FOR THE DIRECTOR of music. To the tune of “The Death of the Son.” A psalm of David.
9:1I will praise you, O LORD, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonders.
2I will be glad and rejoice in you;
I will sing praise to your name, O Most High.
3My enemies turn back;
they stumble and perish before you.
4For you have upheld my right and my cause;
you have sat on your throne, judging righteously.
5You have rebuked the nations and destroyed the wicked;
you have blotted out their name for ever and ever.
6Endless ruin has overtaken the enemy,
you have uprooted their cities;
even the memory of them has perished.
7The LORD reigns forever;
he has established his throne for judgment.
8He will judge the world in righteousness;
he will govern the peoples with justice.
9The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed,
a stronghold in times of trouble.
10Those who know your name will trust in you,
for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.
11Sing praises to the LORD, enthroned in Zion;
proclaim among the nations what he has done.
12For he who avenges blood remembers;
he does not ignore the cry of the afflicted.
13O LORD, see how my enemies persecute me!
Have mercy and lift me up from the gates of death,
14that I may declare your praises
in the gates of the Daughter of Zion
and there rejoice in your salvation.
15The nations have fallen into the pit they have dug;
their feet are caught in the net they have hidden.
16The LORD is known by his justice;
the wicked are ensnared by the work of their hands.
Higgaion. Selah
17The wicked return to the grave,
all the nations that forget God.
18But the needy will not always be forgotten,
nor the hope of the afflicted ever perish.
19Arise, O LORD, let not man triumph;
let the nations be judged in your presence.
20Strike them with terror, O LORD;
let the nations know they are but men.
Selah
10:1Why, O LORD, do you stand far off?
Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
2In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak,
who are caught in the schemes he devises.
3He boasts of the cravings of his heart;
he blesses the greedy and reviles the LORD.
4In his pride the wicked does not seek him;
in all his thoughts there is no room for God.
5His ways are always prosperous;
he is haughty and your laws are far from him;
he sneers at all his enemies.
6He says to himself, “Nothing will shake me;
I’ll always be happy and never have trouble.”
7His mouth is full of curses and lies and threats;
trouble and evil are under his tongue.
8He lies in wait near the villages;
from ambush he murders the innocent,
watching in secret for his victims.
9He lies in wait like a lion in cover;
he lies in wait to catch the helpless;
he catches the helpless and drags them off in his net.
10His victims are crushed, they collapse;
they fall under his strength.
11He says to himself, “God has forgotten;
he covers his face and never sees.”
12Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God.
Do not forget the helpless.
13Why does the wicked man revile God?
Why does he say to himself,
“He won’t call me to account”?
14But you, O God, do see trouble and grief;
you consider it to take it in hand.
The victim commits himself to you;
you are the helper of the fatherless.
15Break the arm of the wicked and evil man;
call him to account for his wickedness
that would not be found out.
16The LORD is King for ever and ever;
the nations will perish from his land.
17You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted;
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
18defending the fatherless and the oppressed,
in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.
Original Meaning
THESE TWO PSALMS introduce us to a phenomenon encountered several times within the canonical Psalter: Two adjacent psalms seem to have been read together as a single composition. Most often this special relationship is marked out by the second psalm lacking a heading while the heading of the first psalm does “double duty” for both. For the first time in Book 1 of the Psalter (except for the introductory Psalms 1 and 2), a psalm (Ps. 10) appears with no heading.
This lack of a heading for Psalm 10 may seem inconsequential by itself, but several other factors need to be pointed out. (1) A survey of the extant manuscripts of the Psalter scattered throughout the monasteries, museums, and libraries of the world reveals that many combine Psalms 9 and 10 into a single composition—evidently taking the lack of a heading in Psalm 10 as an indication these psalms are to be read as a unity.1
(2) In addition, careful observation of the Hebrew text of these psalms reveals the presence of an acrostic pattern also binding the two into one. The pattern begins with aleph in 9:1 and continues through the letter kaph in 9:18, giving two lines to each letter (except for the fourth letter, dalet, which is omitted, and toward the end where yod is given only one line while kaph has three).2 Psalm 10 contains the final segment of the acrostic, beginning most clearly with the letter pe in 10:7, continuing through the final letter of the Hebrew alphabet (taw) in 10:17.3 The central letters of the acrostic—mem, nun, samek—are not clearly displayed, perhaps having been obscured by whatever tradition chose to divide the original acrostic composition into two separate psalms.
(3) Finally, the LXX treats these two psalms as a single psalm of thirty-nine verses.4 The acrostic is, of course, invisible in the Greek translation. As a result of the LXX’s treatment, the enumeration of the psalms in the Greek Psalter disagrees with that of the Hebrew text (and the English, which follows the Hebrew) by one for most of the psalms. Both collections do preserve a total of 150 compositions; the Greek Psalter presents the Hebrew Psalm 147 as two psalms, numbered there as Psalms 146 and 147.5
What this ambiguity about the separation and combination of the texts of these two psalms suggests is the existence of alternative traditions regarding how this material should be read. In what follows, I will comment on the two psalms as a single composition, while also making a few comments about how reading them separately might affect interpretation.
Both psalms can be categorized as pleas for deliverance from “the wicked,” although Psalm 9 introduces elements of anticipated thanksgiving. Structurally, Psalm 9 begins (following the heading) with (1) an expression of anticipated thanksgiving for deliverance (9:1–3); then alternates between (2) segments expounding Yahweh’s role as judge of the “nations” (9:4–8, cf. 15–20) and (3) a more personally focused section acknowledging Yahweh as the “refuge” for those (including the psalmist) who trust in him (9:9–14); and (4) concludes with a description of retributive judgment meted out on the wicked (9:15–20).
Psalm 10 opens with (5) a plea to Yahweh to show himself in deliverance (10:1); then divides into (6) a long accusation of the arrogant wicked person who ignores God and oppresses the weak (10:2–11) and (7) a cry for Yahweh to arise and defeat the wicked (10:12–15); and (8) concludes by expressing confidence on the basis of the eternal kingship of Yahweh (10:16–18).
The Heading (9:0)
THIS PSALM IS attributed to David and classified in the most general sense as a mizmor (“psalm”).6 After the familiar opening reference to the “director,”7 the phrase ʿalmut labben is more difficult to access. The alternatives most often chosen are to read the phrase either as the name of a tune to which our psalm is to be sung (e.g., “Concerning the Death of the Son”)8 or as a reference to certain “female voices” employed in the performance. Neither alternative provides much insight into interpretation.
