I first read this translation of Psalm 22 at a conference for mental health professionals. Many of us were struggling with trying to heal others while we, ourselves, were hurting deeply. At the time, before my daughter?s diagnosis, I found it remarkably poignant. The translation is that of a friend and colleague, Rabbi David Fox, Ph.D.
While Psalm 22 was written by King David over 2500 years ago, it feels, for me now, as relevant and timely as ever. —ef
Oh God. Oh my God.
How lonely I am, and how You have removed Yourself.
I turn to you with nothing to say. Days with no response. Silent nights.
I know You are separate yet I've always tried to trust You.
Trusted and hoped with no reservation.
But now I'm so low. I'm isolated. Can't connect.
I can't even relate with people.
People turn to me. For what? They want something.
They look to me, they talk to me, then they turn away.
And I turn to You.
Will You turn away too? Trouble is near, don't be far.
So much trauma yet so little refuge for me.
I feel like I'm surrounded by other people's troubles. I've begun to cower.
I'm all spilled out. Drained. My joints ache. My nerves are weakening.
My defenses are failing. I see that my words don't flow.
I feel drained and lifeless.
Those who seek me out have begun to get to me.
They feel alien to me, I want to avoid them.
Somehow, if I know You don't stop caring, that You stay tuned, I can make it.
If You care, I cope.
Maybe if I'll show them how to find You, and if more of us do call to You, You'll call back to me.
Please heal me so I can heal others.