FOR THE DIRECTOR of music. To the tune of “Do Not Destroy.” Of David. A miktam.
1Do you rulers indeed speak justly?
Do you judge uprightly among men?
2No, in your heart you devise injustice,
and your hands mete out violence on the earth.
3Even from birth the wicked go astray;
from the womb they are wayward and speak lies.
4Their venom is like the venom of a snake,
like that of a cobra that has stopped its ears,
5that will not heed the tune of the charmer,
however skillful the enchanter may be.
6Break the teeth in their mouths, O God;
tear out, O LORD, the fangs of the lions!
7Let them vanish like water that flows away;
when they draw the bow, let their arrows be blunted.
8Like a slug melting away as it moves along,
like a stillborn child, may they not see the sun.
9Before your pots can feel the heat of the thorns—
whether they be green or dry—the wicked will be swept away.
10The righteous will be glad when they are avenged,
when they bathe their feet in the blood of the wicked.
11Then men will say,
“Surely the righteous still are rewarded;
surely there is a God who judges the earth.”
Original Meaning
DESPITE ITS UNUSUAL introductory verse directed to “you rulers” in the second person, Psalm 58 is at its heart a plea to God for deliverance and redress. Acknowledging that the world is dominated by the twisted power of the wicked, the psalmist calls on God to punish them and set everything right so that all humanity will admit that “surely the righteous still are rewarded; surely there is a God who judges the earth” (58:11).
The psalm is divided into three sections: a description of the evil influence of the wicked (58:1–5), a plea for divine judgment (58:6–8), and an expression of confidence (58:9–11).
The Heading (58:0)
NO NEW TERMS are introduced in the heading of Psalm 58. Like all the psalms since Psalm 51, this one is referred to “the director of music” and attributed to David. Additionally, Psalm 58 is the third consecutive psalm categorized as a miktam1 and shares with Psalms 57–59 the suggested tune ʾal tašḥet (“Do Not Destroy”).2 Unlike the other psalms in this miktam grouping (Pss. 56–60), Psalm 58 does not exhibit in its heading a historical note linking the psalm to an event in the life of David (or any other person).3
The Evil Influence of the Wicked (58:1–5)
THE PSALM OPENS with a direct confrontation of the “rulers,”4 who are responsible to ensure that righteous judgment prevails in the affairs of the community. The psalmist rather sarcastically asks these powerful individuals whether they “indeed” deliver righteous judgments (58:1),5 and then he provides a negative answer to the question. They “devise injustice” rather than “speak justly/righteously,” and they “mete out violence” rather than “judge uprightly.”6 The all-pervasive character of their corruption has persisted from the moment of their birth.7
The corrupt judges are likened to dangerous, venomous cobras, who are unwilling to be entranced and controlled even by the most skilled snake charmer. The image draws on the awe that the street-performing snake charmer must have produced in the spectator by his seeming ability to control the deadly and vicious cobra.8 Here, however, the human vipers are so intent on their evil from birth that they have become completely inured to any persuasion or control, wanting only to lash out and harm.
Plea for Divine Judgment (58:6–8)
THE PSALMIST SWITCHES imagery to call for divine judgment on the corrupt judges. Now they are fierce lions seeking to rend their prey, and he calls on God to render them impotent and toothless. To ask God to “break the teeth” of the enemy sounds like a desire for an incredibly violent and harsh attack, unless the imagery of the beast of prey is kept in mind. The psalmist is not asking for a preemptive strike against those he dislikes. Rather, he is calling on God to break the deadly grip of the ravenous beast on the trapped prey in order to free and deliver it.9 The context of peril at the mercy of ferocious beasts of prey makes connections with 57:4, where the enemies’ teeth are likened to implements of war. The passage also resonates with the thanksgiving offered in 124:6: “Praise be to the LORD, who has not let us be torn by their teeth.”
A string of changing images follows, expressing the psalmist’s desire that the oppressive wicked may cease to enjoy effective existence. He wants them to evaporate like water poured out on the desert sand (58:7a), their blunted arrows to bounce harmlessly off those whom they attack (58:7b). Although (as anyone who has lived for any period of time in the Pacific Northwest can tell you) slugs do not melt away, the trail of slime they leave behind looks like a cube of ice gradually dissolving away to nothingness. Finally, in the harshest rebuke yet, the psalmist wishes that the wicked had never been born, nipping the long process of their wayward wickedness (cf. 58:3) in the bud.
