1Why do the nations conspire
and the peoples plot in vain?
2The kings of the earth take their stand
and the rulers gather together
against the LORD
and against his Anointed One.
3“Let us break their chains,” they say,
“and throw off their fetters.”
4The One enthroned in heaven laughs;
the Lord scoffs at them.
5Then he rebukes them in his anger
and terrifies them in his wrath, saying,
6“I have installed my King
on Zion, my holy hill.”
7I will proclaim the decree of the LORD:
He said to me, “You are my Son;
today I have become your Father.
8Ask of me,
and I will make the nations your inheritance,
the ends of the earth your possession.
9You will rule them with an iron scepter;
you will dash them to pieces like pottery.”
10Therefore, you kings, be wise;
be warned, you rulers of the earth.
11Serve the LORD with fear
and rejoice with trembling.
12Kiss the Son, lest he be angry
and you be destroyed in your way,
for his wrath can flare up in a moment.
Blessed are all who take refuge in him.
DIVINE SONSHIP (2:7) is a characteristic we as Christians most often associate with Jesus, and through him we can claim it for ourselves (John 1:12–13). Yet almost a thousand years before Christ (e.g., 2 Sam. 7:14; Ps. 2:7), the Davidic kings of Israel were already claiming to be sons of Yahweh. When the Gospel writers reported that at Jesus’ baptism the heavenly voice combined parts of Psalm 2 (“my Son”) with a citation from the servant song in Isaiah 42:1–4 (“in whom I delight”), they were indicating that Jesus knew from the beginning of his public ministry that his special nature of sonship involved an unexpected coincidence of messianic authority and suffering servanthood—a combination that made his role difficult to understand, if not entirely mystifying, for many of those who experienced him.
Psalm 2 is the first example in the Psalter of the category of psalms known as “royal psalms”—compositions primarily concerned with the human kings of Judah who understood themselves to be uniquely authorized and empowered as Yahweh’s adopted sons. Along with the other psalms in this category (see the unit at the end of this chapter entitled “Royal Psalms”), Psalm 2 offers us insight into the ideology of Jerusalem kingship—how the kings understood themselves, their authority, their roles, and their hopes.1
In another vein, however, Psalm 2—and the rest of the royal psalms—have taken on a continuing significance that exceeded their original concern with the human kings of the Davidic dynasty. In the aftermath of the Exile, with the destruction of the national identity and hopes of Judah, many of these psalms took on a new life of messianic hope and expectation. What the human kings of Israel and Judah had been unable to do, God would accomplish through his “Anointed One,” the Messiah (cf. 2:2).2 This “Anointed One” would come in the future, empowered by God to usher in the kingdom of God over all the earth.3
Because of its association with the ideology of Davidic kingship and the later messianic hopes of the exilic community, the position of Psalm 2 at the beginning of the first book of the Psalter has a significant effect on how we read the psalms that follow. Like Psalm 1, this one has no heading or any indication of authorship, as do the rest of the psalms in the first three books of the Psalter.4 This suggests that Psalm 2 (like Ps. 1) functions in an introductory capacity, shaping how we read and understand what follows.5 The reference in Acts 13:33 (in some Western manuscripts of the New Testament) to a passage from the canonical Psalm 2 as being taken from “the first psalm” may indicate that at some early point in the history of the Psalter, Psalm 2 provided the only introduction.6
Others claim that Psalms 1 and 2 ought to be read as a single, combined introduction to the whole Psalter.7 Together these two psalms emphasize the centrality of torah in the present life of the faithful (Ps. 1) while stimulating enduring hope in the future messianic deliverance and rule of Yahweh (Ps. 2). While ultimately this assessment is persuasive, it also has the unfortunate effect (in my opinion) of obscuring Psalm 2’s concurrent function to assist in the shaping of the first three books of the Psalter (Pss. 2–89).8 In the latter capacity, Psalm 2 has the effect of introducing the covenant relationship between Yahweh and the Davidic kings who ruled from Jerusalem. This psalm establishes the authority of the Davidic king and cautions worldwide submission to him as part of Yahweh’s plan for the whole earth. In this capacity the psalm’s gaze is firmly fixed on the past.
Perhaps we can have our “cake” and eat it too! In what follows, I will first treat Psalm 2 in its original setting and intent as a psalm regarding the powers and blessing of the human Davidic kings. Then, in the Bridging Contexts section, I will explore how messianic hopes have provided the psalm with a new understanding and a new purpose.
As far as literary structure goes, this psalm should be divided into four stanzas of three verses each: (1) international conspiracy (2:1–3); (2) divine response (2:4–6); (3) covenant of kingship (2:7–9); and (4) warning to the nations (2:10–12).
