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.

Ps. 133 (brothers' communion)

How good / to be sure / how fine it is

                For brothers / to stay together

It is like / the sweet oil / upon the head

                Coming down / upon the beard

Aaron’s beard / which came down

                Over his body

It is like / the dew of Hermon / which comes down

                Upon the mountains / of Zion

That is where Yhwh

                Has ordered / the blessing to be

                Life / for evermore.

The psalm begins with the “goodness” of brothers who “stay together.” This union of brothers is then compared, first, to sacramental oil that anointed Aaron, making him the high priest and which poured down over his body, and then, second, to the “dew of Hermon” which, like the oil, comes down upon the mountains of Zion. The psalm ends with Zion as being the place of blessing, of “life for evermore.” So, what begins with the union of brothers ends with Zion as the locus of all blessing. How do we get from one to the other?

The first thing to grasp is that the brothers’ union is not simply the familial union of two men. It is, rather, the liturgical gathering of brothers at Zion for a festival. The remaining portion of the psalm shows us this as it progresses from Aaron to Zion. It is also important to see that this is not simply a union of blood but a “staying together”. These brothers are, unlike Cain and Abel, their “brother’s keepers” who look out for the other’s good. It is, in other words, a communion of brothers. And this, of course, refers to the communion of the tribes—the brothers—of Israel. We see here, then, what almost never occurs but is so desperately desired by Yhwh—the communion of the tribes of Israel and not their mere ‘gathering’. It is not simply the external union but their internal union with each other into “one mind”, bending their knee to the One Yhwh.

It is important to see a deeper layer to this—that there is not simply one goal or effect of this central liturgy-to-Yhwh, that being the worship of Yhwh. Rather, liturgy-to-Yhwh effects the (comm)union of the gatherers. Just as he is One so will they be one with each other. And this is a divinely empowered union; man cannot achieve this type of communion on his own, this “staying together”. This communion comes down from above.

Like the sweet oil upon the head, beard and body of Aaron. This communion flows down like the sacramental oil that made Aaron no longer simply Aaron, but Aaron-the-high-priest. Just as the people, before their gathering, are a scattering of tribes bound together by blood, so too when they gather, are they, Aaron-like, made into a divinely constituted communion. They become what they were intended to be before the Mosaic law—a nation of priests.

Then, the psalmist shifts to Zion. Just as sacramental oil is poured down upon Aaron, anointing him, does this “dew of Hermon” come down upon Zion. Here we find mount Zion overtaking Mount Herman as the divinely chosen dwelling place of Yhwh. Perhaps we find her that just as Aaron took the place of the father of every household as the priest, so too now does Zion take the place of every natural mountaintop that was the dwelling of the divine. And the abundant dew is the cosmic blessing of Zion in the same way as the oil was the anointing of Aaron.

Priest and Temple—one cannot be without the other. And here we find the specific and special anointing of Aaron and Zion as the one and only Priest and Temple of Yhwh. This is why the communion of the tribes must find their communion-blessing in Zion because that is where Aaron and the Temple dwell. And, as the concluding lines show, it is from this place of Aaron-and-Zion that the blessing of communion will flow down onto the tribes, binding them together in a divine manner. Therefore, when these brothers look at each other, when they see their gathering and communion, they are not looking at tribes—they are looking at the unifying power of Yhwh to bring together is people.

In Christ, this psalm is significantly deepened. Throughout the gospels, particularly in John, Christ prays for the unity of all those the Father has given him. This prayer for unity is closely wed to the giving of his spirit, the Paraclete, to the disciples following his death. It is the Paraclete that will effect this unity, the divine binding together—divine communion—between those the Father gave to Christ. Paul, Acts, and Revelation all speak to this role of the Spirit/Paraclete. As such, the Spirit deepens and fulfills the goodness of brothers “staying together”.

For Paul, this divine communion of all believers is something that God planned from before the foundation of the world. This is astonishing. Our communion is something that surpasses the creation of Cosmos, something, in a sense, more determined, more desired, of a higher priority, than the Cosmos itself. This was a predestined adoption to sonship through Christ.

Deeper still is that Hebrews, John and several other passages speak of Jesus as the new High Priest and that he is the rebuilt Temple/Zion.

Ps 132 (David and his sons)

Remember / Yhwh / in David’s favor

                All his painstaking effort

How he swore / to Yhwh

                In a vow / to the mighty one of Jacob

“I will never enter / my tent house,

                Never climb / upon my bed couch

Never permit / my eyes sleep

                My eyelids / slumber

Till I find / a place for Yhwh

                A tabernacle / for the mighty one of Jacob

The psalmist calls upon Yhwh to “remember” David’s efforts, and all of the afflictions and effort he went through in finding a place for Yhwh’s tabernacle. We will see later what this ‘remembering’ will consist of.

The psalmist then relates David’s vow to Yhwh. The focus of the vow is that David will not find rest until he finds a place for Yhwh to rest. Until Yhwh finds his home David will not enter his home. We should recall here the origin of the Davidic covenant—Yhwh will “build David’s house” just as David will build Yhwh’s house. The parallel is crucial. David and his line—his “house”—participate in the same divine establishment as Yhwh’s house. Note how Yhwh, the undying one, does not have progeny. So David’s perpetuity of covenant assurance is reflected, or instantiated, in the Temple that will not pass away. David’s line is now immortal, just as the Temple will be immortal. Just as David’s line will collapse, so too will the Temple. But through the collapse it will rise again, just as the Temple will also be rebuilt.

A key point to see here is that David’s heart—his unwavering commitment to finding Yhwh a house (he will “never…never…never…”)—is completely poured out for Yhwh. The parallel between the two houses (between David not entering his until he finds Yhwh’s) is not simply literary nor is it simply metaphorical. David sees no metaphorical distance between his home and Yhwh’s. In David, this Adam, this image of God, creation is literally wedding itself to Yhwh. Moreover, this is the action not simply of the individual David—it is the pure action of Yhwh’s king. David’s desire to find Yhwh a place is wed to the covenant to him as king, as ruler and protector of Yhwh’s people. Thus, the Temple is to serve as the heart of the people, the place where Yhwh dwells and therefore the source of all blessing and protection for David’s/Yhwh’s people. It will be a new Eden for the Garden of Israel. In other words, this is not a type of personal fulfillment but David’s mission as king. He is doing this as much, if not more, for the people than he is for himself. This ‘pouring out’ then is not simply one of devotion to Yhwh but an unwavering commitment to his/Yhwh’s people.

