Ps 1

Blessed / is the man / who has not walked / by the counsel / of the wicked

Has not stood / in the way / of the sinful

Has not sat / in the gathering / of scoffers

But / in Yhwh’s Torah / is his delight

In Yhwh’s Torah / will he muse / by day and by night

So shall he be / like a tree

Transplanted / by running waters

Which shall yield its fruit / in its season

And its foliage / shall not wither

Not so the wicked

But they are like chaff / that the wind tosses

Therefore / the wicked shall not rise up / in judgment

Nor sinners / in the assembly of the righteous

For Yhwh knows / the way of the righteous

But the way of the wicked / shall perish

The psalmist begins in blessing, but it is framed in the negative, by what the blessed man avoids. There is something profound in this—that the state of blessing is not simply to be found in a positive fashion, as in, in what the blessed man possesses, but is, perhaps first and foremost, found in what he does not possess, in what he avoids. One might analogize this to a healthy person. They are healthy because, at least in part, they do not possess disease or corruption. They are ‘functioning properly’. So too, the blessed man “does not walk by the counsel of the wicked”. He does not “stand in the way of the sinful”. And he does not “sit in the gathering of scoffers.”

From the negative, the psalmist then moves to the positive. If the first portion can be analogized to the avoidance of disease, then this portion focuses on the sources of blessedness, what engenders it. Here, in contrast to the three sources of avoidance, we have the single source of Torah as the source of blessedness.

Throughout the psalms, Yhhw’s Torah is described as Yhwh’s ‘way’ and as offering counsel. In other words, what the wicked provide is a mockery of the true “way” and source of counsel. 

The blessed man delights in Torah and his mediation is the planting of the seed of Torah within him. The following stanza describes the effect of Torah as it takes root and grows within the blessed man.

The blessed man becomes “like a tree”. The effect of Torah is important to reflect on. First, the psalmist finds the realm of vegetation to be the most appropriate description of the effect of Torah and the effect of judgment. For the blessed man, he becomes “like a tree”. The psalmist chooses the image of the tree, likely, for several reasons. At least initially, we see how the tree is an image of both receptivity and productivity. The tree must receive water in order to flourish. However, with the water, the tree also produces fruit. More deeply still is the fact that the water flows down into the trees roots and is somewhat hidden in its lifegiving abilities. It is steadily transformed inot the life of the tree. Yet, what is manifest, what is evident, what is clear and on display is the fruit. The fruit is there “for all to see”. And, in many ways, this is the purpose of the water—to be taken up into the tree, and for the tree to apply its own creative powers, and for the fruit to be the manifestation of the water-and-tree.

We will return to this later.

The fact that the tree is transplanted is also key and worth reflecting on. The psalmist could have easily left this detail out. He could have simply said that he is like a tree by running water. However, he wants to make an important point. The act of meditating upon Torah is “ecstatic”. It removes the person from their mundane realm and places them within Yhwh’s realm. Placed as the gateway to all the psalms, the point here being made is that meditation upon the psalms, as Torah, is an act of transplanting, a removal into Yhwh’s realm where perpetual, life giving water is provided and where one’s potential for fruit production is fully realized. As we will see, it is also the realm of perpetual life. In this way, Torah removes the man from a realm of vanity, where things strive to achieve their potential, in security and in perpetuity, but routinely fail. They either fail to realize their potential or they realize it but are unable to maintain or, as with everything, they die. Yet, in Torah, they “transplanted” from this realm of vanity and planted in another realm—where water is ever-flowing, where their fruit-potential is always realized and where death does not enter. We might say, they are transplanted back into Eden and they, themselves, become trees of life.

What is important to see is that Torah here is an engine-of-blessedness; it is a ‘realm of blessedness’; it is power abundant. It is not, in other words, simply a text. It perfects what is lacking in the realm of nature and vanity but it does so by brining far beyond itself. We could put it this way—the psalmist is not, through Torah, perfected “in himself” but he is perfected by being brought out of himself or, better, beyond himself, and into Yhwh’s realm. Within that realm, all of the ‘natural’ vanity of things is surpassed—water remains and does not dry up; fruit is produced “in season” and without interruption; and, it is safeguarded against death by its leaves remaining green. This is a realm without the fear inherent in vanity—the fear of loss and the inability to protect against the forces of chaos and entropy. 