International Conspiracy (2:1–3)
PICTURE IF YOU will an international gathering of the chief leaders of the world’s mighty nations. At this august meeting one leader, because of the political, economic, technological, and military power of his nation, is poised to impose his will on all those present. In the restless murmur of voices of the assembled company, a few dissatisfied representatives are seen with their heads together cautiously and earnestly discussing how to end once and for all the domination of this arrogant opponent and how to assume once more their roles as free and independent nations of the world. A contemporary scene, is it not?—one replayed frequently in gatherings of powers and superpowers and other nations around our world.
The opening section of Psalm 2 describes just such an international conspiracy against the authority of Yahweh and his “anointed” representative (2:2c). The conspirators in this case are the non-Israelite “nations” (goyim) and the “peoples” (leʾummim)9 of the world. What may seem to us as rather arrogant and inflated pretensions to world domination and rule certainly never described historical reality for the Jerusalem-based kingdom of the Davidic dynasty. These claims were part of the ideology of kingship and brought together Israel’s understanding of Yahweh as creator of all the earth, humanity’s intended role as God’s regent to extend Yahweh’s authority to the world,10 and Yahweh’s covenant with David and his descendants to provide leadership for God’s people. What God is doing with Israel and Judah in the Davidic dynasty mirrors God’s purposes for the whole world, and thus God’s ultimate purpose (from this ideological view point) is for the “nations” and “peoples” of the world to acknowledge his power and authority as mediated through the Davidic kings.
Since the “kings” and “rulers” of the earth do not acknowledge Yahweh, they have no allegiance to him and are depicted here as fomenting rebellion to cast off his overlordship. The scenario as described assumes the nations and peoples have been subjected to God’s rule and are now seeking to cast off the strictures (“their chains . . . their fetters”) of that rule. It is futile to seek a historical setting when Israel and Judah could claim such world domination, for as just noted, such pretensions must be traced to the Jerusalem ideology and its assumptions of divine authorization to power by Yahweh.
The conspiracy is one of restless motion (rgš [“conspire”; NIV “rage”])11 and empty murmuring (hgh [“plot in vain”]).12 Ostensibly gathered to acknowledge their loyalty to Yahweh, the dissidents gravitate to one another (“gather together”) in the crowd and ultimately present a consolidated front (“take their stand”)13 against the purposes of “the LORD and against his Anointed One.” Their rallying cry is “Freedom!”: “Let us break their chains . . . and throw off their fetters.”14
Divine Response (2:4–6)
YAHWEH IS NOT unaware of the squabbling and dissatisfaction inhabiting the fringes of his courtroom. The coalescing plots are transparent to him, but he is unafraid. The description of God as “enthroned in heaven” is not an attempt to stress his distance and removal from the fray. It is a sign of his exaltation and power that is “out of this world.” How can these puny, earthbound “kings of the earth” (2:2) presume to reject and resist the rightful authority of the creator God who sits enthroned in heaven over all the earth?15
The enthroned God sees these human beings, knows their plots and pretensions, and is unconcerned. Like an earthly monarch facing down his opponents, God “laughs” (śḥq) and “scoffs” (lʿg).16 Although we may not find the psalmist’s chosen imagery of a laughing, scoffing God appealing, the intended message remains clear: God’s power is so great and his position so secure that he need not take any coalition of human powers as serious threats to his rule. Such power and security never characterized the reigns of the human kings of Israel and Judah. Thus, this passage is a hopeful part of the Jerusalem ideology based on confidence in the God who undergirds the Davidic kings.
He rebukes them. Divine laughter turns to “anger” and scoffing to “rebuke” as Yahweh himself pronounces judgment on the assembled conspirators. The pronouncement is surprising, however, since it does not describe, as we might expect, some act of divine punishment on the rebellious kings. Instead, Yahweh declares his establishment of “my King on Zion, my holy hill” (2:6).17 This reference to a single king clearly alludes to the Jerusalem dynasty of Davidic kings, who are understood here as uniquely Yahweh’s kings and as such are a force the rest of the earth’s rulers must reckon with.
This special relationship with Yahweh sets the Davidic dynasty apart from those other human kings who rebel against God’s authority and power. The whole psalm shifts at this point to an exposition of the grounds of enduring world rule for the kings of Judah based on the covenant between Yahweh and David.