Anticipation of Thanksgiving (9:1–3)
I WILL PRAISE YOU. Like many of the laments, Psalm 9 includes an advance notice of thanks for deliverance and restoration. The Hebrew verb used here is usually translated “give thanks” rather than the NIV’s “praise.” A noun of the same root (todah) is used to describe the “thanksgiving sacrifice” offered in the temple to celebrate deliverance from trouble. It is the Hebrew verb hll (from which we get the word “hallelujah”) that is more rightly rendered “praise.” By “praise” the Hebrew normally means celebration of the exalted character and being of Yahweh, while “thanks” is normally a response to God’s gracious acts of deliverance.
It is clear from the body of the psalm that the psalmist is still suffering and that hope for deliverance still lies in the future; yet the psalm begins with this expression of confident thanksgiving. Often these notices of thanks scattered throughout the laments are understood as confident (almost naive) expectation based on past experiences of deliverance and an understanding of the character of Yahweh. Alternatively (and perhaps more likely), these can be understood as later proclamations of thanksgiving inserted into the original lament after deliverance had actually been experienced. As a result, we get to see the whole process of suffering, plea, deliverance, and thanksgiving telescoped in a single composition. The psalmist’s thanks is unfolded in a series of affirming parallelisms, each reflecting a facet of the fullness of thanksgiving.
With all my heart. The depth of the psalmist’s confidence and assurance is demonstrated by the fact that praise rises not from the lips—the external organs of speech—but from the totality of the psalmist’s heart—the center of moral decision-making and trust. When Deuteronomy wants to speak of complete unification of purpose and full obedience, it admonishes the hearer to respond to God “with all your heart and with all your soul,”9 knowing that it is out of the interior process of deliberation that the true nature of an individual is revealed. Humans look on the outside (and may therefore be persuaded by deceptive speech), but God looks on the heart and knows us as we really are. The psalmist, in spite of the lament yet to come, is unified of soul and purpose in deep thanks to Yahweh.
I will tell of all your wonders. The psalmist’s praise is grounded in the “wonders” (i.e., wonderful works) of Yahweh—a reference to Yahweh’s mighty acts in creation and history that exceed human ability to comprehend and understand. Consequently, they are “awesome” and “wonderful” and even “fearful” to the humans who experience them. The psalmist here vows to bear witness to the saving grace of Yahweh—probably a public profession within the temple worship service and perhaps in conjunction with offering the todah (sacrifice of thanksgiving).
I will be glad and rejoice. The psalmist piles up words for joyous thanksgiving to Yahweh. The psalmist will “be glad” (śmḥ) and will “rejoice” (ʿlṣ) as Hannah rejoiced (1 Sam. 2:1) as she turned her precious son over to Yahweh.10
I will sing . . . to your name, O Most High. Having declared God’s saving grace to the gathered worshipers, the psalmist celebrates deliverance and, caught up in the festive occasion, breaks forth into songs of thanksgiving and praise. It is the name of Yahweh of which the psalmist sings, introducing a backward link to Psalm 8, where the majestic name of Yahweh was revealed in all the earth. Here the psalmist declares within worship the wondrous acts of God and sings out the name of Yahweh in the company of the faithful. Even before the appearance of Psalm 8, almost the exact same phrase as we find here concludes Psalm 7: “I . . . will sing . . . to the name of the LORD Most High” (7:17). As we continue in our analysis, we will explore whether there is further reason for grouping and arranging these psalms together.
My enemies turn back. The grammar of this phrase is open to varied interpretation. The verbal portion is a combination of a preposition (Heb. be-) and an infinitive. The resulting construction is a “temporal phrase” most often rendered, “When [my enemies] turn back. . . .” Taken this way, the anticipatory nature of the psalmist’s thanksgiving is made more apparent: The psalmist will praise . . . will tell . . . will be glad and rejoice . . . will sing, when the enemies turn back. The psalmist’s joy and thanks do not arise from an already accomplished fact of deliverance, but he looks forward gratefully to a future deliverance confidently awaited and expected. This gives more credence and urgency to the psalmist’s cry in 9:13: “O LORD, see how my enemies persecute me!” This is suffering in the experience of it, not just recalled.
They stumble and perish. If we take the preceding phrase as a future temporal phrase, then the stumbling and perishing of the enemies describe the hope of the speaker as well. The forms can easily be taken as jussives expressing the will of the speaker (“Let them stumble and perish”). The NIV rendering as present imperfects must understand them as describing a future event understood as already occurring in the present. That is, the psalmist is so certain of Yahweh’s deliverance that the enemies are seen as already stumbling and perishing.
Judge of the Nations (9:4–8)
Verse 4 acts as a hinge, with verse 4a offering a concluding reason for the psalmist’s opening praise (“my enemies turn back . . . because you have upheld my right”), while at the same time verse 4b introduces the theme of Yahweh as righteous judge that dominates the following section (“You have sat on your throne, judging righteously”).11 The psalmist uses perfect verb forms to describe Yahweh’s activity of judgment as already decided but awaiting enforcement in the future.
You have upheld my right and my cause. The legal term employed in the case of “my right” is the familiar Hebrew word mišpaṭ (“judgment, justice”), which describes the judge’s determination of what should have occurred in a case before investigating how each party’s actions measure up to that expectation. “Cause” is the Hebrew din (“verdict, sentence”), which refers to the judge’s pronouncement of findings concerning all parties. That the psalmist refers to “my mišpaṭ and “my din” indicates confident assurance that Yahweh’s judgment has already been decided in the psalmist’s favor.
Your throne. The dominant emphasis in these verses is on Yahweh’s character as a righteous judge. Judges are described as “sitting” in judgment, and while it is true that the word “throne” (kisseʾ ) is most commonly used to describe the throne of the ruler, nowhere in Psalm 9 is the terminology of kingship (Heb. mlk, melek) used. It is not until Psalm 10:16 that Yahweh’s kingship is explicitly declared. The term translated “reigns” in 9:7 is the common Hebrew word for “sit” (yšb), which the NIV has interpreted in light of the kingly role of Yahweh. This interpretive stance also appears in translating the Hebrew verb din (“judge, render judgment”) by the explicit kingly term “govern.” While this is not out of the realm of interpretive possibility, given the context of the combined psalm, it does distract from the primary emphasis on the role of Yahweh as judge that dominates the poet’s mind here.
The theme of righteous judge also links Psalms 9–10 back to Psalm 7. There God judges the “wicked,” who are envisioned for the most part as members of the psalmist’s community who falsely accuse him. Psalms 9–10 expand the theme of divine judgment to include the “nations”—those non-Israelite peoples who attack and oppress God’s people. (Note the juxtaposition of “nations” and “wicked” as recipients of divine rebuke and destruction in the affirmingly parallel phrases of 9:5.) Such an expansion allows the exilic community to read psalms that were originally more locally focused in the light of the more international setting of the Exile. What applied to the divine judgment of the more local wicked of preexilic Israel can now be applied to the wicked “nations” oppressing Diaspora Judaism.
