Ps. 142 (Out of prison)

Aloud / to Yhwh / I cry

                Aloud / to Yhwh / I plead for aid

I pour out / before him / my worries

                My troubles / before him / I relate

When my spirit faints within

                You are one / who knows my path

I glance to the right / and look

                But nobody takes / any notice of me

Escape is impossible / for me

                Nobody cares about me.

The psalmist begins with his out loud crying to Yhwh, pleading for aid. He tells Yhwh about his worries and his troubles which are making his spirit faint. And yet, while he is unable to find strength or see through his worries and troubles, he knows that Yhwh his path. His darkness—his inability to see a way forward—is deepened by the fact that his spirit is fainting but that “nobody takes any notice” of him. Not only are his troubles and worries making it impossible for him to see a way forward into life, but he also does not have any companions who help him see a way forward. Internally (his own spirit) and externally (companions) he is blind and alone.

That is why his trust in Yhwh is so important—he has nothing in himself or outside of himself—that he can rely on to shepherd him through the darkness. That is why “escape is impossible” except through Yhwh hearing his cries.

I cry to you / Yhwh

                I say / You are my refuge

                My sustenance / in the land / of the living

Listen to my shouting

                Since I am brought / very low

Save me / from my persecutors

                Since they are too strong for me

Bring me / out of prison

                So that I can give thanks / to your name

Around me / the righteous will crowd

                When you treat me / with kindness.

The psalmist’s cry to Yhwh has to be seen within the context of his internal and external isolation. When he claims Yhwh as his “refuge” and “my sustenance in the land of the living” he is saying that Yhwh is his only refuge and source of sustenance. Everywhere else he turns, he finds abandonment. Nothing else “in the land of the living” can or will come to his aid. His shouts, which are utterly ignored by men, have to be heard by Yhwh. Only Yhwh can “save him from my persecutors”. He is, again internally and externally, in prison.

It is key to see that his external abandonment—the fact that when he looks “to the right” “nobody takes notice of him”; “nobody cares about me”—does not turn into a bitterness or a source of cursing. In a way, the psalmist accepts his position of isolation and abandonment; he understands it. This is why he knows that when Yhwh “brings him out of prison” and he is again permitted to “give thanks to your name”, then he will “turn to the right” and he will be surrounded by the righteous. They will crowd around him. And they will do so because he will have become the place of Yhwh’s kindness. He will be a inhabit the light of Yhwh and, for that reason, the righteous will be attracted to him.

When we turn to the gospels we find Christ, as he approaches the crucifixion, moving between two realms—that of his father and that of his disciples and of me. In both, Jesus is being pushed further and further into isolation. On the one hand, he approaches his father and asks that the cup be removed, to which the father responds with a “No”. Jesus then gets up and walks over to his disciples, whom he finds asleep. He asks them if they cannot simply stay awake and watch and pray now that the hour is approaching. This entire movement—of receiving the ‘No’ from the father, to the sleeping disciples—is the movement of Christ’s toward his sacrifice. And that movement is one of ever-deepening isolation and abandonment. That is the form our salvation takes in Christ; each step Christ walks deeper into this abandonment is a stone in the edifice of salvation.

In this psalm, we witness this back and forth of Christ. Up to the point of his crucifixion, he turns to his right, and all have abandoned him. He knows his father to be his refuge, but he also knows that his father’s mission is, now, for him to die. We also witness his resurrection—when he is brought out of prison so he can give thanks to his father’s name. And, we see each Pentecost—when around him the righteous crowd, because in him they see the kindness of God. That is a rather poignant way of describing the resurrection—the kindness of God.

Ps 141 (The earth's furrows)

Yhwh / I am calling you / come to me quickly

                Listen to my cry / when I call you

May my prayer / be accepted / as incense before you

                And uplifted hands / as an evening sacrifice.

The psalmist directly addresses Yhwh, “calling him”. He is in urgent need of aid so he implores Yhwh to “listen to my cry.” This calling and crying out is to be regarded “as incense”, and his “uplifted hands, as an evening sacrifice.” Here, the cultic acts of sacrifice are appealed to in order to “attract” Yhwh’s attention—the psalmist’s interior pleading being regarded as acceptable as incense and sacrifice. That the psalmist likens his cry to “incense and sacrifice” speaks well of them—for the psalmist, he knows that Yhwh favorably regards these sacrifices and incense and that they have formed the basis for Yhwh intervening on behalf of a supplicant. Here, he is “offering” his heart like a sacrifice and incense, and his prayer should rise to Yhwh the same way that the smoke of a sacrifice and incense rise to Yhwh. 

Set a guard / Yhwh / on my mouth

                And watch / over the door of my lips

Do not incline my mind / to evil speaking

                To involvement in deeds of wickedness

                With me / who are evildoers

And may I not / eat of their fancy food

                May the righteous strike me / in kindness / and rebuke me

May the finest oil / not adorn my head

                Surely my prayer / is continually directed / against their evil acts.

When they fall into the hands of the Rock / their judge

                They will hear / my words appreciatively

In nearly every other psalm of petition, the psalmist is asking Yhwh to protect him against the wicked and evil—to protect him against their slander or the traps they have hidden; to protect the king against the nations that are pressing in upon him. The threat is almost always external. And yet here, that same request for protection against an external force is internalized. What the psalmist is “calling upon Yhwh” for, like incense and sacrifice, is that Yhwh would take that same protective, divine power and place it within the psalmist himself. That the external guard that would surround a psalmist from his enemies, would now be set up within the psalmist and protect him from himself. That the same, divine protection that would stand at the border of the Land and repel the nations, would now stand at the “door of my lips”. That the same protection that would withstand evil attacks, would now not incline his “mind to evil speaking.” What the psalmist is petitioning for is that he would not become like the evil, external men in the other psalms that the psalmist’s pray for protection against.

The petition that Yhwh “not incline my mind to evil speaking” and “to involvement in deeds of wickedness” deserves some attention. The Our Father contains a similar petition—“lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil”. The implication is clear, although perhaps the precise cause is not. The previous verse speaks about Yhwh setting up a guard on the psalmist’s mouth and for Yhwh to “watch over the door of my lips.” There, the psalmist asks Yhwh to guard against the psalmist’s own actions. In other words, for Yhwh to responsive to the psalmist. In the second verse, though, it appears to reverse that direction, now asking that Yhwh not be responsive but that Yhwh not initiate the inclination to evil speaking and “deeds of wickedness.” It is important to note that these verses are somewhat in parallel—the first verse is about speech, and so is the second. So it is likely that they are actually saying the same thing in parallel fashion. In other words, for the psalmist, his own “inclination” is not understood as that distinct from Yhwh “including his mind to evil speaking”. For the psalmist, if his mind is inclined to evil speech, it is not as if that inclination operates outside of Yhwh’s control. So, for him, if his mind is “inclined to evil” it must also mean that Yhwh has either directed it or permitted it to be directed to evil. In the end, I think we need to let the words stand as they are and pray them both, from both angles. To lessen the second verse to “do not permit my mind to be included to evil speaking” loses much. To do the reverse to the first line and make it into the active does the same.

