FOR THE DIRECTOR of music. A psalm of David.
1The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
2Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they display knowledge.
3There is no speech or language
where their voice is not heard.
4Their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun,
5which is like a bridegroom coming forth from his pavilion,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
6It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is hidden from its heat.
7The law of the LORD is perfect,
reviving the soul.
The statutes of the LORD are trustworthy,
making wise the simple.
8The precepts of the LORD are right,
giving joy to the heart.
The commands of the LORD are radiant,
giving light to the eyes.
9The fear of the LORD is pure,
enduring forever.
The ordinances of the LORD are sure
and altogether righteous.
10They are more precious than gold,
than much pure gold;
they are sweeter than honey,
than honey from the comb.
11By them is your servant warned;
in keeping them there is great reward.
Forgive my hidden faults.
13Keep your servant also from willful sins;
may they not rule over me.
Then will I be blameless,
innocent of great transgression.
14May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight,
O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer.
Original Meaning
THIS PSALM IS an awe-filled description of the cosmic self-revelation of God through his creative acts (particularly the heavens) and his gracious instruction in Torah. The lofty praise with which the psalm begins leads at the end to a down-to-earth prayer for forgiveness and personal alignment with God’s will and pleasure. Verses 1–6 share a common interest in the creative revelation of Yahweh in the heavens, moving from general description (vv. 1–4; heavens, skies, all the earth) to more specific focus (vv. 5–6; the sun in its circuit through the heavens). The second half of the psalm again shares a common theme of the self-revelation of Yahweh in Torah while offering two subsections that consider, respectively, God’s revelation through Torah (vv. 7–11) and human response to that revelation (vv. 12–14).
The Heading (19:0)
THE PSALM IS referred to “the director of music”1 and attributed to David as a “psalm” (mizmor)2; no new terms are introduced.
Revelation of God in the Heavens (19:1–4b)
THE HEAVENS DECLARE. The psalm opens not with praise, nor even a call to praise God, but with a description of the proclamation of praise by the products of his creative power—in particular, “the heavens.” What we usually recognize as inanimate creation is here given life and voice as the heavens and skies “declare,” “proclaim,” and “pour forth speech” in praise of the creator. The first two of these verbs are participial forms while the third is an imperfect verb form. The participles emphasize the continuously ongoing nature of the proclamation made by the heavens, but the imperfect, in its expression of incomplete action, also indicates that the praise is not ended but continues. This is, then, a continual outcry of nature to God from the moment of creation until now and on into the future.
The first two lines (19:1) are affirmingly parallel in a chiastic arrangement.
The heavens | declare | the glory of God |
the works of his hands | proclaim | the skies |
The next two lines form also affirming parallelism but without any chiastic features.
Day to day | they pour forth | speech |
night to night | they display | knowledge |
The parallel members in these verses are instructive (as they were originally intended to be, I am sure). “Heavens” and “skies” are clearly references to the creation account, although the NIV’s choice to render the Hebrew raqiaʿ as “skies” rather than the more usual and accurate “firmament” obscures that connection. Together the two terms clearly allude to the creation narrative. In the beginning, God created the “heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1:1)—a merism for everything. Then, as one of his first creative acts, God set up the “firmament” (1:6) to separate the chaotic waters from one another.
The Hebrew term raqiaʿ (“firmament”) reflects an ancient understanding of cosmology (the formation and structure of the world) that differs from our modern scientific view. The raqiaʿ is a sort of upside-down bowl that sat on the circular, plate-like earth to form a sealed environment in which human, animal, and plant life were secure. God created this arrangement at the beginning to bring order to the chaotic waters, which were limited by his decree to prescribed boundaries above and below the earth. The celestial objects (sun, moon, stars, etc.) were thought to be fixed in the raqiaʿ and to move about there.
The chaotic waters could be let in through the “windows of heaven” as rain or storms, or they could rise as springs and subterranean torrents from beneath the earth. In the Mesopotamian account of creation,3 the chaotic waters are thought to be ancient gods of inertia (Tiamat and Apsu) who fight a losing battle with the younger, more active deities led by Marduk. After the ancient water deities are defeated, Marduk splits the body of Tiamat and creates the firmament, separating the waters above and below the earth.
The Flood account in Genesis 6–9 describes how these chaotic waters threatened to “undo” creation by dissolving the limiting boundaries. In the Mesopotamian account, once the waters were unleashed (by an angry god), they were soon out of control, and the gods—part of creation themselves and, therefore, under threat of annihilation as well—cowered behind the walls of their heavenly abode, screaming “like dogs” as they awaited their destruction. This does not happen in the biblical narrative, however, because of God’s complete control and gracious mercy. The concluding promise of Genesis 9:12–17 offers the reassurance that humanity never need fear this kind of ultimate threat from the chaotic waters again. Whether one assumes this kind of cosmological description indicates the biblical authors’ limited, prescientific understanding of their world or uses poetic imagery and license, it is important to recognize the powerful images associated with this cosmological understanding.
Thus, the psalmist here is not just reflecting on the impressive expanse of the heavens but shows an understanding that goes all the way back to the creation of the universe. It carries with it not only awe at the glorious majesty of the heavens and the splendid sun that dominates the day4 but is also aware (cf. the term raqiaʿ ) of the protective grace of God that the firmament has silently and effectively extended since God formed it.
