Psalm 120

(Sang/played by Levite singers. One of each psalm would

be sang/played on each of the fifteen steps from the lower

courtyard to the upper courtyard of the Temple.)

A            

song of      
ascents To      

HaShem

In my distress I cried and He answered

me. HaShem, rescue my soul from lying lips, from

a deceitful tongue. What can He give you to restrain you,

and what can He add to you, deceitful tongue? You are like

sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of rotem wood. Woe

unto me, for my drawn-out sojourn; I dwell with those who

inhabit the tents of Kedar (the Arab empire of Ishmael).

Long has my soul dwelt with those who hate peace.

I am peace; but when I speak, (thinking

my desire for peace is weakness)

they are for war.

Being sick has its advantages. Sick last week, not wanting to leave my bed and yet having to go to work a few hours daily anyway, I would come back home, crawl into bed, and study my days away. Thinking I was well Sunday, I was disappointed when my temperature climbed again, cancelling my lunch out with my children and their families.

Back to bed, I continued studying and found myself struck by this Psalm, laughing at certain elements in it. The following is the result of the humor I had seen before, mentioning it on a Christian forum I had been on until recently. But this time, I had to put it in verse.

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How relevant. Coals of rotem.

Ignites ominously, lighting despite the

look: deplete - illusion! They burn.

Lethal. (Hazardous, Noble Book Press'

Artscroll asserts to the reader.)

Rotem - miscreant. Oh! deliver us!

Yes -- -- now and always!

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