticisms regarding the
integrity of the work.
As we turn to Crenshaw, we confront a critique that offers an equally
poignant political and theological reading of the psalm as was found in Buber,
albeit influenced by the insights of the modern historical-critical study of the
Hebrew Bible. Crenshaw challenges the literary and theological premises of
Westermanns understanding without elucidating an exacting appraisal of the
psalm. The problem of spiritual anguish, which could lead to a multitude of
textual differences, is the major concern of Crenshaws Standing Near the Flame:
Psalm 73.12 A consistency exists if for no other reason than the participation by
the psalmist in a larger debate over the religious testing. While Crenshaw agrees
with Westermanns defense of the efficacy of individual testimony as a literary
device, he asserts that the claims of the one can also be the witness for and of the
many. In other words, the particular text can become the ground for a societys
effort to accommodate a political crisis within historical existence. The major
tenet of this assessment demands an understanding of the spiritual dimension of
the individual as he relates to the nation; the text progresses as a spiritual treatise
with a notion of political integrity.

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III
The author of Psalm 73 experiences a great deal of suffering in the process
of moving towards God. The writers body, especially his heart, will doubtless fail
(verse 26). The movement towards greater faithfulness is filled with tremendous,
sometimes perplexing, torment. Having offered a psychological veneer, we must
attempt to connect, if possible, such sentiment with a larger social movement in
a place and time. The Psalms as a whole were viewed by scholars of a previous
generation as a collection of poems with statements about various aspects of
temple worship, authored at different times by the sons of the major priests, Korah
and Asaph and others. The dating of the psalms as a genre was usually placed
later than David and many years after the Exile. Harold H. Watts, for example,
dated the Psalms between 537 BCE and 100 BCE.13 Such a movement marked a
departure from the earlier view of Davidic authorship, although an effort persists
to associate his name with some of the psalms. Contemporary biblical scholarship
affirms the limitations of Davidic composition when encountering the historical
realities of the Temple and acknowledges its destruction;14 this analysis concludes
that a multiplicity of authors and sources, literary and musical, contributed to the
collection that is now in our possession. However, Psalm 73s position in such an
assemblage remains an enigma wrapped in a riddle.
The credit for Psalm 73 is given to Asaph, one of the three leaders of the
Levite temple musicians. Mitchell Dahood describes Asaph as the founder of
a guild, as listed in I Chronicles 25: 1-2 and 6-9.15 This depiction may serve as
more of a traditional notation than a record of actual authorship. It is part of a
number of consecutive psalms that possess the same superscription concerning
authorship, and the psalms associated with Asaph contribute to one of the major
divisions of the general text. M. J. Buss, among others, has argued that the Asaph
Psalms have a special connection to the priestly life, especially the Levite priests
of the Ephraimite tradition.16 The author of Psalm 73 obviously considers himself
as part of the good, although he experiences an evolving notion of the good and
his relation to the concept changes. This becomes clear in verse 13 when the
practices of the holy life are perpetuated even when they bear no fruit for the
writer. If the source is priestly, it differs from much of biblical literature and other
psalmic forms. The author is filled with doubt and despair throughout much of
the psalm and perhaps the lifetime of the writer. Little textual evidence is offered
regarding the setting except in the pivotal verse 17 and the subsequent theophany
that transpires in the sanctuary. A visit to the temple is an epochal event in the
life of the author: life can no longer be the same.
Of all the possible concerns regarding Psalm 73, no other has received more