The work of his hands. The parallel lines of verse 1 also have the interesting effect of bringing together the “glory of God” declared by the heavens with “the work of his hands” proclaimed by the skies. The term kabod (“glory”) in reference to God normally describes that awesome and innate essence of God that is so intensely “other” than human experience that it is described as brilliant light or a consuming fire (cf. 18:8), which at once awes and threatens to destroy the beholder. Here, however, it is the visible, created work of God’s hands that are equated to his “glory.” In some strange way the heavens, the sun, and the protective firmament are part of that glory—or at least reflect it for understanding human eyes to see.
Day and night. The story the heavens have to tell is not confined to daylight hours. Although the magnificence of the sun is in the foreground of verses 4b–6, it is clear that the psalmist, like the author of Psalm 8, has also spent time gazing at the far-flung stars and planets of the night sky. The heavenly message is unimpeded and continues to sound twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for eternity. Their nightly “display” (from ḥwh [“announce, inform”]) is “knowledge,” equivalent to the daytime “speech.” The parallel Hebrew constructions “day after day” and “night after night” emphasize the continuity of revelation as one day passes the message of divine glory to the next day and each night receives its abiding knowledge from those preceding, representing an unbroken chain of communication going back to creation.
No speech or language. The NIV’s translation of verse 3 represents a subtle departure from the norm of commentators. The usual tack is to take these lines as connecting back to the preceding verses and stress the silent character of the heavenly proclamation. They testify to the glory of God without using voice or words that any human could hear. The NIV shifts the nuance and connects verse 3 with what follows. Rather than emphasizing the silence of communication, the phrase now becomes an indication of the all-pervasive extent of the testimony. The “speech” and “language” in question in this interpretation is no longer the mute testimony of the skies but the receptor language of the far-flung human race. There is no part of humanity—whatever the language—that has escaped the proclamation of the heavens about their creator.
Either translation is possible, and the NIV has the added benefit of according well with Paul’s similar treatment of revelation through creation (Rom. 1:18–23), where because of the pervasive testimony of creation throughout the earth, no human anywhere has any excuse for failing to recognize God. However, the use in Psalm 19:3 of the same Hebrew word for “speech” that appears clearly linked to the heavens in 19:2a would seem to bring the decision down on the side of the more traditional understanding.
To the ends of the earth. While the link with Romans 1 may not be explicitly made in 19:3, it is certainly established by 19:4. Although the speech, words, and voice of the heavens are inaudible, they nevertheless do have a “voice” (qaw)5 that can be perceived in all the earth and “words” that extend their testimony to the ends of the world. The section concludes with the insistence that the revelation of God through the soundless testimony of the heavens and firmament is all-pervasive and available to all humanity.
The All-Seeing Sun (19:4c–6)
IN THE MIDDLE of verse 4, the psalm takes a new turn by introducing an extended metaphorical description of the sun. In the present context, this description represents a move from the more general “works” of God—heavens, firmament—to a specific example of those works. The shift is akin to a metonymy, a literary device in which a part is introduced as representative of the whole. The sun is a part of the heavenly features through which the glory of God has been displayed and communicated since the beginning.
This metaphor assumes that the sun resides in a tent pitched in the heavens by God; then the biblical poet mixes metaphors by viewing the sun first as a bridegroom (19:5a) and then as a mighty man running a race (19:5b).6 The shifting metaphors make a gradual progress—from residing in the tent (19:4c), to departing from the pavilion (19:5a), to running a course (19:5b), and finally to the sun’s trip through the whole “circuit” of the heavens (19:6).
Bridegroom and champion. The “triumphant sweep”7 of the sun through the heavens displays the glory of God like a bridegroom, who, dressed in his greatest finery and beaming with the joy of the occasion, leaves his “pavilion” (ḥuppah).8 The public nature of such an occasion would involve the whole village population in the celebration, emphasizing the impossibility of missing the event—or, by parallel, the revelation of God. Not to be present at such an occasion would require studied indifference or active enmity toward the family of the bridegroom. God, in his creation of the heavens and the sun, is making himself known to all on just such a scale of joy and glory.
The sun is also likened to a “champion” (gibbor, “warrior, mighty man”), who rejoices to “run his course.” The NIV’S rendering of “champion” and “course” implies a preset course such as a race. Perhaps a better image (although a less refined one) is of the warrior, who, having worked himself up into an energetic frenzy oblivious to the possibilities of personal injury, rushes headlong toward the enemy in a battle lust that approximates a joy to be active at last after the anxious tensions of waiting. For a warrior people—as the Hebrews certainly were—this sort of fearless indifference to personal safety and joy of battle was a sign of a great warrior. An enemy must prepare for the onslaught while respecting such signs of bravery, and companion warriors will follow the mad rush of such a “champion” into the crush of battle. Once again the psalmist chooses an image for divine revelation that cannot be ignored. God is visible in his creative works and can only be ignored to one’s own peril.
Nothing is hidden. This second section of the psalm draws to a close with a pointed reminder to the reader/hearer that as the sun’s circuit arcs over all human activity, nothing escapes the watchful eye of the God who created the sun. The sun moves from one end of the heaven to the other, and its heat both warms and illumines all that humans do and say. The psalmist possibly intends a subtle reminder in the use of the phrase “from its/his heat.” The underlying Hebrew word can mean both “heat” and “warmth,” or in many instances “rage” or “anger”—including that of God in judgment (cf. Jer. 30:23; 32:31–32; 33:5; Ezek. 25:14; 36:6). The sun, then, with its constant scrutiny of human activity from its position in the heavens not only provides welcome warmth but also represents the possibility of divine judgment for sin.
