THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION
Psalm 110 is the most cited psalm in the New Testament; the Gospels depict Jesus using it to problematize the idea of the anointed (christos in Greek, messiah in Hebrew): “The LORD says to my lord, ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool’ ” (Ps. 110:1). Jesus argues that, since David refers to “my Lord,” “how can he be his [David’s] son?” (Matt. 22:45; Luke 20:44).
Psalm 110 remained significant within the Christian tradition, in part because it explained the interim period between Jesus’ death and resurrection and his return in the eschatological future (Acts 2:32–36; Heb. 1:3–4, 13; 1 Pet. 3:22; cf. Psalm 8). This psalm also reflects the repeated divine forbearance in the Psalms, where the success of the wicked and suffering of the righteous represent a temporary hiatus awaiting divine intervention to set things right (cf. Psalms 73; 94; 102). In contrast to its significance in the Christian tradition, Psalm 110 does not appear within Jewish liturgy (cf. Psalms 2; 72; Holladay, 144).
Psalm 109, with its drastic imprecations against enemies, was cited in Jesus’ passion accounts and provided the opportunity for anti-Jewish rhetoric from the early church on. For instance, Luther paints this with a broad brush as a “psalm David composed about Christ, who pronounces ‘terrible curses’ upon Judas and ‘everyone of Judas’s ilk,’ including ‘Judaism as a whole’ as well as ‘all schismatics and persecutors of the Word of Christ.’ ” Building on his “two kingdoms” theology, Luther suggests “it is permissible to curse on account of the Word of God; but it is wrong to curse on your own account for personal vengeance or some other personal end” (Thompson, 55, 59–60, 63).
THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION
Cursing or imprecatory psalms such as Psalm 109 continue to generate much debate. While lament psalms have largely fallen out of use in liturgical contexts, Brueggemann (102–7) has argued for their ongoing significance for giving voice to the voiceless and challenging the status quo. Some have argued for the cathartic effect of imprecation, where voicing the desire for vengeance constitutes handing over responsibility for executing it, and thus “surrendering retribution” to God (Firth). In contrast, Amy Cottrill believes that Psalm 109 represents a “revenge fantasy” that contemporary readers must resist on the grounds not only that it may prompt violence but also that the language in itself is violent (Cottrill, 147–56).
While Cottrill helpfully warns of the potential for using imprecations to justify violence, the “satanic” reading of Psalm 91 in the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ temptation reminds us that the abuse of psalms to obscure God’s will rather than discover it is not unique to lament, but can be found in psalms of comfort and praise as well. Lament psalms—including those with strident curses against the enemy—hold the potential to promote empathetic understandings and responses, perhaps especially when we step away from the role as “speaker” and into that of their social audience in order to attend to the voice(s) of others in distress. This possibility underscores the vital role of contemporary communities committed to hear and discern such speech (Suderman 2012, 212–16; see Psalm 137). In so doing, we may even move from being the “hero” of the psalm to identifying with the “enemy” who needs to repent and turn from wrongdoing (see Psalm 141).
In relation to New Testament material and the broader Christian tradition, Psalm 110 raises a related issue. David Firth has argued that the perpetration of violence in “I” psalms is restricted to God, with the only exception being that of the king as God’s representative (Firth, 3). While Psalm 110 illustrates this exception (110:5–6; cf. Ps. 2:9), its use in the New Testament corresponds to the general trend that does not reject the possibility of vengeance but restricts its implementation. Jesus’ call for his followers to forego retribution and pursue love of enemies (Matt. 5:38–48) does not make the New Testament immune from calls for vengeance; indeed, the lament “how long?” and accompanying cry for vengeance from martyrs under the divine throne challenges common notions of “heaven” (Rev. 6:10; cf. 79:10). Once again, however, God’s response reflects divine forbearance; while the “cry” is recognized as legitimate and the outcome assured, God does not act immediately. Similarly, also faced with a context of persecution, Paul instructs his listeners to “pursue (diokontes) the love of strangers, and bless those who persecute (diokontas) you” and to “never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God” (Rom. 12:13–14, 18–19). The last verse, with its quotation from Deuteronomy, underscores the point: “For it is written: ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay,’ says the LORD” (Rom. 12:19; cf. Deut. 32:35; Ps. 94:1). While the desire for vengeance does not disappear in the New Testament, it is clear that meting this out reflects a divine and not human prerogative.
Christian history has seen the repeated religious justification of human violence, a tendency that remains a persistent temptation. Mays points to the persistent prophetic critique of the monarchy and the eschatological way in which Psalm 110 points to God’s coming kingdom as two important qualifications that guard against its use as contemporary political propaganda (Mays, 353; cf. Psalm 72).
THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT
Beginning with halelu yah, Psalm 113 calls on the “servants of YHWH” to praise God. It portrays God in cosmic terms as “on high” and “above the heavens,” but without mention of temple or Zion (113:4). God’s commitment to reverse the fortunes of the poor and needy and the “barren woman” illustrate YHWH’s concern for those on the margins.
Psalm 114 is a hymn of praise, unusual in that it neither addresses the divine nor recounts YHWH’s deeds directly (Mays, 364). Rhetorical questions addressed to the sea, Jordan, mountains, and hills introduce YHWH’s presence as the key element of the psalm. Economical in its use of words, this psalm again links God’s action in Israel’s particular experience with divine control over mythological forces (cf. Psalm 74).
