The close communion that the Psalmist has with God is movingly sincere. Not only are the dark emotions shared so that their psychic charge can be released and given to God, who directs them towards understanding instead of fruitless revolt, but the constant undercurrent of guilt is also unashamedly laid bare. Guilt is the inner fruit of sin, which is most constructively seen as a failure to live up to our full potentiality, to have missed the mark set before us. We all have a spark of God within us, the inner light, and anything done which clouds that light casts its shadow of guilt in the deep recesses of the soul. In the wonderful prologue of the Fourth Gospel the writer considers the Son of God in three modalities. Firstly he is the Word whereby creation is effected by the Father. Secondly he is the life which is the light of mankind (the inner light). And thirdly he is the incarnate Lord who came into the world and to his own people as Jesus of Nazareth. All who accepted him were given the right to become children of God. And so the Word became flesh; he made his home among his people Israel, and in due course the three disciples Peter, James and John were privileged to witness his transfiguration, the glory such as befits the Father's only Son, full of grace and truth (John 1:1-14).

There is therefore an inseparable link between the human soul and the Word. There is an immense spiritual future for us all, and when we betray this deep calling the soul is scorched in its confrontation with the searing truth of God. This is made known as the inner light and also the tradition that we have inherited; this is the Law, brought up to date, as it were, for the present time. While its truth can never change, it is, like everything else, being constantly renewed by the power of the Holy Spirit. "The written law condemns to death, but the Spirit gives life" (2 Cor. 3:6).

Psalm 36 confronts the condition of sinfulness very starkly:

A wicked person's talk is prompted by sin in his heart;
he sees no need to fear God.
For it flatters and deceives him
and, when his iniquity is found out, he does not change.

He is a liar, his conduct is vicious, and the course of his life a criminal one.

Then comes the contrast of God's righteousness:

Lord, your unfailing love reaches to the heavens,
your faithfulness to the skies.
Your righteousness is like the lofty mountains,
your justice like the great deep . . .
for with you is the fountain of life,
and by your light we are enlightened.

The psalm concludes with a prayer for God's continuing love and saving power for those who know him, namely the honest of heart, against the snares of the wicked. In the end it is the evildoers who are cast down and unable to rise.

Nevertheless there can be few of us who at some time in our lives have not been among the ranks of the unrighteous. This applies as much to those in ecclesiastical and political authority as to the less auspicious people that throng the streets. And so there are a number of frankly penitential psalms for those who repent of their past misdemeanours. Traditionally these are Psalms 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130 and 143.

Psalm 6 is one spoken in the ordeal of sickness:

Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,
do not punish me in your wrath.
Show favour to me, Lord, for my strength fails;
Lord, heal me, for my body is racked with pain.

The writer goes on to describe the magnitude of his suffering, praying to be spared from death, for among the dead no one remembers God, nor can praise come from Sheol. He then calls for relief from his adversaries, workers of evil who probably gloat over his distress, which they can smugly ascribe to just punishment for some sin of the past. The psalm ends with an assurance of divine acceptance and the promise of victory over the forces of darkness.

The theme of enemies gloating over the Psalmist's travail is prominent also in Psalm 41, itself not numbered amongst the penitential set:

"His case is desperate," my enemies say;
"when will he die and his name perish?"
All who visit me speak from hearts devoid of sincerity;
they are keen to gather bad news
and go out to spread it abroad . . .
Even the friend whom I trusted, who ate at my table,
exults over my misfortune.

This verse brings us to the work of Judas Iscariot at the Last Supper, but should also point a finger at our own insincerity when an acquaintance is ill. How often are we outwardly shocked while inwardly exultant at the downfall of someone of merit? The news helps to avert our gaze from our own infirmity. It also satisfies our jealousy. The matter is further considered on page 44 in relation to Psalm 55.

Psalm 32 strikes a happier note:

Happy is he whose offence is forgiven,
whose sin is blotted out!