In a series of parallel phrases, the psalmist describes the divine judgment on the opposing nations. Yahweh has “rebuked” and “destroyed” the nations (9:5), “endless ruin has overtaken” them, and Yahweh has “uprooted their cities” (9:6)—another indication these are nations and not localized enemies. As a result, in contrast to the eternal “name” of Yahweh (9:2), the “name” of the enemy is “blotted out . . . for ever and ever” so that “even the memory of them has perished” (9:5–6). While this confident depiction of Yahweh as the remover of nations might refer to the defeat of the Canaanites in the Conquest, it might equally well describe the eventual fates of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires from the view of exilic and postexilic Israel. Those wicked nations who destroyed Israel have themselves been destroyed by the mighty acts of God.
He has established his throne for judgment. The segment concludes with a recognition that Yahweh’s judgment is no temporary, passing thing. Yahweh “sits [the more natural translation of yšb than the NIV’s ‘reigns’] forever,” having set up his throne for the purpose of judgment. Thus, the psalmist can continue to rely on God’s righteous judgment being meted out on the offending wicked. In phrases almost identical with those found in the important Yahweh malak Psalms 96 and 98, the expansive arena of Yahweh’s judgment is driven home: “He will judge the world in righteousness; he will govern [better, ‘render judgment on’] the peoples with justice” (cf. 96:13; 98:9).
A Refuge for the Oppressed (9:9–14)
CONFIDENT THAT YAHWEH is a righteous judge who eternally sits ready to pass judgment for the righteous and against the wicked, the psalmist is ready to proclaim him as trustworthy refuge and stronghold (cf. comments on “refuge” in 2:12; 5:11; 7:1) for those who are “oppressed” and “in times of trouble” (9:9). The same Hebrew word (miśgab) appears behind the NIV translation for both “refuge” and “stronghold” in this verse. This word describes a high, rocky spot that is inaccessible and thus provides protection from encroaching enemies. The NIV, while certainly more varied, obscures the bonded parallelism between the two halves of this verse. “Yahweh is a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble.” The psalmist sees God as a remote and protected spot to which the psalmist can flee out of the press of trouble.12
Those who know your name. Verse 10 returns to the theology of the divine “name” that permeates the whole Psalter (see comments on the significance of the divine name in Ps. 8). Those who “know [the] name” of Yahweh are the covenant people who have received the revelation of God’s name (Ex. 3; 6), who therefore share an intimate relationship with him and faithfully serve him alone. The affirming parallel lines of this verse provide further definition to this group with the phrases “trust in you” and “seek you.” Knowing Yahweh is not simply a matter of mental cognition; rather, it involves complete reliance on Yahweh (instead of on self, others, power, wealth, etc.) and must be the pursuit of the heart rather than that to which one is driven by external pressure.
The word drš (“seek”) is regularly used in the Old Testament as a technical term to describe purposeful inquiry for divine guidance. Such inquiry signifies the inquirer’s reliance on God and willingness to follow the way set out by him. The psalmist affirms that such people—who share an intimate relationship with God, trust in him fully, and seek his guidance—have never been forsaken by him (9:10). The eternal judge (9:7) is eternal refuge for the faithful and therefore the source of eternal trust and confidence in times of trouble.
Sing praises to the LORD. The hearers (and readers) of this psalm are now called to praise God because he is “enthroned” (again, a kingly interpretation of the verb “sit”) as judge (cf. 9:7) and is a defender of “the afflicted” (9:12). Again using drš, which describes the faithful follower’s intent to seek after Yahweh’s guidance, the psalmist pictures God as one “who avenges blood”—who intently seeks out the bloody offenses perpetrated on his faithful ones.13
From the gates of death. The psalmist’s confident description of Yahweh as refuge for the faithful concludes with a return to the reality of the present suffering. The persecution of the psalmist’s enemies leaves the psalmist at “the gates of death” (9:13) and in need of divine salvation (9:14). Note the contrasting balance created by the use of the Hebrew šaʿare (“gates”) to describe both the fearful threat of death (“from the gates of death”) and the joyful place of thanksgiving for deliverance (“in the gates of the Daughter of Zion”). God sits in judgment on the nations from Zion—a reference to Jerusalem and the temple where Yahweh “causes his name to dwell”—to whose gates the delivered psalmist wishes to return to sing praises.
Judgment on the Nations (9:15–20)
Psalm 9 concludes with a description of the divine retribution visited on the wicked as the just due for their violent oppression of the weak and needy. Once again the interplay in these verses between the “nations” and the “wicked” allows flexibility in understanding the enemy as the wicked individuals opposing the psalmist or as the evil nations oppressing Israel. One gathers the impression that an originally personal psalm has been adapted to speak to the situation of the exilic community by identifying the “wicked” with the “nations.”
Ensnared by the work of their hands. Verses 15–16 are concerned with retributive justice applied to the enemy. They fall in the trap they have dug or in the net arranged to snare others. This sort of “reap what you sow” consequence is seen as evidence of divine justice. Because God is just, evil will return on the head of the evildoer. It is clear from the concluding verses of Psalm 9 that this settling of accounts still remains to be accomplished. Evil has yet to receive its comeuppance from God. Yet, as in Psalm 5:4, the psalmist trusts in God’s enduring character of justice and acknowledges that such a God will make things right.
In the midst of the psalm we find an unusual and rather disconcerting appearance of what is apparently a musical notation (v. 16)—“Higgaion. Selah.” We are familiar with selah from earlier occurrences (cf. comments in Pss. 3 and 4), where it coincides with structural divisions. Such structural function is far from clear in this instance, although it may be that some musical interlude is intended at this point. The term higgaion is more difficult. Elsewhere it describes the growl of a lion, human groans, or muttering while reading—even the cooing of a dove. Perhaps a low, indistinct sound is the common element. Kraus suggests that with selah a musical interlude may be intended at the end of a thematic section.14
Verses 17–18 set up a contrast between the wicked/nations and the needy, who rely on God. Those wicked nations who have forgotten God will themselves pass into oblivion in the grave (cf. 9:6), while the needy who feel as though God has forgotten them in the present can trust that forgetfulness and perishing are not God’s final word for them. Their “hope” for deliverance will not be frustrated.
Let not man triumph. The concluding call for Yahweh to “arise” against the foes admits clearly that the hoped-for deliverance, however certain in the faith of the psalmist and the community, is still to come. God must yet be called to prevent the triumph of the wicked. Once again, it is the “nations” who are firmly in view here at the end. Whatever the original form of the psalm, it is now understood as a communal cry for deliverance from the oppression of the nations. As such it fits well the setting of the Diaspora community.
