Psalm 3 does not portray a world without pain. It contains fear, struggle, and loneliness. But it also contains something greater—the presence of God, who does not stand aside. He is closer than your problems, closer than your enemies. It is a psalm about trust, emphasizes Fr. Piotr Kwiatek, a Capuchin, doctor of psychology, initiator of psalm therapy, in a commentary for the Heschel Center at KUL on Psalm 3, sung on Tuesday, November 18.
As Fr. Kwiatek points out, “we live in an era in which fear multiplies faster than hope.” “In a world saturated with noise and judgment, Psalm 3 sounds like a quiet but strong prayer of a person who does not succumb to darkness,” he adds.
Psalm 3 is the psalm of “David the fugitive, who must save himself from his own son, Absalom. He is not a hero in the light of victory, but a man in the shadow of betrayal. Yet his words beat with the calm rhythm of trust. It is a psalm for those who feel surrounded.”
In the face of a judging crowd
The Capuchin notes that the midrash Tehillim understands Psalm 3 as “the lament of a person betrayed by his own household, the most personal experience, in which not only strategy but identity itself collapses. And although the midrash’s language is poetic, its insight is psychologically accurate: the deepest wounds often come from the circle of trust.”
“In the culture of the ancient Near East, a raised head symbolizes dignity and hope; a lowered head—shame, failure, and mourning (Hebr. rās),” Fr. Kwiatek points out. “It is the image of today’s shame, which weighs like a stone, even though no one carries it on their back.” He adds, “From a rabbinical perspective, precisely in moments when the number of opponents grows, the quality of trust increases: freedom arises from surrender to what is greater than oneself, for it frees one from fear of the crowd. In this understanding, God’s shield does not remove pain; it protects the heart so it can beat in the rhythm of faith, not in the rhythm of panic.”
A shield that is not made of iron
Fr. Piotr Kwiatek emphasizes that “the shield in ancient Israel was not a symbol of passive defense. It was a tool of combat, allowing one to approach, attack, and survive. The Hebrew word magen – ‘shield’ – does not mean a metal armor, but personal protection, as if someone stood between me and the blow. It is the image of a relationship, not a mechanism. God does not remove the struggle, but protects the heart. Prayer is therefore not an escape from reality, but a return to oneself under God’s gaze.”
“Just as Jesus touched the faces of those who wept, so God restores David’s gaze, which can look upward again. It is not a psychological trick, but an act of grace. First love, then change. Never the other way around. One may lose everything, but one never loses the freedom to choose: how will I respond to what happens to me?” reads the commentary for the Heschel Center at KUL.
Peace in the midst of the storm
“I lie down, I sleep, I wake again, for the Lord sustains me” (Ps 3:6) — according to Fr. Kwiatek, this is one of the simplest and holiest sentences in the Bible. “For who can sleep when the world is falling apart? Who can close their eyes when the enemy stands at the gates? Only the one who knows they are not alone. Sleep in this psalm is not a biological necessity. It is an act of trust. Closing one’s eyes in God’s presence is like a child returning to a parent’s arms. Psychologically, it is the moment when I stop trying to control everything,” the psalm commentator notes.
Fr. Kwiatek emphasizes that “in a world suffering from insomnia, these words are like therapy.” “The Gospel completes this image: Jesus sleeps in the boat while the storm rages around. The apostles cry out, He sleeps. How can one sleep at such a moment? Because trust greater than fear allows rest even amid the waves. Inner peace does not consist in the absence of tension, but in the decision not to feed fear. ‘I will not fear thousands of people who have set themselves against me’ (Ps 3:7). It is not heroism, it is trust. Safety does not depend on the number of enemies, but on where my heart rests. Psalm 3 is a prayer for the soul’s sleep, for the courage to lay down the sword and rest in God’s arms,” the commentary reads.
Trust
Psalm 3 speaks of trust, which “allows one to sleep in the storm, of hope that lifts the head, of peace that is not the silence after battle, but the presence of God within it.” “It is this deep, quiet, unshakable peace that allows one to rise each morning with a heart at peace and a head lifted toward the light,” summarizes Fr. Piotr Kwiatek.
