“Why, Adonai, do you stand far away?” (10:1)

When I feel frightened and empty inside, sometimes I can identify the cause and address it. Perhaps I made a mistake and caused hurt feelings, so someone is angry with me. Perhaps I have a list of things that need to be done and just don’t know how I am going to finish everything. Perhaps there is something going on with one or more of my children – problems at school, tension at home, and that is causing the entire family to be distant and unhappy. Sometimes, though, for no identifiable reason I feel this tremendous disconnect between myself and everything else around me, as if I am floating off in space somewhere or living in a parallel universe only vaguely connected with the people around me.

Is it God who is standing far away? It’s easy to blame God and say ‘why have you moved so far away?’ It’s easy to see myself at the center of the universe, as if all existence consists only of that which takes place inside my head.

It’s a matter of perspective. I could just as easily say that God is not standing far from me; rather, I am standing far away from God! The problem is that when I look at the universe from the perspective of my head, the universe is severely distorted, like a Mercator projection of a map of the world. A goal of a religious life ought to be to see the world in a more expansive way – not from the limited perspective of a single human being or group of people, but from the widest possible lens of humanity.

Thus we can break the illusion of God standing far from me or me standing far from God.

“Adonai is a haven for the oppressed, a haven in times of trouble.” (9:10)

Sometimes you’re just having one of those days on which problems accumulate. Not necessarily huge problems, but each one is like a tiny brush fire that has to be put out immediately, before it grows, spawning the leaping flames of a giant problem. It’s one of those days when you feel like the only sane person in a world of unstable, psychotic, pyromaniacs playing with matches.

In the world of electronic communication, why do people ‘reply all’ when what is needed is a simple response to the sender? Why do people respond to a carefully worded email with questions and objections based on reading only the subject line and the first sentence, rather than first reading the entire note?

Oppression is a time like this when you’re feeling the pressure of a world full of the noise and static of a dozen annoyances grabbing for your attention like needy toddlers. Oppression is when you come home exhausted after a day of busyness with no breaks, with no sense that you’ve accomplished anything useful, lasting, or meaningful.

The Psalmist asserts that you can find a haven from oppression. The haven can be your home, but only if you put up on invisible force field around your home that admits you, but excludes the troubles. The Mezuzah on the door is the force field – the reminder that this home is a place in which God’s presence lives. Stop at the doorstep – take a breath of redemption, and breath out the oppression. Put a smile on your face, and walk through the door. Welcome to the haven from oppression! Welcome to God’s home!

“What is man that You have been mindful of him, mortal man that You have taken note of him, that You have made him little less than divine, and adorned him with glory and majesty?” (8:5-6)

There is a teaching of the Hasidic Rabbi Simha of Bunem, that a person should always carry two slips of paper, one in each pocket. In the left pocket, the slip of paper reads, “You are dust and ashes.” (Genesis 18:27) The slip of paper in the right pocket reads, “For my sake, the world was created.” (Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5)

Being created in God’s image is at the same time a great privilege and a great responsibility. The ability to manipulate tools and extensively use the resources of the planet for our benefit gives us an advantage over all other forms of life. Were we to be tossed into the wild to compete on even terms with animals of prey, most of us would be lost. In our own environment, we are masters.

It is the “little less than Divine” that draws my attention. We are asked to be self-limiting in our behavior. No one can compel us to use fewer resources, be kinder to the environment, treat all life with compassion. The Psalmist therefore reminds us that we are not Divine; in Reb Simha’s words, we are destined to become dust and ashes.

Reb Simha’s teaching is that ego needs to be balanced with humility; and that self-effacement needs to be balanced with self-esteem. In the end, though, he recognizes that a healthy ego is slightly tilted towards self-esteem over humility. The key to understanding Reb Simha’s teaching is to remember that the right hand is stronger than the left hand (for those of us who are left handed, think of it symbolically). Therefore, the self-affirming message (“I am so important that the world was created for me”) is slightly stronger than the ego-cautioning message warning me that I am a mortal being destined to return to the grave.