Covenant of Kingship (2:7–9)
THE NARRATOR RECEDES and the king himself takes center stage to testify in his own voice to the authorizing covenant established between Yahweh and the king. The background of this relationship is clearly the Davidic covenant described in 2 Samuel 7:4–16. There, as here, Yahweh describes his relationship to the Davidic kings in terms of sonship (2 Sam. 7:14). Such sonship with God would have imparted to the kings special power and privilege as well as the responsibility to mediate justice and equity to all God’s people and to lead them in the way of true faith.18
I will make the nations your inheritance. The idea of world domination expressed in 2:8 is not derived directly from 2 Samuel 7, which focuses primarily on an enduring, just rule over God’s people of Israel and Judah. The submission of the kings of the earth to the Davidic monarch also appears in Psalm 72:8–11—another royal psalm that reflects the official ideology of the Jerusalem monarchy. No matter how unlikely it may seem to us, the “official line” of these Davidic kings was their right to rule all the earth by Yahweh’s authorization and support—a presumption that must have affected their dealings with foreign nations.
The nations are to become the king’s “inheritance” (naḥalah). Most often this word describes the tribal allotments of the Promised Land or the whole land as the inheritance of the combined nation. Here, however, the vision of the Davidic monarchs expands to include as their divinely given inheritance the “ends of the earth” (ʾapse ʾareṣ).19 Obviously, this ideology of the divine gift of the lands of the nations would have legitimated territorial expansion during the monarchical period, although Israel and Judah never experienced complete fulfillment.
You will rule them with an iron scepter. The rule over the rebellious nations will be no gentle thing but, as a warning, is described in harsh terms. The king will “rule them” (rʿʿ )20 with an “iron scepter” (or “iron rod”) and will “smash them” (npṣ) as a potter breaks up defective pottery.21 The image is one of divine judgment but also emphasizes the fragility of the seemingly great and powerful nations of the world.
Warning to the Nations (2:10–12)
THE NARRATOR RETURNS in the final section of the psalm to issue a stern warning to the rebellious kings—a warning founded on the preceding description of the covenant that exists between Yahweh and his anointed king. The kings are told to “wise [up]” (śkl [“be perceptive, gain understanding”]) and to accept the reality of their situation (ysr [“take advice, listen to reason”]). Resistance to Yahweh is futile, and they must submit with appropriate indications of respect and “fear.”
The exact nature of these acts of submission continue to be debated because of the difficult text of the verse. The opening phrase is most clear (“serve the LORD with fear”), although at least one important manuscript reads “rejoicing” instead of “fear.” The literal rendering of the following phrases is something like: “shriek joyously with trembling, kiss the son.” In the first instance trembling and joyous shrieking seem awkward companions, while the rather murky meaning of the second phrase is made even more difficult by the appearance of the Aramaic word for “son” (bar)22 rather than the traditional Hebrew ben (as in 2:7). This has led to a number of attempts at resolution through rearranging the text. The most common suggestion is to transpose naššequ bar (“kiss the son”) before gilu birʿadah (“shriek joyously with trembling”), combining the central words into beraglayw (“on his feet”) and render the whole passage as “kiss his [Yahweh’s] feet” as a sign of submission and respect.23 The NIV’s translation “kiss the Son” assumes a show of respect to the king rather than Yahweh and emphasizes a messianic reading of the psalm by capitalizing “Son.”
In other words, depending on which translation and tack you take, the final verse of the psalm describes the action of God, the kingly son, or the messianic Anointed One. While later interpretation clearly shifted toward the last possibility, the original meaning of the text must have been one of the first two. The final phrase of the psalm (“Blessed are all who take refuge in him”) seems more compatible with reference to Yahweh, suggesting he is the active party in these lines. However, it is possible that this final admonition to trust was appended to the psalm at a later date when the messianic interpretation was already well established.24
As they currently stand, these final lines provide a concluding contrast to the appeal of the psalm to submit to God and his anointed representative. On the one hand, the rebellious are admonished to submit to avoid the angry outpouring of divine wrath and destruction. On the other hand, those who acknowledge Yahweh’s rightful authority and power over their lives find refuge in him and are considered “blessed” (ʾašre).25
Bridging Contexts
FROM KING TO MESSIAH. A close reading of Psalm 2 will uncover at least three levels of meaning: (1) its original use for ideological authorization of the Davidic kings of Jerusalem (see the above exposition of the psalm); (2) its later reuse as part of the originally independent early segment of the Psalter (including Pss. 2–89);26 and (3) the enduring function of the psalm in its present connection with Psalm 1 as a joint introduction to the complete and final form of the canonical Psalter.
Each of these levels involves an interpretation or reinterpretation of the role of Yahweh’s “anointed”—the Messiah. (1) At the earliest level during the monarchal period, these references designated the human king of Israel and Judah as the one chosen and authorized by Yahweh for special leadership and responsibility. In these instances there was an existing human leader who could be pointed to as fulfilling these expectations and hopes.