Thematic progression. At this point the thematic progression that stitches the varied elements of this psalm together becomes clear. In the first segment the reader/hearer learns that the works of Yahweh reveal the creator to all who can see them—whatever their language or race. No human has any excuse for failing to recognize the authority of the creator God. In the second section, the glorious sun, which also mirrors God’s glory, constantly arcs overhead so that none escape the blessing or judgment implied by its heat. This leads almost naturally to the third section, which introduces the Torah of Yahweh that is intended as guide (19:7–10), warning (19:11a), and reward (19:11b).
Revelation Through Torah (19:7–11)
THERE IS CONSIDERABLE discussion regarding the unity of the psalm, whether the creation imagery (19:1–6) fits with the Torah concerns of the second half of the poem (19:7–11). For some, this earlier component is an adapted Canaanite hymn to the sun,9 in which the sun, worshiped as a deity by the Canaanites, is clearly marked out as a creature—only one among many of the “works of the hands” of Yahweh. The tendency in recent years, however, has been to accept the unity of Psalm 19, recognizing that sun and law/justice are commonly associated in the ancient Near East, where the sun deity (Utu, Shamash) is indeed the god of justice.10
For those called to know God through his creative works, the divine scrutiny illustrated by the constant arcing of the sun overhead implies the need for a guide in order to satisfy God’s will and expectation. The psalm now moves to consider how the Torah (the law) fulfills the role of admonition and guide to reward (19:11), through which Yahweh’s will is revealed to those who fear him. The section consists, for the most part, of a series of adjectives describing the character of Torah, each accompanied by a verbal phrase revealing how Torah impacts the life of the faithful. Along the way Torah is paralleled by a series of nouns and phrases that artfully vary and expand on the concept. The same group of related terms is constantly repeated in Psalm 119, where one of these terms appears in almost every line of that extended acrostic poem.11
Perfect . . . reviving. The first statement is the most programmatic and general. The torah (“law”) of Yahweh is “perfect” (tamim, “whole, complete; without blemish/anything lacking”). This essential wholeness of Torah is the basis of all the other characteristics: trustworthiness (19:7c), rightness (19:8a), radiance (19:8c), purity (19:9), certainty (19:9c), and righteousness (19:9d). Similarly, the effect on the believer is also more general and foundational: Torah causes the whole “being” (nepeš; NIV “soul”)12 of the believer to “turn/return.”
Many commentators take this Hiphil participle of šwb to mean “restore, revive,” ignoring one of the more common uses of the verb to describe human repentance and obedience to God and his Torah. This predilection of the commentators is perhaps the result of an assumption that God—honoring free will in humans—does not manipulate or cause humans to “repent.” While “restore, revive” is a possible translation here, it seems to me that the poet may well have intended a double meaning, suggesting to the astute reader that the Torah not only revives but also calls the faithful to repent and return. This certainly is compatible with the attitudes revealed in 19:11, where Torah “warns,” and in the final section of the psalm, where the narrator feels the need to seek divine forgiveness from both willful and unintentional sin (19:12–13).
Trustworthy . . . making wise. Because God’s Torah is “perfect” (complete, lacking nothing), it can be trusted to form the firm foundation of human life, providing sure guidance on the way Yahweh knows and blesses (cf. Ps. 1:6). In this case, the term chosen to characterize the Torah is ʿedut (“testimony, warning sign”; NIV “statutes”).13 Like a highway sign notifying drivers of winding roads or treacherous conditions ahead, the Torah is provided to “warn” the faithful of dangerous and slippery conditions that confront them (cf. 19:11a). God’s “testimony” is “trustworthy” (from ʾmn, “faithful, proved to be reliable”).
The sure guide and protective admonition that the Torah represents is useful—even necessary—to instruct simple, naive youth (Heb. peti). Here the psalmist is not talking of those who are mentally challenged but of youths who are still so inexperienced and untutored that the options of life leave them confused and in danger of making destructive choices. These are not arrogant, rebellious “fools” (Heb. kesilim), but well-intended persons who do not yet possess sufficient experience of life to understand the ramifications and consequences of decisions. For these persons earnestly seeking guidance, the Torah serves to “make them wise.”14
Right . . . giving joy. In the third set of terms, Torah is likened to undeviating “precepts” (piqqudim) that, if followed, lead one straight to the goal of faithful living. The noun piqqud is related to the verb pqd (“search, appoint, assign, order”) and has the meaning of “orders” or “directions” that guide one, like a road map or verbal directions that allow you to find a place you have never visited before. The directions provided by God’s Torah are not misleading but are “straight” and do not lead astray. Again, the present characterization grows out of the preceding two. Because God’s word in Torah is “whole” and “complete” (19:7a–b), it is also “reliable” and “trustworthy” (19:7c–d), and thus it can provide “undeviating” guidance to life (19:8a). This guidance is not viewed as restrictive but “gives joy to the heart.”15
Radiant . . . giving light. Reconnecting with the sun imagery in the previous section, the psalmist now describes the “commands” of Yahweh as “radiant” and “giving light to the eyes” (19:8c–d). The term the NIV renders as “commands” is actually in the Hebrew a singular form.
