Scholars have identified 12 Psalms, two of which appear in the Psalms of the Day, as a collection of the Psalms of Asaph. According to the Society for Old Testament Study, “they are widely regarded by scholars as a coherent group of Psalms written in reaction to the exile of 586 BCE.” Most of the Biblical references to this figure, Asaph, appear in later books—particularly Chronicles and Nehemiah. According to these texts, Asaph had responsibilities for the Ark and for the music used in the Temple, making it logical that Psalms would be attributed to him.
Perhaps more important, though, is which Psalms are attributed to him. The first is Psalm 50, but the main collection is Psalms 73-83, which— according to scholars—open the third “book” of Psalms. It is, overall, the darkest of the sections of Psalms, he writes, then, of that sense of betrayal and abandonment. He shares the ways his faith feels shaky, the way it is tests. He identifies the injustices he sees in the world, noting how far it feels from the world God promises us.
But, if it is always darkest before the dawn, perhaps selecting Psalm 81—one of these Asaph Psalms—for Thursday is a promise in and of itself. Because while there is plenty in the Psalm to remind us of the ways we have gone astray, the deeper message of the Psalm is of Divine love—and the joy we can find in that. We open in joy, perhaps imagining Shabbat beginning:
הַ֭רְנִינוּ לֵאלֹהִ֣ים עוּזֵּ֑נוּ הָ֝רִ֗יעוּ לֵאלֹהֵ֥י יַעֲקֹֽב׃
שְֽׂאוּ־זִ֭מְרָה וּתְנוּ־תֹ֑ף כִּנּ֖וֹר נָעִ֣ים עִם־נָֽבֶל׃
Sing joyously to God, our strength;
raise a shout for the God of Jacob.
Take up the song,
sound the timbrel,
the melodious lyre and harp.
And, throughout the verses, we hear almost a refrain—a reminder of the ways that God has answered us: in freeing us from Egypt, in secret and in booming sounds, and—in the final verse:
וּ֝מִצּ֗וּר דְּבַ֣שׁ אַשְׂבִּיעֶֽךָ׃
I sated you with honey from the rock.
This Psalm, the penultimate before Shabbat, seems to call back to a different Psalm, which reminds us that while weeping may come at night, joy comes in the morning. Even in the midst of our pain, we are to remember the tastes and sounds and feelings of joy.
— Rabbi Sari Laufer