BY REX D. EDWARDS
T'S A FINDING NOT SO EASY TO verify by induction. But some psychoanalysts assert that when we forget things, we forget them on purpose.
If we don't remember a name, for example, we're not permitted the excuse that "we have difficulty remembering names." A little self-investigation, we are told, will reveal that the forgotten name bears some unpleasant connotation, associated in our minds, perhaps, with somebody or something that's personally disagreeable to us. If we forget an umbrella or an overcoat, it's because the sun has come out and it's a nuisance to carry it about. By a similar principle, there are passages of Scripture never quoted in public, unless to apply them to somebody else.
"Be ye not . . . as the mule" (Ps. 32:9) is one of them.
Indeed, I've never seen this command of the psalmist included in any published list of divine injunctions. We have heard it read with the rest of the glorious psalm of which it is a part; omitting it would have called attention to it. But the good pastor skids smoothly over it to where the ice is thicker.
It's possible that the writer placed it in this psalm rather than elsewhere because he saw that his people needed it. It's more than a hint; tailor-made, rather than ready-made-one of those discerning precepts cut to fit the individual wearer. The suggestion does not seem to have met with extraordinary popularity, if one may judge by the way it's left on the sidelines. But some of the testimonies of Jehovah that are sure, "making wise the simple," would be more useful if they were given a chance to show what they can do for us.
The thirty-second psalm lifts the reader from forgiveness to uprightness, the natural order of spiritual growth. Heart power is the dynamo that turns the wheels of conduct. We must live with God if we are to live for God. A mule's eyes are set well back, that it may see behind its long body; ours are set toward the top of our head, that we may look above us.
Three times as many verses are devoted to the divine forgiveness in this psalm as are devoted to the sins that need it, a proportionate emphasis that accounts for its popularity. The poem throbs with intense feeling, religious experience printed in heavy-faced pica. In the original Hebrew the author tells us in verse 3 that his sins made him roar; in verse 11, uprightness leads him to shout. It strikes one who is "on the inside" in church matters as almost amusing to hear complaints against ministers "having too much emotion in religion" and "being too entertaining in the pulpit." Being interesting in speech and possessing warmth are unfortunately two essentials that are rarest in both pulpit and pew. What would their critics prefer? A dullard on the platform, and a snowman in the pew? "Take no interest in what you are doing" is not the first rule for success.
Our poet finds comfort in his assurance of divine cooperation: "Thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance" (verse 7).
And scarcely has his musical accompanist paused with him (selah), when God, with a rejoinder, enters the dialogue for the first time in the drama: "I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go; I will guide thee with mine eye" (verse 8).
We may note in passing that Nathaniel Niles, in his popular hymn "I Will Guide Thee With Mine Eye," would have hesitated to pronounce it a "precious promise God hath given" if he had been familiar with the original language of the text in Psalm 32. What God really said was: "I will counsel thee with mine eye upon thee." A quite different idea! A similar illustration of such misinterpretation is the use of the word Mizpah in the oft-intoned benediction: "The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent from one another" (Gen. 31:49). It sounds reassuring. It is, but not in the sense in which it's been taken. Laban and Jacob did not enter upon their contract with the idea that Jehovah would watch over their lives by His protecting care. Their prayer was that when they were absent from one another, God should "keep an eye on them," to see that each should give the other a square deal. He is on the watch to protect us from the fiery flying serpents of sin; but their vile nest is inside.
That the above warning is the correct interpretation of the psalmist's meaning is evident from the fact that the Lord straightway warns him not to be like a mule. That is putting it plainly on the Lord's part. But God knows His sottish children, and if He warns us not to be like a mule, it is because we are in danger of being like a mule. The psalmist makes it more tolerable for us by placing the words in the mouth of Jehovah. Jehovah is not to be disputed, as a psalmist might be. We read the Bible in order to see ourselves as we are. If such a saint as our sacred penman may be likened to a mule with impunity, about where do we come in?
There is a modicum of comfort in the fact that the mule is a useful animal. In some respects it is superior to a horse-ask an American from Missouri. I have been told that mule traders have a raised platform on which they stand it, so that the mule can loom a bit high in the eyes of the prospective purchaser.
Now, we may be sure from what we know of our psalmist that he wants to place us in as good a light as may be, that is, in as good a light for a mule. The mule is tougher than a horse, can trot as fast, and does not tire easily. Take off its harness in the corral, as soon as its day's work is through, and it will roll over a time or two, and be apparently as fresh as ever. It is also said to be the only animal that accomplishes anything by putting its best foot backward.
Say what we will of a mule's qualifications, the animal nevertheless remains an object of universal ridicule-and even suspicion. The opinion prevails that there are hidden traits of character in the mule that render it uncertain. Its behavior at times is more vigorous than agreeable. It's temperamental and knows its heels. Its very force of character, when bent on evil, is against it, and it is liable to kick the hand that feeds it. Its voice is not soothing. It's a hybrid. A North Carolina farmer confided to me at a camp meeting, "You cain't place no dependence on it." Its hind legs are not horsepower.
It's perhaps because of this undependability that the Lord says, "Be ye not . . . as the mule." Even though its officers are installed, yet as a whole the church cannot be regarded as a stable for mules. I wonder that Noah admitted the mule into the ark. The psalmist disapproves of it on the ground that it has "no understanding." That is a grave charge; but it's published in the psalm. He warns us that mules cannot serve acceptably unless they are held in by trappings of bit and bridle, implying that they're liable to run away; and that they will neither gee nor haw unless they are pulled. Indeed, except when controlled by a firm hand, they will not "come near unto thee." They have an unfriendly way of pulling off when there is a load to haul.
An interesting marginal variant for that last quotation is "that they come not near thee." There are occasions, according to the reading in the text, when they are needed for special service, and won't come. But there are other occasions, according to the reading in the margin, when they are determined to get closer than is good.
To sum up, the church member who shirks is like a mule; and the disturber in a church council who attends church only when he or she sees a chance to be dangerous-is also like the mule. All of us may be somewhat mulish, even if we are not altogether so. We may be, as it were, part mule and part angel-a sort of centaur, spiritually speaking.
Is there hope for mules? Ellen White thought so when she counseled: "O, if these hinderers would lose sight of themselves and interest themselves in the salvation of souls, their petty differences would be forgotten, and alienation from their [brothers and sisters] could not exist. If when they came together, they would not speak concerning the things to which they see objections, but would hold their mouth as with a bridle, and would seek the Lord in earnest prayer that His Holy Spirit might rest upon them, that they might have a burden for souls for whom Christ died, they would find that their darkness would flee away. . . . Self-esteem would vanish. . . . Stubbornness would melt away in contemplation of the love of God, and their hearts would glow, touched with a coal from off the altar" (Fundamentals of Christian Education, p. 207).
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Rex D. Edwards is associate vice president and director of religious studies for Griggs University in Silver Spring, Maryland.