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attention than that of form. The debate over how to place the text has become
voluminous with no firm consensus on the matter. The dissonance regarding
this psalm suggests the inadequacy of our models of explanation, as well as the
troublesome task of defining wisdom literature. However, the confluence of
political and theological insight and the role of theophany remain useful guides
for our understanding. For most students of Psalm 73, and the psalms in general,
deciphering the form(s) of the collection has been a multifaceted challenge.
Jos Luyten describes Psalm 73 as being in search of a genre, and he proceeds
to set the stage for the discussion of the larger context of the psalms by noting
that: The first impression received when reviewing what has been written about
wisdom in the psalms since the work of H. Gunkel is one of chaos.17 While the
confusion is bewildering for someone outside the field of biblical studies, some
semblance of cohesion can be articulated. To simplify matters, Clinton McCann
has suggested seven categories or alternatives for describing the forms of the
psalms from recent scholarship: wisdom psalm, song of thanksgiving, song of
lament, song of confidence, royal psalm, pronouncement of a sanctuary charge
and the great psalm of Yahweh.18 Of these, according to his assessment, the first
two are the most dominant. At the heart of the issue lies Roland Murphys effort
to limit the definition of wisdom psalms to include only a portion of Gunkels
delineation of the genre. Murphy claimed, according to his new methodology,
that Psalm 49 could be included as a wisdom psalm, while 73 could not.19
Murphy has argued that Psalm 73 assumes the form of a thanksgiving song. If
the psalm is presented as a wisdom psalm, it does not fit all that nicely into the
appropriate package, and the advocates of the psalm as a thanksgiving psalm
must also respond to the inadequacies of their thesis. McCann aptly portrays the
conundrum regarding the interpretation in this way:
Those who identify Psalm 73 as a wisdom psalm generally
conclude that it is a Problemgedichte. The psalmist is suffering or
is struggling with the problem of why the righteous must suffer.
On the other hand, those who identify Psalm 73 as a song of
thanksgiving generally conclude either that the psalmist has
ceased to suffer and is thanking God for having been delivered,
or that the psalmist is thanking God that he has reached a
satisfactory solution to the problem of divine retribution.20
While these two major theories have dominated the debate, other more
alluring alternatives have been proposed. The most attractive versions of these
proposals attempt to assimilate a philosophical insight into the process. Against
this rather narrow presentation of the alternatives, Leo Perdues endeavor to

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extract a rapprochement between the previously exclusive worlds of wisdom

and cultic influences provides for a more salutary understanding and possible
resolution to the dilemma at hand.21 Perdue suggests that Psalm 73 belongs to a
category of proverb poems, as it is composed around several sayings. Following
this insight, the discussion is returned to Buber and Crenshaw and the text as
a political and theological witness. The older theories are often confusing, and
according to Crenshaw, run the risk of circular reasoning.22 The limitations
of the older methods, namely the detailed research devoted to the unfolding of
religious thinking and the extensive study of the historical content as epitomized
by the American School of William Foxwell Albright and others, do not
bring us any closer to the most central concern of our enterprise, and are of
limited assistance.23 At the heart of the critique offered by Perdue, one finds the
proposition that Psalm 73 is essentially a theological treatise. The appellation of
a thanksgiving psalm is too restrictive and theologically sterile for Psalm 73, as
it offers a genuine breakthrough to the message of God. The psalmist overcomes
the limitations of a theology of retribution as well as the constraints of personal
experience to possess an existential consciousness. Such a conception provides
us with the needed breakthrough to move to a more political and theological
explanation of the form as the guide for understanding the passages significance.
The revelatory act in verse 17 is the most prominent example of the
continuation of the theophanic reality found in other passages throughout
the Old Testament. The relationship with God is renewed and ratified by the
sanctuary experience; the combined company of God and author in the spiritual
dialogue evolves into the presence of God and his people. The most important
consideration is the outburst, which indicates it is not an unintelligible act, but
a remnant of the compactness of the older order. The hidden God in the life of
the author reveals the connection of God, through historical sources, and the
new constitution of being. The people and the divine can no longer be separated
and their historical constitution is revived through this event. Regardless of the
depictions of the author of Psalm 73 as merely giving an account of a spiritual
crisis, we are presented with an authentic Zetema that finds its reward in a
renewal of devotion and willingness to be near God (verse 28) forever.
The tension between the hidden God and Gods earthly manifestations
has been transposed by the sanctuary episode from the form of cosmological
myth to revealed presence in history. The author, as the medium for the Divine
word, as it was revealed to him, becomes a historical figure and the perpetuity of
the sacred text is established. Above all, a certain sense of balance prevails and
the continuity advances our understanding of the psalmist. As Moses provided
for a new order of the people of God and the revelatory act involving Moses