While the Psalmist remained intransigent his body lay wasting away, but once he had acknowledged his faults, confessing them frankly to God, the penalty of his sin was remitted. And so the writer can exult in the strength and compassion of his Creator, encouraging his fellows to renounce their obstinacy and likewise make their peace with God:

Many are the torments for the ungodly,
but unfailing love enfolds those who trust in the Lord.
Rejoice in the Lord and be glad, you righteous ones;
sing aloud, all you of honest heart.

Psalm 38 is very similar in tone and content to Psalm 6, but the intensity of suffering is greatly magnified:

My wounds fester and stink because of my folly.
I am bowed down and utterly prostrate.
All day long I go about as if in mourning,
for my loins burn with fever,
and there is no wholesome flesh in me.
Faint and badly crushed
I groan aloud in anguish of heart.

The realism of this account of disease is so stark that one wonders whether the writer had not contracted some infectious ailment, possibly a sexually transmitted one, as a result of his folly. Certainly the account is relevant to the current situation of venereal diseases even if the condition described was quite different. The pattern of disease may change, but its underlying cause, unwholesome living, remains. And, lest we feel virtuously superior to the victim of such a condition, let us remember that no one is exempt from its ravages, so closely knit is human society. We do indeed belong to one another as parts of one body (Eph. 4:25). This well-known observation was made by St Paul in respect of the young Christian community, but now it is of obvious universal application.

My friends and companions shun me in my sickness,
and my kinsfolk keep far off . . .
But I am like a deaf man, hearing nothing,
like a dumb man who cannot open his mouth . . .
I make no secret of my iniquity;
I am troubled because of my sin.

Once again there is a complaint about the malice of his enemies, and the psalm ends with an urgent plea for divine aid.

The most powerful of the seven is Psalm 51; it is also by far the best known. Traditionally it is ascribed to King David, after his seduction of Bathsheba and cunning murder of her husband Uriah the Hittite was condemned by the prophet Nathan (2 Sam. 12:1-14). In fact it is of universal application in respect of callous betrayal and mean deceit such as few of us escape committing at some time in our lives.

The Psalmist throws himself unconditionally on the divine mercy, asking to be cleansed from his sins. He knows that it is, in fact, only against God that he has sinned, for he has tarnished the divine image in which he was created. This iniquity is more fundamental than any harm he may have done a fellow creature:

From my birth I have been evil,
sinful from the time my mother conceived me.

This is a basic statement of the human condition. We need not believe in "original sin" as something we inherited from our allegorical first ancestor Adam, following the tragedy of the Fall. It is more satisfactory, and certainly more scientifically based, to see a fundamental imperfection in everything God has made. This does not necessarily deny the goodness of the divine creation so much as affirm its opportunity for development into full identity. In each of us there are two principles at work: self-interest and higher concern for others. Without the first we should not survive very long in our hard world, but without the second we would become mere power-intoxicated people at enmity with all our fellows as we strove against them for survival and mastery. The end would be a war of attrition.

Experience brings enlightenment with it, and we begin to see that the great fruit of survival is the service we can provide others; as we serve without self-interest, so real happiness pours through us. Looking forward to nothing, we can begin to live in eternity, and this is the supreme gift of God to a rational creature like the human being. It is thus that the sinful impulse lamented by the Psalmist is overcome and the personality strengthened for service on a universal level. St Paul rightly sees God alone as being able to deliver us from the divided consciousness of worldly life, where we act contrary to the deepest intuition within us, to the unitary consciousness of Christ (Rom. 7:25).

God, create a pure heart for me,
and give me a new and steadfast spirit.
Do not drive me from your presence
or take your holy spirit from me.

The Psalmist craves for a renewal of the previous right relationship with God by an act of free justification by God. Then the spirit within, which is the "point" of the soul where moral and spiritual values are apprehended, can emerge clean and radiant.

Lord, open my lips,
that my mouth may proclaim your praise.
You have no delight in sacrifice;
if I were to bring a whole-offering you would not accept it.
God, my sacrifice is a broken spirit;
you, God, will not despise a chastened heart.

