תהילים פרק ל

Nahum M. Sarna, On the Book of Psalms, p. 139

A straightforward reading of this psalm conveys the picture of a pious worshiper who gives thanks to God for recovery from a deathly illness. Hence there is a bewildering discrepancy between the content and its title as recorded in verse 1.

Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Psalms, pp. 212-13.
This is the only place in the Scriptures where the root דלה is employed in this manner. דלה is to "to draw up," from which we derive, דלי "a pail," phonetically related to תלה, "to allow to be suspended." This means to lift up an object from the depths towards oneself and to keep that object hanging suspended over that depth. That which was thus drawn up from below has its support from somewhere above, and were it not for this support which keeps it suspended, it would sink back into the depths below. In view of the foregoing, we can hardly find another expression like דליתני which in one single word so accurately describes the uniqueness of the position of David, of Israel, and of any person who relies completely and exclusively on divine guidance and direction. All others lean on some prop on earth below, but we seek our support only from "above," from the Lord. There is nothing on earth that upholds or supports us. If we were to be left to ourselves, without the aid of God, we would have some back into the depths long ago. This has been demonstrated in all of the experience that David has amassed during his long life. So that this truth should be brought home to all of his people, David dedicates that House of God. Whoever enters this house, whoever deems himself as belonging to it, whoever allows the offerings of the consecration of his own life to be given there, by so doing, renounces all support from earthly sources. By devoting himself to God's Law, such a man grabs that band with which God's strong hand will lift us up to Himself over and beyond all earthly change and decay, and thus will grant us strength and support from on high throughout our lives.

Soren Kierkegaard (Johannes Climacus), Concluding Unscientific Postscript to the Philosophical Fragments
Without risk there is no faith. If I am capable of grasping God objectively, I do not believe, but precisely because I cannot do this I must believe. If I wish to preserve myself in faith, I must constantly be intent upon holding fast the objective uncertainty, so as to remain out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving my faith.

Sarna, Psalms, p. 140

The psalmist is not talking to himself; he is sharing his personal experiences with a group....The religious experience achieves its fullest expression, not in an individual, private setting, but in a public social context.

Tzvi Hersh Weinreb, The Koren Tehillim, p. 141
Our Psalm is an eloquent expression of what we all know, but chose to forget. Life is tenuous.

Robert Alter, Book of Psalms:

"You made me stand mountain-strong." The translation is only an educated guess, because the sequence of words in the Hebrew (not the meaning of the individual words) is perplexing. Literally, it would be: You-made-stand my-mountain-of-strength (or, simply, mountain-of-strength). The translation accords with the understanding of Rashi and ibn Ezra. (Kindle edition)

Mitchell Dahood, Psalms I, pp. 183-84:
In my tears. Gunkel, Die Psalmen, p. 129, has acutely noted that this psalm does not deal with violence and that dmy does not refer to “blood” but only to “suffering.” Hence it is better to vocalize as infinitive construct dommī, to balance infinitive construct ridtī, and to derive dommī from dmm, “to weep,” well known from Akkadian and now attested in Northwest Semitic, as proposed at Ps iv 5. A most relevant parallel is Isa xxxviii 10, “I said as I wept (b^edommī), 'I have completed my days, I have been consigned to Sheol for the rest of my years.’”

Rabbi Samuel Barth, "Psalm 30: Dedication of the 'Inner Temple," (Torah from JTS, October 20, 2012)
First, it is important to note that our psalm immediately follows a lengthy series of rabbinic texts that describe the daily sacrificial rites (e.g., the Koren Sacks Siddur, pages 42–55). Siddur Sim Shalom replaces the topic of sacrifices with texts addressing peace and justice (pages 9–12). The inner message is far removed from either the fixed ritual of sacrifices or even analytic reflection on core Jewish values. The psalmist recalls moments of terror or defeat, thanking God for the gift of life, snatched literally from the grave (verse 4). The experience of fear and weeping at night is shared by all humanity and verse 5 celebrates: “Tears may linger during the night, but joy is found at dawn.” The psalm takes the praying Jew from the formality of study to the reality of the joy that can be found in the presence of God. The juxtaposition of classic study with Psalm 30 invites us to find balance between study and praise, between mind and soul.

Does Rashi, following the Midrash, mean that Esther, Mordechai and Haman were the first to say this psalm or does he mean that they knew the psalm and used it to express their own situation?