When we turn to Christ, the heir and son of David, this utter devotion to his Father and his mission is not simply something external to him. It is him—Christ is his mission. He is the mission, the Son, incarnate. He is this dual love of the Father and the people the Father has given to him. More to the point of this psalm—Christ will not ‘find rest’ until he establishes the new Temple, which will only be finally accomplished in his death and resurrection. During the night when he is taken away, Christ does not sleep, but instead pours himself out to the Father, as he sees the path ahead of him, where the Temple will be finally established. His disciples, on the other hand, waver and repeatedly fall asleep during Christ’s vigil. It is key to see here that Christ’s vigil is the fulfillment of David’s vigil.

More deeply still—this vigil is for the establishment of the Temple. That is the goal. To find, and establish, a permanent and perpetual resting place for God. David’s afflictions and painstaking effort to establish the resting place is consummated in Christ’s crucifixion, when he says “it is finished” and finally falls asleep, the vigil now over because the ‘resting place’ has now been established.

“Lo / we have heard of it / Ephrathah

                We found it / in the countryside of Jaar

Let us go / to this tabernacle

                Let us prostrate ourselves / at his footstool

Arise, / Yhwh / to your home of rest

                You and your powerful ark.

May your priests / be clothed with righteousness

                May your / loyal ministers / shout for joy

For the sake of your servant David

                Do not turn away / the face of your anointed one

These verses relate the fulfillment and re-fulfillment of David’s mission to find Yhwh a resting place. It refers to the time when David took the ark from the countryside and transferred to Jerusalem, the place of its rest. Significantly, this journey is re-enacted in a procession. The psalmist tells the people, “Let us go to this tabernacle; let us prostrate ourselves at his footstool.” He then commends Yhwo to “arise”, which generally refers to the lifting of the ark in times of battle when Yhwh would then move with the Israelites to be their Conqueror. Yhwh then goes to his “home of rest”, in a re-enactment of David’s fulfillment of his vow. When this is accomplished, magnificence follows—the priests are clothed with righteousness and Yhwh’s ministers shout for joy. With the establishment of Yhwh’s rest, liturgy, joy and festivity can begin.

What we see here is a type of renewal of the covenant through a re-enactment of David’s journey. By following in his footsteps, his sons are brought into the life of the covenant by renewing it. This is not simple reenactment. It is renewal. It is, in that sense, sacramental. It accomplishes what it performs. This flows into the next portion of the psalm, where David’s son will remind Yhwh of his oath and the blessings that flow from it.

We also see in this the momentum of the Church as it perpetually renews and reenacts Christ’s sacrifice in the Eucharist. It “follows in Christ’s steps” the night of his suffering, betrayal and then his crucifixion, renewing the covenant through the Passover Eucharist. By stepping into the drama, every person baptized into Christ is then made into a Christ like David’s sons stepped into his covenant and perpetuated it in their day. It was grounded and founded on David’s heart and vigil. The covenant established David as the father and pattern of the covenant’s life. The fact that David’s sons participate in their father’s procession does not diminish David’s accomplishment. Quite the contrary. It only heightens what he established. Same as Christ’s crucifixion and the Eucharist—by bringing all the baptized into his Passover, he only more firmly establishes himself as the sacrifice that makes it possible to participate in his Passover.

Yhwh swore an oath / to David

                A sure oath / on which he will not renege

“Members of your own progeny

                Will I set upon your throne

If your sons / keep my covenant

                And my terms / which I teach them

Their sons too / forever

                Will sit / upon your throne

For Yhwh has chosen Zion

                Desiring it/ for his royal seat

This is my home / of rest forever

                Here will I sit enthroned / for such is my desire

With food / will I bless her abundantly

                Her poor / will I fill with bread

While her priests / will I clothe with salvation

                And her loyal ministers will shout aloud for joy

There will I make to grow / a horn for David

                I have prepared a lamp for my anointed one

His enemies / I will clothe in humiliation

                But upon his head / his crown will gleam.

The first part focused on what David promised to do to find Yhwh a resting place. The psalmist now turns to what Yhwh promised to do for David and his sons. Yhwh can do what no man can—he can establish, in perpetuity, David and his line on the throne. The visible kingship of David is the visible blessing-oath of Yhwh. When one sees a Davidic son on the throne, one is looking upon the power of Yhwh.  

There is a conditional element to it in that their enthronement is dependent upon their mimicking David’s allegiance and faithfulness to Yhwh. Their steadfastness will then be met by Yhwh’s, who sits enthroned forever because he always keeps faith with his covenant partners. While a Davidic son may prove unfaithful and removed from his throne, Yhwh will remain forever enthroned in Jerusalem, provide the basis for the renewal of covenant and its re-establishment. Zion will always be pregnant with Yhwh’s power and it can be enacted anytime a Davidic son is faithful. For David, the result became the establishment of the sanctuary. For his sons, it will mean an abundant blessing, and filling the poor with bread. With the establishment of Zion there begins the blessings of abundance.

This abundance begins with the ‘filling in’ of social cracks—the feeding of the poor. It then cascades over those who are charged with the liturgy in the temple. They are swept up in it as well—as they are “clothed with salvation” and they “should aloud for joy.” This bottom-up blessing shows how the entire spectrum of the people are covered in Yhwh’s blessing. It is an astonishing affirmation of the power of the Davidic covenant and how its realization in a faithful Davidic son explodes Yhwh’s blessing across the Land.

A few remaining things. First, it is important that the concluding verses, in referring to the present king, calls him “David”. For Yhwh, to look upon a son of David is, because of the covenant, to look upon David himself. The covenant binds them together and makes present the covenant with David. This too occurs through Christ and every Christ-ian baptized into him. Revelation describes how Christ’s iron scepter is shared by all who follow him; and all who follow him sit upon the same throne as Christ. Paul sees all believers as part of Christ’s body. The church is essentially a host of christs, all made Davidic-sons through Christ, the son of David.

Second, the first portion of the psalm deals with David’s unrelenting and tiring search for Yhwh’s resting place. The second stanza says that Yhwh chose Zion as his royal seat. This is important to see—for the Scriptures there is no competition between these two viewpoints. Yhwh can choose Zion as much as David can, because David has aligned himself utterly with Yhwh’s own heart. In other words, when Yhwh opens his heart up to man in his covenant, what was before his own choice (or, his own monologue so to speak) now becomes a space within which the Cosmos can participate (or, a dialogue). It is precisely because Yhwh stands as the always greater than his choice (his monologue) is not a ceiling on man’s choice. In other words, Yhwh’s monologue makes possible man’s dialogue with him. Yhwh becomes the possibility of man’s freedom, not a hindrance to it. This principle, of course, is why the Son can become flesh and yet man remain unconsumed by the Son’s being—fully god and fully man. It is also why men and women can be baptized into Christ, becoming Christ-ians, and actually become freed into freedom.  

