For the leader, a psalm of David, sing:
The psalms for God in Zion are for You, and for You are vows sent
Hear this prayer; your servant and all flesh come
When wrongdoing overwhelms me, you forgive our mistakes
Happy is the one you choose, the one you draw near to the courtyard where you dwell, satisfy us with goodness in your house, in your Holy Temple
Answer us with the wonders of justice, our liberating God; all the ends of the earth and the distant seas have faith
The mountains are fixed by G?d’s power, strengthened by might
Calming raging seas, raging waves, and raging peoples
The people who live on the margins are awed by your signs; because of You, dawn and dusk shout out for joy.
You look after the land and water it; the river of G?d, full of water, makes it grow abundantly; you provide the grain that you have grown
You quench the riverbanks, lay down furrows; You soften it with showers and bless it with springing plants
You enclose the year with your goodness, and your tracks drip with abundance
They drop on the plains of the wilderness, and little hills rejoice all over
The meadows are clothed with sheep, and the valleys are covered in grain. They cry out for joy. Even they sing.
I retranslated Psalm 65 for the ‘Standing Again at Snowdon’ retreat. This psalm, in particular, generated fertile discussion about labour relations in First Temple Judaism. Many students felt that this psalm reflected emerging class dynamics between agrarian workers, nomadic shepherds and Temple elites. As a result, one proposed that the word ‘margins’ might better be translated as ‘the edges of farmland’, or ‘the edges of civilisation’. Although less poetic, it feels truer to the meaning in this Marxist interpretation of the text.