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was shared with his people, the psalmists struggles are the current crises of the
people of Israel, somewhat removed from the worldview shaped by the Mosaic
experience.24 Part of any understanding of this text evolves from the situation in
which the author finds himself. Moses, of course, was confronted with numerous
obstacles, with little hope of resolution; in this sense, Moses and the psalmist
have much in common. Moses confrontation with evil was direct. He frequently
criticized ruling elites as evil. The psalmist, on the other hand, changes his view
of evil substantially in Psalm 73. They share the reality that the more multifaceted
the conflict, the more complicated the existence of people. The Sitz im Leben of
the author translates into the actual setting of his people. The psalm speaks for
itself, bringing the argument of the theophanic reality as the central concern of
the passage to the forefront.25
IV. Verses 1-3 Autobiography
The beginning of the psalm sets the theological and descriptive tone for
the remainder of the passage. The confessional quality of the opening Truly
God (verse 1) mirrors both the psalmists spiritual quest and personal need
to find God amidst the chaos of the writers current existence. The disclosure is
offered as an appreciation of Gods role in the life of the writer, obviously noting
a level of devotion even though the situation may suggest a certain tenuousness
concerning the conditions spiritual and political that must be encountered
by the psalmist. God is the giver of goodness, but as Kraus suggests, the notion of
the good at the juncture is not clear and potentially diverse.26 The psalmists doubt
which will soon become painfully clear is veiled in deceptive language. As
this is the opening of the liturgy, such a praiseworthy tone is to be expected. A
possible criticism of this view comes when consideration is made of the use of
truly in verse 1. It suggests a note of assurance and determination that belies any
notion of insincerity on the part of the psalmist. Crenshaw suggests a theological
turn can be evidenced in the names used for the deity in the first three verses
and in verses 27-28.27 In the first two verses the names El and Elohim are utilized.
The names Adonai and Yahweh are used by the end of the psalm, suggesting a
special message for Gods people that must be shared and transmitted to future
generations.
The precarious situation of the psalmist comes into fuller focus in verse
2 as the author articulates his teetering at the edge of a spiritual abyss and his
near demise. The writer was close to losing his faith. This is perhaps the great
confession that unifies the subsequent descriptions of the recovery. The reader
is given a substantial tool for understanding the remainder of the psalm; the

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writer has almost stumbled, although he does not fall. He has touched the edge
of the Nietzschean chasm, but refused to succumb to it. At this early juncture,
we have an optimistic, perhaps victorious claim on behalf of the divine and the
enveloping power of God in the life of the people of God. As Buber has argued,
the purity of the heart becomes the predominant metaphor for explaining all
relationships with the Divine and the recovery of a humane social order.28
In verse 3 the separation of the wicked from the faithful29 seems rather
thoroughgoing. The psalmist appears as a distanced observer. The New Revised
Standard Version translates the posture in verse 3 as saw, whereas Marvin
Tate describes the movement as watching, possibly denoting a more covetous
understanding of the wicked.30 As a matter of personal experience, the psalmist
has witnessed the material success of the wicked. Buber poignantly describes the
situation as premised upon envy:
Seeing the prosperity of the wicked daily and hearing their
braggart speech has brought him very near to the abyss of
despairing unbelief, of the inability to believe any more in a
living God active in life. But I, a little more and my feet had
turned aside, a mere nothing and my steps had stumbled. He
goes so far as to be jealous of the wicked for their privileged
position.31
This serves as the initial movement before the great illumination that will follow.
The psalmist experiences a new perception of God, but the worst is yet to come.
V. Verses 4 - 16 Challenge
The psalmist believes the wicked are allowed a privileged existence. While
the term harsubbt can be understood in several ways, the lives of the wicked
are certainly not as painful as the psalmists perceived reality. The wicked are
unquestionably distinct from the psalmist because they are pretentious and
enamored with the pleasures of worldly living. They are exempt from the
problems others must suffer. At the center of the psalmists problem with these
people is their disavowal of the divine element in life, although they make
passing reference to the Most High as a sneer of sorts with little purpose other
than a denigration of the faithful. In one sense, the wicked claim to speak in
the voice of heaven (verse 9), sharing their insight with all the earth, while also
acquiring a following among the community. The psalmist holds the wicked
peoples ability to entice others to their ranks as most disdainful. As Crenshaw
suggests, the wicked question whether religion is really worth the bother.32 And