Ps 131 (carrying my soul)

Yhwh, / my heart / is not haughty

                Nor are my eyes / supercilious

Nor have I got involved / in matters too big

                Or too difficult for me

Indeed / I have composed

and quieted my soul

Like a weaned child / carried by his mother

                Like the weaned child / I carry / is my soul

Put your hope / Israel / in Yhwh

                From now on / and forevermore

The psalmist begins with a profession—his heart is not haughty and his eyes are not turned to large things. He does not attempt things too big or too difficult for him. This humbling of himself is something he has needed to achieve, though. He has composed and quieted his soul. It seems as if his natural tendency is to do these things—to have a haughty heart, to look at “large” things, to get involved in matters too big and difficult for him.

The imagery he then uses to describe his humbled soul is key. His quieted soul is like a weaned child who finds his trust and comfort and security in his mother. His ‘mother’ is one, now, who guides him and carries him. Before now, he guided himself. His heart was “haughty” in that regard. He directed his eyes (at things too big) and he “got involved in matters to big and difficult”. But not now. Now, he had made himself small. Not to the point of being an infant, but to that of a weaned child. He has made himself into a child needing to be carried rather than a man walking on his own. Importantly, he does not carry his own soul anymore. Yhwh is now his “mother”.

The psalmist then turns to all of Israel and urges her to be the same as himself—to become a child carried by Yhwh. To not be a nation whose heart is haughty or whose eyes look upon things too large; to not get involved in matters that are too big or difficult. From a national perspective, this temptation must have been large, and the call to child-like humility difficult. The psalmist urges Israel to “compose and quiet its soul”, to stop trying to lead itself, to be an elder-child among the nations but to be the weaned child of three years old. To always keep this stance of dependence on Yhwh at its center.

There is an important, deeper layer to this psalm. There are clear references throughout the psalm to its being directed toward, or against, royal figures. The haughty heart and the supercilious eyes, in particular. These are used to describe kings in Israel’s history that the Scriptures understood to be poor and failed kings. What is key to see here, though, is how this kingly reference refers us back to Adam, the primal “son of God” and “messiah of God” who is understood to be the Image-King-of-the-Garden. With Adam we see this primal king making this primal mistake when the serpent speaks to him—the serpent tempts him/Eve to have this heart and eyes that desires things “too big for them” (i.e., to become like gods). This primal failure is one that is going to be perpetuated through(out) his children. There will be a righteous son, though, too—a Seth that protects himself against the deceiver lurking at his door. And, in David, at least initially, this is fulfilled. He is the king who faithfully keeps himself nestled in Yhwh’s embrace. That is, until he too “looks and sees” something outside his reach—Bathsheba—and falls, terribly, from grace, pulling the entire kingdom down with him.

All of this ebb-and-flow of Israel’s kings reaches its climax in Christ. Paul neatly summarizes Christ’s fulfillment of this psalm when he says that Christ, although in the form of god, did not regard equality with god as something to be grasped at. But, instead, he emptied himself, taking on the form of a slave, and being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name above all names so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in the heavens, on the earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Jesus here, in the direct middle of this hymn, accomplishes the psalm. He “composed and quiets his soul”. And he rests in the mission the Father gave to him, humbling himself entirely to the point of death. And, in that humility he became the most powerful Adam-King of God, being raised all the way to the very throne and receiving the name of God itself.  Mark in particular also makes this point rather vividly when, just after Christ is ‘anointed’ by the Spirit in the Jordan, he is “cast out” into the dessert by the Spirit where he remains faithful to his mission, despite (as in the other gospels) the temptations to rise above it. The Spirit’s role in all of this is key because it is the Spirit that carries Christ throughout. It is the Spirit that guides him and it is in the Spirit that Christ remains nestled in the Father’s embrace, like a child on its mother’s back.

Ps 130 (out of depths)

Out of the depths / I invoke you / Lord

                Lord / listen to my cry

May your ears / be attentive

                To my imploring cry

If you were to take iniquities / into account / Yhwh

                Lord, / who could stand

But with you / there is forgiveness

                So that you may be revered

I wait for Yhwh

                I wait with longing

                And in his word / I put my hope

My longing / is for the Lord

                More intent than that / of watchmen for the morning

                Watching for the morning

Put your hope / Israel / in Yhwh

                For with Yhwh / there is loyal love

                And redemption / with him in abundance

And he it is / who will redeem Israel

                From all their iniquities

The psalmists begins from “the depths” and invokes the Lord. At first, these depths appear to be chaos waters and the border of Sheol. The psalmist is drowning into death. It is from this place of darkness that he asks for the Lord to “listen to my cry”. As we have seen before, a psalmist cannot “remember Yhwh” in Sheol or call upon his name. As he gets closer to the edge of Sheol and of death, therefore he can still call out to him, he can still seek redemption “from the depths.” What the psalm makes clear in the second stanza is that his iniquities have placed him in these depths.

The psalmist’s iniquities bar him from being redeemed from the depths and prevent him from “standing” in Yhwh’s presence. They are like sins that prevent a pilgrim from entering the Temple and being in Yhwh’s presence. For the psalmist, if Yhwh retains iniquities no one can be redeemed and everyone will drown into death. But with Yhwh there is forgiveness. Yhwh removes that barrier to redemption through forgiveness.

Importantly, the goal is not simply redemption. It is not simply to be taken from the maw of Sheol. It is not be simply forgiven. It is, rather, so that Yhwh can be revered. This is the purpose. For both the psalmist and Yhwh, the “delight” of man, standing in life, is reverence of Yhwh. Just as with the image of “standing” so too here we see the imagery of liturgy—of seeing the life of the psalmist being moved from the depths to the living as one of moving toward reverence and liturgy.

For the psalmist, he then places himself within a position of hopeful waiting. His language of waiting on Yhwh’s word is reminiscent of Psalm 119, which repeatedly returns to the idea of finding one’s hope in Yhwh’s word and promises. Interestingly, and importantly, the psalmist now sees the coming dawn of Yhwh’s deliverance as the dawn of forgiveness. He looks forward to a ‘new day’, and he looks toward with the same intense longing as those who look forward to the day of Yhwh’s redemption. It is key to see that here that day is tied to forgiveness, of the removal of the barrier between Yhwh and his psalmist who stands in the “depths” and unable to revere Yhwh. It is the close relationship between forgiveness and liturgy that is important.