Psalm 115 is a communal hymn centered on the issue of “trust.” Briefly addressing God to affirm divine steadfast love and truth, the remainder of the psalm responds to the taunt of the nations: “where is your God?” (cf. Ps. 79:10; Isa. 36:18–20). It also critiques those who worship idols they have made, which reflects a temptation in the postexilic period (cf. 106:36, 38; Isa. 44:9–20). Whereas others trust in idols, the psalmist exhorts Israel, the priesthood, and those “who fear YHWH” to trust in God; in return, YHWH will be “their help and shield” and will bless them (115:9–13). The ending reciprocates divine blessing, with the people committing to bless YHWH forever; halelu yah!
Psalm 116, which is divided into two in Greek and Latin Bibles, gives thanks for deliverance from distress. The opening “I love YHWH” proves unique in the Psalms (Mays, 370) and links to the main motif of the previous, since “love” moves beyond emotional attachment to connote strong loyalty (Gen. 25:28; Exod. 20:6). The psalm follows a clear thanksgiving pattern with an opening, a description of distress and divine response, and a commitment to praise and fulfill a vow. The death of the faithful is “costly” or “grievous” to YHWH, since death eliminates their praise (116:15, Mays, 370; Ps. 115:17). The final reference to the congregation and temple underscores that thanksgiving reflects a public testimony meant to inspire and exhort the broader community, while halelu yah provides an opportunity for others to join the psalmist’s thanksgiving (116:17–19).
Psalm 117 exemplifies the basic elements of a hymn: a call, this time for all peoples, to “praise YHWH” and an affirmation of the steadfast love and truth/faithfulness of YHWH.
Psalm 118 combines hymnic elements with others derived from individual thanksgiving. The initial verses again underscore divine steadfast love with an antiphonal call consisting of a familiar liturgical element of thanksgiving to the same groups identified in Psalm 115 (118:1–4; cf. 106:1; 107:1; 136). The psalm then shifts to a tightly structured song in which an individual voice gives thanks for deliverance from enemies, leading to the rhetorical query: “what can mortals do to me?” (v. 6; cf. 56:11). The psalmist illustrates the motif of divine help by contrasting “taking refuge” in God and trusting in mortals, “cutting off” (literally “circumcising”) the surrounding threat (118:7–13). The psalmist’s emphatic repetition of “the right hand of YHWH” and verbatim repetition of the praise from the “Song of the Sea” in Exodus 15 underscores a connection to the exodus (118:14; Exod. 15:2; cf. Isa. 12:2). The remainder of the psalm reflects a liturgical setting with several speakers, including an entrance appeal and response (cf. Ps. 24:7–10), individual thanksgiving and communal response, a communal blessing linked to a procession, and a declaration of thankful intimacy (118:19–29). The return to the same thanksgiving refrain frames the psalm with God’s steadfast love (cf. vv. 1–4; Mays, 374).
Psalm 119, the longest chapter in the Bible, is an extended hymn that praises God and declares loyalty to law (torah). This third torah psalm (cf. Psalms 1; 19) is an elaborate acrostic poem structured in eight-verse blocks, with each section corresponding to consecutive letters of the Hebrew alphabet; 22 letters and 8 verses per letter result in 176 verses of poetic text. The psalm repeatedly employs seven terms related to torah: “decrees,” “statutes,” “commandments,” “ordinances,” “word,” “precepts,” and “promise/saying”; with few exceptions, at least one of these terms appears in each verse of the poem. Just as it employs motifs and vocabulary from each genre of the Psalms, Psalm 119 also draws on material from other scriptural books. After initial “happy are …” sayings (119:1–3), the remainder of the psalm addresses God, continually emphasizing commitment to your law, your decrees, your statutes; a momentary shift to directly address evildoers underscores this basic pattern (119:115; cf. 6:6). The psalmist’s stance as God’s “servant,” a term that appears fifteen times, is not restricted to a Davidic king (89:3, 20, 39) or exceptional figure such as Abraham (105:6, 42) or Moses (105:26), but anyone committed to following God’s torah. Though individual in form, Psalm 119 serves a didactic function to instruct its listeners (Gerstenberger 2001, 316).
THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION
Psalms 113–118, referred to as hallel or “praise,” became a significant liturgical unit used during the Passover in early Judaism (Gerstenberger 2001, 280) that continued to be recited during the home Passover seder meal as well as in the daily liturgy for all three major pilgrim festivals: Passover, Feast of Weeks (Pentecost), and Feast of Booths (Holladay, 143).
The New Testament already draws on Psalm 118 to portray Jesus and his passion, referring to the builder’s rejection of the cornerstone and the crowd using the phrase “blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD” as Jesus enters Jerusalem (118:22, 26). Psalm 118 was later one of Luther’s favorites. Reading Israel as “the elect children of God,” Luther emphasizes the central motif of trust, while also tying the psalmist’s setting of being surrounded to his own conflict with “the pope and his vermin”; interestingly, Luther also reinterprets “cutting them off,” saying that “we Christians crush the heathen through our prayers” (118:10–14). Luther read “I shall not die” as referring to “eternal life,” the “gates” as the parish, Jesus Christ as the king of Palm Sunday and the rejected “cornerstone …, and the builders who reject him are the Jewish and papal leadership who fail to recognize God’s marvelously free grace” (Hals 1983, 278–82).
THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION
As addressed repeatedly, the psalmists cry out from social—as well as physical—distress. Therefore, Psalms 116 and 118 prove significant in that they reflect structured moments of public and social rehabilitation and reentry (Jacobson, 133). While this is sometimes practiced in our day when overcoming sickness, within the criminal justice system the opposite is often the case. Whereas North American society thrives on social shame and stigmatization in criminal justice proceedings, it lacks an equivalent to transform an individual’s status or symbolically reintegrate former offenders into their communities, a complex issue that relates to earlier discussions on confession and abuse (cf. Psalms 51; 55).
Finally, the postexilic setting of this section and its role in identity formation proves striking. As Psalm 119 reflects, the gift of torah is to be celebrated and cherished, and comes with the expectation of obedience; far from an unbearable burden or impossibility, Psalm 119 revels in the law as God’s blueprint for abundant life (cf. Deut. 30:11–20). Counterintuitively, it was the temple’s destruction and the Babylonian exile (587 BCE) that gave rise to the birth of the synagogue, a transformation that helped Judaism to survive the second temple’s destruction. To this day “the Talmud” refers to the Babylonian rather than the Jerusalem Talmud as the more authoritative collection in the Oral Torah, which witnesses to Babylon’s vital significance as a center of Jewish learning well into the Common Era.
THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT
Psalms 120–134 are a series of short psalms identified in their headings as “Song(s) of Ascent.” The latter Hebrew term appears in reference to “going up” to Jerusalem (122:4) and relates to an offering associated with temple liturgy. While different genres of psalms appear in this section, their liturgical language and frequent references to Jerusalem and Zion reflect a connection to pilgrimage (Mays, 385–86).
Psalm 120 is an individual lament calling for YHWH to rescue the psalmist from malicious speech. The final verses express frustration about living with one who “hates peace,” reflecting the social aspect of this term as well-being or good relationships and suggesting physical conflict: “I [am] peace, but when(ever) I speak, they [are] for war” (120:6–7). Here the psalmist claims a direct link to or even embodiment of shalom that the NRSV’s “I am for peace” does not capture.
Psalm 121 is a poem of assurance directed to a social audience that moves from an initial rhetorical question to a declaration of confidence that unites cosmic and intimate aspects of the divine, seeing YHWH both as creator and “my help” (121:1–2; cf. 40:17; 70:5). The response, presumably spoken to the initial speaker by a liturgical leader or functionary (Gerstenberger, 2001, 324), focuses on YHWH’s role as “your keeper”; indeed, the Hebrew root “keep” (shamar) appears six times (121:3–8). Both in theme and vocabulary, this psalm proves reminiscent of other psalms of assurance (cf. Psalm 91).
Psalm 122, the first of three ascent songs attributed to David (see also Psalms 124; 131), exemplifies a pilgrimage song. Reference to being “within your gates” and rejoicing in the opportunity to “go up” to Jerusalem and enter the temple suggest it functioned as a “song of arrival” for pilgrims (122:1–4). Reference to the thrones “of justice” and “of the house of David” may refer to dispute mechanisms initiated by David and carried into the postexilic context (122:5, cf. 2 Sam. 8:15; 15:1–6; Mays, 392–93). Wishes for the peace of Jerusalem for the temple’s sake illustrate its liturgical significance within pilgrimage traditions (cf. 120:6–7).
Psalm 123 calls for mercy and shifts from the previous speech about God to address YHWH directly. The metaphors of a male and female servant underscore both the expectancy and subordinate position of the psalmist. The double call for mercy or favor corresponds to the negative doublets in the final verses; they “have had more than enough of contempt” (123:3–4). The move from the voice of an individual to a communal “we” suggests the individual functions as a representative or spokesperson for a larger group.
Psalm 124, a second ascent song “of David” (cf. 122), articulates communal thanksgiving that builds on the motif of YHWH, maker of heaven and earth, as “help” (124:8; cf. 121:1–2). Initial repetition underscores that this has been experienced as YHWH’s being “on our side” (literally “for” or “of” us; cf. Josh. 5:13–15). Though water imagery is used, the primary concern here concerns when “men (’adam) rose over us” (124:2, author trans.). The threefold repetition of “our souls” (124:4, 5, 7) emphasizes that their whole being was threatened; whereas “soul” implies a distinction from the body, the Hebrew nefesh reflects one’s whole being or self. The liturgical “blessed be YHWH” introduces the metaphor of an escaping bird, which describes the fulfillment of a wish elsewhere (124:6–7; cf. 11:1; 55:6; 102:7).
Psalm 125 employs the physical attributes of Zion to depict the eternal stability of “those who trust in the LORD.” Where elsewhere the psalmist complains of being surrounded by enemies or the wicked, here the hills around Jerusalem illustrate how YHWH “surrounds his people” (125:2; cf. 34:7). The “the staff of wickedness,” which appears only here in the Old Testament, may refer to the external threat of foreign domination or to the internal one of injustice (Mays, 398). The concluding verse reiterates the psalm’s focus on the people: “Peace be upon Israel” (cf. 128:6); by extending the shalom of Jerusalem and the temple to those who trust in YHWH (125:1; cf. Ps. 122:6–7), the psalm provides a poignant affirmation for pilgrims from beyond the city walls.