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the wicked present a profound challenge to the faithful: if God does not have any
special knowledge and if this insight cannot be communicated to the people
of God why should any devotion to the Divine or the community of faith be
necessary? The psalmist has also undertaken such a mode of questioning.
The challenge for the psalmist is related to the corresponding modern
challenge: in the face of near insurmountable obstacles to the faith and the possibility
of limited returns why not turn away from God. He is given the opportunity to
divorce himself from the deity, or as Loren Fisher describes the transition, he could
have washed his hands, which is connected to acts of ceremonial cleansing in
numerous ancient Near Eastern texts.33 The possibility of liberation from divine
rule presented itself to the author with the imposition of such an activity. He cannot
make such a move because it would deny the salvific nature of God. The psalmist
continues to pursue God, in part out of devotion to the circle of children (verse
15) or fellow communicants that are near him. The community nurtures him in
this time of confusion and searching and ultimately provides the impetus for his
overcoming the crisis of disbelief. The challenge has been met.
VI. Verse 17 Theophany
Many scholars agree that verse 17 is the turning point in the psalm. The
psalmist honestly seeks God even in his turmoil, guided by the community.
Because the psalmist is holy, he can know God. Buber argues that the psalmist
is not led into the temple because of his doubt of the Divine, but because of
the psalmists purity of heart.34 One can easily dismiss the psalmist as slow or
not perceptive; however, the intellectualization of his faith has been shattered
and the directness of the Divine becomes manifested into his life. For Buber
the presence of God has acted as guide, bringing the psalmist out of his selfimposed confinement, and he must now encounter the world as a new man.35
The author as sufferer experiences a transformation and finds a truth that breaks
through all the disguises and contradictions of life and history.36
VII. Verses 18-20 Life among the Ruins
The limits of the wicked are now clear to the psalmist. Their existence, now
exposed in all of its confinement, is predicated upon a deformed notion of social
and political order. The wicked live in a world of dreams filled with partial truth
that cannot be sustained. The deception has been exposed by the psalmists
experience of the theophany. At the end of the day, it is the wicked who must fall,
not the children of God. The role of the Divine now changes: God no longer has to

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answer the questions presented by the wicked, as God can speak to His people in
due course and in the appropriate manner. God can also handle the wicked, and
as Crenshaw points out, the Divine is now addressed personally by the psalmist.37
God has spoken to the writer and people of Israel in an unambiguous fashion.
VIII. Verses 21-24 The Movement towards Faith
Verse 21 renews the confessional habit of mind of the earlier portion of
Psalm 73. There is again mention of the psalmists anguish, but he is no longer the
recalcitrant figure we experienced earlier in the psalm. These four verses stress
the assurance of the individual, even when the memory of the intrinsic anguish
remains vivid in the mind of the writer. This pericope serves as the second long,
dark night of the psalmists faith pilgrimage. The wicked are merely secondrate mystics, mystiques manques, who did not fulfill the spiritual requirements
necessary to follow God although God comes to the rescue. The People of
God can still assimilate the new divine wisdom. Verse 23 suggests the possibility
of an eternal connection to the Divine, where the communicant is received with
honor according to Crenshaw,38 although Tate translates the word as glory.39
Can glory be heaven and the promise of eternal life with God? Our exegesis
cannot fully answer such a question, even though it is one of the troublesome
problems in this text. The assumption into heaven must remain a possibility.
IX. Verses 25-28 Autobiography of a People
The final part of the passage is a rememoration of the first three verses,
aided by the theophanic reality and the implantation of a new consciousness
of existence. The ordering of the psalmists world becomes a movement
towards the transcendent. As Kraus suggests, there is a movement beyond the
immanentization of the life with God and the new relationship with the Divine
also abrogates the limits of ones current existence.40 Closeness to God is a sure
sign of salvation (verse 28). These verses contain the advancement envisioned
in verse 17. The God who spoke in the sanctuary now becomes the psalmists
Lord (verse 28) and nearness of the divine presence is undeniable.
The psalmist is not the historian of Israelite existence, but the writer is a
political and spiritual reformer who offers an erudite refutation of nihilism
although he is not the founder of a religion or any new variation of faith. The
psalmist serves as a participant in a terse formula: Yahweh brought Israel,
through Moses, up from Egypt, and others must explain the difficulties of the
heart to successive generations. Most profoundly, the psalmist serves as the