The final stanza shifts from the seemingly individual petition to a national petition. It is now seen to be Israel that stands in the depths. It is Israel who looks forward to this new day of forgiveness. It is Israel who trusts in Yhwh’s loyal love and that with him mercy overcomes the accounting of iniquities. Yhwh is now not simply going to redeem the single individual psalmist. He will lift the entire nation out of the depths and redeem the entire nation from its iniquities.

When understood through Christ this psalm takes on a great deal of depth. First, the shift from the personal to the communal, from the individual to Israel, is key. Christ would have prayed this psalm. His longing would have been “for the Lord; more intent than that of watchmen for the morning, watching for the morning.” He would have known the depths of the iniquities that Israel found itself in and, as Israel’s messiah and representative, he would have spoken from those depths in the same fashion as when he plunged down into the depths in his baptism, thus identifying himself with Israel and her need for redemption. For Christ, the arrival of the day of forgiveness—that longed for morning—would coincide with his crucifixion. That was the ‘hour’ when the great act of mercy is wrought by God through Christ, whereby Israel is raised up from the depths because her iniquities are now forgiven in Christ’s crucifixion. This is, on one level, how the individual and the communal become identified in Christ. When his life is not simply heading toward the new day of forgiveness and redemption but is itself that new day, then he is both the individual and the communal. He is both the innocent one, free from iniquity, and the representative of Israel weighed down by her iniquities.

On a deeper level is the fact that the sacrifice that will accomplish this new day of forgiveness will be one that is both individual and communal. Christ’s sacrifice could have been a holocaust, one that does not involve the people in it. Instead, he chose the Passover sacrifice which required for its completion the eating of the flesh of the lamb. This point cannot be stressed enough in the context of this psalm—although Christ is the sacrificial victim, the lamb that is slain, his sacrifice is not complete unless and until it is eaten by Israel. In other words, here we find a deeper level to the individual and communal aspect to this psalm. On the one hand, Jesus is both the individual and the communal because he is Jesus and also the messiah-representative. On the other hand, he literally brings his people into the act whereby they will be forgiven when he institutes the sacrifice of their redemption in and through their participation. In this way, the Eucharist becomes this ongoing ‘day of redemption’ every time it is celebrated and perpetuated. It is the ongoing Passover.

Ps 129 (I, Zion)

Many a time / they have afflicted me / since my youth

                Let Israel declare

Many a time / have they afflicted me / since my youth

                Yet they could not / defeat me.

On my back / plowmen plowed

                Making long furrows

Yhwh is loyal

                He has cut off / the yoke / of the wicked.

All who hate Zion

                Will be put to shame / and repulsed

They will be like grass / on the roofs

                Which withers before / it can shoot up

Which cannot fill / the reaper’s palm

                Nor the sheafbinder’s robefold

And passers-by / do not say

                Yhwh’s blessing / rest upon you

We bless you / in Yhwh’s name.

The first stanza describes past afflictions the psalmist has suffered “since his youth”. Initially, the “me” and the “they” are not defined. While the first line speaks of “me” it then becomes something Israel declares, leaving one with the impression that these afflictions are things Israel has suffered since its “youth”. The “they” then becomes the history of “plowmen who have plowed long furrows” on “my” back. “I” am like a field that the wicked have torn up, driving their ploughs deep into “my” back in order to plant the seed of destruction. When Yhwh redeems, therefore, what he does is thwart their ability to continue their plowing and planting. He “cuts off the yoke of the wicked.” They can no longer drive and direct the oxen. They can no longer plant. They are left without their tools of harvesting destruction.

The second stanza identifies the wicked—they are Zion haters—and, conversely, the “I” of the psalm. The evil plowmen seek Zion’s destruction. Yet their efforts to “reap a harvest of destruction” turn out to be paltry. Their harvest is like grass with no roots; grass that withers before it can even shoot up. It cannot even fill the reaper’s palm or fill their robes. Yhwh will not bless their harvest.

Importantly, this also reveals who the “I” of the psalm is—it is Zion itself. Here, the psalmist and the people speak on behalf of Zion and the Temple. Zion is the one who has been “afflicted since her youth” but she has not been defeated. She is the one on whose back the “plowmen have plowed long furrows”. Micah refers to Zion being “plowed into a field”. And there are many psalms that reflect the attack(s) on Zion and her subsequent rebuffing of those attacks. The people often identify themselves and their lives with Zion—she stands as their source of strength and blessing. For her to be destroyed would be “the end of the world” because it is through her that the world is actually made and sustained.

The previous psalms have been emphasizing Yhwh’s blessing of the righteous and wise man’s efforts and understood that in the context of harvest. Their blessing will be their ability to enjoy, literally, the fruit of their labors. They will be able to eat the bread they have worked for. Their work will be substantial in that regard and not subject to the vanity and futility that marks much of post-Eden existence. Here, that insight is reversed as it is applied to the wicked. Their harvest will be paltry. It will participate in and be a reflection of the vanity and futility of post-Eden existence and, more importantly, it will be so as an act of Yhwh’s loyalty.

This lack of substance on the part of the wicked, the substance of the righteous/Zion, and the imagery of harvest, bears a resemblance to Psalm 1. There, the wicked are compared to the chaff of the harvest that is so unsubstantial that the slightest wind can remove them, as compared to the solidity of the wise who are like trees planted by running water who bear fruit. That resemblance continues when it is understood that often Psalm 2 was “part 2” of the psalm. There, the emphasis is on Zion and Yhwh’s installation of his king. There, wisdom and Zion are intimately wed together. Just as here—where wisdom and Zion are closely aligned.  Moreover, as in Psalm 2, the wicked are the Zion-haters who rebel against Yhwh’s anointed.

Finally, it is important to note that the wicked will be put in the position of Zion at the opening—in the position of suffering. They will be “put to shame and repulsed.” The ‘glory’ that they inhabited will now be transferred to the righteous. 

It cannot be emphasized enough that this psalm’s focus is on the Temple. It is the Temple that people want Yhwh to bless, because the Temple is the source of their protection, livelihood, blessing and that place where they can ‘see God’. The Temple is the world and more-than-the-world.

This devotion to Zion is then taken up when Jesus says that he is the Temple and, in his resurrection, the re-built Temple. In so far as we come to speak on behalf of Zion, we enter into the love and devotion for Jesus. This love is not so much as ‘preamble’ of Jesus—but rather something we should enter into, because in so doing we enter into Jesus, as the Temple. Once this is grasped, then the ‘furrows on Zion’s back’ are seen to be participations in the scourging of Christ and the laceration of his back by the whips. His attackers become the Zion-haters of seek the overthrow of the Temple, who want to see it ‘plowed into the ground’.

