A SONG. A psalm of the Sons of Korah.
1Great is the LORD, and most worthy of praise,
in the city of our God, his holy mountain.
2It is beautiful in its loftiness,
the joy of the whole earth.
Like the utmost heights of Zaphon is Mount Zion,
the city of the Great King.
3God is in her citadels;
he has shown himself to be her fortress.
4When the kings joined forces,
when they advanced together,
5they saw her and were astounded;
they fled in terror.
6Trembling seized them there,
pain like that of a woman in labor.
7You destroyed them like ships of Tarshish
shattered by an east wind.
8As we have heard,
so have we seen
in the city of the LORD Almighty,
in the city of our God:
God makes her secure forever.
Selah
9Within your temple, O God,
we meditate on your unfailing love.
10Like your name, O God,
your praise reaches to the ends of the earth;
your right hand is filled with righteousness.
11Mount Zion rejoices,
the villages of Judah are glad
because of your judgments.
12Walk about Zion, go around her,
count her towers,
13consider well her ramparts,
view her citadels,
that you may tell of them to the next generation.
14For this God is our God for ever and ever;
he will be our guide even to the end.
Original Meaning
PSALM 48 FALLS into the category of psalms often called “Zion Songs” because they celebrate the glory and honor of Mount Zion—the hill on which Jerusalem and the temple stood—as the place chosen by Yahweh to be the defining point of his presence with and among Israel. “Mount Zion” is mentioned twice (48:2, 11) and “Zion” once (48:12), and the repetition of the words for city (ʿir in 48:1, 8 [2x]; qiryat in 48:2)—which in 48:1 are identified with God’s “holy mountain”—affirm this focus emphatically.1
Psalm 48 demonstrates a number of links with Psalms 45–47. Yahweh is called the “Great King,” as in 47:2. The theme of the “city of God” (48:1, 8) that dominates Psalm 48 was introduced in 46:4. God is called Yahweh Almighty (yhwh ṣebaʾot, 48:8), an epithet also used in the repeating refrain of 46:7 and 11. Yahweh is the “fortress” (miśgab, 48:3) of Zion, similar to “our fortress” in 46:7, 11. “Kings” flee before the power of Yahweh (48:4–7) as they submitted to his rule in 47:9. Like the memory of the glory of kingship in 45:17, the memory of the glory of Zion will be passed on to future generations (48:13).
The psalm is divided into four stanzas, two on each side of a central verse providing the thematic statement of the whole composition. The sections of the psalm thus revealed are: the presence of Yahweh in Zion (48:1–3), defeat of Zion’s opponents (48:4–7), eternal security of Zion (48:8), worshipers celebrating Yahweh’s mighty acts in behalf of Zion (48:9–11), and declaration to future generations (48:12–14).
The Heading (48:0)
THE HEADING TO Psalm 48 contains no new terms. It is designated a “song” and a “psalm.”2 Like the rest of the compositions in this first grouping in Book 2, Psalm 48 is attributed to “the Sons of Korah.”3
The Presence of Yahweh in Zion (48:1–3)
THE PSALM BEGINS typically for a song in praise of Yahweh. Yahweh is “great” (cf. 48:2d) and “worthy of praise” (lit., “the one who is being praised”). The reference to the “city of our God” and “his holy mountain” appear simply as the location of those who praise—or perhaps emphasize the presence of God with his people that calls forth praise.
It is only in verse 2 that the focus on the city/mountain where Yahweh makes himself present becomes clear. Rather than praiseworthy deeds and attributes of Yahweh, it is the beauty and lofty impregnability of Zion that occupies the attention of the psalmist (48:2). As in 47:7, where Yahweh was celebrated as “King of all the earth,” so Mount Zion as the seat of his rule is the “joy of the whole earth,” continuing the theme of the universal kingship of Yahweh initiated in 44:4. Mount Zion is compared with the most inaccessible reaches of Mount Zaphon4—in Canaanite religious thought the abode of the primary Canaanite deity El. Yahweh, who is “Most High” over all other deities (46:4; 47:2), has his own lofty abode, from which he exercises his universal dominion over kings, nations, and the whole earth.