The psalmist then turns to food, and he asks for protection against his eating “their fancy food”. He does not want the “finest oil to adorn my head.” And, importantly, while he has asked for divine guards against his lips, he now asks that “the righteous strike me in kindness and rebuke me.” The righteous here are carrying out the divine guardianship of Yhwh, through a type of disciplinary action of “striking him”, which is, ultimately, a kindness.

As if by one / who ploughs / and makes furrows in the earth

                Our bones / are strewn / at the mouth of Sheol

Truly to you / Yhwh / Lord / are my eyes directed

                In you I seek refuge / do not expose me to death.

The imagery is of bones being compared to clods of earth that are thrown up by a plough making furrows in the earth. There are “furrows in the earth” but the bones are “strewn at the mouth of Sheol.” Earth – and – Sheol. Harvesting – and – death.

What the psalmist seems to getting at is that the wicked are attempting to “plant a harvest” through their destruction of the righteous. Their planting takes place on ‘earth’, but the effect is one that leaves the righteous “at the mouth of Sheol.” The second line also points to the profanation of the righteous—their bones are not buried, as they should be, but “strewn” at the mouth of Sheol. Everything here points to a deep profanation—of their deaths being compared to “harvest”, to their bones being “strew”, to their lives now approaching the most profane of all places—Sheol and death.

This is why the psalmist turns from this place of profanation to Yhwh—he directs his eyes to Yhwh, now pronouncing the divine Name that establishes life. In Yhwh will he seek refuge. Unlike the wicked, Yhwh will not “expose” him “to death.” The reversal is complete in Yhwh—if the wicked intended to push the righteous into the profane realm of death, then Yhwh will put them into the sphere of holiness and life; if the wicked wanted to strew and expose their bones at Sheol, Yhwh will “not expose” him to death.

Guard me / from the jaws of the traps / they have set for me

                And the snares of evildoers

May the wicked fall one and all / into their own nets

                While I myself escape.

Ps 140 (repairing the torn fabric)

Rescue me / Yhwh / from evil people

                From men of violence / preserve me

Those who put their minds / to evil schemes

                Forever warmongering.

They use their tongues / as incisively as a snake

                Secreted under their lips / is a viper’s venom.

Protect me / Yhwh / from the clutches of the wicked

                From men of violence / preserve me

                Those who scheme / to trip up my feet

The arrogant / hide traps for me

                And the corrupt / spread nets

                Along the path / they set snares for me. SELAH

The psalmist is asking Yhwh for protection and rescue. He is being hunted by evil people. They put their minds to evil schemes, but their weapon is their tongues. Their tongues are like snakes that “secretes venom under their lips”. Likewise, they “spread nets and set snares” for the psalmist.

Here we see the familiar images of hiddenness that are associated with evil, and it is because evil operates in this hidden fashion that the psalmist looks to Yhwh for protection and rescue. In this stanza evil operates behind the scenes or beneath the surface. However the metaphor is employed, it is partially in the open but its danger is concealed. The psalmist is aware of it; he knows he has enemies. But he cannot anticipate where all of their attacks will come from. More troubling to him is that they may catch him in their “nets and snares” or “trip up his feet.” In other words, he is concerned that he may become enmeshed within their schemes such that he either would become complicit in their schemes or be made to look guilty.

It is with this in mind that we should understand the psalmist’s cry for protection. The psalmist does not want to be hunted and killed by these men, whether that is a physical death or the death of his reputation. More deeply still, perhaps, is that the psalmist does not want to be driven from the “right path” to Yhwh. He wants to remain within Yhwh’s sphere and not be driven out of it, either through fear or through inadvertence. He does not want to be enmeshed with the “wicked” or caught in their “clutches” or subjected to their “venom” or “corruption.” Everything here speaks of an evil, profane, and profaning, darkness. It is, I think, this that frightens him the most and why he looks to Yhwh for protection. Which is not to say that he sees two sources of fear—his own death and being misaligned with Yhwh. They are, in essence, the same, though perhaps distinguishable.

I declare to Yhwh / You are my God

                Listen / Yhwh / to my imploring cry.

Yhwh / Lord / my strong savior

                You have given my head / cover in time of battle

Here, the psalmist refers to his covenantal bond to Yhwh in the short “You are my God”. This bond forms the basis for his request that Yhwh “listen to my imploring cry.” He then moves into the past, when Yhwh has “covered in his head in time of battle.” What Yhwh has done before in recognition of his covenantal bond and obligation, the psalmist asks that he do again—cover his head from the attacks of evil men.

Do not grant / Yhwh / the desires of the wicked

                As for their plots / O God / wrench them away. SELAH

The heads of those / who surround me.

                May the harm done by their lips / overwhelm them

May coals / be dropped / upon them.

                May ill plunge them / into pits / no more to rise

May the slanderers lose their homes / in the land

                As for the men of violence / may evil hunt them / and push them down.

Whereas the psalmist asks Yhwh to “listen to my cries” he implores him to ignore the “desires of the wicked.” He asks that Yhwh leave them vulnerable, without divine aid, protection or endorsement. And to not simply leave them alone but to “wrench away” their plots against the psalmist. This then shifts to evil returning on the wicked. The venom/fire from their mouths, that they hoped to secrete into the psalmist, here “overwhelms them.” That same venom-fire now “drops upon them.” And the destruction they sought to bring upon the psalmist now plunges them into pits. The end of this is dispossession—they lose their homes in the land—and the hunters become the hunted. The evil they sought to wield now turns on them, hunting them and pushing them down.

The men of violence—the warmongers—will now have the violence of evil hunt them down, declare war on them, and push them into the ground.

