The passage explores Psalm 21:8 ("All they that saw me have laughed me to scorn: they have spoken with the lips, and wagged the head") as a Christological prophecy fulfilled during the Passion, focusing on the powerful role of non-verbal cues in communication and derision. The initial point notes how facial expressions and bodily gestures—like shaking or wagging the head—are crucial for conveying tone and ensuring words are understood, contrasting this with the coldness of purely text-based communication like emails. The psychological and linguistic depth of the Psalmist's lament is highlighted, as the Latin term deriserunt (mocked) and the gesture moverunt caput (wagged the head) indicate a scorn expressed not just through words, but through visceral, non-verbal contempt by all who witnessed his humiliation.

The commentary emphasizes that this universal mockery was prompted by the apparent contradiction between Christ's claims of righteousness and his failure to be rescued by God, leading onlookers to conclude his claims were baseless. This act of derision is characterized as a lowly, irrational knee-jerk reaction driven by "interior passion" rather than reasoned judgment, as the mockers shake their heads and speak with "lips alone." By scornfully rejecting the suffering, humiliated figure on the cross, they unknowingly rejected the hidden wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 2:8). Ultimately, the passage concludes by connecting this suffering to the path of the righteous—and the Church—who must also imitate Christ by facing their trials fully, knowing that their abandonment is only apparent, and they are united with God's will.

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In Psalm 21:7, the Psalmist, speaking in the person of Christ during His Passion, declares, "But I am a worm, and no man: the reproach of men, and the outcast of the people." This profound statement of lowliness and abjection is interpreted by ancient commentators in several ways. Primarily, it describes Christ's bearing of the curse of sin upon Himself for the sake of humanity, likening Him to the vermis (worm) that was associated with corruption, rot, and ceaseless, internal gnawing—a self-consuming fate famously described by Christ concerning hell. By identifying as a "worm, and no man," He foreshadows His taking on the vileness and corruption of the world's sins, even being "made sin for us," and accepting a state infinitely beneath divine dignity to redeem us from that unending spiritual corruption.

The image of the worm also serves as a model of profound humility and is linked to Christ's Virgin Birth. Drawing on the ancient belief that worms were generated without procreation (spontaneously from decaying matter or wood), commentators saw the worm as a fitting, if biologically inaccurate, symbol for Christ's birth outside of human intercourse. Thus, the phrase "worm, and no man" emphasizes that He is both truly human (the worm as a lowly creature of the earth) and yet more than a mere man (the no man who is the Incarnate God). This image challenges the soul to imitate Christ's abjection and submission to God's will, recognizing that the Creator lowered Himself to the lowest possible state to accomplish the salvation of humanity, allowing the "consuming fire" of Christ to be born within the soul and burn away everything that separates it from Him.

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Psalm 21:6, "They cried to thee, and they were saved: they trusted in thee, and were not confounded," uses a meta-parallelism to reiterate the theme of God's faithfulness to the righteous. The Psalmist contrasts the physical deliverance and prevention of "confusion" (a term related to intermingling or ruin, like unmixable Play-Doh colors) that the fathers received with the Son's present experience on the cross. This juxtaposition creates a sense of paradox: if God always acted for the righteous in the past, His apparent failure to save His Son from the cross seems to call His faithfulness or the Son's righteousness into question. This difficulty mirrors the intellectual "confusion" one experiences when doubt is mingled with faith, making it seem impossible to separate truth from perplexity from a purely human perspective.

However, the passage provides its own resolution by asserting that the fathers' salvation and preservation from ruin were not due to their own efforts but to God's gracious will. Christ's experience is understood as the ultimate fulfillment of the fathers' hopes, as His Passion and death accomplish the true, eternal salvation that all previous deliverances foreshadowed. On the cross, Christ undertakes the seemingly impossible task of "unmingling" the curse of sin and death from human life, thus bringing about the overthrow of spiritual ruin. Therefore, while the fathers were saved from physical distress, the Son's suffering achieves a higher, spiritual salvation, ensuring that all the righteous who fix their eyes on Him will likewise be heard, even if their "hearing" entails the sanctifying trials that lead to the crown of everlasting life.