God is in her citadels. While the focus of the psalm remains firmly fixed on Zion/Jerusalem, the praise of Yahweh continues subtly to undergird all. As in Psalm 46, where the presence of God within the “city of God” prevents her from falling (46:4–5), here it is because Yahweh is “in” the city and its citadels5 that the city is secure and worthy of awe-filled praise. Yahweh “has shown himself” as the city’s “fortress” (miśgab) or mountain hideout.6 The “fortress” connection links Psalm 48 back to the refrain of Psalm 46 (46:7, 11), where Yahweh Almighty, the God of Jacob, is also celebrated as Israel’s “fortress.”
The Flight of the Foes (48:4–7)
BECAUSE OF THE presence of Yahweh Zion stands firm in the face of the enemy. The opposing kings are depicted as joining forces for a combined attack (48:4), reminiscent of the conspiracy of the “kings of the earth” against Yahweh and his anointed described in 2:2. The joint approach of these opposing kings is described with a not-so-subtle wordplay. The verb that describes their “advance” (ʿbr) is used in many contexts to describe “transgression” of the law or a king’s command. Thus, those who advance in hostility on the city of God are simultaneously labeled “transgressors.”
The approaching enemy is astonished and rendered numb by what they see. Whether it is the lofty, fortified city itself (as the NIV implies) or the presence of Yahweh within her that stuns the enemy host is uncertain.7 The response of the enemy to what they see—whatever it might have been—is described in a series of verbs and expressions indicating astonishment and terror: “astounded,” “in terror,” “seized” with “trembling” and with “pain,” like a woman in childbirth (48:5–6). The end result is total destruction of the enemy army like a fleet of ships sent to the bottom of the sea in a hurricane gale (48:7).8
Thematic Center (48:8)
WHAT A DIFFERENCE perspective makes! The enemy hosts look on Mount Zion, tremble, and flee to their destruction. By contrast, the psalmist and his readers look at the “city of our God” and find enduring security. This firm confidence provides the heart of Psalm 48 and can only be attributed to an awareness of Yahweh’s presence in the midst of his holy city. This confidence is based on past tradition handed down in what the readers “have heard,” but this transmitted tradition has been reaffirmed through what “we have seen.”9 This thematic center of confidence is picked up again at the end of the psalm, when the psalmist encourages the readers to pass on their perspective of Zion and her ramparts and citadels to “the next generation,” so that they too may be confident in God’s enduring presence as protector and guide (48:12–14).
The Worship of Praise (48:9–11)
THE SETTING OF the psalm within temple worship becomes explicit by the mention of the “temple” in 48:9. The term used here (hekal) is also used to refer to the “palace” of the human king, while the alternative term miqdaš (“sanctuary”) defines the temple more in terms of its sacral function. The emphasis here, then, is on the temple as the abode of God—the place where he is present among his people as king.
We meditate on your unfailing love. Within the temple—in the palace of the divine king at the heart of Mount Zion—the gathered worshipers are supremely aware of Yahweh’s “unfailing love” (ḥesed)—his enduring faithfulness to his covenant obligations. When the people “compare or ponder” (NIV “meditate”) Yahweh’s ḥesed, there is no comparison—so that his “praise reaches to the ends of the earth.”
God’s “name” (48:10) is, of course, Yahweh, and knowledge of this personal name provides special access to his people. That name also reveals the character of the one who bears it.10 His superiority is demonstrated in two ways: his righteous deeds (“your right hand is filled with righteousness”) and his “judgments.”11 Because of Yahweh’s righteous judgments the whole of the Israelite nation—from the central capital city, where the temple stood, to the scattered villages in the countryside—rejoice. The movement described here matches that exhibited in the preceding verse—from central temple to “the ends of the earth.”