The imagery here, as Yhwh begins his “undertaking of the cause of the afflicted”, is of evil devouring itself. It is turned upon its own agents—the evil and wicked men—and in destroying them, it destroys itself. This is key—Yhwh’s presence makes evil “suicidal”. When Yhwh stands “far off”, evil is administered by its agents—the wicked and evil men—and it is focused outward onto the righteous and the innocent. However, when Yhwh’s presence is ‘activated’ or, when he draws close, or turns his face toward the afflicted—then evil turns upon its own. This is the ‘beginning of the end’ of evil and wickedness, like a star that previously shined outward now turns upon itself and collapses under its own weight taking all of its ‘light’ with it. It is important to see how this affects the wicked—because they are pulled down along with it. They are now consumed by the evil they believed they were in control over.

I know that Yhwh / will undertake

                The cause of the afflicted

                Securing justice / for the needy

The righteous / will surely give thanks / to your name

                The upright / will abide in your presence.

The psalmist concludes with the psalmist’s certainty that Yhwh will “undertake the cause of the afflicted”. He will secure justice for the needy. There will come a time when the righteous will give thanks for Yhwh’s deliverance, and the upright will “abide in Yhwh’s presence.” These concluding lines bring the psalm together, gathering its various threads, and showing us that the point of the “stitching” has been to repair a torn fabric. And that once that is done there will the most sought after of all blessings—the ability of the upright to abide in Yhwh’s presence. Once justice is established, once Yhwh undertakes the cause of afflicted—then will the earth be made habitable and a place of Yhwh’s presence. This is the great vision of Revelation—at the end, when the earth has been cleansed of the evil and justice has been established—then can heaven descend, then will the cosmos be made into the immaculate bride, then can it sustain the weight of holiness and glory—the Presence of the Lamb.

Ps. 139 (Pt 2; in the service of petition)

You have known / my being through and through

                My bone structure / was not concealed from you

                When I was being made / in secret

                Worked in motley fashion / deep down in the earth

Your eyes / saw my embryo

                And in your book / are all written down

Days that were planned

                Before any of them occurred.

How difficult / I find your thoughts of me / god

                How vast they are in their totality

If I tried to count them / they would be more than grains of sand

                If I came to the end / I would not have finished with you

The psalmist now continues his mediation on Yhwh’s creation of him. Every detail from his origin in the earth and his mother’s womb to the end of his life is known to Yhwh. His very structure, his bones themselves, are known to Yhwh. From this known-beginning the psalmist turns to Yhwh’s book in which all of his days are written down. Yhwh does not know him from his creation and then leave him; Yhwh’s knowing presence continues through every day of his life. Just like the words that Yhwh knows before the psalmist speaks them, so too are his days known to Yhwh before they occur.

The psalmist declares that the amount of Yhwh’s thoughts of him are more than the grains of sand. It is an important statement—his own thoughts of himself pale in comparison to the vastness of Yhwh’s thoughts. Yhwh knows him to a degree that he will never obtain to. Again, there is this tremendous sense of being overtaken and encased within Yhwh’s thoughts.

I wish you would kill the wicked / god

                And that bloodthirsty men / would leave me

Men who mention you maliciously

                Who talk falsely / your foes

Do I not hate those / who hate you / Yhwh

                Don’t I loathe / those who attack you?

I do hate them / hate them utterly

                I regard them / as enemies of mine.

We now come to the crux of psalm—what the entire psalm has been leading up—which is that the psalmist wishes that Yhwh would “kill the wicked”. The depth of Yhwh’s knowledge of the psalmist is now turned on the “bloodthirsty men” and those who “mention you maliciously”. Yhwh, through his almost “wonderfully transcendent” knowledge of the psalmist, knows that he “hates those who hate you”; that he “loathes those who attack you.” Those who are enemies of Yhwh are enemies of his.

As we have seen, though, Yhhw’s knowledge is not one that simply “sees what stands within the light”. For the psalmist, as for many, wickedness and evil operate in a hidden fashion, a type of darkness. That is something of its nature. It does not operate on the surface of things but, instead, hides in the grasses, like snake; or, it moves at midnight, shrouded in darkness. Evil men are night-creatures who stand hidden from every form of sun-god. For Yhwh, though, this hidden nature of evil Is not hidden. It stands within the light of his gaze and is as clear to Yhwh as the psalmist’s own words and motives. More crucially still is that Yhwh “examines” them just as he “examines” the psalmist. As we saw above, this examination is not observation, but a weighing and judging. Yhwh haunts the darkness, always already behind and before it, patiently waiting for a time push back the curtain of darkness and reveal his own light-that-transcends-darkness in judgment.

This is where we see, concretely, that this type of almost philosophical approach to Yhwh’s knowledge is put in service of a destruction of evil. Or, we might say, philosophy is put in the service of petition and prayer. This is something we have seen throughout many psalms—that the psalmists are not so much concerned with understanding as with drawing Yhwh into action in order to end evil. They can delve deeply into the mystery of Yhwh’s providential insight, but that is penultimate to their main concern for justice and the establishment of right order.

Examine me / God / and know my mind

Probe me / and know how anxious I am

See if I have been behaving / as an idolator

                And guide me / in the ancient path.

Ps. 139 (Pt. 1; what you intended for evil)

Yhwh / you examine me

                And you yourself / know me

You know when I sit down /and get up

                You sense my thought / from far away

You analyze when I travel / and when I rest

                In fact / with all my behavior / you are familiar

For example / a word does not need to be / on my tongue

                For you to know / all about it / Yhwh

Back and front / you enclose me

                You put your hand upon me

Such knowledge / is wonderful / and beyond me

                It is so transcendent / I cannot attain it

The first stanza focuses on Yhwh’s always-already prior knowledge of the psalmist. From his movements to his thoughts to his words, Yhwh encloses him. Yhwh is both before and after every movement, thought and word. And Yhwh is not simply “there”. He “examines” him; he “analyzes” him. He “knows all about” the psalmist. It is a penetrating, weighing knowledge. We will see later that this ‘examine’ forms the basis for the psalmist’s later petition for justice. Yhwh is not simply aware—he judges, he examines, and, as such, he does not stand aloof like some observer or tourist watching his people.

This always-already before and after nature of Yhwh’s knowledge is, for that reason, “wonderful and beyond” him. It is so transcendent and “cannot attain it”.

Where could I go / to avoid your spirit

                Where could I get away / from your presence?

If I went up to heaven / you would be there

                If I lay down in Sheol / there you would be

Were I to use / the wings of the dawn

                And go and live / at the furthest part of the sea

Your hand / would be even there / to guide me

                Your right hand would take hold of me

Or were I to ask / the darkness / to cover me

                The light around me / to turn into night

Even darkness / is not dark / for you

                Night is as light / as the day

                Light and dark / are just the same

Indeed / you yourself created / my kidneys

                You wove me together / in my mother’s womb

I give you thanks because

                You are awesomely / wonderful

                So wonderful / are the things / you have made

In the second stanza the psalmist places himself in a type of hypothetical opposition to Yhwh. What if he were avoid Yhwh? If he went to heaven or if he died to Sheol, Yhwh would be there. If he flew from the dawn to the other side of the sea, he would be there. The first is “high to low”. The second is “east to west”. Even at all of these, he would be running to Yhwh, not away from him.