Expression of Confidence (58:9–11)
PSALM 58 NOW turns to expressions of confidence in deliverance. The fate of the wicked is already sealed—they will be swept away and come to nothing.10 The righteous are depicted as rejoicing in their vindication11 in particularly harsh terms. Bathing the feet in the blood of the enemy is a traditional ancient Near Eastern way of expressing the utter defeat of the enemy. The image is not so much of a ritual bathing of the feet as wading through blood left as the result of the carnage of battle. Dahood also suggests that the phrase could be translated “wash from the feet the blood of the enemy” as a final act after a successful campaign.12
Vindication comes with the public recognition and acknowledgment that the righteous are “rewarded” by God. The use of the double ʾak (“surely”) emphasizes the change in public perception that this final acknowledgment affirms. Those willing to accept the perverted judgments of the wicked judges are now forced to accept the truth.
The final line drives home the reality that God is concerned with human justice and that the justice humans mete out is (or at least ought to be) reflective of the kind of justice God himself would (and eventually will) render as judge of the earth.
Bridging Contexts
A GOD OF VENGEANCE. “The righteous will be glad when they are avenged, when they bathe their feet in the blood of the wicked” (58:10). These statements of vengeful glee seem a bit over the top! I have difficulty squaring splashing joyfully about in my enemy’s blood with an appropriate Christian response to the world. Yet these are traditional images of victory over one’s enemies—especially the national variety that threaten a whole people or the universal defeat of the powers and minions of Satan. Besides our passage, Psalm 68:21–23 offers a similar picture: “Surely God will crush the heads of his enemies . . . [he] will bring them from Bashan . . . that you may plunge your feet in the blood of your foes, while the tongues of your dogs have their share.”
Consider as well the picture of the victorious Yahweh fresh from judgment on the nations: “Why are your garments red,” the narrator asks, “like those of one treading the winepress?” Yahweh replies, “I have trodden the winepress alone; from the nations no one was with me. I trampled them in my anger and trod them down in my wrath; their blood spattered my garments, and I stained all my clothing” (Isa. 63:2–3). Compare Isaiah’s image with Revelation’s description of the judging angels: “The angel swung his sickle on the earth, gathered its grapes and threw them into the great winepress of God’s wrath. They were trampled in the winepress outside the city, and blood flowed out of the press, rising as high as the horses’ bridles for a distance of 1,600 stadia” (Rev. 14:19–20).13 Ezekiel similarly pictures God’s judgment on Sidon: “I will send a plague upon her and make blood flow within her. The slain will fall within her, with the sword against her on every side. Then they will know that I am the LORD” (Ezek. 28:23).
These are extreme images of the ultimate defeat of God’s enemies—enemies whose rampant evil has made the life of the righteous a hell on earth. These incorrigible vipers are removed by God so that the intended order of creation can be restored. Though the images are extreme, the joy in response to the restoration of God’s true order is real and ought not to be denigrated. (See also the Bridging Contexts section of Ps. 3.)
Rulers or gods? The opening verse of Psalm 58 introduces what may be an intentional wordplay. The consonantal Hebrew text behind the word translated “rulers” is ʾlm, and these three consonants are variously vocalized with vowels: ʾelem (“silence”; the traditional but less probable reading); ʾelîm (“rulers”; the plural of ʾayil [“ram/ruler”]); or ʾelim (“gods”; the plural of ʾel, the generic term for deity in the ancient Near East). These last two words would have sounded almost identical to a listener, and herein lies the force of the wordplay. Both gods and rulers were expected to oversee the administration of justice on the earth, to limit violence, and maintain social order.
But who could take the gods to task for any failure in these ideals? The gods in common understanding were above human reproach. It is not so much that they were thought to be morally perfect or even superior to humans. In fact, it seems clear especially in Mesopotamia that the gods and goddesses were ruled by the same emotions, passions, and foibles as their human counterparts. They fought among themselves for power. They could be deceived and tricked, misled by humans and other gods alike. The only real distinctions separating gods and humans were power and immortality; the gods were immensely powerful and were thought to live forever, so that humans had to deal carefully with the gods.14
The rather quick transition from the opening castigation of the ʾlm to the chaotic results of their misrule leaves the decision ambiguous whether we are describing human “rulers” or “gods.” While either is possible, the general attitude of the opening verses seems to come down on the side of “gods.” With the emphasis on “judging uprightly among men” and the parallel phrase “your hands mete out violence on the earth,” divine rulers of all humanity and the whole earth seem more likely.15 As a confirmation, the concluding verse of the psalm hints at a contrast between the morally defective and ineffective rule of the pagan gods and the upright and powerful God of Israel. The inconsistent rule of the former leads to violence and anarchy among humans, while the sovereignty of the true God leads to the destruction of the wicked and the reward of the righteous (58:11). Along the way, however, the wordplay ensures that venal, human rulers will receive their comeuppance as well.16
Contemporary Significance
SETTING ALL THINGS RIGHT. As a child growing up in southeast Texas, I learned early on that “the only good snake is a dead snake!” We lived in a rural area where snakes in general and poisonous snakes in particular abounded. We saw ground rattlesnakes, copperheads, coral snakes, and cottonmouth water moccasins with regularity. By the time I could remember, my mother had been bitten by a cottonmouth and my sister by a ground rattler. I remember returning home one Sunday after church and having to wait until my father killed a large black snake that had invaded our screened back porch while we were gone.
