exploring grace and generosity (and the recalcitrant rich) through two translations of a psalm

Over the past few months, one of my afternoon traditions has been to take a short break to read through the day’s passages in Shane Claiborne, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, and Enuma Okoro’s Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals. I bought this book after being impressed by Claiborne’s work in Jesus for President (which is much more radical than the title sounds) and with the hopes that it would be another resource for me as I continue to learn about the liturgical calendar. I didn’t stick with it long during the 2024-2025 liturgical year, but I’ve been having more luck with the 2025-2026 liturgical year. Sometimes, I’ll admit, I just go through the motions, but every once in a while, something really stands out to me.

This afternoon, I was impressed with the psalm passage (Psalm 49:4-8) that was included with today’s readings, the translation apparently taken from the Book of Common Prayer. Here’s how it reads:

Why should I be afraid in evil days : when the wickedness of those at my heels surrounds me the wickedness of those who put their trust in their goods : and boast of their great riches? We can never ransom ourselves : or deliver to God the price of our life; for the ransom of our life is so great : that we should never have enough to pay it, in order to live for ever and ever : and never see the grave.

To be clear, there are some very obviously toxic ways that the idea that “we owe everything to God” can be interpreted, and I’m not interested in any of those. Yet, passages like this (and King Benjamin’s sermon in the Book of Mormon) really work for me in combatting my own tendency to think that I’ve pulled myself up by my bootstraps and that I deserve through my own hard work every good thing that comes my way. (This post from a few years ago is a non-scriptural exploration of that same question). Whether I attribute it to God, the universe, or dumb luck (and as a non-theist, it’s usually the latter two in a trenchcoat with the trappings of the first), I (and so, so many others) need a reminder that I will never earn enough to pay the ransom of my own life. I always owe who I am and what success I’ve had to good luck and others’ grace, and this language encapsulates that reality for me.

I was so taken with the psalm that I decided to open up Robert Alter’s The Hebrew Bible to take a look at how he rendered it. To my surprise, it was pretty different (and not just in versification)!

Why should I fear in evil days, when crime comes round me at my heels? Who trust in their wealth and boast of their great riches— yet they surely will redeem no man, will not give to God his ransom. To redeem their lives is too dear, and one comes to an end forever.

Alter notes that “pronoun reference is confusing” in Biblical poetry, which might go some way toward explaining the difference between his rendering and the one in the Book of Common Prayer. Yet, Alter argues:

> the meaning of this verse is not in doubt. Those who trust in their wealth but are unwilling to put up money for those in need find it too expensive to redeem the lives of the needy. Before the recalcitrant rich can be prevailed on to help, the poor man in straits will perish, will be gone forever. 

At first, I was disappointed to see that Alter’s translation differed so much from the one that had really connected with me (for what it’s worth, the NRSV seems to chart a middle ground, resembling the BCP translation but acknowledging the possibility that it could be interpreted more like Alter). After some brief reflection, though, I feel that the two translations work pretty well together. The rich who believe that they can ransom their own lives are also frequently those who refuse to ransom others. We need reminders that we are not fully responsible for our own successes so that we will be more likely to help lift up others who are waiting for success to come their way.

In short, this wrapped up neatly to be an interesting exploration of Community of Christ’s enduring principle of Grace and Generosity—it is in recognizing that grace that we have received that we prepare ourselves to be generous to others.

• liturgy
• Shane Claiborne
• Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove
• Enuma Okoro
• Common Prayer: Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals
• liturgical calendar
• Christian calendar
• non-theism
• grace
• generosity
• grace and generosity
• Robert Alter
• Community of Christ