(2) With the demise of the monarchy in the Babylonian Exile the situation changed. Since there was no longer a presiding king, these psalms with their exalted view of anointed human leadership became the source of hope for future restoration of Yahweh’s purposes for Israel and Judah. The “Anointed One”—Messiah—was the rightful descendant of David, who would in God’s own timing restore the monarchy, defeat the nation’s enemies, and accomplish the worldwide dominion envisioned in Psalms 2 and 72.
These hopes for restoration are most closely associated with the early collection and shaping of Psalms 2–89, where royal psalms play such an important role in setting the interpretive agenda. Psalm 2 introduces the extended collection of three books with an expectation of divine authorization and world dominion. Psalm 72—at the conclusion of the combined collection of Books 1 and 2—describes the continuing hopes of the Davidic kings for enduring rule “from sea to sea and from the River to the ends of the earth.” In contrast, the concluding psalm of this segment laments the failure of Yahweh’s promises to David (89:38–45) and practically demands its restoration (89:49–51).
This early segment of the Psalter, then, responds in its arrangement to the exilic experience of the failure of the Davidic kingdom and the consequent loss of national identity and self-determination. It is little wonder that this part of the Psalter is dominated by lament psalms. The agonized question of 89:46, “How long, O LORD? Will you hide yourself forever?” hangs like a pall over the landscape of the first three books. This early collection arranged the psalms in such away as to capture this agony and to entreat God for the restoration of the Davidic dynasty and kingdom. Those who read this group of psalms from beginning to end could not help but be caught up in the painful memory of the glorious kingdom lost and the ardent plea for its return.
(3) The third and final stage in the reinterpretation of Psalm 2 (and indeed the rest of the royal psalms in the Psalter) comes with the addition of the final two books (Pss. 90–150) and the placement of Psalm 1 as introduction to the whole. Exactly when this final shift took place is not clear. The two strongest possibilities are (a) a time in the later postexilic period, when the gradual pressure toward cultural assimilation of the Diaspora community began to erode expectation for the reestablishment of a national political Judahite entity; or (b) late in the first century A.D., when the failure of the first Jewish rebellion against Rome (67–70) and the destruction of the Jerusalem temple led many to modify their militaristic messianic expectations for restoration.27
While it remains difficult to decide with absolute certainty which of these quite separated time periods provides the historical context for the final stage of the canonical Psalter, it is nevertheless possible to see how the addition of the last two books of the Psalter to the earlier three subtly alters the way in which the royal psalms (like Ps. 2) scattered throughout the canonical collection were read. One primary indicator of change is the distribution of the normal Hebrew word for political-military ruler—melek (“king”). In the first three books this word is used in four ways: (1) to refer in the most general sense to “kings” or “kingship (e.g., 33:16); (2) to describe foreign human kings of other nations (e.g., 2:2, 10; 45:9; 76:12); (3) to refer to the human kings of Israel and Judah (e.g., 2:6; 21:1, 7; 45:11; 89:18); and (4) to describe the divine kingship of Yahweh (5:2; 10:16; 24:7, 8, 9, 10; 29:10; 44:4; 47:2, 6, 7; 48:2?; 68:24; 74:12; 84:3).
When, however, we cross the boundary between the earlier segment of the Psalter (2–89) and enter the final two books (90–150), we discover an interesting change. While melek is still used to describe kings in general (e.g., 140:10), the human kings of the foreign nations (102:15; 105:14, 20, 30; 110:5; 119:46; etc.), and Yahweh as king (95:3; 98:6; 99:4; 145:1; 149:2), references to the kings of Israel and Judah using this term are entirely lacking! The effect of this change highlights the growing emphasis on the kingship of Yahweh established early in the fourth book through the introduction of the Yahweh malak (“Yahweh reigns/has become king”) psalms,28 while deflecting attention away from human kingship in Israel.
By way of contrast, two other important words applied in the earlier segment of the Psalter to describe the kings of Israel and Judah in general and David in particular—“servant” (ʿebed) and “Anointed One” (mešiaḥ)—continue unabated into the second segment as well.29 The effect of this shift is to focus attention on the roles of the Davidic kings as “anointed servants” while distancing them from the “rulership” normally associated with the term melek.