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model, the person in whose heart and mind the leap of being occurs. The
psalmist is no longer a messenger of the divine reality, but an actual participant.
The psalmist is the stimulus for the ennobling of the divine as the unifying source
of the political and social order of the people in the present with the rhythm of
existence.
Notes
1 See David J. Walsh, After Ideology (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1990), and The
Growth of the Liberal Soul (Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 1997). Walsh
suggests how we moderns have exhausted many ideological designs and are now in a position
to move beyond the limits of such frameworks.
2 Tom Darby, Afterword: On the Coincidence of Our Preoccupation with Nietzsche, in
Nietzsche and the Rhetoric of Nihilism, ed. Tom Darby et al. (Ottawa: Carleton University Press,
1989), 195.
3 Francis Fukuyamas The End of History and the Last Man (New York: The Free Press,
1992) accurately suggests that the withering away of the ideological movements in the 20th
century coincides with their proclamation of the end of history; although, he proceeds to offer
his version, with obvious ideological trappings. Fukuyamas more recent scholarship potentially
evinces an acknowledgement of some limitations associated with his earlier work. See America
at the Crossroads: Democracy, Power, and the Neoconservative Legacy (New Haven, Connecticut:
Yale University Press, 2006).
4 This essay does not attempt to define orthodoxy or defend a particular modern
proposition; it merely seeks to affirm a belief that has sustained a particular community, or
group amidst the exigencies of their everyday existence.
5 Gerhard von Rad, Wisdom in Israel (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Trinity Press
International, 1993).
6 See H. Lee Cheek, Jr., A Note on the Platonic and Aristotelian Critique of Democratic
Man, International Social Science Review 66, no. 2 (Spring 1991).
7 Hubert Irsigler, Psalm 73 Monolog eines Weisen. Text, Programm, Struktur (St.
Ottilien: EOS Verlag, 1984).
8 Hans-Joachim Kraus, Psalms 60-150 (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989), 84.
9 Ibid.
10 Claus Westermann, The Living Psalms (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmams, 1989), 134.
11 Martin Buber, The Heart Determines, in On the Bible (New York: Schocken Books,
1968), 205.
12 James Crenshaw, A Whirlpool of Torment: Israelite Traditions of God as an Oppressive
Presence (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 93-109.
13 Harold H. Watts, The Modern Readers Guide to the Bible (New York: Harper and Row,
1949), 209.
14 James Crenshaw, Old Testament Story and Faith (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson
Publishers, 1992), 292-303.
15 Mitchell Dahood, The Anchor Bible, Psalms II: 51-100 (Garden City, New York:
Doubleday and Company, 1968), 188.

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16 M. J. Buss, The Psalms of Asaph and Korah, Journal of Biblical Literature 82 (1963):
383-92.
17 J. Luyten, Psalm 73 and Wisdom, in La Sagesse de l Ancien Testament Par M. Gilbert
(Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1979), 59-81.
18 J. Clinton McCann Jr., Psalm 73: A Microcosm of Old Testament Theology, in The
Listening Heart: Essays in Wisdom and the Psalms in Honor of Roland E. Murphy, O. Carm. eds.
K.G. Hoglund et al. (Sheffield, England: Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, 1987), 24757.
19 Roland Murphy, A Consideration of the Classification of Wisdom Psalms, Vetus
Testamentum, Supplement IX (1963): 160.
20 McCann, Psalm 73: A Microcosm of Old Testament Theology, 247.
21 Leo G. Perdue, Wisdom and Cult: A Critical Analysis of the Views of the Cults in the
Wisdom Literatures of Israel and the Ancient Near East (Missoula, Montana: Society of Biblical
Literature Dissertation Series, 1977).
22 Crenshaw, A Whirlpool of Torment, 95.
23 Ibid., 97, n. 7.
24 See Crenshaw, Introduction: The Shift from Theodicy to Anthropodicy, in Theodicy in
the Old Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983), 7.
25 The German phrase Sitz im Leben roughly translates as setting in life, and refers to the
context in which a text was written and its purpose at that time.
26 Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 86.
27 Crenshaw, A Whirlpool of Torment, 99.
28 Buber, The Heart Determines, 201.
29 Westermann, The Living Psalms, 136. This essay borrows freely from Westermann in the
use of this term.
30 Marvin Tate, Word Biblical Commentary, Volume 20: Psalms 51-100 (Dallas: Word
Books, 1990), 228.
31 Buber, The Heart Determines, 201.
32 Crenshaw, A Whirlpool of Torment, 102.
33 As quoted in Dahood, The Anchor Bible, 191.
34 Buber, The Heart Determines, 205.
35 Ibid., 206.
36 Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 89.
37 Crenshaw, A Whirlpool of Torment, 106.
38 Ibid.
39 Tate, Word Biblical Commentary, 230.
40 Kraus, Psalms 60-150, 91.