Here is another great truth: our most valuable sacrifice is not of objects but of ourselves. The story of the widow's mite in Mark 12:41-44 amplifies this truth. But the Psalmist's sacrifice, unlike even that of the impoverished widow who at least gave some money, is contemptible by human standards - merely a broken personality. But this is as acceptable to God as are wonderful spiritual feats or material excellence: the Parable of the Publican and the Pharisee once more gives us the right perspective. Whatever is faced squarely and given to God with reverence, no matter how unpleasant it may appear, can be transformed by the divine grace so that a new creature emerges. Whatever we take special pride over can easily serve to separate us from our fellows and also from God. We all have to learn the lesson of sharing ourselves with others.

The psalm ends on a national note, perhaps added later: there is a prayer for Zion's prosperity and the walls of Jerusalem (rebuilt under Nehemiah after the return from Babylonian exile). Even animal sacrifice will be acceptable, now offered with devotion instead of mechanical rectitude. We would not at the present time consider offering animal sacrifices, but there could be something of our own treasury that might be given to God's service. Whatever impoverishes us, no matter how small it might appear in the world's eyes, seems to be of great value to God.

The psalm shows very clearly where joy is to be found: in a right relationship with God and our fellow creatures. Any action that transgresses this law puts us out of fellowship with humans and out of saving health with God. But all we have to do is to move beyond pride, confess our sins, await absolution, and then by an act of undivided will follow the path that is set before us: "There must be no limit to your goodness, as your heavenly Father's goodness knows no bounds" (Matt. 5:48). It is not the work we have to do that matters; it is the manner in which we do the work that is the basis of the judgement set before us.

Psalm 102 repeats the well-remembered themes of penitence: the personal affliction of the sinner, his isolation, and the savage taunts of his enemies. But then follows a cry for help for Zion, which has been destroyed presumably by the Babylonian invaders. Clearly there is a connection between the sin of the individual and the humiliation of the community with its destroyed country. Even the wickedness of a single person has repercussions far outside his limited social presence, so closely are we all parts of the one body of our community. But the divine presence outlasts all human folly, and can be relied on for restoration once we have come to our senses:

Long ago you laid earth's foundations,
and the heavens were your handiwork.
They will all pass away, but you remain;
like clothes they will all wear out . . .
But you are the same and your years will have no end.

Psalm 130 is the shortest and loveliest of the penitential group. It is one of the Songs of the Ascents sung by pilgrims on the way to Jerusalem, mentioned on page 24. The Psalmist has called to God out of the depths of his suffering, the result of past sins, and prays for the Lord's attention; if God should keep account of sins who could survive? But God's nature is one of mercy and forgiveness, and this clemency leads us to revere our Creator even more than his strength fills us with fear and foreboding.

Let Israel look for the Lord.
For in the Lord is love unfailing,
and great is his power to deliver.
He alone will set Israel free
from all their sins.

The psalm is thus not merely one of penitence but also of hope. It is frequently recited at funeral services (others often used are Psalms 23, 90 and 121 as well as passages from Psalms 27, 42, 118 and 139).

I wait for the Lord with longing;
I put my hope in his word.
My soul waits for the Lord
more eagerly than watchmen for the morning.

When we die, we will have to face the results of the life we lived while in the protection of the physical body. The pain that may follow the full realization of our past life is taken up by God as soon as we ask for help. This is a very real application of Jesus' promise, "Ask, and you will receive; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, those who seek find, and to those who knock, the door will be opened" (Matt. 7:7-8). What we are given is not a miraculous removal of a past problem but an accession of strength that helps us to cope with the matter and work towards its solution. Once we are in proper relationship with God, a circumstance which always follows an honest act of contrition, he is with us, and, in the words of Psalm 23, "his shepherd's staff and crook afford us comfort". And so the mourner may move from dark lamentation to radiant hope; to be sure, the mood will not last indefinitely, but as we repeat the psalm, we may remember the writer's own experience and his final victory, one sufficient to have allowed him to sing to God in hope for future trials. And he sings it on his pilgrimage to Jerusalem, an allegory of our eternal pilgrimage to God's heavenly city.

As St Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 4:17 to 5:2:

Our troubles are slight and short-lived, and their outcome is an eternal glory which far outweighs them, provided our eyes are fixed, not on the things that are seen, but on the things that are unseen; for what is seen is transient, what is unseen is eternal. We know that if the earthly frame that houses us today is demolished, we possess a building which God has provided, a house not made by human hands, eternal and in heaven.