Piotr Kwiatek OFMCap – doctor of psychology, priest and friar of the Krakow Province of the Capuchin Order. He completed a three-year Gestalt therapy program in Philadelphia (USA). He also trained at the Albert Ellis Institute in Rational-Emotive Behavioral Therapy (REBT) in New York. He teaches positive interventions at SWPS University – courses recommended by the founder of positive psychology, Prof. Martin E.P. Seligman.
He is the author of books in the series Positive Psychology and Faith as well as Psalmotherapy and Workbook for the Psalms. Creator of the free app “Dobroteka 2.0” strengthening well-being. More: www.piotrkwiatek.com
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Heschel Center KUL
We publish the full commentary text
Existential commentary on the psalm
from the liturgy of the day for Tuesday, 18.XI.2025 (Psalm 3)
Fr. Piotr Kwiatek OFMCap
“A head lifted, a calm heart”
Introduction
We live in an era in which fear multiplies faster than hope. It is enough to open our eyes to hear the same words David heard: “You have no chance, you cannot manage, you are alone…” etc. In a world saturated with noise and judgment, Psalm 3 sounds like a quiet but strong prayer of a person who does not succumb to darkness.
It is the psalm of David the fugitive, who must save himself from his own son, Absalom. He is not a hero in the light of victory, but a man in the shadow of betrayal. Yet his words beat with the calm rhythm of trust. It is a psalm for those who feel surrounded: by problems, by the opinions of others, by their own thoughts. For those who can no longer lift their heads. David reminds us: even in the deepest night, God does not sleep and allows us to sleep.
In the face of a judging crowd
“Lord, how many are my foes! How many rise against me!” (Ps 3:2).
Where does such loud and choral opposition come from? Today, we do not need to leave home to hear judgment. It is enough to open your phone and there is a comment, a poke, half a truth. “Many say of me, ‘There is no salvation for him in God’” (Ps 3:3). At the edge of words, the Psalmist brings you into the heart of experience, when the judgment of others becomes daily noise, and shame makes it hard to breathe.
Why can someone so close hurt the most? Midrash Tehillim understands Psalm 3 as the lament of a person betrayed by his own household, the most personal experience, in which not only strategy but identity itself collapses. And although the midrash’s language is poetic, its insight is psychologically accurate: the deepest wounds often come from the circle of trust. Imagine a scene: after a work meeting, you hear in the corridor, “You will not manage.” Someone you have known for years stops recognizing your effort. Inside, you feel cold. The Psalmist is not a philosopher; he is someone who knows what it means to “be at home, yet exiled” (Braude, 1959).
This does not mean it is right. It only means that experience ceases to be anonymous and becomes personal. And here a paradox arises: what destroys us externally can rebuild us internally. Viktor Frankl wrote that between stimulus and response there is a space, and in that space, man has freedom of choice. The Psalmist chooses God as a point of support. He does not disappear from the scene; rather, he invites insight into a relationship that grounds him (Frankl, 2010).
In the culture of the ancient Near East, a raised head symbolizes dignity and hope; a lowered head—shame, failure, and mourning (Hebr. rās). It is the image of today’s shame, which weighs like a stone, even though no one carries it, and here enters the echo of the Jewish commentary: when “everyone says ‘no,’” one can hear a single “yes” from God (cf. Rashi, Commentary on Psalm 3). From a rabbinical perspective, precisely in moments when the number of opponents grows, the quality of trust increases: freedom arises from surrender to what is greater than oneself, for it frees one from fear of the crowd. In this understanding, God’s shield does not remove pain; it protects the heart so it can beat in the rhythm of faith, not in the rhythm of panic.
A shield that is not made of iron
“But you, O Lord, are a shield around me, my glory, and the lifter of my head” (Ps 3:4).