By placing this psalm at the beginning, it shows us that every psalm is going to be this movement—as Torah, when one meditates upon it, one is taken from the realm of vanity and placed within this realm of ever-water, ever-fruitfulness and ever-life. The meditating person is taken into Yhwh’s Forever, this realm of ever-power, ever-production, ever-movement; a realm of staggering beauty and goodness. This is where one should look in every psalm. This is the ‘heart of the psalter’.

It brings the psalmist to his potential by taking him beyond himself and into Yhwh’s sphere or realm of influence. Torah “transplants” the man into the realm of blessedness. He is taken from one realm and placed into another. Within that realm he is placed by “running streams”. He becomes ‘supernatural’. He is ‘transplanted’ from a purely natural realm of growth and flourishing, and is planted in  Yhwh’s realm. This is important to notice—what is “possible” in the normal course of events, what “nature” ordinarily can accomplish, is here dramatically superseded when Torah becomes it’s source of vitality and growth. This not even the realm of simple abundance. It is the realm of perpetual and abiding and overwhelming life. The blessed man becomes, himself, a ‘tree of life’.

There is an important parallel between the man’s mediation on Torah “day and night” and the fact that Torah places the psalmist next to “running water” and that his foliage “shall not wither”. These are mirror images of the other. The psalmist engages in a perpetual and abiding meditation of Torah; and he becomes like a tree that transplanted next to water that is perpetual and abiding. To the extent that he pours himself into Torah, does Torah pour itself into him. Moreover, to the extent that he gives his ‘time’ Torah, does Torah give ‘time’ to him, by placing him in the forever of its foliage not withering.

Just as Torah elevates and, in so doing, fulfills the psalmist, so too, in a sense, does the psalmist’s meditations bring Torah to its completion. That is the “picture” of the psalm—the interaction of the water and the tree in the production of fruit and longevity. The water and the tree are made for each other and both find their realization in the production of fruit, as they also find their realization in the longevity of the tree. We might say it thus—as nature is realized in grace, so too is grace realized in nature, and both of these find their realization in the ‘fruit’ and ‘immortality’. This realm of water, production and longevity is a realm of blessing. It is, importantly, the realm of Torah. The psalmist finds his “delight” in Torah.

From this realm of secure provision, production and longevity, the psalmist turns to the realm of the wicked. Like the blessed man, they also are ‘transplanted’ but it is not a transplanting of blessedness. The realm they are removed to is one of destruction and perishing. It is the antithesis of the realm of blessedness. The blessed man is made secure as a tree and given ample nourishment. The wicked, on the other hand, are compared to chaff, which has so little stability that the slightest wind can blow it away. While the blessed produce fruit, the wicked are compared to chaff, which is the leftover ‘dross’ of a harvest. Again, it is the antithesis of the blessed man. The blessed man produces, the wicked man not only has no power of production in himself, nor receives it from the divine realm, but the wicked are the trash of the vegetative realm. 

The blessed have an ability to be productive; they are trees. While that can’t be realized without water, they have the potential. The wicked, by contrast, do not contain within themselves a productive capacity. No water is going to enable them to produce fruit. They are only good ‘for burning’ or for discarding.

In this psalm, man is moved—either into the realm of blessedness or into the realm of destruction. There is no ‘third realm’. One is either a transplanted tree or chaff. There is no other metaphor used to describe a person.

The psalm began describing how the blessed do not engage with the wicked. The psalm ends with how the wicked are not permitted to actively engage with the righteous. The psalm begins with the wicked apparently in some form of control, in that they are the ones who are forming the gatherings that the blessed does not participate in. The psalm ends, however, with the righteous forming the gatherings that wicked must submit to. The blessed man has become the righteous. Between the beginning and the end the righteous has been lifted up, while the wicked have been brought low. In the words of the psalm, the blessed man has been made into a transplanted tree while the wicked have been made into chaff.