Future Hope (48:12–14)
THE PSALM CONCLUDES with a mental tour of the defense works of Zion: “her towers,” “her ramparts,” and “her citadels.” These impressive battlements are impressive enough to inspire confidence, but it is the God who dwells within Zion and guides her who forms the basis of the psalmist’s proclamation of confidence to future generations. Yahweh is the eternal God who guides his people like a shepherd (cf. Ps. 78:52; also Isa. 49:10; 63:14).12
THE CITY OF GOD. Our usual impression of the Old Testament period is of a rather rural, nomadic society of shepherds and villagers eking out a sparse existence. In reality, the ancient Near East was significantly urbanized from a very early period, with evidence of expansive, walled cities going back into the fourth millennium B.C. Ancient Israel was no stranger to this pattern of urban living, having her roots in the Mesopotamian region during the time of great cities and cultural development (the third millennium B.C.). By the time the ancestors of Israel traveled through Canaan on their way to Egypt (ca. 2000–1700 B.C.), the region was already dominated by numerous walled cities that controlled the trade routes and exploited the economic productivity of the surrounding areas.
The Egypt of Israel’s experience (second millennium B.C.) was also largely urbanized, with significant cities dating to the late fourth millennium or at least the early third. Thus, it is no surprise that once Israel settled the land of Canaan and gained military and political control of the region, her early kings (David and Solomon) moved quickly to develop an urban-based society with strategic cities providing protection and administrative oversight for the outlying villages.
Of these early Israelite strongholds, surely pride of place and reputation go to Jerusalem, the strategically chosen capital city from the time of David. This ancient Jebusite town stood in a sort of Canaanite “no man’s land” between the southern and northern Israelite tribal groupings. These two associations of tribes, called at some times “Judah” (south) and “Ephraim” (north), had long histories of relative independence from one another, so that the monarchical unification of these two regions was always tentative and uneasy. David’s choice of Jerusalem was politically astute in that it was a site well situated between the north and south and without specific association with either. From Jerusalem David was able to pull the two groups together into a firm alliance that Solomon ultimately inherited and developed.13
Jerusalem served the purpose of a political and military administrative center. David apparently envisioned the city as a point of religious unification to hold the kingdom together spiritually as well. His concern is exhibited both in his early determination to bring the ark of the covenant into the city as an indication of God’s presence with the new king and nation and in his later plan to build a temple for Yahweh in Jerusalem (done by Solomon). The construction of that temple also parallels the general ancient Near Eastern pattern of deities associated with cities that were their special abode and where their chief temples were located. Cities related to deities in this way were thought to experience special protection and benefit.
While in Mesopotamia the polytheistic nature of society and culture permitted the existence of numerous cities with competing patron deities, the monotheistic state of Israel ultimately decreed that the one true God, Yahweh, could have a temple—and thus a special relationship—with only one holy city. Although biblical texts (and archaeology) suggest that Yahweh could be worshiped in a number of locations during the united monarchy and even in the southern kingdom of Judah after the split, royal ideology gradually became more insistent that true worship was possible in Jerusalem alone. This conclusion was probably hastened by the conflict that arose with the “sin of Jeroboam,” who built alternate temples at Bethel and Dan to prevent citizens of the northern kingdom from being influenced by Judahite ideology when they traveled to Jerusalem for worship. This event, perhaps more than any other, acutely raised the question of where Yahweh could be worshiped; that is, “Where is the city of Yahweh?”14
From the time of David and Solomon the “city of Yahweh” becomes increasingly identified with Jerusalem. In some cases the site is associated with Mount Moriah, where Abraham proved his faithfulness by his willingness to sacrifice his only son, Isaac (Gen. 22).15 The association of deities and holy mountains is a long-standing practice, and Israel early associated her experience of Yahweh with mountains of historical significance to her national faith journey. There is, of course, Mount Sinai, where the law was received, and Mount Horeb, where both Moses and Elijah heard the voice of Yahweh. These two mountains were often identified in Israel’s thinking.