This change implies a shift in the way these royal psalms and references to the Davidic kings were interpreted. While the anointed servants of Israel continue to play an important role in the future plans of Yahweh for his people, that role is increasingly distanced from the kind of “kingship” associated with melek. Yahweh is the eternal king (melek), who rules over his people. Even with the decidedly militaristic picture of David in Psalm 132 and the reference there to the promise of an enduring throne for David and his descendants based on the Davidic covenant (cf. 132:10–12), it is also clear that it is Yahweh who sits enthroned in Zion for ever and ever (132:13–14) as king. While it must have been immensely difficult among the Diaspora community to entirely disassociate David and his descendants from kingship, nevertheless the role of melek recedes in the final form of the Psalter while David’s role as eschatological Messiah and Servant who ushers in the kingdom and reign of Yahweh is emphasized.
That final form of the Psalter affects the way the royal psalms and references to Davidic kingship were likely interpreted. In light of the distancing that takes place in the later books, the earlier references would be increasingly understood eschatologically as a hopeful anticipation of the Davidic descendant who would—as Yahweh’s anointed servant—establish God’s direct rule over all humanity in the kingdom of God.30 Ultimately, of course, this shift prepared the way for Jesus’ own understanding of his role as the suffering, dying kind of Messiah, who inaugurates an eternal kingdom of God that is “not of this world” but of the spirit.
Contemporary Significance
SERVE YAHWEH WITH FEAR. The rather astonished “why?” at the beginning of Psalm 2 reflects Israel’s amazement over the nations’ inability to recognize the rightness of God’s purposes for the world. On the one hand, can’t the nations see that resistance is futile? That God is firmly in control? Why can’t they simply accept the inevitable? On the other hand, can’t they see that God’s rule is gracious and beneficent, providing all they could ever want or need? For the nations, however, the benevolent rule of Yahweh is seen as bondage (“chains”) and restriction (“fetters”), limits to their freedom that must be cast off.
In an age that glorifies independence and freedom of will, we often find ourselves on the side of the nations. We thrill to the moment in the movie Braveheart—a Hollywoodized version of the life of Scottish nationalist William Wallace—when Wallace, under the torturer’s knife, musters his last breath, not to submit but to scream out the rallying cry of “freedom!” Our own national history recalls the rallying cry attributed to Patrick Henry: “Give me liberty, or give me death!”
These are stirring moments and stirring words! And often freedom from oppression and repression is worth dying for. Jesus taught that clearly when he went to the cross in our place. But more often than not we take the determination of these historical persons to win freedom for whole nations—for others—and we twist it into a banner for personal freedom from all restraint. In the words of a recent song:
I need me to be for me,
To be free and to discover.
I need me to be for me,
And then we both can be for each other.31
Our society would have us believe that true happiness comes through personal freedom, that in sexual abandon, unbridled material acquisition, and self-focused relational “flexibility” we can achieve personal satisfaction.
They are, however, mistaken—and so are we if we take their lead. Remember that at the time this text was written, we “Johnny-come-lately” Christians were the nations—outside the people of God, seeking to make our own way in the world. Before the death of Jesus brought down the dividing wall, we were part of the non-Israelite world, seeking by self-will and the worship of other gods to carve out a place of security and satisfaction in an often hostile world.
We must still count ourselves on the side of the nations when we take up their banner of “freedom” from God’s rule. Even Israel—the people of God—could think of God’s bonds as restrictive chains and seek to throw them off. Jeremiah makes this clear when he accuses the people of Israel: “Long ago you broke off your yoke and tore off your bonds; you said, ‘I will not serve you!’ ” (Jer. 2:20).32 Whenever we buy into the world’s way of placing self and satisfaction before all else, we become the nations once again. We essentially negate the work of Christ to bring us into the family of God.
The nations in this passage want to throw off the “fetters” and “chains” of God, thinking of them as heavy shackles that weigh them down and prevent them from becoming what they want to be. In reality, however, those who submit their lives to God discover instead the “bonds” of relationship—family “ties” that bind one closely into a relationship of loyal love. As in marriage, the bonds of commitment may represent for one a “ball and chain” of restriction, but for another the boundless freedom of love.
So whenever we read this psalm, we must be careful not to reduce it to a mere messianic prediction of the ultimate submission of the unbelieving nations to the authority of God’s rule and kingdom. It is that, but it remains much more than that. It is also not just a threat of judgment to scare our unbelieving friends into the kingdom of God. Although it should encourage us to witness to them of the boundless love poured out in Christ for them, it should remain for us who name the name of Jesus a powerful caution to lay down daily our own banners of personal freedom and self-satisfaction in order to “kiss the Son.” When we do so, we avoid the path of destruction that Psalm 1 warns against, and we also discover that the imagined fetters and chains are instead the “cords of human kindness” and the “ties of love” with which God leads us into “the glorious freedom of the children of God” (Rom. 8:21).33
THE ROYAL PSALMS
I have mentioned in the section on “Types of Psalms” in the Introduction the existence of a group of related psalms that represent diverse categories of psalms and yet share a common concern with the Israelite monarch. A broad consensus includes eleven psalms in this category of royal psalms (2; 18; 20; 21; 45; 72; 89; 101; 110; 132; 144), and it is generally accepted that these psalms originally functioned to provide liturgy to accompany the king’s participation in the rituals of temple worship, either on a regular basis or for special occasions.
