Among the various canticles that supplement the psalms in the Liturgy of the Hours is a hymn of thanksgiving enTITLEd, “The song of Hezekiah, king of Judah, after he had been sick and had recovered from his illness” (Isaiah 38:9). It was placed in a historical appendix to the book of the prophet Isaiah (see Isaiah 36-39), which, with a few variations, closely parallels the events recounted in chapters 18-20 of the Second Book of Kings.

Today at Morning Prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours we have heard, and transformed into prayer, two long stanzas of this canticle. The stanzas describe the two movements typical of any prayer of thanksgiving. On the one hand, they recount the nightmare of suffering from which the Lord delivered his faithful servant. On the other hand, they are a joyful song of gratitude for the recovery of life and salvation.

King Hezekiah, who was a righteous king and a friend of the prophet Isaiah, was struck by a serious illness that the prophet Isaiah declared was mortal (Isaiah 38:1). “Then Hezekiah turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord: ‘O Lord, remember how faithfully and wholeheartedly I conducted myself in your presence, doing what was pleasing to you!’ And Hezekiah wept bitterly. Then the word of the Lord came to Isaiah: ‘Go, tell Hezekiah: Thus says the Lord, the God of your father David: I have heard your prayer and seen your tears. ... I will add 15 years to your life’“ (Isaiah 38:2-5).

Praise for Deliverance

At this point, a song of thanksgiving springs from the king's heart. He refers, first of all, to the past. According to an ancient concept in Israel, death ushered people into an underworld known as Sheol in Hebrew, where light was extinguished, life faded out and became almost ghost-like, time came to an end, hope died out and, above all, where it was no longer possible to turn to God and find him in worship.

For this reason, Hezekiah recalls, first of all, the bitter words he uttered as his life was slipping towards the threshold of death: “I shall see the Lord no more in the land of the living” (verse 11). The psalmist prayed a similar prayer when he was sick: “For who among the dead remembers you? Who praises you in Sheol?” (Psalm 6:6). Freed from the danger of death, Hezekiah could, instead, confirm forcefully and joyfully: “The living, the living give you thanks, as I do today” (Isaiah 38:19).

Light of Life

When the canticle of Hezekiah is read in the light of Easter, it takes on a new meaning, particularly regarding this point. A ray of light shines forth in the psalms of the Old Testament as the psalmist proclaims his certainty that “you will not abandon me to Sheol, nor let your faithful servant see the pit. You will show me the path to life, abounding joy in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever” (Psalm 16:10-11; see Psalms 49 and 73). As for the author of the book of Wisdom, he no longer hesitates to affirm that the hope of the righteous is “full of immortality” (Wisdom 3:4), because he is convinced that his experience of communion with God during his earthly life will not be broken off. Our eternal and infinite God will always sustain us and protect us beyond death, because “the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them” (Wisdom 3:1).

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, has sown a seed of eternity in our mortal nature.

Moreover, through his death and resurrection, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, has sown a seed of eternity in our mortal nature and has made it germinate; and this is why we can repeat St. Paul's words that are based on the Old Testament: “And when this which is corruptible clothes itself with incorruptibility and this which is mortal clothes itself with immortality, then the word that is written shall come about: ‘Death is swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is thy victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’” (1 Corinthians 15:54-55; see Isaiah 25:8; Hosea 13:14).

Life Quickly Over

However, King Hezekiah's song also invites us to reflect on our frailty as creatures. The images are thought provoking. Human life is described using the symbol of the nomad's tent: we are always pilgrims and guests on earth. He also uses the image of a piece of cloth that is being woven: it will remain incomplete if the thread is cut and work is interrupted (Isaiah 38: 12). The psalmist experiences the same feeling: “You have given my days a very short span; my life is as nothing before you. All mortals are but a breath. Mere phantoms, we go our way; mere vapor, our restless pursuits...” (Psalm 39:6-7). We need to rediscover an awareness of our limitations and know, as the psalmist says, that “Seventy is the sum of our years, or 80, if we are strong; Most of them are sorrow and toil; they pass quickly, we are all but gone” (Psalm 90:10).

Still Our Savior

Nevertheless, it is fitting that we address a lament to God during sickness and suffering. Hezekiah teaches us this with poetic images when he compares his weeping to the cries of a swallow and the moan of a dove (Isaiah 38:14). And though he does not hesitate to confess that he feels like God is his adversary, as if he were a lion that breaks all his bones (verse 13), he never ceases to call upon him: “O Lord, I am in straits; be my surety!” (verse 14).

The Lord does not remain indifferent to the tears of the suffering; he responds, consoles and saves us even though his ways do not always coincide with our expectations. In the end, this is what Hezekiah confesses, encouraging all of us to hope, pray and trust, sure that God does not abandon his creatures: “The Lord is our savior; we shall sing to stringed instruments in the house of the Lord all the days of our life” (verse 20).

Good Times and Bad

Bernard of Clairvaux, one of the most representative mystics of Western monasticism, wrote a spiritual commentary on King Hezekiah's canticle that has been passed down to us from the medieval Latin tradition. In the third of his Various Sermons, Bernard, internalizing King Hezekiah's plight and applying it to each person's life, writes: “’I will bless the Lord at all times,’ that is, from morning to evening, as I have learned to do, and not like those who ‘only praise you when you do good to them,’ nor like those who ‘believe for a certain time but give up in the hour of temptation.’ But like the saints, I will say: ‘If we have received good from God's hand, should we not also accept misfortune?’ In this way, both moments of the day will be a time for the service of God, because ‘at night there will be weeping, and in the morning there will be joy.’ I will plunge myself into suffering at night, so that I can then enjoy the happiness of morning” (Scriptorium Claravallense, Sermo III, No. 6, Milan 2000, pp. 59-60).

St. Bernard, therefore, saw the king's plea as a portrayal of the prayerful song of a Christian, which must ring out with the same steadfastness and peace in the darkness of night and of trial as in the light of day and of joy.

(Translation by Zenit and Register)