God’s command is “radiant”—a term sometimes describing purity. As Dahood has shown,16 this word is often connected with the sun, both in the Canaanite literature from Ugarit and in the Bible itself.17 A sort of clear, brilliant, pure light is surely intended. This radiance provides light for the eyes of the faithful, lighting their way.18 To “give light to the eyes” can also mean enliven or restore life, since the eyes dim or lose their light in death (cf. Ps. 13:3; Eccl. 12:3).19 That a more intellectual form of enlightenment is intended is not so clear.20
Pure . . . enduring forever. The psalmist now departs from the pattern established in the preceding verses. That pattern can be described as: Torah synonym + Yahweh + adjective + factitive participle + noun affected. In the first four sets, this pattern is followed exactly, and the visual similarity of the phrases is heightened by the use of Hiphil and Piel participles, beginning with the consonant m-. Because of the factitive nature of these participial forms (i.e., make to return, make wise, make joyful, enlighten), the following nouns are objects of the participles, indicating the elements affected by the verbal action (i.e., self, naive youth, heart, eyes). In the fifth phrase, however, the participial pattern is altered by the use of a Qal form that does not carry the same factitive function. The following word (laʿad) is an adverb, describing the duration of the preceding verbal action: “enduring forever.”
These distinct variations from what precedes suggest something different is going on in this passage. This is borne out by the use of yirʾat (“fear”) as the opening noun of the phrase. In all the preceding phrases, the opening nouns are synonyms linked to Torah. Here, however, the noun is not a Torah word or synonym but a characteristic of the faithful believer. To “fear Yahweh” is to assume an appropriate attitude of humility, loyalty, and absolute dependence on Yahweh. BHS recognizes the contrast this term represents and suggests an emendation to a word for “speech” (ʾimrat)—another suitable synonym for Torah (cf. Ps. 119:38).21
While this is not an impossible emendation, the variation in the participial pattern already signals that we should look at the introduction of “fear of the LORD” more carefully. Rather than continuing a list of characteristics of Torah, the psalmist apparently begins to bring the response of the faithful into view by inserting a clear reference to the enduring blessing of the fear of Yahweh that “purifies” the faithful. The adjective ṭehorah can mean “pure, clean, genuine,” but it often has the more specific connotation “be cultically clean.” If “fear of the LORD” results in cultic purity and the consequent ability to stand in the presence of Yahweh “forever,” this is strong encouragement for the faithful listener to adopt this most appropriate attitude.
Ordinances . . . sure and altogether righteous. The broken pattern continues into the next phrase. The first part of this phrase reverts to the previous pattern of torah synonym + Yahweh. The “ordinances” (mišpaṭim) of Yahweh is a legal term, which describes a judge’s statement of what should have taken place in a particular case. As a description of Torah, it implies that this instructive guide to life is God’s own statement of what is appropriate in human conduct. A mišpaṭ is not just a divine or royal demand—that is, what God wants. Rather, a mišpaṭ is a judgment—by no less than God himself—of what ought to occur, of what is right.
One of the most difficult aspects of pagan, polytheistic religion in the ancient Near East was the lack of assurance about what the god (or gods) demanded. As the myths from Egypt to Mesopotamia illustrate, the gods were notoriously changeable and could manipulate, trick, and overpower one another; thus, humans could never be certain which god would rule at the moment or what exactly that god might demand. Consequently, although there were certain protocols governing human behavior in relation to the gods, the demands of the gods could change from situation to situation.
The matter was complicated further by the lack of any moral superiority to humans among the gods. The ancient gods of polytheism operated with just as twisted a moral standard as humans. They lied, cheated, stole, were sexually promiscuous, and generally outdid their human servants with their lack of consistent morality. They were distinguished from humans by only two major characteristics: They were powerful, and they lived forever. Therefore, whatever the gods demanded had to be obeyed because they had the power to make human existence miserable, and there was no hope of outliving them.
By contrast, our psalmist says, Yahweh (who is one and unopposed) has given in his Torah a “sure” (ʾemet) judgment (mišpaṭ) of what constitutes right human behavior. The term ʾemet carries a sense of “reliability, permanence, continuity, faithfulness, and fidelity.” These are no “wishy-washy” commandments subject to change at the divine whim, but secure and permanent statements of what ought to be. Not only are these mišpaṭim considered judgments rather than statements of divine will (“I want . . .”), but together they represent a “righteous” standard (Heb. ṣadequ yaḥdaw). This does not mean that the way of life to be lived by these standards is righteous (although it certainly is), but that the standards themselves are righteous.
Here again the psalmist breaks with the former pattern by introducing a Qal perfect verbal construction rather than the expected participle. The use of the perfect, with its expression of completed action, suggests that the righteous standard of Yahweh’s mišpaṭim is an accomplished certainty that can be relied on. Since the term “righteous” is a legal one, meaning “judged to have performed what is appropriate in a case under consideration,” the mišpaṭim of Yahweh are not expressions of divine whim but sure guides to appropriate human behavior.
More precious than gold. Surely a divinely given Torah such as the psalmist describes in these verses—a Torah that is “whole” and “complete” (19:7a–b), that is “reliable” and “trustworthy” (19:7c–d), that provides “undeviating” guidance to life (19:8a), and that is “consistent” and “altogether righteous” in its demands (19:9c–d)—is a precious resource for humans who are struggling to know how to live appropriately in a difficult world. Thus, in 19:10 the psalmist heaps up praise for the value of God’s Torah in terms of precious metals (“gold” and “pure gold”) and “gourmet delectables” (or perhaps “simple pleasures”?) of the day (“honey” and “honeycomb”).