That is not actually all that is important here. The first portion goes from the place of holiness and Presence to that of profane and absence (heaven to earth). The second section pertains to the “day”, which flows into the next part of the psalm, dealing with “night”. The contrast there between ‘day’ and night’ is like heaven and Sheol—it moves from the ‘sacred’ realm of light to the profane realm of ‘night’. The psalmist expertly weaves these together.

But what if he shrouded himself in darkness? Importantly, in Genesis, the darkness or night is not understood as “good”. And, in Revelation, with the consummation of everything, the night will be done away with. As such, the night and darkness are often the place of demonic forces. Or what if he simply lived in the night. In both instances, these oppositions to Yhwh are not that at all. Yhwh’s “light” is more deeply rooted than the darkness. Darkness is not dark to him, but light.

What we see here is key—that Yhwh is present both in the realms of the “sacred” (heaven and the daytime) and the “profane” (Sheol and darkness). So, even if the psalmist were to, Jonah-like, run from Yhwh, Yhwh would still be there to guide him. More to the point, it would “take hold of him”. If he were to cloak himself in what is opposed to Yhwh, that is still pregnant with Yhwh’s light. This should set the stage for how it is that Yhwh can use evil means or parties in order to accomplish his goals. He can use Joseph’s brothers’ intentions of “evil” and use them for “good”, even to the point of their own conversion and salvation. He can take evil Babylon and whistle to them to come and destroy Jerusalem, but in the end they can be subjected themselves to a more devastating judgment. The reason is what we say here—that Yhwh stands behind (he does not cause) every profane reality. To him, all that darkness of evil intent and profane empire, is still “light”. It does not blind Yhwh.

The concluding lines move this insight into the psalmist himself, into his “kidneys”. The psalmist “interior” life, his conscience, his thoughts, all of these are created by Yhwh, and “woven together” by him in his mother’s womb. This “in-sight” by Yhwh is literally described as being stitched into the psalmist. Just as Yhwh created the boundaries that he now stands before and beyond (heaven and Sheol; night and day; sacred and profane), so too does that same Yhwh now stand before, after and more interior to the psalmist in Yhwh’s creation of him.

Ps 138 (Time between promise and fulfillment)

I give thanks / with all my heart

                Before the gods / I celebrate you with music

I prostrate myself / toward your holy temple

                And give thanks / to your name

                For your loyal love / and your faithfulness

Because you have made your name / and promise

                To surpass all else.

At the time I called / you answered me

                And made me exultant / putting strength within me

The psalmist is within the Temple’s courts, prostrate toward the Temple’s center. He is in the presence of holiness. And within that space he speaks with his own heart of thanksgiving, as if this “all heart” is a type of sacrifice to be presented to Yhwh. The theme of thanks pervades the psalm.

For the psalmist, his thanks begins in Yhwh’s “making his name and promise surpass all else.” The psalmist called and Yhwh answered him, making him an exultant, putting Yhwh’s strength within him. The closing of the psalmist provides more detail—the psalmist was in trouble but into that trouble Yhwh granted him life in the face of his enemies fury. Yhwh acted as his avenger. Yhwh stretched out his right hand to him and helped him.

The psalmist gives thanks to Yhwh’s name for this because in it he sees a power that lifts Yhwh’s name above everything. The psalmist also sees Yhwh making his promise “surpass all else.” This act of ‘surpassing’ refers to Yhwh’s accomplishment of his promises. The psalmist sees how Yhwh cannot be deterred when he makes a promise, that no power can stand in the way of his fulfilling the promise. This is key—the time between the promise and the fulfillment is the space wherein Yhwh’s name will be raised up. For Yhwh to promise and then act, rather than simply acting, shows that Yhwh is faithful and it also shows Yhwh’s authority. Until the promise is fulfilled there is the sense that Yhwh may either change his mind or he will be thwarted in carrying it out. When it is accomplished, though, Yhwh is shown both faithful to his intent and that no circumstance or power can circumvent him. His faithfulness and his power are always greater, as if the time between promise and fulfillment are always-already within his control.

The power/glory that shines out from this promise and fulfillment is public—it goes out to the Cosmos. That is why the psalmist now says for “all the kings in the world give you thanks in reaction to hearing of the promises of your mouth.”

It is important to see that in the first portion of the psalm the psalmist thanks Yhwh “before the gods (of the nations”). Here, he implores the “kings in the world” to give Yhwh thanks. Heaven and earth are here giving witness to Yhwh’s power and faithfulness in carrying out his promises. These “gods and kings” are those who could, potentially, attempt to thwart Yhwh. They are the ones who inhabit the realm of power. And yet in this psalm, they are peaceably turned toward Yhwh in thanks. And Yhwh’s fulfillment of his promises is the soil from which this thanks springs. As Yhwh speaks his promises from his mouth, they sing back to him thanksgiving from theirs.

The kings in the world, in response to this promise-and-fulfillment, turn their gaze toward Yhwh. They do not turn from him, nor do they grow jealous or possessive over their own glory. Instead, they “sing of Yhhw’s ways, and that Yhhw’s glory is so great.” Here, the great sing to the Great.

Let all the kings in the world / give you thanks

                In reaction to hearing of the promises / of your mouth

And let them sing / of Yhwh’s ways

                That Yhwh’s glory / is so great

For high as Yhwh is/ he looks upon the lowly

                But from afar he takes cognizance / of the proud

One of the signs of Yhwh’s greatness is not simply that he can make a promise and bring it to its fulfillment but that he looks upon the lowly and sees the proud “from afar”. This is not only an expression of Yhwh’s mercy. It is, primarily, an expression of his authority and his justice. Yhwh stands so far above the ‘great’ that what directs his gaze is often a type of inversion of the way man and the gods see. For them, often, the lowly are low because they lack divine aid and assistance, while the proud are high because they have been, as the psalmist has, strengthened by god(s). In other words, the social structure reflects the divine aid and valuation.

But Yhwh stands so high above both man and god(s) that the social structure almost has no ‘high and low’. Rather, something else directs his gaze. For him, the proud are things to be ignored as the “lowly” are ignored by man and gods, while the lowly are to be “looked upon”. In other words, he comes close to what man and gods stand apart from, and stands apart from those whom man and the gods stand close to.