But their attempts will be broken. When Christ dies and defeats Satan, he cuts off the yoke of the wicked. In Revelation, this is done by Michael, the Archangel, when he casts Satan out of heaven who is then robbed of ultimate power but still furious.

Ps 128 (bread of toil)

How fortunate is everyone / who reveres Yhwh

                Who walks / in his ways

You will certainly eat / what your toiling hands produce

                How fortunate you are! / you will get on well

Your wife will be like / a fruitful vine

                Inside your house

Your sons / will be like olive shoots

                Around your table

Take note / this is how a man / is blessed

                Who fears Yhwh

May Yhwh bless you / from Zion

                So that you see / Jerusalem fairing well

                All your life long

So that you see / your grandsons

                May peace rest / upon Israel.

The bread of toil—when Adam is removed from the Garden he is not cursed but the ground is. Yhwh says that because Adam listened to Eve, then the ground is cursed because of him and only through “painful toil” will he eat foot from it all of his days. It is notable that this cursing of the ground, and the consequent toil, is a result of Adam’s folly, of his failing to revere Yhwh and walk in his ways. Adam is a fool. By contrast, in this psalm, those who revere Yhwh and walk in his ways experience a very different relationship with the earth. For them, they are permitted to enjoy the “fruit of their labor”. The curse placed upon the earth, for them, is lifted and it responds to them the way it was intended. It is as if we see here a prelapsarian land, that there are ‘pockets of blessing’ where the righteous receive from the land without the painful and futile effort of Adam. Just as in Genesis, this psalmist sees a deep and intimate connection between man’s reverence and faithfulness to Yhwh and the earth’s “faithfulness” and response to man’s hands. For Genesis, the intransigence and futility of creation is a mirror and enactment of man’s intransigence to Yhwh. For the psalmist, the earth’s potential for abundance is a mirror and enactment of man’s devotion to Yhwh. In both, man stands as the mediator of the earth’s possibilities, for one, into futility, for the other, into blessing and fortune.

This same connection extends to the wife. Just as the ground is responsive to the righteous man’s hands, so too is the wife’s womb fruitful to the man. Again, in Genesis, just as Adam and Eve are on the verge of being expelled from the Garden, Yhwh tells Eve that will “toil” in childbirth, and only in pain will she now have children. It is notable, moreover, that Genesis contains a number of stories of women for whom childbearing is difficult; their wombs are barren for a long period of time until Yhwh “opens their womb”. In Genesis, this “curse of toil and pain” of the woman in childbirth is followed with what we looked at above—the toil of man’s hands with the ground. There is, clearly, a deep connection between these, as in this psalm. And here, it is important to see how the seeming reversal of those curses are so closely tied together—the woman is now brought into the agricultural image of fruitfulness. Her womb will participate in the same blessing of the ground, to such an extent that she is compared to a “fruitful vine in your house”.

Within both the curse on the ground and the pain of the woman is the idea that in both—in farming and in childbearing—there will be difficulty. And it seems clear that this difficulty is not something simply limited to the moment of “harvest” (either of the ground or of the child’s birth). For the ground, it will “produce thorns and thistles”. For the woman, not only will she have pain in childbearing but she will also experience “desire for your husband and he will rule over you.” What is clearly implied in these is that the human relationships will now be fraught with the same “painful toil”. That is immediately apparent when Adam and Eve give birth to their sons Cain and Abel. These two sons will now “display” the pain associated with the curse(s) and living outside the garden. Cain kills Abel in a type of concluding act of his father—Adam—blaming his bride—Eve—for his disobedience.

And yet, again, in this psalm, this seems to be reversed. Just as the ground responds to the righteous, and just as the woman’s womb is a fruitful vine, so too do the sons participate in this blessing—they are not like Cain and Abel. They are like “olive shoots around your table.”

There is surrounding all of this a sense of profound peace and abundance—both things taken from Adam and Eve when they were removed from the Garden. Yet here we see the psalmist portraying the righteous man as inhabiting this realm, that it still pervades creation and can be lived within. And that occurs when someone “reveres Yhwh and walks in his ways”. This way of wisdom is something still accessible. Wisdom is not something that is merely followed in the face of the intransigence of the Cosmos. Rather, Wisdom is a type of gateway back through and into the Garden. 

And this leads to the second half of the psalm. If Wisdom provides this gateway back to the Garden then it is no surprise that we see the blessing flowing from Zion. The construction of the Temple and the Garden itself mirror each other. The Temple was to be a new Eden, a place where heaven and earth met in holiness and where Yhwh “dwelled” and “rested”. That is why, in the redemption of the Cosmos, the Temple is always ground zero. The waters of life always flow from the Temple, inundating the earth. And that is why, here, blessing “comes from Zion.” Wisdom and Temple—the Garden restored. What we see here, then, is very important for purposes of understanding the power of Wisdom—which is Yhwh’s blessing.

Along these lines it is important to note Solomon’s role as the man of Wisdom in the Scriptures. His influence over the wisdom literature is massive. Four of the wisdom books are attributed to him, as well as psalms either from him or about him. In addition, and crucially, he is also the Temple-builder. Although the covenant with David included the building of a house of Yhwh, David did not build the Temple. Solomon did. So he stands as this Wise-King who builds the Temple—and, thus, an Adam of the Garden.

But with Christ we have “someone greater than Solomon”. Here, we have Wisdom incarnate. His very being is the enactment of Wisdom. Moreover, we have the final Temple-builder.

Ps 127 (Temple construction)

If Yhwh / does not build a house

                In vain / will its builders have toiled over it

If Yhwh / does not guard a city

                In vain / will the guard have stayed awake.

In vain / do you act

                Who rise early

                And rest late

Some eat bread / for which they have labored

                This is the way / he confers honor / on those he loves

Take notice / sons are what Yhwh gives

                Fruit from the womb / is a reward from him

Just like arrows / handled by a warrior

                Are sons / born in one’s youth

How fortunate / is the man

                Whose quiver

                He fills with them

Such do not suffer humiliation / when they argue

                With adversaries / at the gate.

The first half of the psalm contemplates the what occurs if Yhwh does not perform certain acts. The second half deals with what happens when Yhwh does engage in certain acts.

The first half, importantly, describes the acts as both Yhwh acts and human acts. Although Yhwh is a builder, a guardian and a farmer, those activities are also human acts that humans can perform on their own. However, if the humans do these without Yhwh also engaging in them, then their acts become vain and futile. In other words, it is Yhwh’s engagement in these acts that removes them from the potential of vanity and futility. Yhwh infuses them with his own sacred act, thereby elevating them, in a sense, above themselves and into a heaven-status of abiding perpetuity. These acts “meet their mark” when they are elevated by Yhwh beyond themselves.