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Psalm 21:5, "In thee have our fathers hoped: they have hoped, and thou hast delivered them," serves as a rhetorical reminder of God's past faithfulness, a common element in the Psalms that anchors the Psalmist's own faith amid present uncertainty. By recounting the concrete deliverances of their ancestors—actions described in the perfect tense—the Psalmist highlights the consistent link between hoping in God and receiving salvation. This recounting, especially when viewed through the lens of Christ's cry of dereliction on the cross, raises a crucial question: if God delivered righteous figures like Susanna, Daniel, and the three children, why would He seemingly not deliver His own Son? This paradox suggests that the Son's lack of immediate deliverance to human eyes is not a sign of the Father's hardness or a flaw in Christ's righteousness, but a necessary condition for the ultimate plan of salvation.

The interpretive key lies in the willingness of the righteous, such as the three men in the furnace, to suffer and even face death while remaining obedient to God's will. Christ perfects this readiness to suffer in the Garden of Gethsemane by submitting His human will to the Father's, turning His agony into an act of supreme obedience. Therefore, the "deliverance" sought by the fathers of old, which the Psalmist recalls, is ultimately realized in the Christian's hope for eternal life beyond physical death. The righteous do not look to the goods of this life as their highest end, but trust in God's mercy, which promises to deliver them from death and bring them to everlasting peace, transforming earthly suffering into the gold of immortality.

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The text begins by using the mechanic of the video game Fez, where rotating the perspective of the world reveals new elements and possibilities, as a metaphor for the importance of shifting one's perspective in life. Just as a reframing of vision can instantly transform mistaken assumptions about someone's motives, the Psalmist's sudden shift in address from his unheard cry to God's dwelling in the holy place (Psalm 21:4) suggests a profound change in viewpoint. This shift is interpreted through a Christological lens, where Christ's seeming dereliction on the cross is reconciled with God's holiness. In this light, the unanswered prayer is understood not as folly, but as the accomplishment of the Father's will for salvation, showing that what seems like a negative can be a greater good.

This concept of God dwelling in the "holy place" is then linked to the indwelling of God within the sanctified soul of the Christian, which aligns the individual's will with God's. This spiritual refining means that God may not answer prayers as requested if those requests would be spiritually detrimental, using trials and tribulations as a "refiner's furnace" to purify the soul. The ultimate example of this is Christ's prayer in Gethsemane, "Not My will, but Thine be done." His prayer was heard not by the removal of the cup of suffering, but through the perfect alignment of His human will with the Father’s divine will. By sharing in this obedient suffering, the Christian is likewise sanctified, receiving a divine "No" for their ultimate good. In eternity, this final perfection of vision will allow believers to see how all suffering served as a perfecting solicitude for their salvation, making their souls a dwelling place for God.

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The provided text analyzes Psalm 21:3, "O my God, I shall cry by day, and thou wilt not hear: and by night, and it shall not be reputed as folly in me," contrasting it sharply with the modern desire to avoid suffering, often associated with the "prosperity gospel." The author argues that contemporary culture, with its focus on comfort and instant remedies, creates an expectation that we should never have to suffer. This mindset can tragically lead to an unwillingness to endure even minor hardships and an impulse to bypass God and prayer for "natural" solutions. Ultimately, this cultural focus on avoiding pain and achieving prosperity at all costs hinders the development of a deeper reliance on God and faith, making us ill-equipped to face truly challenging afflictions, as posed by the question from Jeremiah, "If thou hast wearied with running with footmen, how canst thou contend with horses?"

The passage is interpreted through the lens of Christ's suffering on the Cross, where the Father chose not to hear the Son's human cry for release from agony, not out of malice, but because this suffering was necessary to accomplish the plan of salvation. This paradoxical non-hearing was thus not "folly" (insipientia or not-wisdom) but the highest wisdom, prioritizing the divine design over the temporary relief of the body. The Psalmist's cry, therefore, becomes the voice of the Church, teaching that God uses both adversity and prosperity for the soul's good. Like St. Paul's "thorn in the flesh," suffering (even when prayed against) is often a remedy for salvation and a means of grace, meant to foster humility and draw believers into a deeper alignment with God's will, trusting that sometimes the things we don't want are what we truly need.

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The passage from Psalm 21:2, "O God my God, look upon me: why hast thou forsaken me? Far from my salvation are the words of my sins," is profoundly significant as the first clause was Christ's cry from the cross, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani. This cry creates a theological tension: if Christ is God (Second Person of the Trinity) truly united to human nature (hypostatic union), how could the Father forsake the Son? Early Church Fathers offered solutions, rejecting the idea that the Father literally turned His back on the Son (which would imply division in the Trinity or Gnostic-like separation). Instead, St. Augustine saw the cry as Christ speaking on behalf of his Mystical Body, the Church, whose members share in His suffering. St. Ambrose emphasized the reality of Christ's humanity, which truly experienced the anguish and sense of abandonment associated with death, distinguishing this human suffering from His impassible divine nature.