When I walk / amid trouble

                You grant me life / in face of my enemies’ fury

You stretch out / your hand

                Your right hand / helps me

Yhwh acts as avenger / on my behalf

                Yhwh / your loyal love is everlasting

                Do not abandon / the product of your hands.

It is because Yhwh stands so far removed from the gaze of man and gods that provides the psalmist with such assurance. His lowly stature is something that Yhwh has regard for. Yhwh, in a sense, can ‘haunt’ behind the gaze of man and gods, lifting up those who are ignored and bringing low those who are endowed with attention and privilege.

Ps 137 (Pt. 3; The Terrible Beatitude)

Remember / Yhwh

                Against the Edomites

                Jerusalem’s day

Those who said, / “Lay bare, lay bare

                Down to its foundations

Lady Babylon / you devastator

                How fortunate / is the one who repays you

                With the treatment / you gave us

How fortunate / is the one who seizes and dashes

                Your children / against the rocks.

The psalmist has been plagued by his memory of Zion and Jerusalem. The destruction of this sacramental city and Temple was, for the psalmist and his people, tantamount to the destruction of the Cosmos. It left them in a state of exile, in a Babylonian state of mockery, temptation, and torture.

It is for this reason that the psalmist turns again to memory, imploring Yhwh now to “remember.” The psalmist’s memory is one of absence; Yhwh cannot be adequately remembered in Babylon because he cannot be liturgically called upon without the Temple. Yhwh’s ‘memory’, on the other hand, is one of actualizing his Presence. And, for those who are evil, Yhwh’s memory becomes their destruction. For those who are within Yhwh’s covenant sphere, it is for their deliverance.

The psalmist implores Yhwh to remember or, activate his Presence, by referring back to the Edomites and “Jerusalem’s day.” This seems to refer to a time when the Edomites collaborated with the Israelites shortly before the fall of Jerusalem in 586 BC, only to abandon them at the last minute to the Babylonians. They stood by while the city was overtaken and laid waste. Obadiah 11-14 speaks of their faithlessness and the destruction that would fall on them for their betrayal. The psalmist, then, looks back to this time, and asks Yhwh to “remember it”, to arouse his righteous anger, at the time when Jerusalem was destroyed. In a way, the psalmist is asking for Yhwh to enter into the same memory the psalmist has of Zion’s destruction and, from within that space, to ignite within Yhwh his violent concern for his city and Temple.

When the psalmist sees this flame ignited he begins his terrible act of beatitude—unlike others that see beatitude in the abundance of life that is produced from following Yhwh and wisdom, here that ‘bliss’ is transferred to a vision of vengeance and righteous punishment on Babylon. Babylon, the devastator, will be devastated. Babylon’s children (her cities) will now be dashed against rocks just as ‘daughter’ Jerusalem was dashed. This is a terrible and absolute ‘eye for an eye’, the boomerang justice of Yhwh as he ignites Babylon’s sins and they are hurled back upon her own head, or, to say it another way, Yhwh ignites their sins and they are consumed in the flames. That the psalmist is calling for the destruction of Babylon’s cities—her ‘children’—I think is clear from the fact that the initial quote that is now coming back on Babylon’s head was “Lay bare, lay bare, down to its foundations.”. That city wide call for Jerusalem’s destruction will now destroy Babylon and her children.

This type of violence pervades the New Testament. Jesus refers to city’s destruction in the wake of their rejection of him and his disciples and Revelation is this in dramatic form as the stench of Babylon reaches heaven and is turned into flaming incense, thrown down upon her (and her children/cities).

Finally, we should note how Babylon is here being reduced to the silence that the psalmist and his people experienced while they were in Babylon and the curses they levelled against themselves if they forgot Jerusalem as their highest joy. Their liturgical/physical silence—that totalizing silence we spoke of—is the state that Babylon will exist once her sins are ignited by Yhwh’s Presence. And their destruction—what causes their total annihilation—is not simply that they destroyed Jerusalem. It is also their treatment of Yhwh’s people—their mockery of them and their acts of torture as they asked them to sings the songs of Zion in a foreign land. Throughout the Scriptures, a cities’ destruction is a public act of shame. All of the neighboring people see it and “nod their heads”. In a sense, then, Babylon is being turned inside out. The mockery they levelled at those in their midst is not being externalized such that they become the mocked.

Ps 137 (Pt. 2; curse of forgetfulness)

If I forget you / Jerusalem

                May my right hand wither

May my tongue / stick to the roof of my mouth

                If I do not remember you

If I do not / set Jerusalem

                Above my highest joy

In this section, the psalmist calls down a curse upon himself if he “forgets Jerusalem.” The withering of the right hand likely refers to him becoming physically incapacitated, unable to perform meaningful work and, moreover, to become visibly deranged. It also, I believe, refers back to the harp that he “hung on Babylonian poplars”. He would be unable to play this liturgical instrument any longer. In addition, he would be physically shamed.

The second curse, the cleaving of the tongue to the roof of the mouth, is similar. In a culture that is primarily verbal, his inability to speak would be devastating. And it would be known, like his withered hand. More deeply is the fact that his memory of Zion now compels him to a type of liturgical silence. If he were to forget Jerusalem, though, he calls upon himself a curse of permanent silence—he would be unable to express anything at all. Like the withered hand that cannot play a liturgical instrument, so too now the tongue of liturgy would be silenced.

In all of this we see something profound—that the liturgical silence of suffering is to be maintained until redemption occurs. To abandon that silence, to ‘forget Jerusalem’, the psalmist declares should lead to an utter and totalizing deformity. We should recall here an echo of the idols made by human hands, and that those who worship them become like them—deaf and lifeless.

Ps 137 (Pt. 1; Babylonian water)

Beside Babylon’s rivers

                There we sat / and wept

                When we remembered Zion

On the poplars / in that region

                We hung our lyres

For there / our captors

                Asked us / for words of song

                Our mockers / for joyfulness

“Sing for us

                One of the / songs of Zion”

How could we sing

                Yhwh’s songs

                On foreign soil?

Within the psalms one of the effects of descending to Sheol is the inability to ‘remember Yhwh’. This ‘remembrance of Yhwh’ is not simply a forgetfulness. To ‘remember Yhwh’ is to engage in liturgical praise of him. Sheol is the place of a silence deeper than an inability to speak. It is the place where one cannot commune with the presence of Yhwh. One cannot sign his praises there. It is a silence that reaches much deeper. One could say, it is a silence that stretches to the innermost part of the human—that place where the human is permitted to be himself in being brought beyond himself in Yhwh’s presence through praise.