A house that Yhwh and man builds, then, is not simply a house. A city that Yhwh and builds is not simply a city. One who labors, too, who rises early and rests late, is not, in a sense, “simply a man”. A field that Yhwh and man plants, is not simply a field. This does not mean that they necessarily reveal Yhwh’s hand. What this psalm stresses is that Yhwh’s acts keep these things from devolving into vanity and futility. In other words, to “see Yhwh’s hand” is to see these things last beyond what man can provide. They endure. This endurance, this abiding-ness to these things is the shimmering of divine glory, what shows these things to be Yhwh’s handiwork. All of these shimmer with divine glory.

Something similar to this occurs when Yhwh promises to Abram that he will have descendants as numerous as the sand. Before Abram, from the time of Adam when a child was born it was the product of the parent’s fruitfulness. However, when this blessing of children is provided to Abram it is Yhwh himself who will make him fruitful. Importantly, it is Yhwh’s involvement that establishes Abram’s line in perpetuity. While Yhwh does promise him that kings will come from him, he does not, for example, promise him that he will give birth to heroes. The “visibility” of Yhwh’s promise is, in large part, the fact that Abram’s line will not “enter into futility” but will survive.

And this is what we see in the second section of the psalm, where Yhwh’s activity is apparent. The psalmist shifts to the “fruit of the womb”. It is children that Yhwh “gives” as a “reward”. He gives them, at least in part, so that they be arrows for their father. And the more Yhwh gives, he more arrows he has to fill his quiver. They become what the city was the opening—the guardians of the father. They protect him against the adversaries “at the gate” and, in so doing, they protect him against humiliation. This humiliation must be somewhat akin to the vanity and futility of the opening.

There is, I think, a likely second layer of meaning in the psalm. The superscription to the psalm says it is “concerning Solomon” or “a processional son. Solomonic.” Solomon, as David’s son, is the “house builder” in the old covenant. He is also named by Yhwh as “Jedidiah”, which means “loved by the Lord”, which is referred to in here as Yhwh conferring honor on “those he loves”. Also, the “sleep” referring to Solomon’s dream where Yhwh praises him for asking for wisdom before all else and, because he has done so, he will receive “honor” (as in this psalm). These resonances with Solomon are profound. We are to see in the house, the building of the Temple itself, the city, the construction of Jerusalem and, importantly, both were destroyed and rebuilt. The prophets saw their destruction as a result of the people’s pollution and sins. They had become “mere buildings”. In a way, man’s actions made something that was sacred—something that had become what it was intended to be because Yhwh brought it beyond itself—into something profane, thereby subjecting it to vanity and futility. That said, their plans were retained in heaven such that they could be rebuilt, by Yhwh and man, thereby making them sacred once again. We will return to this below when see how this psalm is enacted in David’s other son, the final Temple builder, Jesus.

The fact that without Yhwh’s aid man’s acts devolve into futility and vanity deserves contemplation. The story of Adam and Eve somewhat speak to this especially in regard to the curses placed upon man and the fact that his work from that point forward will be difficult. There is, also, a sense running throughout the scriptures, especially the psalms and other wisdom literature, that futility and vanity mark creation and man’s efforts. It seems as if man’s work, apart from Yhwh, is subject to a type of curse. It is, without qualification, doomed to futility and vanity. It will not survive. “Curse” on the other hand may be too strong of a word. It also seems as if man’s work apart from Yhwh is simply abortive. It is intended to be “leavened” by Yhwh’s aid and assistance and, when it does not receive it, it decays (in a sense; or, falls back into chaos). The “natural end” of man’s work, then, is to participate in Yhwh’s work. When it does not do so, it ceases to “be itself” and fails. It’s failure is, in this regard, Yhwh “turning his face from man’s work”, a type of cursing. Yhwh, in this sense, does not “cause” its futility in the same way that he “causes” its success. When man’s work succeeds it is because Yhwh actively wills it so; when it fails it is because Yhwh passively turns away from it and permits it to become futile.

In Jesus, this psalm deepens in an extraordinary fashion. The first line refers to the “building of a house”, which, as we saw above, can and does refer to Solomon’s construction of the Temple. In the gospels, Jesus routinely refers to himself as the one “greater than Solomon” and as himself as being the new Temple. In this we see how this Temple—the Temple of Christ’s flesh—becomes the Temple that will not pass away or become subject to futility, like the one of the Davidic covenant. And it will be so because it is constructed by man and Yhwh—the Incarnation; Jesus himself—is the building that is not constructed once but is and always remains the living Temple. In other words, Christ’s perpetual and abiding faithfulness and his co-working with the Father, makes him the abiding and ongoing temple-builder and Temple. As the divine son, he and the Father ‘constructed’ this new Temple in the Spirit. As human, he cooperated in this construction completely and totally, without remainder. Christ is this entirely human and divine construction—this new Temple. Those are baptized into him, are baptized into him and his relationship with the Father, in the Spirit. That is why this construction can never devolve into futility because it cannot be profaned. Christ lived the life of purity and sacredness and, in his resurrection and ascension, brought that entire and abidingness into heaven, thereby establishing it in the Father’s Forever.

And yet, this Temple construction—this act of Christ as the new Solomon—in a real sense only begins with the ascension. That is when the “cornerstone, which the builders rejected” is first established. As Paul makes clear, Christ is continuing to “build up” the Temple, which is his body, through baptism and the incorporation of people through the Eucharist. It is into his faith that we are baptized. The work of the Eucharist, from this perspective, is key. Because Christ’s flesh is the new Temple, the flesh that he provides through the Eucharist is the literal act by which he builds his people up into himself (literally). This is the dual act by which Yhwh and Christ and us “build the house”. And while we may become stones that are ‘profaned’, and therefore discarded, that does not affect the permanent but ongoing holiness of Christ the Temple (Builder). 

Ps 126 (as certain as a proverb)

When Yhwh restored

                Zion’s fortunes

                We were / like dreamers

Then were filled / with laughter / our mouths

                And our tongues / with happy shouts

Then it was said / among the nations

                Yhwh has done / a great work

                In his dealings / with them

Yhwh did do / a great work

                In his dealings / with us

                We were so glad

Yhwh / restore our fortunes

                Like river beds / in the Negeb

Those who / sow with tears

                With happy shouts / do reap

The one who carries / the bag of seed

                Weeps / as he goes along

But the one who carries / his sheaves

                Comes home / with a happy shout.