Among these royal psalms we find the following:
• compositions concerned with the divine authorization of the Davidic dynasty by Yahweh (Ps. 2)
• the enthronement of the king (Pss. 101, 110)
• celebration of the divine election of Zion or Jerusalem (Ps. 132)
• thanksgiving for victory (Ps. 18—almost identical with the song sung by David in 2 Sam. 22:1–51)
• a plea for divine favor and protection in behalf of the king (Ps. 20)
• a song of thanksgiving for the victories granted the king (Ps. 21)
• a song of praise on the wedding day of the king (Ps. 45)
• a song transmitting the blessings and responsibilities of kingship from the king to his descendants (Ps. 72)
• a confused plea for the restoration of the failed Davidic covenant (Ps. 89)
• a vow to walk blamelessly and to establish right rule (Ps. 101—following almost immediately the Yahweh malak psalms celebrating the kingship of Yahweh)
Elements of Form
This list of psalm types demonstrates that the category of royal psalms cuts across a variety of literary types, combining the traditional literary structures of thanksgiving, plea for deliverance, and blessing with the distinguishing concerns of the king and the activities of kingship. Within the varied psalm types represented here one often hears the voice of the king raised—usually within the context of the corporate worship of Israel—celebrating or despairing, vowing or pleading in response to the changing experience of kingship.
We hear the king celebrate the divine promise of kingly victory and rule over Israel’s enemies, as in the first-person singular section in 2:7–9:
I will proclaim the decree of the LORD:
He said to me, “You are my Son;
today I have become your Father.
Ask of me,
and I will make the nations your inheritance,
the ends of the earth your possession.
You will rule them with an iron scepter;
you will dash them to pieces like pottery.”
Elsewhere the king recalls in dramatic imagery the divine deliverance that led to victory and security:
The LORD lives! Praise be to my Rock!
Exalted be God my Savior!
He is the God who avenges me,
who subdues nations under me,
who saves me from my enemies.
You exalted me above my foes;
from violent men you rescued me.
Therefore I will praise you among the nations, O LORD;
I will sing praises to your name.
—Psalm 18:46–49
The king also vows that loyalty to Yahweh will issue forth in right rule:
I will be careful to lead a blameless life—
when will you come to me?
I will walk in my house
with blameless heart.
I will set before my eyes
no vile thing.
The deeds of faithless men I hate;
they will not cling to me.
Men of perverse heart shall be far from me;
I will have nothing to do with evil. . . .
My eyes will be on the faithful in the land,
that they may dwell with me;
he whose walk is blameless
will minister to me. . . .
Every morning I will put to silence
all the wicked in the land;
I will cut off every evildoer
from the city of the LORD.
—Psalm 101:2–4, 6, 8
In some of the royal psalms we hear other voices lifted in behalf of the king (second-person singular). These may indicate moments of worship when the priest steps forward to seek intercession for the king in distress:34
May the LORD answer you when you are in distress;
may the name of the God of Jacob protect you.
May he send you help from the sanctuary
and grant you support from Zion.
May he remember all your sacrifices
and accept your burnt offerings.
—Psalm 20:1–3
The voices of prophets can also be heard delivering public oracles of victory or divine establishment of security:35
Your hand will lay hold on all your enemies;
your right hand will seize your foes.
At the time of your appearing
you will make them like a fiery furnace.
In his wrath the LORD will swallow them up,
and his fire will consume them.
You will destroy their descendants from the earth,
their posterity from mankind.
—Psalm 21:8–10
The Context
Psalms like these seem clearly to suggest a liturgical setting within the public worship of Israel. The kings are described in texts outside the psalms as participating in significant roles within worship. David led the procession bringing the ark of the covenant into Jerusalem (2 Sam. 6:12–15). Many kings—including Saul, David, and Solomon—are portrayed as offering sacrifices and presiding over corporate worship.36 It is not surprising or difficult, then, to imagine the king assuming such a leadership role—especially on important national occasions of celebration, commemoration, or intercession.