Psalm 143 is the final one of the set of seven. It follows the more usual pattern of praying to God, acknowledging that no person is innocent before him. The writer has been sorely crushed by an enemy and left to lie in darkness like a corpse. In his dire distress he remembers God's past providence, praying for a similar favour now in the time of trial. Like Psalm 119, but in much shorter compass, there is a request that God instruct him how to follow his will and show him the way he should take, for his heart is set on the Lord. One suspects that this conversion to the light is the fruit of the Psalmist's distress, and can only hope the change in heart is not merely makeshift, as in the parody of a penitential prayer composed in Hosea 6:1-3. How easy it is to cry out for help when we are in agony, promising all kinds of amendments of our previous lifestyle when we are well again! How much easier it is to forget it all when we are cured! The healing of the ten lepers described in Luke 17:11-19 is a case in point: they all cried aloud to Jesus for help, and all were cured of the skin disease that had caused them so much embarrassment, but only one, a despised foreigner, came back to give thanks.

Revive me, Lord, for the honour of your name:
be my deliverer; release me from distress.

There is finally a common note of vengeance against the writer's enemies, whom he would gladly see exterminated, for he is God's servant. We have considered the problem of the conflicting demands of justice and love on page 42. In the psalms justice is emphasized. It is only when we attain a greater degree of self-knowledge that we cease to be merely judgemental, but in addition offer a helping hand to the transgressor as a prelude to his own conversion to the light.

A psalm that typifies the attitude of the impenitent is Psalm 14, with its nearly identical counterpart, Psalm 53. In the first the divine name Yahweh, revealed to Moses, is used, whereas Psalm 53 uses Elohim, the common noun for God.

The impious fool says in his heart,
"There is no God."
Everyone is depraved, every deed is vile;
no one does good!

The fool is probably not so much a dogmatic atheist as one who acts as if God paid no attention to human actions, either through remoteness or sheer apathy. If a person does not remember God in his heart, his actions will tend to foster corruption and cause general confusion. Without God our actions lack a guiding wisdom and will tend to be determined by the exigencies of the present moment, irrespective of later consequences.

Have they no understanding,
all these evildoers who devour my people as if eating bread,
and never call to the Lord?

The godless person is very liable to revert insidiously to evil ways once he moves beyond the guidance of his parents and mentors. The exercise of power and sharp practices brings in a more rapid reward; it is only later that their bad effects fall back on the agent as well as his victims. In the version of Psalm 53, which is rather more trustworthy than Psalm 14 at this point:

They will be in dire alarm
when God scatters the bones of the godless,
confounded when God rejects them.

It needs to be said that the bones of the godless are heedlessly scattered because of their own previously thoughtless lifestyle and not by a vindictive God who demands obedience in order to demonstrate his authority. We can easily reject God and live selfish, destructive lives oblivious of his presence, but God will never cast us aside; his nature is pure love, but he cannot interfere until we acknowledge the folly of our ways and call to him for help in sincere prayer, guided by chastened humility.

Psalm 12 is another brief essay on this theme: the writer calls on God's help because no one who is loyal remains. There is no good faith, and all conversation is corrupted by lies and duplicity in the guise of charm and reassurance. The words of these hypocrites are deceitful, but God will see justice done to the poor and plundered.

Unlike the subtle language of the unjust, impenitent sinner:

The words of the Lord are unalloyed:
silver refined in a crucible,
gold purified seven times over.
Lord, you are our protector
and will forever guard us from such people.

But meanwhile, alas, the wicked parade about, and worthless things are most highly prized. Psalm 12 is a perpetually topical commentary on the state of a secular society. Conscience can so easily be disregarded as the end tends to justify the means. But, to be honest, the same situation has often reared its head in the midst of a vigorous theocracy. The practice of a religion can as easily divert one's attention from the deeper realities as focus it upon them. It is probable that more cruelty has been committed in the name of God than for any other cause. The god of religion may have to be discarded before the Living God can make his home with us in the depth of our soul.