We were skittish about snakes, to say the least! They were a fact of life we had to deal with. While playing in the weed and vine-filled patch of “pasture” that served as our playground, I often crawled around a corner in the pathway and confronted a coiled cottonmouth blocking the way. I would then simply back around the corner again and find another way to my objective. Snakes were not our friends, and often we killed them first and then checked to see if they were poisonous or not.
I must admit I never felt guilty about killing those snakes. They were enemies. They were evil. They were a threat to life and disrupted the blessings of God available in our little two-acre patch of God’s creation. As I grew older, I mended my ways and began to try to distinguish between poisonous and nonpoisonous varieties of snakes. King snakes, milk snakes, rat snakes, garden snakes were allowed to ply their way across our small kingdom without hindrance. I could even appreciate the benefit some offered in keeping the rural rodent population in check. But I never quite lost my fear of snakes or my knee-jerk flight-or-fight reaction to a sudden encounter.
The destruction of God’s enemies is part of bringing a fallen and distorted creation back under his sovereignty. It is part of transforming the world by removing evil once and for all in order to restore God’s original purpose and intention. What can a charmer do with a cobra that refuses to participate harmoniously in the charming game? The cobra that has “stopped its ears” and seeks only to destroy will itself be eliminated from the restored creation of God.
I long for that restoration, when evil will be destroyed and creation harmony reigns at last between human beings, humans and animals, and all of us with the physical world itself. I am just not sure how comfortable I will be with snakes in heaven?17
Does your god matter? It does matter, it seems, whether your god is a deity of moral consistency, compassionate justice, and equity. Without these characteristics of stability the four hundred plus pagan deities of the ancient Near East made life among humans a painful, uncertain, chancy thing at best. Even if your personal deity was on your side, you could not always rely on his or her power to match that of any opposing deity.
In the Mesopotamian Flood account, Enki, the god of wisdom who conceived the creation of humans and thus continued to have a warm spot in his divine heart for them, three times was able to avert complete destruction of humankind when the chief god, Enlil, determined to destroy them all. Enki was able to teach humans to avert plagues, famines, and droughts sent by Enlil to eliminate them, but only after the human population had been severely depleted. Ultimately, Enlil realized that Enki was undoing his plans and struck back with cunning. He bound Enki (and all the other gods) to an unbreakable oath not to warn any human of the upcoming new destruction. Then Enlil employed the restricted waters of chaos—the domain under Enki’s own control—to accomplish the destruction.
Enki, however (being the god of wisdom after all), was still able to warn his human follower Atrahasis by means of a ruse that also allowed him technically to keep his vow. Enki stood outside the hut where Atrahasis was sleeping at night and spoke (loudly!) to the wall of the hut. His message was something like, “Wall! Wall! If I were you, I would build a boat!” Atrahasis, being no fool, got the message, built the boat, and survived the subsequent flood in which the rest of humanity drowned.
After the flood, Enlil (who was at first enraged to find he had been neutralized once again) was finally persuaded by Enki to accept a resolution of the divine-human problem that allowed humans to continue to live. The solution was to reduce human population (and thus the incessant activity and noise that had caused the conflict with Enlil in the first place) by instituting certain forms of population control: infertility, miscarriage, still birth, high infant mortality. What must have been agonizing experiences for men and women in the ancient world are here reinterpreted as the necessary barrier preventing the total destruction of humans by their gods.
It does matter who your god is! Yahweh is the God who takes no pleasure in evil. Wickedness does not dwell with him. Yahweh is at the same time incompatible with evil and relentlessly good. As the preceding Psalm 57 put it, “great is [his] covenant loyalty reaching to the heavens; [his] enduring faithfulness reaches to the skies” (57:10, lit. trans.). Psalm 58 agrees, for in Yahweh “there is a God who judges the earth” with uprightness (58:1, 11).