Ruben Specchi
As published in Risveglio Pentecostale (May 2020)
Psalm 90 bears in its title the genre, t’fillah, meaning “prayer,” and the author, Moses, “the man of God.” The first of a series of eleven psalms attributed to Moses (from Psalm 90 to Psalm 100), Psalm 90 is in every respect the oldest psalm in the collection that has come down to us. Its primacy is such that even the Iliad and the Odyssey, foundational works of Western literature, are later than Psalm 90 by several centuries (from four to seven, depending on the dating of the Exodus). Conceived as an invocation to God, this psalm was probably composed following the events described in Numbers 13 and 14, when, having reached Kadesh‑Barnea, instead of proceeding and taking possession of the Promised Land, the Israelites were seized by doubt and fear, to the point of deciding to leave and give up the dream for which they had wandered forty years in the desert. While writing, Moses was advanced in age and near the end of his journey on earth. For forty years he had endured the changing moods of the Israelites and their unreasonable whims.
Psalm 90 is one of the psalms sung among the z’mirot (the hymns) every Sabbath morning and during Jewish festivals in synagogues throughout the world. The psalm holds a prominent place on the day of Hoshana Rabbah, the “Great Hosanna” or “Great Supplication,” celebrated on the seventh day of Sukkot, the Feast of Tabernacles. This prayer is the supplication of the Jewish people to God in order to receive forgiveness for the sin committed, the cause of God’s wrath that punished them with dispersion. Rabbinic tradition affirms that, while in this psalm Moses describes the contingent reality of Israel, he is in fact lamenting the fragility that characterizes every human being—fragility that is physical, emotional, and spiritual. No one in the world, in fact, is exempt from experiencing, at least once in life, the feeling of God’s distance and of His refusal to answer prayers, as if He wished to remain hidden in His wrath or, worse, in His indifference. This feeling is sometimes caused by sin, but many other times it is due to the weight of difficulties and sufferings that life brings. Even if we had sinned, it remains only a feeling, for God is always there, only an arm’s length away from us (v.12), ready to reach us with His hand and protect us. In this regard, noteworthy is the graffiti on the wall of a cell in a concentration camp where Jews were imprisoned during the Nazi persecution: “I believe in the sun even when it does not shine; I believe in love even when I do not feel it; I believe in God even when He remains silent.” All this suffering is reflected in the words of Moses, the friend of God, the one who was accustomed to conversing face to face with God Himself in the Tent of Meeting.
The psalm begins with the moving truth that Adonai, the Lord, has been a dwelling place, a refuge, for the people of Israel “from generation to generation,” in accordance with the promises God made to Abraham. It is important to remember, however, that God has been a refuge for humanity from generation to generation—not only from Abraham onward, but from Adam. God offered His protection to all, but He was certainly not a refuge for every descendant of Adam or Abraham: He reserves this privilege for those who trust in Him. Every Jew is required to recite this prayer every Sabbath morning and meditate on it, for it contains the very meaning of life: to make the best use of the little time granted to us and to rejoice in the presence of the Lord.
Moses asks God, for himself and for his people, to learn how to count the days of life correctly, to use them well, and to seek in them the good that God has offered us. Moses leaves no room for the carpe diem of the Latin poets, who urged man to enjoy every moment of life, even recklessly, before it was taken away. Moses asks God, for His people, to learn not “living beautifully,” but “living well,” to make the most—mathematically—of one’s time on earth. God is the God of eternity, and man’s time on earth is only a very brief parenthesis in the vast ocean of eternity. Before the omnipotence of God, man is less than dust. Verse 3 contains a truly fascinating concept. The New Revised Version translates: “You turn mortals back to dust, saying, ‘Return, children of men.’” God indeed has the power to cause the death of man and to return him to the dust from which he was taken. However, this verse opens itself to multiple interpretations. Other versions translate the text more literally: “You make man return to dust and say, ‘Return, O children of men!’” God holds the keys of life and death; He can cause man to die, but He can also call him back to life, and this is the certainty of every believer’s future.
There is also another even more interesting interpretation. The Hebrew term dakka, usually translated as “dust,” more precisely indicates something that has been crushed, pressed, ground. The meaning of the term can therefore be extended from physical disintegration to emotional and spiritual brokenness, through which the Lord takes hold of a person, breaking the contrite heart in order to call him back to Himself, better than before. We must not necessarily think that only one of these interpretations is correct, for the depth of the Word of God is such that it conveys multiple teachings in the same verse or even in the same term.
By the grace of God, Moses had reached the age of one hundred and twenty years, and in verse 10 he observes that usually the strongest men reach eighty. In his long life, he had seen how the weaknesses and vices of the fathers were the same weaknesses and vices he saw in the sons. In the desert, over forty years, Moses had seen an entire generation swept away by battles, fatigue, illness, but above all by time. Human life is fleeting; it is green grass that, once cut, quickly withers (v.6). God has the power to punish man in His wrath, since our sins are not hidden from Him (v.8). Before Him we are reeds in the wind, “for all our days pass away under [His] wrath; we finish our years like a sigh” (v.9). Moses then implores the Eternal to return and have mercy on His servants. He asks God to satisfy Israel with His goodness from the morning, so that the people may rejoice—or, according to another possible translation, “sing for joy.”
