The modern existential novel holds no thrill for me except on Holy Saturday. I am thinking of James Joyce's Ulysses or Faulkner's Light in August as epitomes of this genre. These and other such novels show an angst and an experience that is not driven by narrative but rather what life is like when the narrative is lost. There is an ebb and flow and a journey but no plot resolution. For many readers this is simply unsatisfying. I want a good story, but the novel will end with nothing there to give that satisfaction of the completed story.
For one day a year, that lack of resolution should stick with us. Psalm 88 is a perfect Pslam for this day, and is used in many lectionaries for today. Why is Psalm 88 a good one? Because it does not resolve. It never comes back to "But I will trust in the Lord" or "wait for Him" or "seek refuge in the Lord's Anointed". It just ends with no resolution, being in need, oppressed, and lonely.
Reading Psalm 88 identifies with our experience as experience long before existential angst was popular in the 20th century. In fact, the nature of faith is a posture that is honest about suffering and longs for God to redeem even when circumstances seem to not be resolving. The psalm also reminds us that God "remembers our frame, and knows we are dust" (Psalm 103). Ultimately, our stories, our journeys may not be satisfyingly resolved for us, but our story will resolve in the larger great narrative that God is writing. The satisfaction must wait.
As we wait on Holy Saturday, let us remember Psalm 88:
1 LORD, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
2 May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.
3 I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
4 I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
5 I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care.
6 You have put me in the lowest pit,
in the darkest depths.
7 Your wrath lies heavily on me;
you have overwhelmed me with all your waves. i
8 You have taken from me my closest friends
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
9 my eyes are dim with grief.
I call to you, LORD, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.
10 Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their spirits rise up and praise you?
11 Is your love declared in the grave,
your faithfulness in Destruction?
12 Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
13 But I cry to you for help, LORD;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
14 Why, LORD, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?
15 From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;
I have borne your terrors and am in despair.
16 Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.
17 All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.
18 You have taken from me friend and neighbor—
darkness is my closest friend.
The New International Version. 2011 (Ps 88:1–18). Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.