The section concludes with a statement that rounds out the Torah’s value while it finishes off the whole Torah section. Yahweh’s Torah is considered of such importance and value because it both warns (Heb. from zhr)22 and guides the faithful, keeping them on the path of life and reward (19:11). The psalmist uses the term “your servant” to designate the one or ones who will benefit from the admonition and guidance of divine instruction. While this expression may seem to be a general reference to any faithful believer, the subsequent use of the same phrase in 19:13 makes it clear that the psalmist probably intends this as a self-designation.
The discipline of Torah is twofold: “stick and carrot,” admonition and reward. The former is clearly represented in the words of Torah itself while the latter is suggested by the psalmist’s own words in the preceding section. As a “reward” the psalmist probably has in mind a “great result” (Heb. ʿeqeb rab) of adherence to the demands of God’s instruction rather than a promise of great wealth, pleasure, or prosperity. The term ʿeqeb describes an “end” or “result” while leaving the nature of that result undefined.
Human Response (19:12–14)
HAVING WONDERED AT the revelation of God declared through heavens and sun and having rejoiced in the admonition and guidance offered through God’s Torah, the psalmist turns at last to the appropriate human response of those who adopt the proper attitude of “fear of the LORD.” For the first time a personal note clearly enters the psalm as the psalmist employs first-person singular pronouns and verbs to express contrition for sin and hope for forgiveness.
Who can discern his errors? This final section begins with a thematic rhetorical question acknowledging the difficulty of discerning unintentional offenses that one might commit. The term for such offenses (šegiʾot) appears only here in the Hebrew Bible but comes from a verbal root (šgg) that is more common and carries the meaning “to commit error or sin inadvertently.”23 The implication seems to be that for these inadvertent sins, there is little to do but to trust in the mercy of Yahweh.
The psalmist seeks divine assistance to avoid both “hidden faults” (19:12b) and “willful sins” (19:13a) that threaten to rule over Yahweh’s servant. In contrast to the unintentional errors of 19:12a, these offenses seem to be active choices for disobedience and rebellion against God. Thus, “hidden faults” are probably offenses kept secret by the sinner rather than the kind of unknown sin covered by šegiʾot. By contrast, “willful sins” are open acts of rebellion known to all in society. The psalmist realizes the potential for such acts of willful rebellion and self-power that have come to the point of ignoring the sanctions even of societal morality to become ruling influence, undermining all areas of life.
Blameless and innocent of great transgression. The psalmist’s goal is never sinless perfection but avoiding “great transgression” (pešaʿ rab) against God. There was a certain acceptance of the sinful nature of humanity, for which the Israelite sacrificial system offered remedy and restoration to right relationship with God and other people. Humans can no more achieve sinlessness than they can avoid breathing. Even if one could keep the law precisely and avoid all known sin, there were always those šegiʾot—those inadvertent errors of which one is unaware. In this context, the psalmist’s hope to become “blameless” (from tmm, “be finished, complete; blameless”)24 should be taken as a desire for “completeness” and “wholeness,” just as the Torah of Yahweh is “perfect” or “whole” (tamim, 19:7a). The wordplay employing the root tmm for both Torah and hopeful psalmist is unmistakable. Those who stake their lives on the complete guidance provided by God’s instructive Torah will also achieve the kind of wholeness of relationship that avoids willful disobedience.
The words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart. I have often heard this final plea for acceptance used before preaching—and I have used it myself—as a way of submitting one’s own words to the mysterious scrutiny of God with whose will and desire the speaker wishes to be aligned. These words carry much the same weight here at the end of Psalm 19. Some commentators want to attach this plea exclusively to the words of this psalm, suggesting the psalmist is seeking divine affirmation and confirmation of the instruction offered here. That may well be true, although I think it does not prevent a broader function as well.
This final verse provides an especially apt conclusion to the theological movement we have observed in this psalm, knitting together its otherwise disparate parts. Because Yahweh is unmistakably revealed in the heavens, humans have no excuse for not acknowledging him. As the sun arcs overhead bathing all in its heat and scrutinizing all that humans do, so humans cannot escape divine awareness (and judgment) of what they say and do. Yahweh has not left humans in the dark as to what he expects of them but has provided complete admonition and guidance in his Torah. Those who follow this guidance can avoid “great transgression” and experience the kind of wholeness of relationship that God intends. In this light, the final plea is the psalmist’s attempt to achieve alignment with God’s will through inner (“meditations of my heart”) and outer (“words of my mouth”) integrity. The psalmist is submitting all to the will and purpose of Yahweh.
The final statement, then, is more than a plea for hearing this psalm. It is as well a model of the kind of submission to the will of God admonished in the whole psalm. There is implied in this submission a recognition of a need for personal deliverance and redemption. Yahweh is the speaker’s “Rock” (Heb. ṣuri)25 and “Redeemer” (Heb. goʾali), the one in whom the psalmist’s hope resides. The use of this “rock” terminology clearly links the words of Psalm 19 back to the theme of refuge that dominates Psalm 18, where the word “rock” appears no less than three times (18:2, 31, 46) in structurally significant positions.26
Other verbal linkages connect these psalms as well. In 18:30 we learn that God’s “way is perfect [tamim; cf. 19:7]” and “the word [ʾimrah]27 of Yahweh is flawless,” while in 18:32 the speaker hopes his way will be made “perfect” (tamim; cf. 19:13c) by God. The NIV Study Bible notes that Psalm 19 “completes the cycle of praise—for the Lord’s saving acts, for his glory reflected in creation, and for his law” that was begun in Psalm 18.