To really grasp the magnitude of the joy the psalmist expresses here we must have an understanding of Zion and what it means for the psalmist and Yhwh’s people. This is not simply the rebuilding of a building. Zion is the ground or wellspring of creation itself. It is the place where Yhwh’s Presence dwells with the people. As such, in Zion creation reaches its pinnacle by being brought beyond itself into Yhwh’s Presence, and Yhwh’s Presence is “brought beyond itself” as it descends to earth. In way, Zion exists in this borderland between heaven and earth. And this is something the psalmist and the pilgrims would have entered into and experienced when they visited Zion. To have Zion raised to the ground during the Babylonian captivity would have been tantamount to watching not just the earth destroyed, but heaven as well. In a very real sense, “heaven and earth would have passed away”, leaving the psalmist and the people in an existence that was neither earth nor heaven. The magnitude of that loss must be understood as stretching into this realm beyond comprehension. And yet, to then have Zion restored. To have been released from bondage in Babylon, to journey back to the Land, and experience Zion rebuilt, one would have been watching the construction of the Cosmos, of heaven and earth being rebuilt before their eyes. It must have been staggeringly joyous to experience.

It in this context that we should hear and see the images the psalmist uses to describe Zion’s rebuilding. Just as Zion itself stands between heaven and earth, so too does its redemption and reconstruction exists “as in a dream”. It is simply too great to formulate within the waking world. It is too real. In the imagery of the psalm it is the time of homecoming, the time of return, flooding, restoration, happiness and harvest. The clarity of Yhwh’s deliverance is so great that it expands beyond the border of Israel and is spoken of by the nations. Unlike in the time of the exodus, when the nations heard of Yhwh’s wonders because of the great devastation he wrought on Egypt, here the proclamation of Yhwh’s deliverance is grounded purely in his gracious and astounding return of his people to their land and the rebuilding of Zion.

For the psalmist, this time of joy is in the past. And yet, his recounting of it is an act of thanksgiving. It is an acknowledgement of Yhwh’s deliverance and it does not seek to lessen its impact even though the present is marked by a “loss of fortune”. Something has occurred after Zion’s rebuilding. On some level, the people feel as if they are sliding back into the time of exile. They are, now, ‘sowing in tears’. They are, now, living as in a time of drought. These images of loss parallel the images and time of exile. Just as their return was occasioned with a “happy shout”, so too do they now look to a time of reaping and “happy shouts”.

It is here where the psalmist accomplishes something important. By paralleling the imagery of the present with the past, he is able to see that the present suffering must be similar to the older form of suffering. And, because he knows that Yhwh has worked for them in the past in a truly staggering fashion, he perceives that the present time and the past were times of “sowing”. This is key. The past sheds light on the present which, in turn, sheds light back on the past. So, what could have appeared as Yhwh’s abandonment during the time of the Babylonian captivity is understood now, after the fact, as a time of ‘sowing’. It is deeply significant. The captivity was traumatic. It was a time of weeping and loss. But, it was the trauma, weeping and loss of sowing and planting. It was the time when the seed would fall the ground and die but only for the purpose of growth and harvest and abundance. It was necessary but not ultimate; it was penultimate. And the psalmist, on the far side of the harvest, can now see that and, more importantly, can situate the present suffering within that same time of sowing.

It is now at this point that we can see what the psalmist is accomplishing in the final few lines. Standing in the middle of the psalm is the only direct petition to Yhwh, and it is only two lines long: “Yhwh restore our fortunes, like river beds in the Negeb.” Following that is a type of wisdom saying—the summation of the psalmist’s understanding we described above. The psalmist is clearly asking Yhwh to work another “great work”. He clearly wants Yhwh to “bring them home” with “sheaves”. But, importantly, he is now so firm in his understanding that this is how Yhwh works, that he can cite this assurance as a type of proverb, something that is as certain to occur as harvesting follows sowing. 

Ps 125 (removing the scepter)

Those who / trust in Yhwh

                Are like Mount Zion

                Which is immovable / abiding forever

Jerusalem has mountains / around it

                And Yhwh is around his people

                Henceforth / and forevermore

The scepter / of wickedness

                Will surely not remain

                Over the land / allotted to the righteous

Or else the righteous might turn

                Their hands / to wrongdoing

Do good / Yhwh / to the good

                To those with upright hearts

But those who turn aside / to their crooked ways

                May Yhwh / remove

                Together with the evildoers

Peace be upon Israel.

The Land is the center of the psalm. The people are compared to Mount Zion, while Yhwh is compared to the mountains around it. Both of which are described as partaking of Yhwh’s “forever.” And yet, “over the land” is the “scepter of wickedness”. The psalmist asks that Yhwh “remove [from the land]” those who are unfaithful to the covenant and the “evildoers”.

We see a few things in these images. The first is, intriguingly, that the people are compared to Zion while Yhwh is compared to the mountains around Zion. It is not an expected portrayal because Zion is understood as Yhwh’s abode. The mountains around Zion are not sacred mountains. And yet, for the psalmist, he sees something in this topography that is crucial. Those who are “in Yhwh” stand, like Zion, within an even greater protective embrace by Yhwh, like the surrounding mountains. Their covenant faithfulness makes them the sacred heart, or center, of the Land, with the rest of the Land “mobilized” as a protection over them. Yhwh is both center and circumference.

Also, Zion is described as “immovable” and “abiding forever”. Zion stands firm against the forces and agents of chaos (the nations) in the way creation itself is set up against chaos. One could say that Zion is the ‘wellspring’ of creation, or where creation “become creation” because it abides and participates within Yhwh’s Forever blessing. This sense of an abiding stance against chaos is here juxtaposed with the “scepter of wickedness”. While Zion participates within Yhwh’s abiding, the scepter “will not remain”. It is the opposite of Zion. It is like creation subject to vanity and futility—it cannot endure; it does not participate within Yhwh’s Forever. It will never fully accomplish its goal or hit its mark. It is, nonetheless, dangerous because, like the fruit of the Garden, it can “turn the righteous hands to wrongdoing.” This ‘scepter’ can create subjects, it can infect the Land, and the righteous, introducing chaos into the Land. For that reason, the psalmist asks that Yhwh remove the cancer to prevent its spread—to “remove those who turn aside and the evildoers”.

Importantly, Yhwh accomplishes this by a two-fold action. First, he does “good to the good”. In a way, he makes the Zion-people more ‘into Zion’—they become more and more this immovable, abiding force of creation against the evildoers and covenant-breakers. Second, he removes the wicked and the covenant breakers. And, this is how the psalm comes full circle. Those who ‘trust in Yhwh’ are likened to Zion, the wellspring of creation. They become ‘the good’. And Yhwh, in his removal of the wicked, becomes like the mountains around Zion, protecting Zion from contagion. Again Yhwh is both center and circumference, now in his power of blessing and removal. It is in this two-fold action that “peace” comes upon Israel.