The question is when does this inversion occur—when are the low raised up and the high brought low? What as the triggering event? It appears that there is a time when an assembly is called and a judgment rendered—we might say, a court case. This purpose of the gathering and the judgment is to identify the righteous and, in so doing, to place them in their righteous-power. The act of judgment will be who Yhwh ‘knows’, because Yhwh “knows the righteous” but, by implication, he “does not know the wicked”. This act of knowing is an act of judgment and it is what elevates the righteous to blessing and power. “I know my sheep….”. The act of “not knowing” is also performative—by “not being known” the wicked perish. “Those who do not know me are already judged…”

We see in this act of judgment how the ‘world of the psalm’ is judged and made right—the psalm opened with the “way of the wicked” that the blessed man avoided. It ends, however, not with the way of the wicked but with the “way of righteous”. That is the “way” known to Yhwh which leads to blessedness. The “way of wicked”, on the other hand, leads to perishing. The psalmist, then, crafts the psalm to represent the act of judgment, through the repetition of the “way” and how the beginning-way is later not even mentioned and goes to perishing, while the way that is shown at the end to be the righteous way, leads to ‘running streams, fruit bearing and ever-green life’.

Perhaps in this the psalm shows a deeper level—that the judgment will be the act of transplanting. When Yhwh gathers together the righteous and the wicked, and when the righteous are lifted up because they are “known to Yhwh”, then they will be like the trees transplanted by running streams. In other words, the psalm operates on an “already-but-not-yet” timeframe. The blessed man, now, meditates on Torah day and night—and that all-encompassing meditation is made into his being planted, now, by running streams, fruit bearing and ever green leaves. But also, in the future, this ‘seed’ will bloom through a definitive act of judgment, when the wicked will be made to perish and the blessed firmly rooted in righteousness.

This is captured in the verb tenses used—he “will be” like a tree; the wicked “shall perish”; his delight “is” in Torah; he meditates on it “day and night”. What is occurring now—the avoidance of the wicked and the delight in Torah—is the seed that forms the basis for the judgment that will make him into a tree and the wicked into chaff.

The psalm begins in the human realm but quickly moves into the realm of vegetation. The psalmist envisions the blessed man as a tree, transplanted to a realm of perpetual and abiding life and vitality, while the wicked are chaff, embodying the life of pure vanity and destruction.

And, it is Torah that determines the vegetation. For those who delight in Torah, Torah becomes in them the beginning of the life of blessedness as well as a pledge of future abundance and security. In the words of the psalm, Torah makes them into transplanted trees. Their delight in Torah becomes their blessing and abundance. For those, however, who avoid Torah and take counsel with themselves and the wicked, they are on the path to decay and vanity with a final judgment of destruction awaiting them.

The For the psalmist, the reality of Torah is clothed in these powerful images. It is in these images that the delight that flows from meditating on Torah is portrayed in words. This “delight” is the

The psalm can be read as embodying the effect of Torah. When the Israelites are prepared to enter the Land, Yhwh tells them that he has put before them life and death. Life is chosen by loving Yhwh, walking in his ways and being objedient to his commands. Death is chosen by turning away from Yhwh, not being obedient and falling into idolatry.

The way of life ends with entering and possessing the Land and life abundant. The way of death ends in destruction and not living long in the Land. What is key is that Torah, or obedience to Yhwh, is being placed before them as they are en route to the Land. They are, in other words, in the process of being transplanted from Egypt to the Land, just as the psalmist here describes the blessed man as being “transplanted” to living water. The goal, then, is the Land. Torah is the Land’s nourishment. It is what will strengthen the people; it is what will accommodate them to the Land’s own holiness and blessedness. To the extent they do not accommodate themselves to the Land’s requirements, they will not be permitted to live there and will perish.

What is also clear from this passage and the remaining Scriptures is that if the people were to fully and truly accommodate themselves to Torah they would not simply enter the Land and live there and prosper abundantly. But they would have all of this in safety and perpetuity. The threat and anxiety of ‘the enemy’ would be placated and there would be a peace that would be a type of completion of the heavenly abundance. The peace, the freedom from fear and anxiety, would itself be understood as a heavenly reality, something that can only come down from above. It would be a visible marvel, a glory, a sacrament.