These last two verses (9:19–20) are framed in a way to emphasize the essential powerlessness of the wicked/nations as well as to strike a responsive chord with the preceding Psalm 8. When the psalmist pleads “Let not man triumph,” he uses the same word ʾenoš as is featured in Psalm 8’s amazed reflection, “What is man. . . .” In Psalm 8, frail, powerless, mortal ʾenoš is unexpectedly endowed with glory and honor by being placed as God’s regent over the earth and its animal inhabitants. Here in Psalm 9, however, the same frail ʾenoš has perverted his divinely given role by dominating and oppressing weak and needy fellow humans.
The psalmist’s plea becomes more understandable in this light. Having perverted and exceeded their role—having assumed the prerogatives of God himself—the wicked/nations need a shock treatment (“Strike them with terror, O LORD”). They must be judged in the very presence of Yahweh himself—an encounter that will force them to acknowledge their true identity: ʾenoš hemmah [“They are but men”] (9:20), whose only hope of glory and power is that given by a gracious God to his trusting people (see also comments at the end of Ps. 10).
The end of Psalm 9 is marked once again by the enigmatic selah—clearly at the end of a thematic unit in this case. As it stands by itself, this psalm is a plea for deliverance marked by a steady confidence in the righteousness of God, which forms the basis of enduring trust in his judgment. The enemy in the psalm in its earliest form may have been a more localized “wicked” man who was oppressing the individual psalmist (note the first-person singular verbs and pronominal suffixes in 9:1–4, 13–14). But as the psalm progresses, the focus increasingly shifts to include the suffering community marked out by more generalized phrases such as “those who know your name,” “those who seek you,” “the needy,” or “the afflicted.”
The individual voice of the psalmist becomes the model of endurance and praise, which the community is called to emulate. The psalmist praises Yahweh and tells of his wonders, rejoicing in and praising his name (9:1–2), and then he calls the listening community to join in praise and proclamation among the nations (9:11). Just as the psalmist trusts that God’s mercy will lift him up even from the “gates of death” itself, so the faithful community is assured that “the needy will not always be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted ever perish” (9:18). In this way the psalm is opened to continued interpretation and application in new circumstances.
The Arrogant Wicked (10:1–11)
LINKING BACK TO “times of trouble” mentioned in 9:9, Psalm 10 opens with agonized questions directed to God, revealing a sense of isolation and divine absence that contrasts with the confident affirmation of Yahweh as “refuge” in Psalm 9. Deliverance is not yet at hand in Psalm 10, and for the psalmist God seems hidden and removed (10:1). The questions and the attendant sense of abandonment set the stage for the long acrimonious description of the arrogant wicked that dominates 10:2–11.
In his arrogance. The wicked oppressors of Psalm 10 are primarily the more localized enemies of the community, identified with the “nations” only by a single subtle statement near the end of the psalm (10:16). The attitude of the domineering enemy is far removed from that of the awed and humbled ʾenoš of Psalm 8—and that seems to be the psalmist’s point. Just as Psalm 9 seeks divine judgment forcing the power-hungry ʾenoš to acknowledge their powerlessness (9:20), so Psalm 10 calls for divine redress so that ʾenoš “who is of the earth, may terrify no more” (10:18).
Nothing will shake me. The description of the wicked is divided into two sections of five verses, each concluded by a quotation of “the wicked man” who arrogantly assumes his independence from divine scrutiny (10:6, 11). The first section (10:2–6) describes the arrogant pride of the one who considers himself his own law, devising schemes to hunt down the weak (10:2), satisfying the lusts of his heart (10:3), and finding no use for God (10:3b–4); yet he remains so prosperous that in his pride “he sneers at all his enemies” (10:5). The only conclusion such a person can make is that God is effectively inoperative (10:4), his laws can be breached with impunity (10:5), and indeed, “Nothing will shake me; I’ll always be happy and never have trouble” (10:6).
God has forgotten. From this supposed unshakable foundation, the wicked one proceeds to even more violent conduct. Violent speech flows from his mouth (cursing, deceptions, threats, trouble, and evil [10:7]) and overflows into violent action (ambushing and murdering the innocent and helpless [10:8–9]). His victims are completely crushed beneath his power (10:10). Once again the wicked, experiencing no resistance from God, can only conclude, “God has forgotten; he covers his face and never sees” (10:11).
Plea for Deliverance (10:12–15)
THE PSALMIST’S RESPONSE to this finely drawn portrait of arrogant human self-determination is to suggest that it is divine absence or delay that has allowed opportunity for the wicked to work. The portrait was prefaced (10:1) with the psalmist’s pointed questions regarding the reasons for God’s delayed response to the pleas of the needy and the injustice of the wicked. Now he follows his critique with a call for divine action coupled with a second set of questions regarding the wicked’s almost casual assumption of divine ignorance or unconcern (10:12–13).
The segment begins with the imperative phrase “Arise, LORD!” which along with other elements already mentioned links Psalm 10 back again to Psalm 9, where the same call concludes the psalm (9:19).15 Again, the plea is that Yahweh end his period of apparent inactivity and act in judgment consistent with his righteous character, on which the psalmist depends. The uplifted hand is often a symbol of engagement in battle and here parallels the act of rising as an indication of moving from inactivity to redemptive action in behalf of the psalmist.
Do not forget the helpless. The wicked enemy claims that God has forgotten and does not see the violence done to the helpless (10:11). The psalmist calls God to counter that claim as ill-founded and indicative of a deep misunderstanding of God. Almost in amazement the psalmist wonders aloud, “Why does the wicked man revile God? Why does he say to himself, ‘He won’t call me to account’?” (10:13). The first phrase (“revile God”) refers back to 10:3, where the wicked in arrogance inverts the standards of morality by blessing the greedy and reviling Yahweh. The word translated “revile” (nʾṣ) means to treat irreverently or with disrespect.
The second phrase, “call . . . to account” (drš), appears no less than five times in the combined psalm, with several different nuances. Only in the massive Psalm 119 (also an alphabetic acrostic) do as many occurrences of this term appear within a single composition (cf. 119:2, 10, 45, 94, 155). The basic meaning of drš seems to be “seek out; inquire (for guidance).” In 9:10 and 10:4, the term describes those who either willingly seek or arrogantly refuse to seek Yahweh in order to know his path. In the remaining three occurrences (9:12; 10:13, 15), the NIV resorts to other nuances to render drš. For 9:12, “one who seeks out blood guilt” becomes “he who avenges blood”—an appropriate variation that nevertheless obscures the ironic wordplays the psalmist is introducing in the combined psalm: God seeks out (and avenges) acts of blood guilt perpetrated on those who seek him by those who refuse to seek him and who think God will not seek out (or avenge) their wrongdoing.