To bring a greater specificity to the occasions behind the individual royal psalms (more than a time of distress, a victory, or a wedding) has been a difficult challenge. A certain line of scholarship has developed around the speculations of Mowinckel regarding an annual New Year Festival celebrating and renewing the enthronement of Yahweh as king of Israel and the cosmos. Those who follow this position understand these royal psalms as elements of the liturgy of that celebration, in which the king participated as the earthly representative of the heavenly king, Yahweh. The royal psalms are each assigned a particular place in the imaginatively reconstructed ritual of this hypothetical festival.37 This extreme speculation has failed to establish any consensus among the broader constituency of Psalms scholarship.
Somewhat more modest, although equally speculative, are the suggestions that these royal psalms reflect a yearly festival in which the divine authorization of the king by Yahweh and the election of Zion/Jerusalem as the locus of his reign were renewed. Rather than a mythological celebration of Yahweh’s establishing cosmic order reflected in the national order established by the monarchy, this proposed event is a yearly reminder to the king and the people that Yahweh is king and that any human power is authorized and derived from him.38
Even less radical are proposals that the royal psalms are part of the liturgy employed in the initial enthronement of a new king.39 We know from Scripture that such enthronement ceremonies did take place (cf. David in 2 Sam. 5; Solomon in 1 Kings 2) and were accompanied with much pomp and circumstance, including religious rituals and temple worship. Nevertheless, any reconstruction of a liturgical structure through which to order and understand the royal psalms remains hypothetical and vulnerable to the theorist’s understanding of what such a festival might have been like and what it was intended to accomplish.
In the end, there is no unambiguous external evidence of an annual enthronement festival in Israel. If such a festival ever existed, its nature, purpose, and related liturgical structures have been lost (or perhaps even purged?) from the transmitted traditions of Israel. The use and function of the royal psalms in their present context do not appear to be dependent on recovering such a festival.
Finally, it is certainly possible, and indeed probable, that in their present context these royal psalms are intended to function not as a retrospective or nostalgic look backward at the golden era of Israelite monarchy but messianically and eschatologically as offering future security and hope. Read along with the central theme of the kingship of Yahweh in Psalms 93–99 and other significant admonitions to beware of the limits and failures of human kingship (cf. 146:3–5), these royal psalms are employed within the shaping of the Psalter to draw on past royal themes in order to offer a new hope for the future. The king introduced in Psalm 2, to whom the kings of the nations are warned to bow, the “horn of David” in Psalm 132, who is the fulfillment of the renewed promise of an eternal Davidic throne, is the David of Psalm 144, who acknowledges the frailty of humanity (144:3–4), exalts Yahweh as king in 145:1, and admits that when even princes fail (146:3–4), “Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God” (146:5; cf. 144:15).
Strategic Placement
In light of the messianic reinterpretation of the royal psalms in the Psalter, the placement of these psalms (at least some of them) within the structure and arrangement of the whole Psalter indicates the importance of these poems in the minds of the editors and readers of the Psalter. At least four of the eleven psalms usually identified as royal psalms stand at particularly significant structural positions within the Psalter. Together these four psalms (2; 72; 89; 144) lend a royal covenantal concern and focus to the shape of the Psalter.
The first three of these psalms stand at the seams that mark the transitions between the early books of the Psalter. Psalm 2 stands at the beginning of Book 1 of Psalms (1–41), while Psalms 72 and 89 mark the end of Book 2 (42–72) and Book 3 (73–89). Although one might expect a similar royal conclusion to Book 1, no royal composition stands at that position. This apparent omission can be explained by the evidence of the unique postscript in 72:20 (“This concludes the prayers of David son of Jesse”), which suggests the first two books of psalms have been combined into a single cohesive collection bound together at beginning and end by psalms attributed to David.40
The placement of these royal compositions at the boundaries of the first three books of the Psalter provides a sort of extended theological reflection on the Davidic covenant that shapes the way the psalms within this collection are read. Briefly stated, Psalm 2 describes the inauguration of the Davidic covenant, whereby the Israelite king is chosen as the “son” of Yahweh and embued with authority and stature to rule over the nations in Yahweh’s behalf. Psalm 72—a prayer for the king—reflects the passing on of the blessings and responsibilities of the Davidic covenant to successive generations of Israelite kings. Psalm 89 agonizes bitterly over Yahweh’s apparent rejection of the Davidic covenant and the consequent destruction of the nation in the Exile. Within this framework the psalms of the first three books are to be read as a tense dialogue between promise and responsibility, blessing and failure—all in the light of the exilic experience of loss and destruction.
The placement of Psalm 144 near the end of the final book of the Psalter is again no accident. Insofar as the final Hallel (Pss. 146–150) is an expanded conclusion to the whole Psalter, the actual conclusion of the fifth book occurs in Psalm 145, with its call to praise expressed in verse 21 providing the trigger for the following five psalms. In this important position, Psalm 144 recalls again the important themes inherent in all the royal psalms: backward reflection on Israel’s great monarchical experiment, painful acknowledgment of the apparent failure of kingship (144:3–4), and enduring hope for the restoration of a purified kingship of Yahweh through the agency of the coming Davidic Messiah (144:14–15).
