Psalms 55:6–8

Psalms 55:6 — "Oh that I had wings like a dove!"

The cry opens in mid-lament. The Hebrew particle mi yitten ("Oh that…") is a classic biblical formula of impossible or desperate wishing — used elsewhere when Job longs for a mediator (Job 9:33) and when Jeremiah curses the day of his birth (Jer 20:14). It is the grammar of the human soul at its breaking point. The dove (yonah) is chosen with care: not the eagle, whose wings suggest conquering strength, but the dove, whose flight is swift, gentle, and associated in the Hebrew imagination with innocence, peace, and vulnerability. The Psalmist does not wish to fight back or triumph over enemies; he wishes to vanish — to be somewhere else entirely. This is an emotionally precise image, not rhetorical exaggeration. The context of Psalm 55 is betrayal by a close companion (vv. 12–14) and the collapse of trust within the city itself (vv. 9–11). The dove-wish is the soul's response to a world that has become uninhabitable.

Psalms 55:7 — "Behold, then I would wander far off."

The verb nadad (to wander, to flee, to be driven away) carries a connotation of homeless drifting — the same root used of a restless fugitive. There is something painfully honest here: the Psalmist does not envision a specific safe destination, only distance from where he is. "Far off" (rachaq) is not a place but an escape from a place. This aimlessness is not presented as spiritual victory; it is presented as the raw desire of a wounded person. The typological tradition sees in this wandering a figure of the soul in exile — temporarily estranged from its ultimate home, longing for a rest it cannot yet name precisely.

Psalms 55:8 — "I would hurry to a shelter from the stormy wind and storm."

Now the longing becomes more focused: machase, a shelter or refuge — the same word used throughout the Psalms for God as the ultimate place of protection (cf. Ps 46:1; 91:2). The doubling of storm imagery (suphah u-se'ar — whirlwind and tempest) intensifies the sense of assault from every direction. To "hurry" (aḥîshah) implies urgency, near-panic. Taken together, the three verses trace a movement: from the wish (v. 6), to the flight (v. 7), to the arrival at shelter (v. 8) — even if that arrival remains hypothetical. The Psalmist imagines salvation before he fully trusts it. This imaginative reaching-toward-refuge is itself a form of prayer.

The Typological and Spiritual Senses

St. Augustine, in his Enarrationes in Psalmos, reads the dove here as the Church — or the individual soul within the Church — longing to pass beyond the turbulence of this age into the peace of God. The dove's flight is not cowardice but the orientation of contemplative desire: irrequietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in Te ("our heart is restless, until it rests in Thee"). The dove is also, across both Testaments, a symbol of the Holy Spirit (Matt 3:16), and the spiritual reading sees in the Psalmist's wish a longing, even unknowingly, for the gift of the Spirit — who is precisely the paracletos, the one called alongside us as shelter and advocate. The "stormy wind and storm" figures the spiritual warfare, persecution, and interior desolation that the soul traverses on its way to God.

Catholic tradition refuses to spiritualize away the raw human pain in these verses. The Catechism of the Catholic Church, drawing on the Second Vatican Council's Dei Verbum, insists that Scripture's human authors wrote with genuine human emotions and that those emotions are inspired as such (CCC §106). The Psalmist's desperate wish to flee is not a spiritual defect to be corrected; it is holy honesty before God.

St. Augustine is the foremost Catholic interpreter of this passage. In Enarrationes in Psalmos 54 (his numbering), he identifies the dove as a symbol of the Church precisely because the dove groans — columba gemit — as the Church groans in exile amid the storms of history. He connects the dove-image to the Holy Spirit's descent at the Baptism of Christ, suggesting that the longing for dove-wings is ultimately a longing for the Spirit's gifts of peace and contemplation.

St. Thomas Aquinas, in his commentary on the Psalms, notes that the machase (shelter) points to God himself as the formal object of the soul's refuge — not merely a safe location but a Person. The flight, then, is not away from the world but toward God. This reframes the Psalmist's apparent escapism as an act of theological hope (CCC §1817–1821): hope that is grounded not in denial of suffering but in trust in God's ultimate sheltering presence.

Pope Benedict XVI, in Jesus of Nazareth, reflects on the Psalms of lament as prayers Jesus himself prayed — meaning Christ too entered the human experience of wanting to flee overwhelming anguish (cf. Gethsemane, Luke 22:42). This gives the dove-wish a Christological depth: it is not merely the voice of David or any individual believer, but a cry that the Son of God took upon his own lips and brought into the Trinity's own life.

Most contemporary Catholics will recognize this cry immediately — not from scholarly study but from lived experience. The person exhausted by a toxic workplace, the parent overwhelmed by a child's crisis, the faithful Catholic scandalized by ecclesial failures, the soul battered by recurring sin or depression — all have said, in some form, "I just want to get away from all of this." The Church's gift in preserving this verse is the validation that such a wish is not a sin, not a lack of faith, not spiritual immaturity. It is honest prayer.

The practical application is this: when you feel the dove-wish rising in you, do not suppress it — pray it. Bring the specific storm you are fleeing (name it: the relationship, the anxiety, the temptation, the grief) and offer the longing for escape as the raw material of prayer. Then let the Psalm do its work: the shelter the Psalmist imagines is, ultimately, God himself. The Liturgy of the Hours assigns Psalm 55 precisely so that this cry is not privatized but communal — the Church prays it together, as the dove that groans in pilgrimage toward its eternal rest.