In 10:13, 15, the NIV translates drš as “call to account” rather than the more straightforward “seek out/inquire.” Again, while this is an appropriate, idiomatic variation, it fails to emphasize the wordplay the psalmist is making with this root.
Yahweh as Eternal King (10:16–18)
THE COMBINED PSALM concludes by acknowledging Yahweh as the eternal king, who rightly fulfills the role of the Near Eastern monarch as protector of the afflicted and defender of “the fatherless and the oppressed” (10:16–18). An unusual number of terms for these defenseless classes of persons who require the protection of the monarch are used in this psalm. Seven words are used, and in each case the first use of the term in the whole Psalter occurs in Psalms 9–10. These terms, translation, and appearance are: (1) ʾebyon (“poor, needy”; 9:18); (2) dak (“oppressed”; 9:9; 10:18); (3) ḥelekah (“victim, unfortunate person”; 10:8, 14); (4) yatom (“fatherless, orphan”; 10:14, 18); (5) naqi (“innocent”; 10:8); (6) ʿani (“weak, wretched”; 10:2, 9); (7) ʿanawim (“helpless, [one who knows he is] humble, gentle”; 9:13, 19; 10:12, 17).
Nowhere else in the Psalter does such a collection of these terms exist. Thus, one major concern of the psalmist appears to be revealed: the oppression of the defenseless people by the wicked ʾenoš, who deny the effective existence of God and forsake their divinely given role of extending God’s care to the world (see comments on Ps. 8) in order to exploit and oppress those weaker than themselves. Since Yahweh is the eternal righteous king, he will take the side of the weak, defenseless, and oppressed in society against the wicked so that “ʾenoš, who is of the earth [i.e., is mortal and of limited power and authority], may terrify no more” (10:18).
Bridging Contexts
OFTEN WE TEND to read the psalms as individual and isolated compositions. Psalms 9 and 10 suggest that may not always be the only or even the best approach. Clearly these psalms were originally part of a unified alphabetic acrostic and push us to acknowledge that what now appear to be separate though adjacent psalms may have greater connection and unity than we formerly supposed. This recognition begins to open us up to understanding the messages of individual psalms within a broader context—that of the whole Psalter. Form criticism seeks to realize this broader connection by comparing psalms of similar type from all over the Psalter; this attempt has resulted in many significant results.16
In the preceding commentary on the combined Psalms 9–10, I have repeatedly suggested that the understanding of a psalm owes much to its broader, local context made up of the surrounding psalms. Frequently the arrangement of psalms seems to be purposeful and influences the way in which themes, ideas, and language in any specific psalm are to be understood in the light of others. In what follows I will consider (1) the relationship that exists among Psalms 7–10, and (2) the effect of shifting from individual to societal and from monarchical to postmonarchical focus in these same psalms.
The relationship of Psalms 7–10. We begin by considering the literary relationship that has developed for the grouping of Psalms 7–10. In discussing Psalms 9–10 we have seen bits of evidence linking those two psalms together as well as linking the combined psalm back to Psalms 7 and 8. What is the effect of reading these psalms within the broader context of this grouping rather than taking each psalm as a totally isolated experience? The cumulative effect, I suggest, is more than reading the four psalms in isolation.
With the exception of Psalm 8, all of these psalms are pleas for deliverance from trouble. Singly and together these compositions call on Yahweh to serve as refuge and defender of the faithful and to act as righteous judge in relation to the wicked. We can observe a shifting identification of the enemies from the more localized wicked who oppress the individual faithful person in Psalm 7 toward the more generalized criticism of the “nations”—the non-Israelite goyim—who are called to account for their treatment of the community at large (Pss. 9–10). Let’s take a quick glance at this thematic development as we read these psalms alongside one another together with the admonition to “meditate day and night” (1:2).
(1) Psalm 7 describes divine judgment on the more localized wicked and promises to praise the name of Yahweh Most High because of his righteous judgment (7:11, 17). A slight openness is maintained toward more universal themes by 7:7–9, which describes Yahweh’s judgment as directed toward the “assembled peoples” (ʾummim in v. 7; ʿammim in v. 8)—a clear reference to Yahweh’s authority over both Israelite and non-Israelite nations. But by and large Psalm 7 is narrated in individual terms (“I” and “my”), and the enemy described is personal.
(2) Psalm 8 articulates the praise of the “name” of Yahweh that is promised at the end of the previous psalm (7:17). The psalmist envisions the name of creator Yahweh as extending above the heavens and majestically filling the earth. He stands in awe of the creative power of Yahweh and is amazed and humbled by the honor done to weak, mortal humans (ʾenoš), whom Yahweh “made to rule over the earth” (8:4–8). The clear implication of the tension maintained in this psalm—between human insignificance and divine power; human humility and divinely given glory, honor, and authority—is that any power exercised by humans in the world is distinctly limited by and derived from God. This view of humans as ʾenoš also offers an effective rebuke of the arrogance of the enemy in Psalm 7.
(3) In Psalm 9, the “wicked,” who are also described as “only humans” (ʾenoš, 9:19–20), are gradually identified with the non-Israelite nations (goyim, 9:5–6, 11, 15, 19–20). These nations in control actively oppress the poor and the weak, eschewing any sense of humility and abusing their divinely given responsibility, but according to Psalm 8 they exercise limited, derived authority. As a result the psalmist pleads for Yahweh to prevent their triumph and to teach them their appropriate station—that “they are but ʾenoš” (9:19–20).
(4) Finally in Psalm 10, Yahweh is celebrated openly as “King for ever and ever” (10:16)—a status implied earlier in Psalm 9 by the attention given to Yahweh’s eternal throne and enthronement (9:7, 11). Yahweh’s kingship indicates that human rulership can never be autocratic, self-limiting kingship but is always derived and divinely conferred responsibility to care for Yahweh’s creation and to establish justice and equity. In the end (10:16–18) Yahweh is described as the eternal king, forever fulfilling the responsibilities of the ancient oriental monarch to protect the defenseless in society. This means that Yahweh is the only one who can be trusted to judge and to rule righteously. The final verse drives this home by affirming that Yahweh’s rulership is necessary to displace wicked human powers “in order that ʾenoš, who is of the earth, may terrify no more” (10:18).