In the gospels, particularly Mark, this two-fold action continues but now it is raised to a new, almost final, level. The gospel, importantly, opens with Christ being propelled into the dessert to battle Satan. That is his first mission; his first attack. He is not, like Joshua or Moses, first attacking either the Egyptians or the human inhabitants of the land (here: the covenant breakers and the evildoers). He is attacking the source itself, the “scepter of wickedness” that attempts, and has, to create Satanic disciples within the Land, or, at least, has enslaved those within the Land (through possession, disease and impurity). In this way, he is like a new-and-son-of-David, ridding the land to bring peace to it so that the new Temple can be established. Recall that in David’s time, the land had to first experience peace before the Temple could be constructed. In Mark, Christ is this Messiah-mission to rid the Land of impurity. This is deeply significant. If the old Temple could be constructed within the Land, even though the “scepter of wickedness” still hung over it, then when Christ directly battles that “scepter”, thus removing it entirely, then the new Temple that he is preparing for must be one that far exceeds the glory and holiness of the old. Strangely, as we know from John and Paul—the Temple he is preparing for is his own body, in which all of humanity will not be a part of. In Acts, we see that once Christ accomplishes the final defeat of Satan, then the Holy Spirit can be given and the New Temple established. There can be no greater “good” than this giving of the new covenant, sealed in the Holy Spirit. The Church is now not “like Zion”, but is Zion, the Temple, being built up through the participated-in-Christ-flesh of Christians. In them there is this new Zion and, accordingly, a “new creation”. This momentum of battle with the demonic, initiated by Christ, is carried forward until Revelation where it will be completely accomplished.

Ps 124 (Breaking the fowler's trap)

Were it not for Yhwh

                Who took our side

                Let Israel declare

Were it not for Yhwh

                Who took our side

                When men attacked us,

Then they would have / swallowed us alive

                So furious was their anger / against us

Then the waters / would have overwhelmed us

                The torrent / would have gone above our necks

Then it would have gone above / our necks

                Those raging waters

Blessed is Yhwh

                Who did not let us be

                A prey to their teeth

We have escaped / with our lives / like a bird

                Out of the fowler’s trap

The trap is broken

                And we have escaped

Our help / consisted in the name of Yhwh

                Maker of heaven and earth.

The entire community has gathered together in order to offer thanksgiving to Yhwh for his deliverance of them. They were on the verge not simply of defeat but of annihilation. The fierceness and rapidity with which they were attacked is described as their being almost “swallowed alive.” They were not a prey that was hunted, killed, and then devoured. Their enemies, rather, were “so furious with anger” that the hunt and their death was almost a simultaneous action. Their enemies’ anger is compared is a “torrent” and “raging waters”; their enemies were oceanic in their fierceness and in their strength. They were the agents of chaos that are almost always pictured as coming from the sea or as “the waters”.

The imagery here is more-than-human. The waters, the maw, and the torrent are all expressions of Sheol. Israel’s enemies are not simply flesh, even though the psalmist describes them as “men who attacked us.” Behind them, or inspiring them, is Sheol.

On the far side of their deliverance, they “bless Yhwh” who saved them from the Sheol hunter, almost snatching them from his mouth, from the trap which had been sprung. Yhwh reaches into the maw and the trap and breaks it open so that his people can escape. The Name breaks them. The Name was their help. The Name freed them from the sea of chaos, the maw and the trap and set them again into life. This Name is the one who “made heaven and earth”.

It is interesting that the Name is the “maker of heaven and earth” and does not mention water. On the one hand, “heaven and earth” simply means the Cosmos. He is the creator of everything. On the other hand, in this psalm with its emphasis on the chaos waters almost overwhelming his people, its absence is notable. He did not ‘create’ this chaos. He did not create this predator of his people. He did not make its maw or its trap. And that is why he, the creator of all, can be “against it”. It is why the presence of his Name is not performing an act of contradiction by destroying something that bears its mark. Yhwh, in taking “their side” is not standing against himself or his creation.

In this we can recall Abram, through whom the nations would either be blessed or cursed. This collective thanksgiving can be seen as one that takes place within this Abram covenant. They are the people against whom the nations throw their fury and their oceanic rage, but they do so against the people that have been given Yhwh’s presence-blessing. Abram and his children are the measure, the cannon of the Cosmos. In a sense, they carry forward this creation of “heaven and earth”. They will be the sacred chalice, holding the Name; they will the dangerous arc that cannot be improperly touched. However they are approached, the approaching ones will be judged. They did not come to bring judgment, but how the nations respond to them will be their judgment.

This can be deepened even further. Abram son, Isaac, stood were these people stood—staring into the maw of Sheol and certain death. And yet, at the last moment, when the waves were just about to cover him, Yhwh intervened on his behalf and reestablished him in life. From that sacrifice sprung the Abrahamic covenant and the people of Israel. They would then, forever, be marked as the people who stood in the face of death and were saved from its trap at the last moment by Yhwh’s grace. Each act of deliverance after that, from Egypt to Babylon, would be a rescuing and reenactment of this moment. They would be Isaac all over again, made into a people that, literally, lived by the grace of Yhwh.

If, in Abram and Isaac, the people are placed close to death through Yhwh’s commandment, how much more so will Yhwh save them from their, and Yhwh’s, enemies? Can we not see in this near-sacrifice of Isaac that if Yhwh saves from his own commands, then he will save them much more from the chaos-waters that stand opposed to him and his creation?

Abraham ‘hands over’ Isaac to Yhwh. Yhwh, in turn, ‘hands over’ his name to Israel. By handing over the Name to Israel, and enabling them to call upon it and make Yhwh present, Yhwh began the process that would lead to the final ‘handing over’ of the Name, when it would become flesh and then ‘handed over’ to be crucified and raised again.  In Christ we see these two coincide—he becomes the fully human Abraham who sacrifices everything over the Father, and he becomes the Father who hands over the Son.

In this psalm, what breaks the fowler’s trap and what robs Sheol of its prey, is the Name. The Name has “come close” to Israel and, in so doing, has become a type of explosive force of redemption for them. It is not merely protective, shielding them from Sheol and death, but also actively “breaking” their authority and power. In the gospel of John, Jesus is the Name. Paul says that when Jesus was lifted up he was given “the Name above all names.” He has become the Isaac-as-Name, sacrificed so that his death will destroy death itself, will rob Sheol of its subjects, and release Israel from its pharaohs.