The second clause, "Far from my salvation are the words of my sins," further illuminates the meaning of the forsakenness. The interpretation of "sins" in the Greek Septuagint and Latin Vulgate sparked debate, as the Messiah was understood to be sinless. Commentators like St. Robert Bellarmine and Theodoret of Cyrus explained that Christ, though sinless, freely took upon Himself the sins of the world and the curse of sin, which is death. The feeling of being "forsaken" was a declaration of the bitterness and acuteness of the torments He willingly endured as a perfect sacrifice. In this view, Christ's death was the ultimate result of our sins, not His own, and by bearing the "forsaken-ness" that is the result of sin upon Himself, He reconciled us to God, bringing the salvation that was "far from" those forsaken in their sins.

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The text explores the rich linguistic and historical context behind the Psalm’s inscription, particularly the Latin term susceptione ("taking up" or "protection"). This concept is illustrated through the (probably legendary) ancient Roman idea of tollere liberos, where a father lifts a newborn to accept legal and moral responsibility for its care. The commentary suggests that God acts as this susceptor for the soul, undergirding and supporting the believer like a vulnerable infant. On a moral level, the "morning protection" signifies the soul's awakening from the darkness of sin into the light of virtue; as St. Gregory of Nyssa interprets it, the dawn represents a spiritual transition where God grants the grace to overcome vice and walk in righteousness.Theologically, the text moves beyond the literal historical protection of King David to emphasize a profound Christological interpretation. "Unto the End" is viewed by Church Fathers such as St. Augustine and Eusebius as a direct reference to Christ and the specific event of the Resurrection. In this prophetic light, the "morning help" is the dawn of Easter, where Christ triumphs over the darkness of death and lifts humanity out of the bondage of sin. Consequently, the Psalm is best understood not just as a plea for safety, but as the voice of the Crucified Christ looking toward the victory of the Resurrection, revealing God as the ultimate protector who descends into darkness to draw His people into eternal life.

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Psalm 26:14, "Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord," is interpreted as an exhortation to perseverance and courage during the arduous trials of life. The text draws a powerful analogy between the testing of one's mettle—a person's spirit or temperament—and the process of tempering metal in fire. Just as intense heat burns away impurities and strengthens steel for a sword, the trials and persecutions faced by the Psalmist (and by all believers on their earthly pilgrimage) are the necessary "fires" that purge the soul of sin and weakness, aligning one's lower appetites (reins) and will (heart) with God's will. This journey is not to be undertaken with mere passive waiting, but with an active anticipation ("expect the Lord") of God's promised reward in the heavenly kingdom, giving purpose to the suffering and ensuring one does not faint in despair.

The command to "do manfully" (viriliter age or $\alpha \nu \delta \rho i \zeta o v$) calls for moral valor and strength of mind, applying to both men and women, as it signifies holding up under pressure and enduring trouble for a higher purpose. This courage is not machismo, but the internal strength to defeat the tyranny of the flesh's desires and to subdue one's own will to the will of God, the ultimate mark of being "a man." St. Augustine and St. Robert Bellarmine emphasize that this active waiting and courageous endurance—sustained by the belief in seeing the "good things of the Lord in the land of the living"—is the very means by which the soul is forged in holiness, allowing the Holy Spirit to strengthen resolve and prepare the person to enter the house of the Lord with purity of heart.

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The text offers a profound reflection on Psalm 26:13, "I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living," viewing it as a bridge or restatement of the Psalm's main theme. The Psalmist's belief is not merely an intellectual assent but an active possession and act of the will ("credo"), which sustains him despite his adversaries. This belief, which is present and dynamic, is directed toward seeing "the good things of the Lord"—those eternal, supreme goods that coalesce in God Himself, rather than just earthly pleasures. This longing corresponds to the Psalmist's earlier desire to dwell in the house of the Lord and see His delight.

The phrase "in the land of the living" is interpreted to distinguish the ultimate reward from this present world, which is considered "the land of the dying" (St. Augustine). The Psalmist's present faith provides the "sight" to perceive these eternal, incomparable goods, even while traversing this earthly exile. The text cautions against making a home in this "land of death" by twisting temporary earthly gifts into ultimate ends. True good things are eternal, referring always to the Lord, and all worldly delights are only good insofar as they act as stepping stones that direct our gaze to God, the source and summit of all goodness, Who desires to give us of Himself in the true land of the living.

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