Here, the realm of the ‘captors’ and the ‘mockers’ stands on the border between the Land and Sheol. Zion and “be remembered” but its songs cannot be sung. This borderland is important to pause over. In Babylon, beside its rivers, they wept because of their memory. And yet, they do not want to banish it. The psalm concludes with a list of curses lain upon them if they do—the withered hand and the cleaved tongue. This is the borderland of memory, standing on the verge of Sheol where all memory will be gone, and the Land, where memory is life-giving and joyous. This is where the opening section so eloquently says that Yhwh’s people “hung up our lyres”, surrendering their liturgical instruments. Memory remains, but now not as a source of liturgical joy but as a form of torture and pain.

We are not, strictly, in the realm of silence of Sheol, but the realm of sorrow, which is, along the spectrum between the Land and Sheol is decidedly “in the red”. The songs of Zion are now sources of weeping—that is their dark liturgy in Babylon.

In a more deeply disturbing display of absence, it is not simply that they cannot sing the “songs of Zion”, but their captors ask them to sing them. In the Land the “songs of Zion” are sung in Zion, during times of pilgrimage to the Temple. The songs and Zion are mutually revealing. The songs reveal the joy of Zion and Zion is the source and summit of their songs. They are not simply artistic expressions, but liturgical songs that are rooted in the place of Yhwh’s home. For the captors and mockers, though, they are just that—artistic forms of entertainment, utterly severed from the source of their inspiration. They are made into “play things” for the Babylonians.

For Yhhw’s people, to sing a liturgical song as mere entertainment is a form of torture, a form of mockery, that compounds their already profound sense of alienation. 

Why poplars and rivers? The psalmist and his people are in the midst of a lush environment, full of flowing water and healthy trees. And yet, Babylon’s rivers of water only bring out their own tears of flowing water. And Babylon’s poplar trees are only hooks on which to hang their harps. In other words, apart from Jerusalem and Zion, verdant life is meaningless to them. It holds no joy to them. As the Babylonians ask them to treat their sacred things as profane, so too does the psalmist almost mock Babylon’s beauties as but distractions. This becomes important later on when the psalmist declares curses upon himself if “I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.” Were he to turn to these rivers and poplars and see in them anything that tempts away their joy at Jerusalem, he should be cursed.

This psalm then is an exercise at both remembering Jerusalem and detachment from the beauties of Babylon.

Ps 136 (the one above)

Give thanks / to Yhwh / for he is so good

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

Give thanks / to the God of gods

For his loyal love / is everlasting

Give thanks / to the Lord of lords

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

The psalm begins with a call to give thanks to Yhwh because he is good; he is the God of gods and the Lord of Lords. Yhwh is the one who always stands above.

To him who alone has performed / great wonders

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

To him who made the heavens / with wisdom

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

To him who spread out the earth / over the waters

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

To him who made the great lights

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

The sun to rule over the day

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

The moon and the stars / to rule over the night

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

This portion now relates the performance of his great wonders—the making of the heavens, the spreading out of the earth over waters, and the making of the great light-rulers, the sun and the moon. The cosmos is not ruled over by a pantheon of gods and lords but the god of gods and the lord of lords.

Moreover, this portion shows that Yhwh shares his rule—he made the great lights “to rule over day and night.” This is key because this portion opens with the declaration that Yhwh “alone performed great wonders.” Although all of creation is “performed” by Yhwh, such a performance is one that can be entered into, participated within—and that entering into and participation is itself an aspect of creation. Yhwh ‘creates’ the spaces within which his ‘rulers’ will operate.

What others regarded as gods—the sun and the moon—are in fact rulers, but they are rulers who themselves were created by Yhwh and given their authority. It does not reside within themselves in the same fashion that a deity has his own divine power. In other words, Yhwh “alone” is the god who can create rulers and have that sharing-of-authority actually express his divine authority rather than signaling a limitation of his power. In fact, and momentously, the reverse is true—that if Creation is an expression of Yhwh’s divine sovereignty, then his “sharing” of this authority is itself an expression of power and not simply “benevolence” or a voluntary lessening of his authority to make-room-for-others. The Cosmos does not “compete” with Yhwh, which is why Yhwh can give ruling authority to powers in the Cosmos without diminution of his own authority.

And here is where we need to draw attention what is actually the central claim of the psalm but one that is, oddly, hidden because of its repetition—that all “thanks” is due to Yhwh because “his loyal love is everlasting.”

The first line of the individual verses speak of Yhwh’s authority and power, of his great wonders, and his ability to utterly control every aspect of the Cosmos. The second line sees in this mastery and control the expression Yhwh’s everlasting “loyal love”—his covenant concern and regard. Here is where we come to see something truly important that deepens the above reflection—in Yhwh there is not, first, this “power and control” and then “loyal love”. Rather, each expression of Yhwh is both. In other words—Yhwh’s power is his loyal love and his loyal love is his power. So, when Yhwh creates “ruling authorities” and his granting of a participating within his authority is actually an expression of his power, it is, simultaneously, an expression of his “everlasting loyal love”. Yhwh is not first powerful then loving. Nor is his first loving and then powerful. Comprehending this is key and revolutionary—Yhhw’s love does not compete with his power, nor does it take a second place to his power; Yhwh’s power does not compete with his love, nor does it take a second place to his love. In nearly every conception of authority—divine or otherwise—that I can conceive of, there is first power and then love, love being a type of “coming down”. But, in Yhwh, that is not the case. Again, his power is his loyal-love and his loyal-love is his power.

To him who struck down / the Egyptian’s firstborn

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

And brought out Israel / from among them

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

With strong hand / and outstretched arm

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

To him who cut the Reed Sea apart

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

And let Israel / pass through it

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

But shook off Pharaoh / and his army into the Reed Sea

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

To him who led his people / through the wilderness

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

This portion of the psalm can strike a somewhat odd note when Yhwh’s striking down of the Egyptian’s firstborn, and later, his striking down and “slewing” of famous kings is an expression of everlasting loyal-love. The oddness of this is not, in my mind, so much the violence that it recounts, but that it is so centrally and almost exclusively focused on Israel.