Bridging Contexts
THE HEAVENS ARE TELLING. Austrian composer Franz Joseph Haydn (1732–1809), in his oratorio Creation (Schöpfung), included a movement based on Psalm 19 that has outstripped the larger composition in fame and recognition. The magnificent strains of orchestral instruments (“The Heavens Are Telling”) join with the combined choral voices to create a splendid aural painting of the heavenly testimony to God’s glory that lies at the heart of this psalm.
Psalm 19 is only one place in which the theme of heavenly witness is mentioned. In a variety of passages Israel has explored the role of the heavens in revealing the will, purpose, and nature of Yahweh. In what follows I will consider what Israel understood the heavens to declare.
Creative power. Most obviously, an open gaze at the grandeur of the night sky brought Israelite psalmists to a keen awareness of Yahweh’s creative might. Psalm 8 figures prominently in this regard with its awe-filled reverie on the starry expanse of the heavens. But other psalms join the chorus of praise as well (cf. 57:5, 11; 108:5; 113:4; 148:13), and in particular the final Hallel of the Psalter (Pss. 146–150) becomes a crescendo of praise in which the heavens are joined by all creation in praise of their creator.28 Indeed, the narratives of Genesis 1–2 are in one sense an expanded testimony to God as creator of heavens and earth and everything in them.
Relentless goodness. Alongside Yahweh’s creative power, the heavens testify readily to his consistently good intention for his creation in general and its human inhabitants in particular. Jacob invokes the “blessings of the heavens above” as a sign of Yahweh’s beneficent care for his people (Gen. 49:24–25).29 Deuteronomy understands that the abundant rain from the heavens is an indication of God’s blessing (Deut. 28:12). The New Testament understands this divine desire to do good as extending to the unbelieving world when Jesus calls his followers to mirror the love of God, who “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous” (Matt. 5:45).
Divine judgment. The heavens also reveal the judgment of God on a sinful world. The heavens participated in the judgment unleashed in the Flood when the chaotic waters above the firmament poured down through the windows of heaven on the polluted earth (Gen. 7:11–12). At Sodom and Gomorrah it was “burning sulfur” that fell from the heavens as a consequence of divine judgment on the wicked cities (Gen. 19:24). In Deuteronomy 11:16–17, the shutting off of the heavens “so that it will not rain and the ground will yield no produce” becomes divine judgment for Israel’s going after other gods. Though fools may persuade themselves that God is so far removed in the heavens that he neither sees nor is concerned with human life (cf. Job 14:21; 22:14; Pss. 4; 14; 94:7), God does look down from his heavenly vantage point to see and respond to all that humans say and do.
Enduring faithfulness. Also associated with the heavens is the enduring character of Yahweh’s faithfulness. The heavens that antedate the creation of humans stand as a paradigm of endurance, so that it is said of David: “I will establish his line forever, his throne as long as the heavens endure” (Ps. 89:29). Of Yahweh’s decrees and promises we learn: “Your word, O LORD, is eternal; it stands firm in the heavens. Your faithfulness continues through all generations” (119:89–90). As the heavens stand firm above the earth since the beginning of creation, providing the protective environment in which humans can live, so Yahweh’s word is eternally trustworthy—present to lead and guide.
Demythologizing the cosmos. In a more subtle fashion the heavens in Israelite Scripture proclaim that Yahweh is the only true God. In the pagan world of the ancient Near East the heavenly bodies—sun, moon, stars—were divine beings who exercised power over their own realms and over humans. In Psalm 19, however, the sun appears not as an independent deity but as one of the “works of [God’s] hands” who carry out his bidding. The same is true in Psalm 8, where moon and stars appear as objects of creation—mere “finger play” (8:3) for the creator, Yahweh. A similar move takes place in Psalm 18, where the “seas”—understood in pagan Mesopotamian myths to be ancient gods of chaos who struggled for control of the universe with the younger gods—are described as inanimate elements of creation subject to the will and purpose of Yahweh.30 By removing the polytheistic element of creation the biblical poets emphasize the sovereignty of Yahweh over the created universe. In this way the heavens with all their features testify to the glory and creative might of the one who made them (cf. Rom. 1:20).
Protective care. Equally subtle is the way the heavens by their very existence declare the protective care and concern of God for his creatures. The use of the term raqiaʿ (“firmament”; see comments on 19:1) links the heavens in Psalm 19 to the protective envelope created at the beginning by the creation of the raqiaʿ (NIV “expanse”; NRSV “dome”) to hold back the chaotic waters above the earth so that a hospitable environment for life could exist (Gen. 1:6–10). That this raqiaʿ effectively holds off the destructive powers of chaos is confirmed in the Flood narrative, where the waters are allowed to break through these restraints and threaten to undo creation altogether. The firmament’s continued existence signifies to the observant psalmist that Yahweh continues to protect and care for his creation and its creatures.