Along with Mount Moriah, Mount Zion (or just Zion) is often identified with the location of Jerusalem and the temple.16 The comparison of Mount Zion and Mount Zaphon in 48:2 drives home the connection of Zion as the abode of Yahweh. Mount Zaphon—a mountain on the coast of the Mediterranean north of Israel—figured prominently in Canaanite mythology as the mountain abode of Baal.17 By the comparison, the psalmist is claiming equal or even greater glory and stature for Jerusalem/Zion as the abode of Yahweh.
A series of psalms in the Psalter in honor of Zion were probably particularly revered by pilgrims during the exilic period (cf. 137:3).18 According to the theology of these psalms, Mount Zion has been chosen by Yahweh (87:2; 132:13) as the place where he will be particularly present with Israel (46:4–5; 48:3). As a result of God’s choice and presence, Zion is protected (46:5; 48:8) and her inhabitants blessed (84:4), so that it is an honor to be recorded as a citizen of Jerusalem (87:5–6). In Psalm 132, the election of Zion as Yahweh’s eternal throne is connected with the promise to David of a continuing dynasty (132:11–18).19
Reliance on the invulnerability of Zion/Jerusalem because of Yahweh’s special relationship to the city and the Davidic dynasty got Judah into trouble when she failed to take the prophetic critique of her failure to live up to the demands of the law. Following the Exile, hope for the reestablishment of Zion/Jerusalem became a cornerstone of the Diaspora community’s eschatological expectation.
Contemporary Significance
SEEING IS SOMETIMES a choice we make. This is particularly true of seeing the mighty acts of God in our support. C. S. Lewis talks about stepping into a beam of light penetrating a dark potter’s shed and looking along the beam to its source.20 Often we have to take such conscious steps to change our perspective in order to see God at work. When some Judahites looked at the ramparts and citadels of Jerusalem, I suspect they were filled with wonder and pride at their own human accomplishments! The psalmist saw something far different—the wondrous work of Yahweh to draw together and protect his people.
The psalm suggests that the advancing enemy saw much the same as the psalmist, yet as these troops approached the city, they were astounded and fled in terror. Now, surely these same troops had torn down the walls of many a conquered city, whose fortifications far surpassed those of Jerusalem. What sent them running back down the wadis away from the holy city of Yahweh? Rather than human endeavor, they saw the works of God and his protective care arrayed against them.
When we rely on our own works, it is all too easy to become filled with pride and to come falsely to trust in ourselves rather than God. Such an approach to life is doomed to failure from the start. The most powerful leaders have been removed from office by election, coup, or even death. The most brilliant minds have been subdued by a stroke or Alzheimer’s. The strongest body can fall prey to accident or disease. No matter how impressive our battle works, they are an empty hope unless God is there.
As we have heard, so have we seen. What is it that changes our perspective like the psalmist’s to see the mighty acts of God at work in our world? How do we step into Lewis’s sunbeam to see God as the source? Our psalm suggests that our eyes can be opened when we listen to the testimony of past generations and allow that witness to shape and direct our vision.
“As we have heard,” says the psalmist, “so have we seen” (48:8). Picture a group of pilgrims who have lived their whole lives at long remove from Jerusalem in the farthest reaches of the Diaspora. Now they are at last on the way to worship in Jerusalem. All their lives they have heard of the holy city of Yahweh: its history, its theology, its grandeur, the hope it represents. But now they are almost there, approaching the first overlook to catch a glimpse of their long-awaited goal. Do you think that when they crest the last hill for their first look, they will be disappointed? Absolutely not! It is only after having lived several months in its twisting streets, contending with the heat and garbage and traffic—after the “new” has worn off—they might begin to ask what was so special about this hot, dusty, crowded place.
I myself have been there for that first glimpse, the first look at the city of Jerusalem, and I can tell you that I was not disappointed a bit! My heart welled up within me as I saw the walls of the Old City and the domes of churches and buildings within it. Even though the walls are Byzantine or later and even though few of the standing structures go back to the time of David or even Jesus, it did not matter. I was overwhelmed with a sense of awe at being at last in this special place.