Psalm 126 speaks of the restoration of Zion and looks forward to an even more complete restoration of the people. The phrase “the LORD turned the captivity of Zion” applies characteristic language from the prophets to Zion itself (cf. Deut. 30:3; Jer. 29:14; Amos 9:14). The restoration most probably refers to the restoration of the temple in the postexilic period, though the New Jewish Publication Society translation renders the entire psalm as a hope for the future. The symmetry of the psalm emerges from several repetitions (“restore,” 126:1, 3; “then,” twice in 126:2) that moves from a broader recognition of what YHWH has done “for them” to a corporate recognition of God’s action “for us,” and then an appeal for a future, more complete restoration (126:2–4). The metaphor of a wadi or seasonal stream underscores the need for restoration, while the images of sowing and reaping build on ancient Near Eastern motifs that reflect current difficulty and anticipated joy (Mays, 400).
Psalm 127, one of two psalms linked to Solomon (see also Psalm 72), employs “house” in two different ways to highlight YHWH’s central significance. The initial depiction of building, guarding, and work without God as empty (127:1–2) plays on Solomon’s reputation as a house-builder and this motif within wisdom literature (cf. 1 Kgs. 6:1; 7:1; Prov. 9:1; 14:1). The second section uses “house” as family or offspring (cf. 2 Sam. 7:5, 11) and “inheritance” to refer to children (literally “sons”) rather than possessions or land (cf. Deut. 4:21; 26:1). The parent is “happy” in part because offspring will be able to speak “in the gate,” the traditional place of adjudication and decision (cf. Ruth 4:1–6; Job 5:4; Prov. 31:23, 31).
Psalm 128 declares “happy” those who “fear YHWH,” which the parallel phrase “walk in his ways” links to torah obedience (128:1, 4; cf. 112:1), because they will enjoy blessings of produce, wife, and children. While the last “blessing” of witnessing the well-being of Jerusalem and long life has a singular verb form and so addresses everyone who “fears YHWH,” the final “peace be upon Israel” extends this blessing to the larger people (cf. 125:5). The psalm also emphasizes Zion’s special status as the site from which divine blessing comes.
Psalm 129 extends the form of individual thanksgiving to the community (129:1–2; cf. 124:1–2). Withstanding extended abuse from enemies leads to a confident affirmation of YHWH’s righteousness and initiates a series of imprecations against “all who hate Zion,” which again reflects the close identification of the psalmist and the holy hill (129:5–8).
Psalm 130, the sixth “penitential prayer” in the Psalter (see Psalm 51), employs the form of an individual lament to exhort Israel to hope in YHWH. An initial invocation, cry, and reflection on sin and the possibility of forgiveness address God directly. The remainder describes how “my entire being (naphshi)” hopes and waits for YHWH, which is then reiterated in the exhortation to Israel. The psalm affirms God’s steadfast love as the key element for addressing sin and, like the previous, concludes by moving from the individual to focus on the community, Israel.
Psalm 131, another “psalm of David” (cf. 124), continues the motif of hope by emphasizing the psalmist’s patient rather than haughty stance. The metaphor of a weaned child provides the emotional draw of the psalm, while the call for Israel to “hope in YHWH” repeats the conclusion of the former (131:3; 130:7).
Psalm 132 reiterates God’s commitment to the Davidic covenant and reasserts the intimate connection between Zion and the messiah. It alternates between the voice of the psalmist and direct quotations of the vows of, first, David (132:1–5; cf. 2 Samuel 6–7; Gerstenberger 2001, 363) and then YHWH (132:11–12; cf. 2 Sam. 7:12–16; 1 Kgs. 2:4; 11:38–39). The final section provides God’s affirmative response and commitment to act on behalf of the priests, the faithful, and David “my anointed/messiah” (132:14–18). The psalm reasserts the link between the dominant Davidic king as servant and anointed (132:10, 17; cf. Ps. 89:4) and the divine warrior, represented by the ark and might of YHWH. Where book 4 downplayed the Davidic messiah in favor of YHWH as king, here this figure reappears in familiar style (cf. Psalms 2; 89a).
Psalms 133–134 together close the Songs of Ascent. Psalm 133 describes in glowing terms the harmony when “kindred [literally “brothers”] live together in unity” (133:1), affirming the pilgrims’ communal experience. The dual images of oil running down Aaron’s head and beard and dew on Mount Hermon witness to divine anointing and abundance. Psalm 134 concludes the Songs of Ascent with a blessing, addressed to “all you servants/worshipers of YHWH” (134:1). Lifting arms in the night paints a picture of ancient worship, perhaps the liturgical conclusion of a pilgrimage festival. In any case, “the psalm now stands in a literary rather than a liturgical location” (Mays, 415). It concludes in symmetry that embodies the intimacy between God and people: just as God’s servants bless YHWH, the psalm concludes with “May YHWH … bless you.” The divine depiction as “maker of heaven and earth,” a phrase unique to book 5 of the Psalter (134:3; cf. Ps. 115:15; 121:2; 124:8; 146:5), reiterates the one being worshiped as the source of blessing.
THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION
The Songs of Ascent (120–134) have continued to function liturgically, having been used to pray for the souls of deceased individuals in the “Office for the Dead,” during Easter, and in medieval “Prymers” or “first prayers” (Gillingham, 55, 103; see Psalm 102).
Psalm 126 illustrates the flexibility of such material, having been used as a reading for thanksgiving, advent, and lent. In the first case references to sowing and reaping function in a straightforward sense, while the latter builds more figuratively on its rich language. The description of kindred/brothers “living together in unity” has prompted the use of Psalm 133 as a reading for the Lord’s Supper, and already Augustine pointed to this psalm as significant for founding monastic communities (Mays, 400, 414).
THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION
The Songs of Ascent witness to the significance of pilgrimage and place, with consistent reference to Jerusalem and Zion underscoring their special status. The connection between adoration and place, however, has been a mixed blessing. Within the Christian tradition it was the special status of the “Holy Land” that prompted Christian crusaders to “go up” to Jerusalem, also as a form of pilgrimage.
The link between pilgrimage and communal identity is further underscored in the contemporary setting, where some Jews refer to moving to Israel as “making aliyah” or “going up,” adopting pilgrimage language to speak of permanent relocation. At the same time, within contemporary Israel and Palestine, there are interweaving narratives of historic injustice and tragedy, victimhood and victimization, strength and weakness, hope and despair, identity and land. With this context in mind, the opening “Psalm of Ascent” proves particularly striking.
Too long have I had my dwelling among those who hate peace (shalom).
I am peace, but when I speak they are for war. (120:6–7)
The psalm speaks of deep-rooted animosity and suspicion, with a sense of victimization that is raw and urgent. While the issue here seems intractable, Psalm 120 also functions as an invitation to begin to “go up.”
A contemporary challenge lies in attending to the many contemporary and discordant voices within Israel and Palestine, and empathetically discerning what we hear (Psalms 44; 55; 137). The call to “pray for the peace of Jerusalem” and the possibility of pervasive well-being remains both suggestive and elusive (122:6). We pray for the day when Jewish, Muslim, and Christian inhabitants of these lands may say together: “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!” (Ps. 133:1).
THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT
In addition to reflecting a wide range of emotions, settings, and genres, Psalms 135–145 include the final Davidic collection of the Psalter, which frames book 5 (138–145; cf. 108–110).
Psalm 135 is a hymn celebrating the sovereignty of YHWH, whose opening and conclusion reflect a liturgical call and response that invites different groups to “praise” and then “bless” YHWH (135:1–4, 19–21). The psalm shifts to first person to describe YHWH’s status “above all gods,” reflected in God’s control over creation and mythological forces as well as the nations (cf. Ps. 74:12–17; 104:24–26; Psalm 105); the God of the cosmos is also the one who has acted on behalf of Israel in the exodus and provided the gift of land. Momentary address to YHWH introduces confidence in God’s judgment and compassion (v. 13), a telling contrast to the inaction of idols (cf. Ps. 115:4–8; Isa. 44:18). The servants of Pharaoh and those who make and trust in idols provide the negative foil for the servants of YHWH and so reinforce the close identification of YHWH with “his people” Israel.
Psalm 136 represents another antiphonal hymn, where a leading voice speaks the initial lines and the gathered assembly responds with the chorus: “for his steadfast love endures forever.” In doing so, the psalm recounts and celebrates God’s role in creation, the exodus, and providing the land (cf. Psalm 105).
Psalm 137, a communal lament for Jerusalem, stands in stark contrast to the previous psalms. Set in Babylon, Zion exists as a memory rather than a lived reality. The prior conviction of Zion’s inviolability adds salt to the wound when captors ask for a “song of Zion” (137:3–4; cf. 48:8–14; 132:13–18), while reference to a “foreign (nekar) land” implicitly links Babylon to the idolatry condemned elsewhere (Ps. 135:15–18; cf. Deut. 31:16; Josh. 24:20–23; Prov. 7:5). While direct address to “daughter Babylon” mirrors the earlier speech to Jerusalem, here the psalmist articulates drastic, vengeful wishes that shock contemporary readers: “Happy is the one who seizes and dashes your children against the rock” (137:9). While a few passages in the Old Testament refer to such harsh treatment in military contexts (e.g., 2 Kgs. 8:12; Hosea 10:14; Nah. 3:10), this passage reflects a desire for Babylon to be paid back in kind rather than personal vengeance. Memory is a key element here: the captives remember Zion and curse themselves if they “do not remember” Jerusalem (137:1, 5–6), which then grounds the imperative plea for YHWH to also remember. This psalm implicitly questions whether God will remember the covenant with Zion and David voiced in earlier psalms (89a, 132), or whether divine steadfast love will not prove trustworthy. The vengeful wishes here should not lead the reader to disregard the existential crisis it reflects (see section below).
Psalm 138 begins the final “of David” collection (138–145) with thanksgiving, shifting back and forth between direct address to and speech about YHWH. The initial vow to “give you thanks … before the gods (’elohim),” rendered “angels” in the Septuagint, suggests a polytheistic context (cf. Psalm 82); “your holy temple” contrasts with the Babylonian context, during which the temple lay in ruins. This psalm returns to praise God’s steadfast love and truth/faithfulness (cf. Ps. 25:10; 86:15) for responding to the psalmist’s distress, and sees his own praise as anticipating that of the “kings of the earth” (138:2–4). The “height” of YHWH draws attention to divine attention to the lowly, while the psalmist enjoys divine protection from enemies. The final praise for God’s steadfast love reflects a liturgical formula used elsewhere and prompts an appeal for it to be sustained (138:8; Ps. 136).