Ultimate instability. Finally, the heavens—even with all their endurance and protective care—are only objects of the creation and not the source of ultimate hope. Isaiah describes the ultimate destruction of the heavens and the earth in order to point his people to the only true source of salvation and hope—Yahweh himself: “Lift up your eyes to the heavens, look at the earth beneath; the heavens will vanish like smoke, the earth will wear out like a garment and its inhabitants die like flies. But my salvation will last forever, my righteousness will never fail” (Isa. 51:6). Peter picks up the same theme in the New Testament, where he describes “the day of God and . . . its coming. That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat” (2 Peter 3:12).
The heavens, then, testify by their own impermanence to the eternality of the God who made them and continues to exist forever. As a result, those who fear Yahweh and trust in him need not fear “though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging” (Ps. 46:2–3).
In all these ways the heavens declare the glory of God, pointing those who will listen to hope in the creator of heaven and earth and all that is in them.
Torah as guidance and blessing. Too often Christians think of the Old Testament Torah (law) as legalistic restrictions of behavior that must obeyed under pain of divine punishment. In this viewpoint Christ has freed us from bondage to the law of obedience to the law of grace—we are saved not because we keep the law but because we believe in (rely completely on) the saving death of Jesus Christ. While the statement above concerning the Christian view of grace is accurate, the view of the law described is too narrow and one-sided to capture the robust understanding of Torah that characterized Israel at her best. As Psalm 19 suggests, Israel proclaimed the Torah to be no onerous burden but instead the source of wisdom (19:7), joy (19:8b), and light (19:8d). Torah is both precious (19:10a) and pleasurable (19:10c).
It is this broader understanding of Torah that makes the traditional translation “law” such an inadequate interpretation of this complex concept. We tend to equate Torah and law on a one-to-one basis that leads us frequently to misunderstand what Israel experienced through her long acquaintance with Torah. Formed from the Hebrew root yrh (“instruct, teach”), torah in wisdom literature embodies the corpus of instruction that provides guidance for those who are serious to live lives of wisdom. Rather than “law,” the term is more properly understood as “instruction” or “guidelines.” While it is true that Yahweh in the Old Testament promulgates commandments, statutes, and ordinances for Israel to obey, the choice of the term torah to characterize this body of tradition shows that Israel understood its primary function to be one of guidance in right living.
It is this character of Torah that occupies the attention of the psalmist in Psalm 19. The purpose of Torah is to “warn” the faithful servant of Yahweh (19:11a) to remain on the path that leads to “reward” (19:11b). By its guidance, one is empowered to understand one’s errors and to avoid “hidden faults” or “willful sin” (19:12–13a). Rather than restriction, Torah offers freedom from the rule of sin and consequently escape from divine judgment (19:13b–c).
The appropriate response to Torah, according to the psalmists, is “delight” (1:2; 119:70, 77, 92, 174) and “love” (119:97, 113, 163), not some grim-lipped adherence. It is through the Torah that life is preserved (119:93, 149, 156).31 It is little surprise that the later postbiblical celebration of the end of the yearly Torah reading cycle and the beginning of the next was called Simhat Torah (“Joy of the Torah”), emphasizing the joy the Jewish community experiences in having the Torah to guide their lives before God. The Torah scroll is paraded around the synagogue, accompanied by joyous singing and dancing. This joyous and festive night follows immediately on the heels of the solemn New Year observance, Rosh Hashanah—a week of fasting, reflection, and repentance culminated by Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement). The contrast could not be more radical, and yet the linkage of these occasions is highly important as repentance (Rosh Hashanah) leads to forgiveness and restoration (Yom Kippur), followed by joyous celebration of the means of continued communion with God (Simhat Torah).
Christians need to incorporate this broader, more positive view of Torah into their understanding of the Old Testament law. Rather than a heavy burden, rightly understood, the law was the guide to continued life and restoration of communion with the holy God. Jesus responded primarily to misinterpretation and abuse of God’s law when he criticized the teachers of the law and the Pharisees for piling up burdens on those seeking to approach God. He expressed his acceptance of the validity of the Torah when he declared he had not “come to abolish the Law or the Prophets . . . but to fulfill them” (Matt. 5:17).
Contemporary Significance
JUST HOW DOES the Old Testament Torah relate to us as Christians? Although Jesus respected God’s law and claimed to fulfill rather than abolish it, the early church ultimately agreed that keeping the Jewish law was not a requirement for Gentiles (non-Jews) to become faithful followers of God in Jesus.32 With the eventual waning of the Jewish church, keeping the Old Testament law became a moot question for the vast majority of Christians who were and continue to be Gentiles.
Paul’s treatment of the Old Testament law clearly suggests that it has its place in revealing sin and—through the impossibility of keeping it—driving believers to rely through faith wholly on the gracious mercy of God. This is a view that Jesus seems to share when, in the Sermon on the Mount, he proclaims the impossible command: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48). The implication seems to be that the law demands perfection, and since no human (other than Christ himself) can fulfill that demand, then all must trust solely on the forgiveness extended by God through Christ.
So where does that leave the law for Christians? Do we ignore it altogether as an antiquated way of life intended only for ancient Israel (and contemporary Jews) and superseded by the freedom of grace? Or do we seek to distinguish between the more universal commandments (which we keep) and the “culturally bound” requirements (which we don’t)? How can the view of Torah offered in Psalm 19 provide guidance for our Christian lives today?