On the one hand, this is not at all odd and, in fact, did Yhwh not act this way he would be a poor covenant partner. Yhwh’s ‘loyal love’ is his covenant commitment to Israel, as his covenant partner. Accordingly, he must do everything he can in order to establish them within his abundant life. In order to do so, he must remove every hindrance to their participating within his covenant sphere of life, which includes the destruction of those enemies that threaten Israel. It is key to see in this regard that Yhwh establishes rulers in the sky (the sun and the moon) but that he also strikes down rulers (Kings Sihon and Og). It is clear that the sun and moon, as rulers, are ‘faithful’ in their participation within Yhwh’s reign while the rule given over to Sihon and Og has become destructive. That is why he must remove these rulers, because they represent a cancer within his creation. Their rule is perverted and destructive. This much is clear. What perhaps seems odd is when these stories of particular concern for Israel is understood within the cosmic scope of the opening verses where Yhwh is understood to be not a local deity but the creator and establisher of the Cosmos, of his being the universal, not simply the particular, ruler over all. Indeed, it is Yhwh who establishes the sun and moon which “shine down” on both Israelite and Egyptian. The final verse captures this well when it praises Yhwh for “remembering us” and “rescuing us” and then describing Yhwh as the one who “gives food to all living creatures”.

I think what we see here is somewhat startling on several levels. First, the intimacy that other nations experienced with their particular deity—an intimacy of this gods adherence to this people over against that god’s adherence to those people. For Israel, they retain this intimacy with Yhwh. Yhwh has “chosen this people”. They lose nothing of this. Which can be difficult to fathom. We tend to think that the more universal the power, the inevitably less personal could be the involvement. If Yhwh has created the light that shines on all, and provides food for all, then how could he exclusively covenant himself to this people. It would seem that either his universal reign over the Cosmos would have to be compromised in some fashion or his devotion to Israel would have to be.

But that is not how the Israelites saw it in this psalm. This psalm expresses no tension between these two poles, it flows from one to other and then back again. For them, Yhwh’s covenanting with them was but an intensification of what other nations experience. It is but gain. In Yhwh, the psalmist understands that their deity is not simply one among many. Rather, their deity is infinitely more powerful than all of the other gods. In fact, he is the one who made them. He is the one who put them in power. Their ‘glory’ is but a reflection of their created participation within Yhwh’s superior glory. And so, for Israel, there really is no tension in the fact that he has chosen Israel and yet he is also the god who provides food for all and causes light to shine on all.

To him who struck down / great kings

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

And slew famous kings

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

King Sihon / of the Amorites

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

And King Og / of Bashan

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

And gave their land / as a heritage

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

A heritage / to his servant Israel

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

Who remembered us / when we were down

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

And rescued us / from our foes

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

Who gives food / to all living creatures

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

Give thanks / to the God of heaven

                For his loyal love / is everlasting

A final note—we have seen above several things. We have seen how Yhwh’s everlasting love and his power are to be understood as the same. We have also seen that an aspect of that power and everlasting love requires the removal from authority all powers that seek the destruction of Yhwh’s covenant partner. We have also seen that Yhwh’s act of creation also includes his placing rulers within his realm of ruling authority. We might say he “shares” his rule, or he participates his rule with others. Lastly, we have seen how Yhwh’s particular commitment to Israel does not stand in competition with his universal care and concern for all of creation.

With all of that in mind we need to see that there is a story being told here about Israel, and it is the story of their being raised to the level of rulers as well. Yhwh removes Egypt, so that Israel can live. Yhwh removes Sihon and Og so that their land can be given as a heritage to Israel. What we see here is that Israel is to become Yhwh’s rulers on earth. They are to be the new Adam-people of Yhwh who “till the Land”. As such—and this is the key—they are to be the faithful covenant partner of Yhwh and, like the sun and moon, participate within and enact his loyal-love for all of creation. In other words, Israel is the Adam-Ground-Zero for all of creation but their rule is supposed to coincide with their loving concern. In so far as they don’t, what is clear is that Yhwh will enact judgment. He will “remove them”, in some fashion, like he did Sihon and Og. Yhwh’s regard for Israel, therefore, is not a regard for them so they can turn from him and live within their own authority and power. They are not to be like the Adam that reached for his own knowledge and immortality. This is why Yhwh ‘remembers them’, why he ‘rescues them.’ He does so in order to mission them to the Cosmos, as his image to the Cosmos.

Ps 135 (Yhwh's idol)

Hallelujah

Praise Yhwh’s name

                Praise it / Yhwh’s servants

Who are standing / in Yhwh’s house

                In the courts / of our God’s house

Praise Yah / because Yhwh is so good

                Celebrate his name / with music / because it is so lovely

Because Jacob  it was / whom Yhwh chose as his own

                Israel as his / special possession

The psalm begins in Yhwh’s house and ends with a denunciation of the nation’s idols. It is important to see this opening and closing as, in way, shining a reverse image on each other. Yhwh’s temple contains no image of Yhwh. The nations’ temples, on the other hand, do. Israel’s lack of an image was one of its most bizarre aspects. Some even thought of them as atheists because apparently they didn’t worship any god because they had no image of one. For these nations, Israel’s worship was the antithesis of right worship. Israel could not be worshipping a god who could actually provide divine assistance. For Israel, as the conclusion makes clear, the opposite is in fact the case. Those who worship idols made by human hands are the ones worshipping ‘nothing’. They are the ones who have no power.

This is why, sandwiched between these two liturgies is the story of the exodus and the conquest—that story shows Yhwh’s power. It shows him to the all-powerful god who “does as he pleases” with the nations. It is Israel’s history-with-Yhwh which inaugurates them into his omnipotence. They are structured according to his power because they were literally built up by it.  This story in particular is important because the way it is told forms the foundation for why Israel worship a god-without-an-image.

In this way we see how Yhwh’s history with his people shaped their liturgy and, in turn, how their liturgy enabled them to see Yhwh’s history with his people.

For I know myself / that Yhwh is great

                That our God / is greater / than all gods

Anything Yhwh pleases

                He does in heaven / and on earth

                In the seas / and all the deeps.

He is the one who gets the clouds / to rise from the ends of the earth

                Who makes flashes of lightning / for the rain

                Who brings / the wind / out of his storehouses.

He is the one / who struck down Egypt’s firstborn

                Of man / and beast alike

He sent signs and portents

                In the midst / of Egypt

                Against Pharaoh / and all his servants

He is the one / who struck down / many nations

                And killed mighty kings

King Sihon / of the Amorites

                And King Og / of Bashan

                And all Canaan’s kingdoms

And gave their land / as a heritage

                A heritage / for his people Israel

Yhwh / your name will endure forever

                Yhwh / proclamation of you / for generations

Because Yhwh / vindicates his people

                Showing compassion / for his servants

The psalmist knows Yhwh is great. He knows that Yhwh does whatever he will in the entire cosmos—heaven, earth, seas and deeps. The psalmist describes this as alternating between “bringing” and “striking down”. He brings the storm, rain and lightning. He strikes down the Egyptian first born. He brings signs and portents. He strikes down the kings of the nations. Yhwh is the one who makes the clouds rise and brings wind. He is the lord of the storm. He is also the lord over Egypt. He struck down the firstborn sent signs in Egypt’s midst. He also struck down many nations and kings. Finally, Yhwh “gives over” the land to his people.