The words found in the mouth of David in Psalm 144, coupled with those in the final Psalm 145 and the initial Hallel Psalm 146,41 mirror the appropriate attitude of humility and dependence on Yahweh that must mark human leaders, who trust in the deliverance provided by Yahweh and anticipate (together with the rest of the exilic community) the divine action that will rescue both king and people “from the hands of foreigners” (144:7), so that the pain and dislocation of the Exile may end (144:14–15; 146:7–9) and the blessings of God’s kingly rule be restored (144:12–14; 145:1, 13; 146:10).42
David in the Psalms
The use, placement, and reinterpretation of the royal psalms within the literary context of the whole Psalter shifts the figure of the Davidic king into a new interpretive role. As I have already stated, these psalms are not included here (in an exilic Psalter) as nostalgic reflections on the “good old days” or as historical record of how the kings functioned in temple worship. On several levels the depiction of “David” in the psalm headings and in the royal psalms provides a new paradigm for appropriate response to Yahweh and to the vagaries of human existence that inevitably overwhelm us.
On one level, the David of the psalms is a model for anyone—a paradigm of how one is to sustain a faithful and enduring conversation with God in the midst of the pain and pressures of life. This David responds to significant events in his life by turning to Yahweh in confession, trust, confidence, complaint, anger, thanksgiving, and praise. By so doing David authorizes all who would faithfully follow Yahweh to do the same, opening the interior realities of their own personal beings to the divine scrutiny that at once judges, threatens, comforts, and heals. What better way for me to open myself to God than to follow the example of the “man after God’s own heart”—perhaps even adopting or adapting his words as my own?
On another level, however, the David of the psalms is more than a paradigm for all faithful worshipers to follow. By the use and placement of the royal psalms, the editors of the Psalter intended to suggest a corrective interpretation of human kings and kingship. In this regard David provides a critique of the abuses of power inherent in Israel’s monarchical experience. This David acknowledges the limits of human kingship, confesses its failings and shortcomings, eschews all confidence in the trappings of kingly power, acknowledges and accepts the sovereign kingship of Yahweh, and admits the total dependency of all human kings on the gracious empowering of Yahweh. Through this reinterpretation and reorientation of the traditional understanding of kingship, the readers of the Psalter are led to question old assumptions of kingship, including permanent unconditional covenants and divinely authorized human rule, and to arrive at an understanding of the sovereign kingship of Yahweh to which even earthly rulers must bow the knee.
The third and final level on which David of the headings and royal psalms comes to function is to provide a radical messianic hope for Israel’s future. Even as the Davidic critique of the psalms succeeds in undermining absolute confidence in human kingship, the Davidic model of piety, humility, confession, and reliance on Yahweh catapult the old traditions of kingship into a new role. As Israel sought to understand how Yahweh would direct divine rule over Israel, several barriers stood in the way. The old way of monarchy had not succeeded because of the weakness of human kings (they abused their power and they died!). In addition, Israel now found herself in exile, suffering under the overwhelming oppression of the foreign nations. Thus, the divine promises enshrined in the Davidic covenant for eternal security within the kingdom had seemingly come to an end without fulfillment.
The solution to these barriers is to be found in the messianic king epitomized by the David of the Psalms. This messianic David, as depicted in the royal psalms scattered throughout the Psalter, acknowledges the failing and shortcomings of human kingship and yet is still empowered by God to establish the rule of Yahweh with all its blessings on earth.43 This David, rather than seeking self-power, points away from himself to the kingship of Yahweh.
A rather complex portrait emerges as one explores the multifaceted David revealed through the royal psalms preserved in the Psalter. David is at once the great historical king of Israel, a fitting model for individual piety in his response to the difficult circumstances of life, a critique of traditional hopes for human kingship, an explanation of the failure of those hopes in the exilic collapse of a nation, and finally a still-potent hope for the messianic restoration of the blessed promises of the kingdom of God through the agency of the coming Messiah.
It is important to recognize this multilevel understanding of David and its impact on the interpretation of the psalms. To limit our understanding of David to any one of these levels is to greatly impoverish our ability to interpret these psalms and to gain access to their rich insights for our own lives. While the prayers of David may truly be “concluded”44 in terms of the personal voice of the historical king, they live on without end in the psalms and find voice throughout the ages in the mouths of those who read, sing, and pray the psalms as their own.