As a result of reading these four psalms as a thematic unit, a powerful message of divine power and human responsibility is displayed. This is not to say, however, that we only read these psalms rightly when we read them together. The ancient editors of the Psalter, who arranged the psalms in their present order, saw fit to preserve the psalms as individual compositions set off as such by spacing in the manuscripts and by providing many with psalm headings to mark them out as separate compositions. We have always revered and employed the individual psalms in this fashion—and we will (and certainly should) continue to do so. Each psalm has its own integrity, shape, and voice that ought to be heard and appreciated.
What I am suggesting here is not an exclusive way of reading the psalms but another way to appreciate the ensemble that the ancient editors created and arranged in the Psalter. In reading the whole Psalter as an ensemble, one hears new voices and new tensions between voices that offer new and challenging insights that are overlooked in isolation. It is something like hearing the overture to an opera on a CD collection of overtures and then hearing it as it was originally intended—as part of the whole work. The music can be appreciated either way, but with different effects and understandings. The same is true of the music of the psalms.
From individual to community and society. As we read Psalms 9–10 carefully, it seems clear that an originally individual psalm, in which the psalmist seeks deliverance from the oppression of personal attacks by localized enemies, has been adapted for later reuse by the community who employ the earlier words to reflect on their own struggle with national, non-Israelite enemies—the “nations” (goyim). We should not be surprised to learn that this kind of “rereading” or adaptation of earlier material to speak anew to a later circumstance is a common phenomenon in the psalms, and indeed in the whole of Scripture. Perhaps the most obvious cases in Scripture are the “rereading” given to the earlier monarchical history recorded in Samuel—Kings by the Chronicler and the reuse of Mark’s Gospel by Luke and Matthew in the writing of their own accounts.
Be that as it may, clearly many of the psalms—particularly psalms of the individual—have been adapted to continue speaking long after their original setting and in very different circumstances. Sometimes this adaptation merely opens up an essentially individual composition to appropriation by a larger community, who together share similar experiences. This may happen in order to integrate the individual’s experience into the practice of corporate worship,17 but it may also be the result of adapting an earlier psalm to a postexilic context.18 It is easy to see how the exilic community, living in a foreign land and under the pressure to assimilate to a foreign culture, would find ways to revitalize the earlier psalms from their national life. By reusing them, they maintained a continuity of identity with their past heritage and provided a hedge against assimilation’s threat of total absorption. At the same time, the words of these psalms had to be understood as relating to the later circumstances of the community.
In the case of our combined psalm, the interpretive shift takes words originally directed to wicked oppressors within the nation of Israel as appropriate comments to apply to the non-Israelite nations oppressing the Jewish exiles. We see this particularly in Psalm 9, where passages condemning “the wicked” stand rather awkwardly connected with those about “the nations.” Note 9:17, where the reference to “the nations” follows almost as an explanatory gloss: “The wicked return to the grave, all the nations that forget God.”
In 9:15–16, the circumstance is reversed with “the nations” mentioned first, but in a context normally reserved for the more personal enemies of the individual:
The nations have fallen into the pit they have dug;
their feet are caught in the net they have hidden.
The LORD is known by his justice;
the wicked is ensnared by the work of his hands.
The singular noun, verb, and possessive pronoun italicized in the second half of this passage reflect the singular grammar of the original Hebrew. That the NIV chose to render these terms in the plural in order to agree more closely with the preceding comments on the nations illustrates just how rough the connection really is.
The same is true of 9:3–5a, where, following the description of the enemies and of Yahweh sitting in righteous judgment over them, one is almost surprised by the introduction of “the nations” into the discussion:
My enemies turn back;
they stumble and perish before you.
For you have upheld my right and my cause;
you have sat on your throne, judging righteously.
You have rebuked the nations and destroyed the wicked.
Contemporary Significance
THIS PSALM OFFERS us a couple of opportunities for practical reflection and application regarding our contemporary circumstances and environment. (1) How does the theological shaping of Psalms 7–10 impact our contemporary setting? (2) How might the interpretive shift that takes place in Psalms 9–10 from the concerns of the individual to that of the community, and from enemies within the community to national enemies without, find parallel and equivalence in our own day and time?
The shape of Psalms 7–10. Reading the combined Psalms 9–10 within the context of the larger consecutive grouping of Psalms 7–10 provides new insights regarding psalm interpretation as a whole and regarding understanding of the specific message of this psalm.
An interpretive approach. A unified reading mirrors a way of approaching other groups of psalms—and indeed the Psalter as a whole. The reading suggests a purposeful arrangement of these psalms in order to create an effect and to communicate a unified message.19 The interpretive approach suggested includes the following elements: (1) Accept the integrity of each psalm and its ability to speak in its own right; (2) acknowledge that relationships exist (or at least may exist) among consecutive psalms as long as they are based not on fanciful connection but on clear evidence of linguistic and thematic connection; (3) ponder and meditate on these connections (as exhorted in Ps. 1), spending time with them and allowing impressions to build over time; (4) seek to articulate the connections observed in a persuasive way, allowing them to be checked by other interpreters’ perceptions of the same psalms. As we progress through this commentary, more psalms groupings will be considered and this interpretive process expanded.
Specific elements of the unified message. The combined Psalms 9–10 speaks a message that is consistent with the messages expressed by the individual psalms. It is a threefold message that speaks primarily to those within the community of faith, but also serves as a critique of those who stand outside that community and are often in opposition to it. The message is one of humility, limitation, and responsibility.
(1) Humility. The problem of the enemy of the psalmist and the community of the faithful in this psalm (and in the larger grouping of psalms) is a loss of proper perspective. The arrogant pride that marks the wicked in Psalm 10 in particular (10:2–11) has none of the sense of wonder and awe that marks the psalmist’s encounter with the creator in Psalm 8. The ʾenoš of Psalm 10 has no use for God in his thoughts and considers God as a nonfactor in human existence (10:4, 11). Set immediately following the wondrous pronouncements of Psalm 8, this prideful dismissal of God is stated in its most shocking and extreme fashion. The result is as much a warning for the faithful not to allow the seeming absence of God (10:1) to erode confidence in his active concern and presence as it is a rebuke of the faithless for their ignorance and pride.
It is too easy to condemn those who rather brashly and vocally dismiss God as impotent or question his benevolent concern or existence. These are, of course, extreme cases that stand in stark contrast with the boundaries of faith. What is more difficult, however, is to escape what some call “functional atheism”—giving clear, positive affirmation to the existence of God and my need to rely on him while acting as if I have to care for my own needs on a day-to-day basis.