Psalm 139, a second psalm “of David” that addresses God throughout, portrays YHWH’s intimate knowledge and care for the psalmist. An initial description leads to a series of rhetorical questions confirming the pervasive divine presence; Jonah provides a case in point for one attempting to flee from God’s presence (139:7; Jon. 1:3). “You knit me together in my mother’s womb” introduces the next part of the psalm, leading to what at first glance seems a dramatic shift in tone from meditating on God’s thoughts to calling for the destruction of the wicked (139:17–22). However, the strident imprecations here reflect the logic of the psalm, extending the shared intimacy between God and the psalmist to claim that God’s enemies are those of the psalmist as well (cf. Ps. 26:5; 31:6). The concluding call for God to “search me” reflects a commitment to introspection and self-critique that proves significant after such strident self-identification with God.
Psalm 140, another “psalm of David,” is an individual lament that calls on YHWH for deliverance from violent men. The psalmist intermingles statements of confidence with pleas for help, before calling for the destruction of the enemy by allowing the adversaries’ designs to fall on themselves (140:6–10; 69:22). The psalm concludes with a confident assertion addressed to a social audience regarding divine justice for the poor and needy, and anticipates thanksgiving from the righteous.
Psalm 141, yet another “psalm of David,” inverts the usual language of individual lament to ask God to preserve the psalmist himself from evil. An initial invocation calling on YHWH to come quickly moves to an appeal for the psalmist’s prayer and liturgical gestures to be counted as sacrifices. The psalmist then appeals to God to guard him from joining forces or even becoming one of the “evildoers” (141:3–4; cf. 6:8). While “guard my mouth” addresses the persistent issue of malicious speech, the psalmist also asks God to keep him from evil, wickedness, and evildoers. Although the translation of 141:5–7 proves elusive, the motif continues since the psalmist’s commitment to “delightful” words contrasts with his wicked potential, further underscored by the resonance between “my mouth” and the “mouth of Sheol” (141:3, 7). The psalmist looks to YHWH for orientation and to seek refuge (141:8), reiterating a key theme from early in the Psalter (Ps. 2:12; 7:1; 11:1; cf. 144:2). The final appeal to “guard me” transforms the trap described elsewhere as the vindictive attack of the enemies to the seductive allure of joining forces with “evildoers” (141:9; cf. 140:5).
Psalm 142, set as David “in the cave” by a contextual heading (cf. 1 Sam. 22:1; 24:3–4; Psalms 3; 51), is an unusual individual lament that begins by describing an appeal to YHWH in the third person rather than an invocation directed to God. Three consecutive imperatives to “attend,” “rescue,” and “bring me out” exemplify the psalmist’s stance of taking refuge in God (142:5–7). The concluding vow to praise describes recognition and social rehabilitation among the righteous (cf. Psalm 88).
Psalm 143, the third consecutive prayer/lament (tefillah) of David (v. 1; cf. 141:2; 142:1), employs characteristic vocabulary to call directly on God for help from enemies. Following an invocation appealing to “your faithfulness” and “your righteousness,” the beleaguered psalmist’s loss of spirit prompts him to “remember” and “meditate” on God’s past action, so that his entire being (nephesh) thirsts for God (143:1–6). Appeals for YHWH to “answer,” “not hide your face,” “rescue,” and “teach me” are grounded in divine steadfast love and the psalmist’s trust (143:7–10). This in turn leads to the final appeal for God’s righteousness and steadfast love to manifest themselves by preserving the psalmist on one hand and dealing harshly with the enemies on the other.
While literary dependence is difficult to demonstrate, Psalm 144 combines vocabulary and motifs from previous psalms to address a new setting (Gerstenberger 2001, 427). The initial description of God, including that he “trains my hands for war,” and the high depiction of humans resonate elsewhere (Ps. 144:1–7; cf. Ps. 8:4; 18:1–2, 9, 34). The psalm calls on the cosmic YHWH to respond to the psalmist’s plight, brought on him by foreigners and their emptiness (144:7–8, 11; cf. 137:4; 139:20). The commitment to “sing a new song,” linked to God’s rescuing “his servant David” from enemies, resonates with royal psalms (144:9–11; cf. Ps. 18:1; 89:4, 21; 132:10). The concluding wishes for the well-being of the community (144:12–14; cf. 128:1–3) and happiness for “the people whose God is the LORD” (144:15; cf. 33:12) suggest that here again the well-being of the people is intimately tied with that of the Davidic king (cf. Psalm 72).
Psalm 145 is an acrostic hymn that provides the “climax” for book 5 and introduces the praise that closes the Psalter as a whole (Wilson, 225). The only psalm whose heading reads a “praise (tehillah) of David,” it alternates back and forth between praises to God and descriptions about the divine. Heard as the voice of David, the opening proves particularly striking since it highlights God as king, and so reiterates the major motif from book 4 (145:1; 93:1; 97:1; 99:1). The initial praise culminates in the quotation of the description of YHWH from Exodus, acclaiming God’s compassion and steadfast love (145:8; cf. Exod. 34:6; Ps. 86:15; 103:8), which in turn leads to the emphatic insistence that “the LORD is good to all, and his compassion is over all that he has made.” From this point on, the word “every/all” (kol) appears fourteen more times (seventeen in total in this psalm), which gives the psalm a breathless “comprehensiveness” as it underscores the divine-king motif and insists on God’s concern for the lowly and those who cry out (145:11–19; Mays, 437–38). The psalmist reiterates the basic conviction from the outset of the Psalter that YHWH “watches over all who love him (the ‘righteous’), but all the wicked he will destroy” (145:20; 1:6). This double “all” asserts comprehensive surety, despite the counterevidence in the intervening psalms themselves. The final intention to praise YHWH and claim that “all flesh will bless his holy name” serves a double purpose, forming an inclusio with the first verse of this psalm and introducing the central motif of the final section (146–150; Wilson, 225–26).
THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION
Within Jewish liturgy, Psalm 137 is significant in that it is used daily in the “blessing after meals” on weekdays, and so links the home meal to remembering the “altar of the sacrifice in the temple” and the “loss of the temple in Jerusalem” (Holladay, 145).
While Babylon and Jerusalem already begin to function symbolically within the New Testament, the early church fathers tend to interpret this psalm allegorically. In a particularly striking example, Augustine provides an allegorical interpretation that builds on Origen and Jerome to interpret the children of Babylon as “newly-born evil desires” that his listeners should eliminate by dashing them against the “rock,” which is Christ, before they become deep-rooted habits. For Augustine, this psalm also represents an ecclesial lament that recalls the church’s persecution by its adversaries that predicts rather than advocates for divine judgment, with the goal of repentance (Thompson, 57–58).
THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION
The drastic imprecations of Psalm 137 illustrate the vital significance of attending to “voice” for interpreting psalms. While this psalm can be interpreted as vindictive and hopelessly violent, its utter disorientation and despair also provides an opportunity for empathy with the millions of contemporary people who have been ravaged and displaced by war. Where dealing with imprecations in the psalms can be treated as an abstract philosophical problem—or even a reason to dismiss or even functionally eliminate offending biblical material—an empathetic hearing of Psalm 137 as an expression of posttraumatic stress moves beyond a justification of violence or call for militant action by those seeking to inflict it on others; the same words can have a very different function and significance when spoken by a traumatized refugee rather than a president or (para)military commander. The issue becomes particularly complex when these people may be one and the same (cf. Psalm 55). Unfortunately, in many contemporary settings, people do not suffer from posttraumatic stress, since their distress is ongoing. Psalm 137 does not call on God to give the psalmist or his community the strength or skill to enact vengeance, even as it dramatically evokes the anger and despair of displacement (cf. Ps. 18:34, 47; 149:6–9; see Psalm 109).
Psalm 141 proves particularly significant in this regard. Where the psalmists repeatedly cry out to YHWH to free them from the vicious speech and wicked actions of the enemy, this psalm reflects how tempting it can be to collude with these “doers of evil.” Psalm 141 should give us pause, since it reflects the possibility of becoming one of the wicked and so challenges the tendency to always see ourselves on the side of right, justice, and equity (see Psalm 44). Within the Christian tradition, the request here resonates with the familiar phrase from the Lord’s Prayer: “Lead us not into temptation”; the concluding introspection following the imprecation of Psalm 139 points in a similar direction.
THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT
Psalms 146–150 enact the concluding call of the previous psalm for all flesh to bless YHWH (Ps. 145:21). Each psalm begins and ends with halelu yah (“praise YHWH!”), calling for praise in ever-broadening circles: from an individual voice (David, 146), to Israel and Jerusalem (147), the angels and creation (148), and finally “all flesh” (150; Wilson, 193–94). Rather than an isolated section or summary of book 5, these psalms function as a doxological conclusion to the Psalter as a whole.
Psalm 146 fulfills the individual praise promised earlier (145:21). The psalmist begins with direct address to “my soul” and a vow to lifelong praise before addressing a social audience, exhorting his listeners to not trust in princes, whose spirit is temporary (147:1–4); again, this motif proves particularly striking if heard as the voice of David (cf. 145:21; Wilson, 226). The wisdom saying “happy are those …” emphasizes hope in God as “maker of heavens and earth,” “doer of justice,” and “giver of food” (146:5–7), which lead to a series of emphatic statements: “YHWH sets … YHWH opens.” The fivefold repetition of the divine name and use of participles emphasizes that this God is active, with a strong focus on liberation and the plight of the socially marginal. The final verse extends the previous claim into the future, so that “YHWH reigns” (93:1; 97:1; 99:1) here becomes “YHWH will [continue to] reign forever” (v. 10). Halelu yah!
Psalm 147 elicits communal praise for YHWH, reiterating God’s care for the downtrodden and stance against the wicked. Again the psalmist describes YHWH with a string of participles focused on divine social commitments and God’s role as creator. God does not delight in military might (the “strength of the horse”) but in those who “fear him” and hope in divine steadfast love (147:10–11), just as those whose delight lies in YHWH’s torah are “happy” (Psalm 1:2). The LXX takes the subsequent halelu yah, a call to Jerusalem and Zion themselves to “praise YHWH,” as the beginning of a new psalm, and divides it here (147:12; Gerstenberger 2001, 444). In any case, the peace of the city derives from YHWH and no one else (147:14). Where the prince’s spirit is fleeting, God’s spirit and word act together (146:3–4; 147:18); Israel is distinct not by its own merits but because it alone has received this word. While the term torah does not appear, word, statutes, and ordinances all relate to this term elsewhere (cf. Deut. 4:5–8; Psalm 119). The gift of torah is yet another reason for praise: Halelu yah!