In verse 15, Moses implores God: “Make us glad according to the days in which You have afflicted us, and the years in which we have seen evil.” For two thousand years, the Jewish people have made Moses’ prayer their own and have clung to the hope of future joy and compensation. God has not forgotten Israel and has prepared a glorious future for His people. One day God will bless Israel in proportion to the tribulation endured in two thousand years of dispersion, for God does not lie and is faithful to His promises. And today, by the grace of the Blood of the Lamb, we have become co‑heirs of the promises, and we can claim them and make them our own.
The whole world is undergoing in these days a tribulation and suffering not seen for decades. In many places on the planet the Church suffers persecution and martyrdom; the economic crisis has shattered the certainties of the West and plunged many families into poverty; we see earthquakes and devastating weather events multiplying, wars, and pandemics. There are so many things and people for whom we are praying day after day that, to the words spoken by Moses—“Return, O Lord” (v.13)—we cannot help but echo: “Yes, come, Lord Jesus” (Rev. 22).
Because of our sins, divine law demands a sentence of death upon us. According to the provisions of the Law, the wrath of God should sweep away all humanity, since it is sinful. After the slightest sin—even merely lingering on a wrong feeling or thought—condemnation hangs over us. Nevertheless, we have two promises guaranteeing us life. The first promise was established in the covenant between God and Noah, in which God declares that He will no longer attempt to destroy all humanity through a flood or any other calamity. When we look at the rainbows hanging from the windows of our cities bearing the words “everything will be fine,” let us remember God’s promise. The second promise is the one sealed with the atoning death of Jesus and contained in the New Covenant, by which the Blood of Christ purifies us from all sin. The Law, therefore, no longer exercises any power of condemnation over us.
Israel was not alone in the desert, and we too, co‑heirs of the promises, are not alone in this stormy sea. How comforting it is to find solace in the words of a hymn, just as believers—Jews and Christians—have found comfort for generations in the words of Psalm 90. Leafing through a very old hymnal that belonged to my grandmother, Vincenza Urso, who has been with the Lord for exactly twenty six years, I found a hymn now rarely sung in our churches. It is the hymn “Traversiamo questo mar,” today slightly modified in the collection Inni di Lode. The original text is found in the hymnal Nuovo Libro d’Inni e Salmi Spirituali, printed in Niagara Falls in 1928 for the Italian Pentecostal communities. “Traversiamo questo mar” is a poetic text (therefore not a translation into Italian) by Massimiliano Tosetto, a man of God who ministered in the United States, Canada, and also in Italy at the beginning of the last century, and who has been discussed extensively in previous issues of Risveglio Pentecostale. He composed the poetic text by adapting its meter to the melody of the hymn “Holy Spirit, Faithful Guide,” written and composed by M.M. Wells on a Saturday afternoon in 1858 while working in the cornfields of Buffalo, New York. We may consider hymns as the spiritual testament of the brothers and sisters who preceded us, and I believe we should guard them jealously.
“Let Us Cross This Sea” — English Translation
With Jesus, brothers, forward,
let us cross this sea;
He wants us to persevere,
always strong in rowing.
From troubles and from pains,
who can free the soul?
Jesus Christ, if we believe,
from every evil can save us.
If we are frail and languishing,
without strength to travel on,
let us remember that the dying
the Lord can bring to life.
The Lord, our mighty power,
accompanies us on this sea;
in Him let our trust be placed,
nothing ever will disturb us.
In trial and temptation
that our soul must fight,
we shall remain in prayer,
in continual supplication.
Who is stronger than the Lord?
Who can free the soul?
Let the heart be calm in Him;
let us never cease to pray.
In the original text left to us by Massimiliano Tosetto, the vision he had of life is evident: life conceived as a sea in which the believer is called to row and move forward even through pain and tribulation. The believer is not immune to tribulation and suffering—we know this from experience. At times, as for Moses, it may seem that God, in His wrath, is not favorable to us and has turned His back on us. Yet we must not necessarily see tribulation as divine punishment. On tribulations and on God’s constant presence, Jesus was clear: “The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each to his own home, and will leave me alone; yet I am not alone, for the Father is with me. I have said these things to you so that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but take courage, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:32–33). Jesus, our only hope, has already overcome.
Most of us are all shaken by what is happening in the four corners of the planet, and we are afraid. Yet trial, for the believer, is also growth. We live with anxiety for the persecuted brothers and sisters, and for the wars that enrage everywhere. Tosetto tells us that “if we believe,” Jesus can save our soul and deliver us from all evil, and he urges us to remember that God can give life back to “the dying”—those lying in sickness, but also those dying inside, emotionally or spiritually, just as Psalm 90 (v.3) teaches us. At times we are fragile and exhausted, and we have no strength to keep rowing, but the hymn declares that the Lord is “our strength” and “accompanies us in this sea.” If we trust in Him, “nothing can disturb us.” We do not know why God is allowing all this, but we know that He has a plan, and we can pray together with Moses: “Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glory to their children” (v.16).
In this life of “trial and temptation,” and even doubt and fear can become forms of temptation, the only thing we can do is remain in prayer, “in continual supplication,” for “who is stronger than the Lord? Who can free the soul? Let the heart be at peace in Him. Let us not cease to pray.” From all this, the Church will emerge strengthened and victorious, and the work of our hands will be made firm (v.17). “May the grace of the Lord our God be upon us” (v.17).
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