Such Christians often give an impression of having it all together, of being self-sufficient. They do not seem to need others and often talk of “victories” and almost never about “struggles, failures, or needs.” I am speaking from firsthand experience here. For most of my life I have been addicted to “looking good and competent—even masterful.” Any struggles I felt (and there were many) I kept well hidden inside myself. I built a tall and thick wall between those who knew me and that part of me I felt was unacceptable or suggested weakness. I thought I could rely on no one but myself to meet my needs and could only maintain relations with important others by manipulating what I let them know about myself. It took a major, world-shattering personal crisis to convince me that I could not do it on my own and that all my attempts at control were actually destructive hideouts preventing me from getting what I most needed and wanted.
It was only when my carefully constructed façade collapsed, revealing all the hurt and pain and confusion I had kept so well hidden for so many years, that I was able to experience the release that comes through admitting powerlessness and the inability to control even the smallest significant details of living. For years I had spent so much energy maintaining the wall that hid my secret self that I had little left for family, for work, or for relationships with others. I had become an extremely self-focused person, proud of my visible accomplishments and the influence I felt I had over others. I was proud, I was arrogant—and I was angry.
Let me explain. For years I seemed to have it all together: position, influence, accomplishment. But in reality the things that offered satisfaction often seemed to elude me. I had no self-love because I knew the struggling, manipulative individual who lurked behind my wall; I lived in constant fear of being unmasked and losing all that exterior façade on which I so depended. I had few truly close friends because I was unable to let any of them inside the wall to know me fully and deeply. I had to remain on guard and keep my distance. And so I was angry because, despite looking good on the outside, I could not have what I truly wanted: to be known as I truly am and to be loved and accepted as I truly am—warts and all.
This has been a very personal way of talking about the need for humility. As long as we humans think that we can or must exercise control over our lives, we remain forever unable to stand in awe before the majestic glory of God that fills the earth and transcends the heavens (Ps. 8). We are only able to glory in our own power and manipulative control, exercised for our own benefit. Or we live scared, angry lives, seeking to look competent while knowing inside just how far out of control life really is.
Humility is a scary thing because it admits to someone else that I am not in control in some part of my life. I am not talking of that sort of artificial humility we express when someone compliments us or honors us and we rather sheepishly respond with statements like: “It was nothing. I didn’t do so much. Someone else could have done a better job.” I mean the kind of soul-shattering humility that the lament psalms express when nothing stands between you and the bottomless abyss except God himself, and we cry out with Isaiah, “I am ruined!” (Isa. 6:5).
(2) Limitation. This kind of humility leads to (or, perhaps, arises out of) an awareness of the limitations that exist on human power. The psalmist concludes Psalm 9 with the plea for Yahweh to cause the wicked to “know they are but ʾenoš” (9:20). Psalm 10 concludes with the hope that Yahweh will establish his rule over the earth so that “ʾenoš, who is of the earth, may terrify no more” (10:18). In other words, the psalmist’s experience of oppression at the hands of the wicked is a result of ʾenoš gone wrong—an abuse of the power and authority given to humans by God in Psalm 8. This divinely given power has been misdirected because of an arrogant and prideful misunderstanding of how and why humans are to exercise that power. Only a return to a proper understanding of what it is to be ʾenoš can set things right.
I see two ways in which contemporary society tends to reflect the same misunderstanding of humanity that plagued the psalmist’s opponents. The first is the approach of the committed atheist who denies the existence of God altogether, or of the less committed but more apathetic members of society at large who assume that if God does exist, he has no effective interest in or influence over the course of contemporary life. For both groups, human beings are on their own, left to their own devices to set their goals, devise morals, fulfill desires and dreams, and meet needs. Human will, intelligence, and ingenuity become the ultimate power and will in the world. Since there is no Higher Power and no ultimate truth or meaning, humans are free, like the wicked of Psalms 9–10, to exercise power and oppression for their own benefit. No one or nothing will ever call them into judgment.
Our psalm decisively undermines such a viewpoint by calling the reader back to the awe-inspiring encounter with God in Psalm 8. It is God who created the universe; human power is insignificant in light of the “finger play” of God that spun off the sun, moon, and stars without effort. It is God who set humankind in a position of authority and responsibility over the creation—it is no accident but part of his will and purpose. As a result, what humans do in and with the world, how they exercise the power delegated to them by God, is not a matter of indifference but of great significance. Ultimately, humans are limited regents responsible to God for their care of the creation and of all creatures within it.
(3) Responsibility. A second way contemporary society reflects a misunderstanding of human authority over the creation is seen in the widely held assumption that the creation is there to be exploited for human desire and benefit. While Psalm 8 remains silent on what limitations might be placed on human authority, Psalms 9–10 are not hesitant in filling in the blanks. Here it becomes clear that humans are not empowered to seek their own benefit, nor are they given power to rule autocratically as they see fit. Rather, humans have derived authority from God to see that the earth and its inhabitants are cared for and become fruitful. Human responsibility turns outward away from self-benefit to seek the wholeness of all creation.
Psalms 9–10 are especially concerned that those in positions of authority use their power and influence to seek justice and equity, defending in particular those individuals in society who have no access to power and representation: the widows, orphans, needy, weak, and so on. Rather than use power to ensure self-benefit and comfort, they are to support the cause of the poor and needy, eschewing the example of the arrogant wicked in Psalm 10 and following instead the model of Yahweh, who hears the desire of the afflicted and defends the fatherless and the oppressed (10:17–18).
Working as I have over the last several years in an urban environment, I have been made increasingly aware of the need for the church to become involved in justice and equity issues. The situation is certainly complex at best and is growing more so each year with the constant influx of ethnic-minority peoples into our cities. There are, of course, the more obvious ways of working for justice and equity, to which many churches give some recognition: legislative action to work for civil rights and public education and services, concern with rising crime, access to health facilities and care, the care and feeding of the homeless. These are all issues our society is seeking to address, and many churches are working to make an impact here.
But other issues are less obvious. How do the suburban churches filled with majority-culture Christians build bridges to the urban and inner-city congregations composed mostly of minority-culture persons, who struggle to maintain a Christian witness under difficult circumstances? For example, many urban ethnic-minority pastors lack adequate preparation for their ministerial roles. They are prevented by lack of financial resources, lack of educational preparation (many lack college degrees necessary to enroll in traditional seminary programs), time constraints (many are bivocational pastors, working at secular jobs to support their ministry), and lack of culturally appropriate programs of education. Most of these barriers can be removed by the application of money, influence, time, and advocacy—all of which most suburban congregations have in abundant supply.
The work of racial reconciliation is another silent issue in most suburban churches. It is true that many congregations do include persons of different ethnic and racial background in their membership. But usually the ethnic-minority persons are few and are accommodated to the majority culture that predominates. How can suburban churches develop significant, ongoing relationships with primarily ethnic-minority churches in the inner city? What creative activities can bring people together in ways that allow the building of relationships, two-way sharing of resources, and a real witness to the power of Christ to obliterate barriers of race, class, wealth?