In regards to the first prospect, if Christ has “fulfilled” or “completed” the law, this does not mean that the Old Testament Torah was some sort of defective system unable to accomplish what God intended. The Torah was God’s word for Israel. Jesus accepted the Torah (and indeed the whole Old Testament) as God’s authoritative word for himself and his followers. Torah led those who related themselves rightly to it into a proper, restored relationship with Yahweh. This is not defective. It may not be the “fullness” of God’s revelation, but it rightly accomplishes what God intended it to do.
The view of Torah offered in Psalm 19 is an important help in understanding what it was intended to accomplish. Torah both warns and guides. It marks out boundaries of faithful living and raises an alarm when those boundaries are violated. Torah does not expect absolute perfectionism. Psalm 19 assumes the existence of unintentional sin (19:12–13). Torah, however, provides a guide for avoiding “willful sins” and “great transgression” against God (19:13) and offers a way for restoration of communion for the repentant.
If we think of Torah in this way, as a gracious admonition and guide, then it is like the protective firmament mentioned in 19:1, which provides a shield against destructive chaos. Torah marks out the boundaries of holy living in the presence of a holy God. Torah is not a way to gain God’s gracious presence but is a response to the reality of the holy God dwelling already in the midst of his people.
Even as Christians who are recipients of the covenant of grace, we understand that there is still an expectation of holy living for the faithful. James declares that “faith without deeds is dead” (James 2:26); that is, saving faith will always issue forth in right living. Paul consistently follows his proclamation of salvation by grace through faith with clear admonition to holy living. Like Israel, then, Christians need admonitions and guides for right living.
There are those within our Christian communities who are more than willing to tell us exactly what constitutes faithful living. It might be a particular view of creation, or the infallibility of Scripture, or even a certain stance on abortion or capital punishment. This can become a new sort of legalism—a belief that adherence to this standard constitutes a clear sign of faith. Those who believe as I do are “in”; those who do not are “out.” The analogy of the Torah offers caution. The Torah was not an entrance examination to determine who was in or out. Rather, Torah was a way of life taken by those already committed to Yahweh. Torah served as a response of faith, not a sign of faith.
How does the Torah lead to right living? Through some sort of slavish obedience? Jesus counsels us no when he admonishes his followers to have a righteousness that “surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law” (Matt. 5:20). The Pharisees excelled in seeking and demanding perfect adherence to the Torah. How could anyone hope to surpass their efforts? Jesus’ point is that the law is not about sinless perfectionism but about acknowledging sin and committing one’s way wholly to God. Psalm 19 agrees when its references to inadvertent sin put legalism in its place. Torah drives those who know they are sinners to rely only on the gracious mercy of God. That is the Old Testament gospel—not that humans can keep the demands of Torah perfectly but that God graciously provides a way for sinners to be restored to right relationship with him.
Finally, how can keeping the law be a delight? Is not any restriction on our personal freedom a painful burden that must be borne, not enjoyed? Would not the greatest joy and satisfaction come from being entirely free to pursue our own desires and purposes without restriction? In this regard the comments of Jean Paul Sartre, one of the greatest articulators of existentialist philosophy, are significant. According to Sartre humans are absolutely free and yet “forlorn.” Both freedom and forlornness are the result of the fact (in Sartre’s view) “that God does not exist and that we have to face all the consequences of this.”33 Furthermore, Sartre claims that existentialists
think it very distressing that God does not exist, because all possibility of finding values in a heaven of values disappears along with Him; there can no longer be an a priori Good, since there is no infinite and perfect consciousness to think it. Nowhere is it written that the Good exists, that we must be honest, that we must not lie; because the fact is we are on a plane where there are only men. Dostoevsky said, “if God didn’t exist, everything would be possible.” That is the very starting point of existentialism. Indeed, everything is permissible if God does not exist, and as a result man is forlorn, because neither within him nor without does he find anything cling to.34
If God does not exist, there is no purpose or value in life. Humans are absolutely free to choose to make of life (or not to make of it) whatever they choose.
This circumstance leads Sartre to conclude that humans are “condemned to be free. This means that no limits to my freedom can be found except freedom itself or, if you prefer, that we are not free to cease being free.”35 Absolute freedom is “condemnation” because there is no meaning or purpose behind anything humans do. Only the existence of some mind or purpose beyond humans themselves can give meaning to life. That is God. For Sartre God does not exist.
But in the world of Israel, where God does exist, Torah is a delight because it offers shape, meaning, and purpose to life. It offers guidance for appropriate relation to God. I remember working one summer in a factory that made corrugated cardboard boxes. The process of printing, cutting, folding, gluing, stacking, and shipping boxes of a variety of shapes and purposes was fascinating for a summer employee who did not have to look forward to a long career of box-making.
But I remember a day when I arrived at work for the night shift only to discover that the machine to which my crew had been assigned had broken down and was in the process of being repaired. I found myself left with nothing to do for almost a whole eight-hour shift from 11 P.M. to 7:00 A.M. I could not go home since I had to stand by in case the machine went on line again. Never have I spent a more “forlorn” eight hours! I was free, but I had no purpose or direction to order my time. I spent most of my shift trying to look busy sweeping nonexistent dust particles from one part of the shop to another. I was almost delighted the next night to resume the monotonous and tiring labor of stacking endless piles of boxes as they came off the line.
Humans are not left alone and forlorn with no purpose or meaning in life. God’s Word—his Torah—is a delight because through it we discover who God is and how to assume our place within his creation—a place of unexpected honor, responsibility, and communion with him.