The shield in ancient Israel was not a symbol of passive defense. It was a tool of combat, allowing one to approach, attack, and survive. The Hebrew word magen – “shield” – does not mean a metal armor, but personal protection, as if someone stood between me and the blow. It is the image of a relationship, not a mechanism. God does not remove the struggle, but protects the heart. Prayer is therefore not an escape from reality, but a return to oneself under God’s gaze.
Notice this detail: “the lifter of my head.” In Eastern culture, a lowered head is a sign of shame, a raised head of dignity and hope. When God “lifts David’s head,” He not only protects him, but restores the posture of a human being. This is particularly relevant today. How many people live with their heads down: after a divorce, after losing a job, after a diagnosis. They feel defeated, guilty, insufficient. And God does not ask, “Do you deserve it?” He simply lifts them.
Just as Jesus touched the faces of those who wept, so God restores David’s gaze, which can look upward again. It is not a psychological trick, but an act of grace. First love, then change. Never the other way around. One may lose everything, but one never loses the freedom to choose: how will I respond to what happens to me?
Peace in the midst of the storm
“I lie down, I sleep, I wake again, for the Lord sustains me” (Ps 3:6).
This is one of the simplest and holiest sentences in the entire Bible. For who can sleep when the world is falling apart? Who can close their eyes when the enemy stands at the gates? Only the one who knows they are not alone. Sleep in this psalm is not a biological necessity. It is an act of trust. Closing one’s eyes in God’s presence is like a child returning to a parent’s arms. Psychologically, it is the moment when I stop trying to control everything.
In a world suffering from insomnia, these words are like therapy: allow yourself to rest, for not everything depends on you. The Gospel completes this image: Jesus sleeps in the boat while the storm rages around. The apostles cry out, He sleeps. How can one sleep at such a moment? Because trust greater than fear allows rest even amid the waves. Inner peace does not consist in the absence of tension, but in the decision not to feed fear. “I will not fear thousands of people who have set themselves against me.” (Ps 3:7). It is not heroism, it is trust. Safety does not depend on the number of enemies, but on where my heart rests. Psalm 3 is a prayer for the soul’s sleep, for the courage to lay down the sword and rest in God’s arms.
Questions for personal meditation
When was the last time I felt that “many speak ill of me”? How do I respond to the judgment of others? Which voices today tell you, “You will not find salvation”? Did you let them in?
Who or what is my “shield” today? Can I allow God to stand between me and my fear?
Can I sleep—not only physically, but spiritually—by surrendering control to the One who sustains me?
Therapeutic‑spiritual exercise
Ritual of sleep and lifted head
In the evening, before sleeping, place your hand on your heart and say quietly:
“I lie down, I sleep, for the Lord sustains me”
It is a gesture of trust, an inner reset of the soul.
In the morning, looking in the mirror, touch your head and say:
“God lifts my head”
Let this gesture remind you that your dignity does not depend on yesterday, but on God’s gaze.
Summary
Psalm 3 does not portray a world without pain. It contains fear, struggle, and loneliness. But it also contains something greater—the presence of God, who does not stand aside. He is closer than your problems, closer than your enemies. It is a psalm of trust, which allows one to sleep in the storm, of hope that lifts the head, of peace that is not the silence after battle, but the presence of God within it. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives, do I give to you” (Jn 14:27). It is this deep, quiet, unshakable peace that allows one to rise each morning with a heart at peace and a head lifted toward the light.
Bibliography (selected items)
Biblia Tysiąclecia (5th edition). (2003). Sacred Scripture of the Old and New Testament. Poznań: Pallottinum.
Braude, W. G. (1959). The Midrash on Psalms (Vol. 1). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Frankl, V. E. (2010). Man’s Search for Meaning. Warsaw: Wydawnictwo Czarna Owca.
Rashi (R. Shlomo ben Jicchak). (ca. 1105). Commentary on the Book of Psalms. In: Mikraot Gedolot (Hebrew edition, e.g., Mossad HaRav Kook). Quotes refer to Ps 3:4.