To truly respond to the call of Psalms 9–10, those of us who are part of the dominant majority-culture churches must be actively seeking ways to stand with our minority brothers and sisters in Christ as well as the urban communities they and we seek to serve. Paul speaks to the kind of mindset and “heartset” that is needed in Philippians 3, when he describes how he came to consider all his personal status and attainment of privilege and influence to be worthless. Instead, he seeks to “know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Phil. 3:10, italics added). Whatever this means in full, it certainly means in part that positions of power, status, and privilege are to be foregone in order to participate in the sufferings of Christ, who loved the poor and needy and died to set all humans free from the power of self-focused sin and death. Taking our stance alongside the suffering, oppressed, and marginalized in our society is certainly one way to stand with Jesus over against the oppressive powers of our day. It is a way of showing solidarity with our urban brothers and sisters, who need our strength and care. And they will have much to teach us about the “fellowship of sharing in [Christ’s] sufferings” along the way.
Individual to society. We have seen how Psalms 9–10 illustrate the way many psalms have adapted reflections of individual experience into the medium for corporate, communal expression. This occurs in this particular psalm, not as a matter of individual testimony within the community of the faithful (as we see elsewhere), but rather as an adoption of the individual’s experience as the experience of the whole community. This is an important means of drawing the whole community into a common experience, providing real living experiences rather than abstract ones, and challenging those of the community who may not have encountered the experience of this specific individual. Let’s consider two ways this kind of shift from individual to community speaks to our contemporary circumstance.
(1) Throughout the history of the church, hymn-writing has provided a way of transferring the experience of an individual to the community. Great hymns explore a whole variety of human experience—praise, lament, thanksgiving, confession, and so on. The last twenty years or so have seen a marked shift in many churches to the use of contemporary praise choruses rather than the classic hymns of the faith. One consequence of this shift has been that, because most choruses are concerned with a more limited spectrum of human experience (praise), the community gathered to worship is led to a rather one-sided experience of Christian faith. Early criticism of the praise-chorus movement, to the effect that they were superficial and did not reflect a sufficiently biblical foundation, was blunted by the introduction of more and more choruses relying primarily on scriptural texts (especially the psalms!).
But the problem is that even these biblically based choruses are selective—choosing bits of psalms rather than the whole. They are still praise-oriented, often ignoring those portions of psalms that reflect anger, confession, sin, and need. By quoting snippets of Scripture as they do, choruses can leave the impression that they provide a more comprehensive understanding of the Christian faith than their selective approach makes possible, leaving the singer and the community with the false impression that worship is only (or primarily) praise and thanksgiving.
Many of the older hymns drew on the psalms and other biblical passages and themes to provide the foundation of their reflections. Rather than quote Scripture directly, however, they sought to expound the scriptural themes and insights in ways that reflected their contemporary context. What we need is a new generation of hymn writers who will use their skills to translate the breadth of individual experience into communal moments of confession, lament, thanksgiving, confidence, and question as well as praise.20
(2) This shift to a societal focus raises another issue in interpreting the psalms in our own context. How do we relate our own national or societal circumstances to the words of the psalms? Often we forget that Israel was a “theocracy”—a nation bound by a covenant relationship to the rulership of God. Israel’s covenant with Yahweh was established at Mount Sinai in the wake of their deliverance from Egypt, and through the law were established the contours of faith—love, loyalty, obedience—that were to govern the ongoing relationship. We err when we uncritically identify our own nation with the covenant “people of God” that Israel represented. The modern, secular nations—no matter how much they may claim to be “under God” and seek to encourage “Christian” values in society—are not bound by a covenant relationship to the one God of Israel.
The pains taken in the Western world to establish clear separation between church and state and the interpretation of what was originally a tolerance of varieties of Christian religious expression to mean toleration of religious pluralism in its extreme sense should make this abundantly clear. While I am not counseling intolerance toward other religious faiths in secular government affairs, I point this out to demonstrate that our government is not an apt parallel to the theocracy in Israel.
The shift of the psalmist’s critique of the enemy from those within the covenant family to the “nations” who stand without gives us our clue. What I am suggesting is that most often our nation or society must be identified with those goyim who stood outside the covenant relationship with Israel’s God. Our situation is much more like Daniel or Joseph seeking to influence Nebuchadnezzar or Pharaoh than it is like Nathan or Isaiah or Jeremiah calling David or one of the later kings of Israel and Judah to task for lack of loyal obedience to Yahweh.
We certainly may be called to speak to other nations regarding human rights, oppression, exploitation, and lack of environmental concern. But we must always remember that our nation is one of these nations. The people of God can no longer be identified with any particular national entity or restricted to any national boundary. The process of dispersion that began with the exilic Diaspora of the Jews throughout the nations of the world was completed by the Christian promulgation of the gospel to the Gentiles—the Greek equivalent for and consistent translation of the Hebrew goyim—so that the distinction between the church and the world was no longer attached to racial, national, or even cultural heritage.
Like the disobedient humans who at the Tower of Babel had their languages confused and were dispersed through the world, so disobedient Israel was dispersed among the nations in the Exile, becoming a fragmentary people who gradually lost their memory of the ancestral Hebrew language except in ritual circumstances. The dispersion of the church to disciple “all nations” in obedience to the Great Commission (Matt. 28:18–20) parallels the creation command to “be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth” (Gen. 1:28; 9:1), which was only forcibly accomplished in the Tower of Babel narrative (and only with destructive results because of the humans’ resistance). The Christian Diaspora, so to speak, is an obedient response to God’s will and contains in the gospel and the gift of the Holy Spirit the seeds of eventual reunification and restoration of all humanity as God intends and as Pentecost prefigured (cf. Acts 2).
Paul acknowledges and affirms this divine intention to reunite all humanity through the gospel when he proclaims that “there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal. 3:28). He further points out how in Christ and his church “the dividing wall of hostility” between Jews and Gentiles has been destroyed (Eph. 2:11–22). After visiting the home of the Roman centurion Cornelius (Acts 10), Peter realizes God’s inclusive intent to save when he declares: “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts men from every nation who fear him and do what is right” (Acts 10:34–35).21
The consequence of this restructuring of God’s people in Christianity away from a particular national identity to a multinational community of the redeemed is to demand that we, like the exilic community before us, read the messages of the psalms regarding the “nations” and the other enemies of Israel as words about those who oppose or oppress the community of faith or those faithful individuals who stand within it. In this regard we must include our own secular nation and society, with its obsession with self-determination and power, as standing outside the community of faith and in enmity with the kingdom of God.