Of course, just as with Adam and Israel-and-the-calf, the promise was not to become a full reality, but was to continuously oscillate between possession and loss. This dynamic left the Land and the people largely still within the realm of vanity that Adam had subjected it to—to the perpetual oscillation that never arrives at its goal but always strains for it; that sense that nothing ever “arrives” and, even if it can be achieved, it cannot be achieved in perpetuity. It is, in other words, always surrounded by anxiety. It edges ever so close to the fulfillment of the curse as much as it seeks to obtain the promise.

In this psalm, that reality of Torah is fully on display. It looks upon the man who delights in Torah and sees in him an already-but-not-yet Person-of-the-Land. He is “like” a transplanted (read an exodus) tree, moved to the Land. This beginning, this transplantation, takes him from the realm of vanity and places him within the realm of blessing. However, the man has not fully arrived. He has not fully achieved possession. It is still in the future, something to come. He “will” produce fruit in season. The fully realization cannot take place until the wicked—the threat and the anxiety—and fully dealt with. Until they, in the words of the psalm, perish and are “blown away like chaff”. There will come a day when the courtroom will be convened and the high will be brought low, and the low raised up. And then, after that judgment is rendered, the Land will become truly the Land because it will be inhabited by those who can pass through its gates in holiness.

And so, the psalter places before us, in the very first psalm, life and death. For those who meditate upon the psalms day and night, who delight in them, they become the vehicle whereby the Land will be possessed. They will also become the vehicle of transplanting, of turning the reader “into a tree planted by running water”. And, in this way, they will become the pledge of the future possession of the Land, when the Land, through the people, will become truly the Land.

In Paul we see all of this reaching its culmination. In Revelation, we see it being actualized.

For Paul, the Cosmos has been subjected to vanity. Moreover, the Torah, which was supposed to bring life, has, instead, only brought death. In other words, the only thing that the Torah has “activated” are the curses. It has been waiting for the proper servant who would bring its life. For that reason, the vanity that the earth has been subjected to, now exists within the human heart—it cannot achieve what it wants and is divided against itself. For that reason, the Land cannot be fully the Land. The Land needs its holy Adam, and that holiness is, under the covenant, found in Torah.

In Christ, though, the new, spiritual Adam, the Torah has found its Adam and, through him, found the one through whom its fountain of life can pour. That is how Christ, through the Law, put the Law to death. He put it to death by dying its curses and unleashing its life. And in so doing, he, Christ, now becomes the source of life. He becomes the sun that radiates the Cosmos. And, through him, the Land begins to come into focus. What was over the horizon, what remained obscured in the dessert of vanity, is now seen. And now, it groans in anticipation, sighing for its Adams to come to it. And here we see how, or why, incorporation into Christ becomes so key for the Cosmos—because it is through Christ that the Cosmos finds its Adams that makes the Cosmos into the Land it was intended to be. In Christ, man is Christified, re-Adamized, made into the vessels of holiness that would make the Cosmos and Land the secure and perpetual bountiful blessing that Psalm 1 envisions.

And so, for those ‘in Christ’, he becomes the Torah, the source of delight, the one who should be meditated on day and night. He is the one who will be the “running water” that will enable trees to produce fruit in season and for their leaves to never wither.

In John, Jesus is the “Logos of God” become flesh. He is Life become flesh. The “life” that was put before Israel, the abundant heaven-life that would mark them in the Land—the blessings of the covenant—became flesh and is Jesus. In other words, the object of delight and meditation in Psalm 1 has become flesh. Now, Jesus is this meditative object of attention and delight. Moreover, with the woman at the well, Jesus describes himself as living water that will never run out. He later describes himself as the vine and those who are “in him” as the fruit. Of course, throughout, he “is the resurrection” and those who are “in him” will never die.

This reflection can only deepen. In Ezekiel, the prophet has a vision of future time when a stream will issue from the Temple. It will begin small but soon becomes a torrent of “living water”. On the banks are many trees whose leaves do not wither and who produce fruit “every month”. Their leaves are used for healing. This image is then picked up in Revelation which now describes a single tree that bears twelve fruits every month, and whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.