What we see here is the totality of Yhwh’s authority. While each of these realms that Yhwh either “brings” or “strikes down” were understood as being the realm of a pantheon of gods, for the psalmist, they are all entirely governed by Yhwh’s will—he does “whatever he pleases” in each realm, unencumbered by any other deity.  This is one reason why the conclusion to the psalm is so mocking in its tone—the nations’ idols were understood as the idols of these gods. For the psalmist, though, the entire realm of authority is not theirs but Yhwh’s. Next to him, they are merely the “products of human hands”. They have mouths, eyes, and ears but they neither speak, see, hear or breath. Their utter lack of authority in the divine realm is matched, or displayed, by the utter lack of life in the idols.

Yhwh, on the other hand, has an ‘idol’, an ‘image’. And it is man. This is key because the psalmist notes that the idols “of the nations” are made by “human hands.” In other words, Yhwh’s “idol” is the one who makes the “idols of the nations”. Even with the realm of “idol making”, Yhwh has this form of control because it is his idol that is actually fashioning them.  There is here a type of “chain of being”. When Yhwh’s own “idol” creates “idols”, something has gone terribly wrong. They think they are creating images of deities, but they are in fact creating things that even below them. Yhwh’s idols can, literally, “speak, see, hear and breath”; however, when they engage in idol-making they lose their ability to speak truthfully, see and hear perceptively and, in the end, they lose the “breath of god” placed in them. They become less than who/what they are—they become lifeless idols themselves.

This is why the psalm concludes with the Yhwh’s idols turned to—trusting—not the dead idols of the nations but Yhwh. The House of Israel, Aaron, Levites, all who revere Yhwh—they bless him. And this is why, importantly, Zion and Jerusalem are understood as the “objects” toward which Yhwh’s “idol” can turn. They are the Yhwh-sanctioned locations of his blessing and Presence.

The nations’ idols / are silver and gold

                Products of human hands

They have mouths / but cannot speak

                Eyes / but cannot see

They have ears / but cannot hear

                Nor is there any breath / in their mouths

Their makers will become like them

                So will anyone / who trusts in them.

House of Israel / bless Yhwh

                House of Aaron / bless Yhwh

House of Levites / bless Yhwh

                You who revere Yhwh / bless Yhwh

Blessed be Yhwh / from Zion

                He who resides in Jerusalem

                                Hallelujah.

Ps. 134 (the beginning is in the end)

Come,

                Bless Yhwh, all you servants of Yhwh,

                Who are standing / in Yhwh’s house / by night.

Raise your hands / towards the holy place

                And bless Yhwh

May Yhwh bless you / from Zion

                Maker of heaven / and earth.

This psalm stands at the end of the processional psalms.

In the Scriptures, the night is the beginning of a new day, not its conclusion. In this psalm, this “beginning” is not simply chronological because the liturgy occurs at this “beginning”. In other words, in this psalm, the beginning of this is liturgical. The “day” begins utterly oriented to Yhwh such that time itself is beginning in this dynamic of blessing—of Israel ‘blessing’ Yhwh and Yhwh, in turn, blessing Israel. It is a beginning in the sense that Genesis is a beginning—it is pointing to a fundamental, abiding, grounding reality. Time is becoming sacred—becoming ‘blessed’.

And it does so not simply through time but through Yhwh’s servant’s orientation to Zion, Yhwh’s house. As time is now being oriented to the sacred, so too are Yhwh’s servants literally orienting themselves toward the sacred and, thus, themselves participating within the sacred blessing of Yhwh. They are standing in the sacred realm of Yhwh’s house. This physical location is not simply geography. They stand literally within the sphere of the sacred and the holy, the sacramental sphere and center of the earth, where heaven comes down and Yhwh is present.

And finally, it is not simply time and the servant’s bodies, but their hearts are also oriented toward Yhwh as they “raise their hands towards the holy place, and bless Yhwh”. This is not simply gesturing but a raising, like a sacrifice, their hearts toward the holy place.

Time, bodies, and hearts—all of them being made sacred—are now met with Yhwh returning the momentum down upon them and blessing them from Zion. Their utter orientation to Yhwh turns into Yhwh’s utter orientation toward them. They become the “apple of his eye” as they mirror his own holiness and blessing to him.

Now, there is a deeper level to this when we consider the superscription to the psalm which indicates that it is the last of the processional psalms. We saw above that the psalm begins “in the beginning” of the day. The fact, then, that the psalm ends at the beginning is highly significant. In a sense, the processional psalms conclude in this “new day”. It is as if the processional psalms are the first six days of creation leading up to the final, Sabbath day of creation, the day that they were made for, the day that is actually their (formal) cause.

For the Christian, this takes on an even deeper meaning when we consider that the Resurrection occurs on the eighth day, which means also the first day of the week. The Christian Sabbath does not simply occur on the first day of the week; it also occurs on the “final day”, the eighth day, the day of consummation and completion. It is the completion of the old creation because it is being brought into the new creation. The end, purpose and goal is in the beginning. In other words, this psalm shows the Christian reality of the entire realm becoming sacred within the descending heaven-to-earth as portrayed in Revelation. The Christian Sabbath is an already-but-not-yet participation within the sacralized creation.

Chronological, but theological. Moreover, their physical location and direction is “towards the holy place”. Their hearts are also turned toward Yhwh, “blessing him.” What we see here is a type of absolute turning to Yhwh in time, space and interiorily. Everything is grounded, or “begins”, here. And, because it all begins here, it also “begins” in Yhwh’s blessing “you from Zion”.

And yet, this psalm stands at the end of the processional psalms. Everything has been heading toward this psalm, in a sense, toward this new day, this new beginning, this “raising your hands toward the holy place”. And in this perhaps we see here a reflection of creation itself as it heads toward the ‘seventh day’, with each day before like a day in the procession. In other words, this is a type of Sabbath psalm—with the end being the beginning, signaling a return to the beginning of the procession.

The “holy place” and Zion are the Temple, and it is, in many ways, “heaven and earth”. It is an Eden, a meeting place of heaven and earth.