What is it that gives this place—not particularly grand or astounding in human terms—such a special significance? It is the testimony of those who have gone before about the acts of God that have taken place within its walls. I had been prepared by those who had gone before to look for the acts of God there—to recall the ways God had redeemed his people, including me.
What are the Jerusalems of our own lives? Where has God erected ramparts and citadels for our protection? When have our enemies been turned back through the power of God? How can we step into the light to see and acknowledge that God is at work in our mundane lives, caring, protecting, and saving? The Old Testament narratives as a whole, and the psalms in particular, provide us with ready examples of common human beings confronted by the extraordinary presence of God in their lives. Drawing on the examples of these ancient witnesses, we may be emboldened to see God at work in our own lives.
Tell the next generation. It does not end there, that is, with our realization of God at work in our lives. Sight is confirmed in speech as our tongues are loosed to join the growing testimony of the faithful. “Walk about Zion, go around her, count her towers, consider well her ramparts, view her citadels” (48:12–13). I remember walking the walls of the Old City alone and marveling at the new sights I was seeing. But the experience was incomplete until I could share it with someone else. I still have my journals and slides and have probably bored far too many family members and friends with accounts of my visits (perhaps you have done the same), but my own understanding was only fully confirmed when I articulated it in word and writing. I was joining with the psalmist and all the other psalmists and Old Testament writers in trying to pass on the experience of God revealed in a new and unexpected way.
A movement is afoot in our own time to encourage parents and grandparents to record their life memories and experiences for future generations. There are seminars and workshops to offer practical ideas and support for those who wish to leave a legacy for their immediate family and future generations. I wish my own maternal grandfather had left such a testament. As a child he moved by buckboard from Tennessee to Texas and grew up to become a cotton farmer during the post-Civil War period. He was a marvelous storyteller, but his stories are now silenced and lost.
I also wish I knew more about his spiritual history. I know he was a strong Baptist deacon. I remember stories of how he and my grandmother supported and nurtured an African American congregation during a time when such contacts were not common and were generally disapproved. But beyond the sketchiest outline, I know little. And now that my own parents are dead, I have little chance to reconstruct an intimate portrait of their spiritual origins and journey and how they influenced my own.
Such testimony is important for “the next generation” because they help to shape the way they see God at work in their own lives. When we talk about how God has been active in our own decision-making and in chastening instruction, and when we talk about how our knowledge and experience of God’s presence have not always been crystal clear, we are providing a perspective by which our children and their children can encounter God in the common events of their lives. We can describe the ramparts, the citadels, and the towers that can become their personal experience of God’s protective care.
Our guide even to the end. One of the testimonies I hope we make clearly to the next generation is that God is our guide. The Hebrew behind the NIV translation here is a verb. Rather than the noun “guide,” what the Hebrew says is that our God will “lead us along” into the future. This is no signpost or person pointing us the way we should go. God is one who guides us along—going with us into whatever the future may hold. In a sense, I suppose, Jesus performs this function of “guide” when he comes among us—first in human flesh and then in his Spirit—to lead us.
This kind of leader may prod, cajole, encourage, and entice us to action, but he is always there with us. He does not abandon us but comes along with us. I don’t know about you, but that comforts me. It is as if the tour company assigns a guide to us to go along to show us the way, briefing us on the history and culture of the spot, smoothing our passage, answering our questions, and informing us of the customs we need to know in order to get the most out of our experience. This is far different from receiving a map and a pamphlet with brief entries on the sights and sites and a promise for the bus to meet us at the other end of the route.
God leads us along “even to the end.” Again the Hebrew is expressive. The phrase ʿal mut is apparently a form of the verb “die.” Although the construction is a bit awkward, the general force seems clear: God leads us even to the point of death. The NIV’s “even to the end” seems to water that down unnecessarily. Thankfully God does lead us, going with us, even to the point of death. Jesus again is the appropriate model in his willingness to become human and to be like us “to death—even death on a cross!” (Phil. 2:5–8).