Psalm 148 expands the praise still further, with six consecutive imperative calls to heavens, angels, hosts, and the cosmos to “praise him!” (148:1–4). The sequence and all-encompassing call to creation, including the mythological elements of sea monsters and the deeps, recalls the Genesis creation account and underscores God’s sovereignty and control (148:7; Gen. 1:21 cf. Psalms 74; 104). The final call to all of humanity underscores the special status of “his people,” “his faithful ones,” and “the children of Israel.” Halelu yah!
Psalm 149 builds on the previous psalm, but concentrates on the faithful (149:2, 5, 9; 148:14). The initial call to praise invites listeners into the company of the faithful, linking the children of Zion with YHWH as king, who “takes pleasure in his people” (149:4; cf. Ps. 93:1; 147:11). Where elsewhere vengeance is reserved for God or the Davidic king (18:47; 79:10; 94:1; 99:8), this psalm calls on the people themselves as agents for vengeance and judgment in a highly unusual fashion. Given the ambiguity of the Hebrew verb forms here, it is unclear whether this section should be read as a wish (“Let …”) or future (“The high praises of God will be …”), and so scholars debate whether this passage is best seen in light of a historical link to “theologically sanctioned violence” or as referring to an eschatological future (149:5–9; Gerstenberger 2001, 454–55; cf. Psalm 72). In either case, the focus here lies in the judgment of ruling and socioeconomic elites and salvation for the humble (149:4; Brueggemann, 125); the tables are turned so those formerly bound are liberated, while those who acted with impunity are bound (146:7; 149:8; cf. 2:3). Halelu yah!
Psalm 150 concludes the Psalter with a resounding call to “praise,” repeating the imperative halelu twelve times in its six verses. The psalm moves from describing YHWH to a picture of liturgical worship (150:1–5); the blowing of the shofar (ram’s horn) was used as a summons in liturgical and military contexts (150:3; see Lev. 25:9; Josh. 6:8–9; Judg. 6:34). The concluding call to praise for “anything that breathes” summarizes not only the concluding “Hallelu” psalms (146–150) but also the entire Psalter, rearticulating the previous call (150:6; see Ps. 145:21; Wilson, 194). Halelu yah!
THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION
While the Midrash on the Psalms describes the reason for vengeance in Psalm 149 as the nations’ treatment of Israel, it also limits this to foreign kings rather than the “common people” (149:8; cf. 2:2). Further, it draws on other passages to transform this psalm’s unusual call for the “faithful to execute vengeance on the nations” into God’s vengeance, an interpretive move similar to Paul in Romans 12 (see Ps. 109; also “Contemporary Discussion” below, p. 597; cf. Deut. 32:43; Nah. 1:2; Braude 2:384).
Similarly, the exceedingly rare phrase in the Greek Bible of “two-edged” (literally “two-mouthed”) sword links this passage to the “son of man” in Revelation (cf. Ps. 149:6 LXX; cf. Sir. 21:3; Rev. 1:16; 2:12), where it is both limited to Christ and transformed into his speech (cf. Heb. 4:12). In a similar vein, within Revelation the conquering “lion of Judah” is revealed as the slaughtered lamb, while the people tread a path of martyrdom rather than vengeance (Rev. 5:5–6; 6:10–11).
Where Christians may assume that the psalmist’s call for God’s vengeance represents an Old Testament problem (Ps. 75; 83; 94), the setting of oppression and persecution prompts similar language in the New Testament as well (cf. Ps. 79:10; Rev. 6:10). The key shift in the New Testament lies not in the absence of God’s judgment, but in the conviction that it is God’s role to execute vengeance and not that of the believing community (cf. Psalm 18; Matt. 5:38–45; 25:31–46; Rom. 12:17–21; Rev. 6:11).
THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION
The Psalms’ concluding call to praise YHWH is based on who God is; humans join in as one part of the larger creation, a cosmic chorus praising its maker. This hymnic language does not eclipse the deeply personal and emotional language of much of the Psalter, but rather provides its grounding and orientation.
We may wonder why Psalm 149 ruins such a wonderful litany of praise. Rather than sidestep this psalm, perhaps it too can be a significant hermeneutical irritant for our time. In an “age of terror,” it is important for Jews and Christians alike to recognize calls for religiously based violence within our own traditions rather than merely critiquing those beyond them. For communities of faith dedicated to following Jesus Christ as Lord—and not Caesar(s), ancient or contemporary—such calls to become instruments of divine vengeance represent a temptation rather than fulfillment of the divine will. Once again, the dilemma represented by this passage lies not so much in the presence of such words in Scripture as in the orientation and basic commitments of the community dedicated to interpret it (see discussion of Psalm 109). Indeed, while there are many historical examples where biblical violence has been employed to legitimate or sanction their own, to treat such a passage in this way in the Christian tradition fails to recognize the transformation of vengeance reflected in the New Testament.
At the same time, Psalm 149 underscores that the anticipated praise of YHWH by all nations, peoples, and rulers has yet to become a reality. We live with the ongoing tension of a promise and conviction yet to be fulfilled. Against persistent appearances to the contrary, the Psalms challenge contemporary listeners to declare that God does watch over his people, and that injustice and oppression will not have the last word. As we join in the resounding praise, we also do so aware that we may be part of the systems and powers that God opposes and will bring to judgment (Psalm 141). Rather than triumphant imperialism or smug self-satisfaction, the cacophony of praise at the end of the Psalms prompts ongoing introspection (cf. Psalm 139), whereby we evaluate whether we are indeed abandoning ourselves in the radical trust of God (Brueggemann, 126–29).
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