Original Meaning
The God Who Is For His People (124:1–5)
THE FIRST STROPHE IN THE PSALM considers how dire the people’s circumstances would have been were God not on their side. Using conditional “if . . . then” language, the psalmist creates an imagined scenario. The first two verses function as the protasis and provide the condition (“if the LORD had not been on our side”); the final three verses function as the apodosis, introducing the result.
If the LORD had not been on our side. The opening word in verses 1a and 2a is lule (“if,” “perhaps,” or “except”) and introduces a negative unreal condition or a situation that runs counter to reality.4
The idea of an “unreal situation” might be better construed in English as “it was Yahweh (who acted), but if he had not,” then this is what would have happened (the “unreal situation”). The use of the “if [lule] . . . then [’azay]” construction in verses 1–5 is understood as “a narrative about what might have occurred without Yahweh’s aid” rather than a true “if . . . then” clause as often expressed in Greek.5
The word “if” (lule) occurs in a number of texts in the Old Testament in which the speaker attributes some form of unexpected deliverance to Yahweh (cf. Gen 31:42; 43:10; Deut 32:29; 1 Sam 25:34; 2 Sam 2:27; 2 Kgs 3:14; Ps 94:17). This deliverance is rooted in Israel’s claim that Yahweh is “for us.” The phrase that Yahweh is “for us” or “for me” appears frequently in texts that refer to military and hostile threats (Gen 31:42; 1 Sam 17:46; Pss 56:10; 118:6–7).6
The language in Psalm 124 points in a similar direction. The NIV translates the second half of verse 2 as “when people attacked us.” The word “attack” is derived from the Hebrew phrase “to rise up against” (qum ‘al), which often connotes the aggressive, warlike imagery of human enemies (cf. Ps 84:14). In Psalm 124 the threat to the psalmist is identified by the general term ’adam, “people.” On the power of humans in the Psalter, see Bridging Contexts below.
Swallowed us alive. The verb bala‘, “swallow up,” provides a visually graphic image—that of being devoured alive. The most memorable use of this term occurs in Numbers 16:34. The text explains that, in response to the challenges and taunts against Moses by Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, the earth opened up and swallowed the three men and their families. While that scene may be the most memorable, there are other texts in which the verb and the image of the devouring of the victim appear in scenes associated with war and conflict. In the Song of the Sea, for example, the Israelites explain that the Egyptians were defeated when Yahweh stretched out his hand and the earth swallowed the enemies (Exod 15:12). A similar expression is used by the prophets who refer to Israel’s defeat at the hands of Nebuchadnezzar as being “swallowed up” by the enemy (Isa 49:19; Jer 51:34). The writer of Lamentations also invokes imagery of being swallowed up in reference to military defeat (Lam 2:16).
The flood would have engulfed us. Psalm 124:4–5 employs a second metaphor in an attempt to portray the kind of devastation that could have come upon the community had not Yahweh been on their side: devastating floods. Othmar Keel explains that devastation can be wrought from the kind of flash flooding that plagues the region:
The inhabitants of Palestine had special opportunity . . . to experience the destructive power of the proud floods of Chaos: the numerous dry wadis can in the space of a single hour become engorged with water. The rain itself often falls somewhere in the mountains or far out in the desert. The waters gather in the dry beds; then suddenly, perhaps even under a fair sky, the flood appears in a place remote from the area of precipitation and carries off with it both man and beast.7
In Psalm 124 the imagery of floods, torrents, and raging waters as sweeping over the community confirm human powerlessness by invoking images of a watery grave and certain death. The final image employed, “raging waters,” is particularly noteworthy. The word “raging” (zedon) is used to describe the waters, but in other texts related forms of the word are translated as “arrogant” or “insolent.” While the psalmist is no doubt referring to the rising or seething waters that would have swept the community away, the use of zedon provides a subtle allusion to the arrogance that often characterizes the enemies in the psalms (cf. Ps 123:4).
An interesting parallel text occurs in Psalm 69, which includes imagery and vocabulary similar to that found in Psalm 124:3–5. In Psalm 69 the psalmist weaves together the language of bala‘ (“to swallow”) with “water” and “being engulfed.” (Both terms appear in each of the two texts.) In addition, Psalm 69:15 adds an explicit reference to Sheol (“the pit).”
Do not let the floodwaters engulf me
or the depths swallow me up
or the pit close its mouth over me.
The explicit reference to “the pit” in Psalm 69 is instructive for interpreting verses 3–5 in Psalm 124. While there the word “pit” or “Sheol” is not mentioned specifically, the image is certainly present. Leslie Allen contends that the enemies in Psalm 124 are compared with the watery monster, which he suggests “implicitly stands for Sheol.”8
Had not Yahweh been on the side of Israel, they would have met with death.
Bridging Contexts
PSALM 124 EMPLOYS various metaphors to describe the enemy: raging waters, wild animals, and snares. These images capture the sense of helplessness experienced by the community, but even more they reflect a certain sense of powerlessness, eventuating in death. The psalmist does not identify the enemy by name or even leave any interpretive clues; the enemy is simply labeled ’adam, “people.” While the term ’adam invokes idyllic scenes from the Genesis creation stories in which the breath of God enlivened human beings so that they might participate in tending to a well-ordered creation, such an idyllic image has no place in this psalm. On the contrary, the world looks like anything but a well-ordered creation—and it would have been much worse had God not been on the community’s side. In referring to the enemies as ’adam, “people,” the psalmist holds in tension two concepts regarding the human enemy faced by individuals and the community—themes that reverberate across the entirety of the Psalter. The enemies are at once both strong and weak, powerful and frail, arrogant and timid.
Many psalms confess that human enemies have the power to wreak havoc in the world—and that they do so. The psalmists do not shy away from mentioning the threat that comes to them in the form of other humans. A simple analysis of the Hebrew word for “enemy,” ’oyeb, indicates that the term occurs seventy-four times in the book of Psalms—three times more than in any other book. This disparity only increases as words and images associated with the “enemy” word field are included, thereby indicating the prominence of the enemies in the language of the Psalter.17
The frequency of this language suggests that the threats levied against the psalmists and the concomitant actions carried out against them were indeed proper subject matter for prayer—the human enemies represented a real threat to life. In Psalm 10, for example, the psalmist refers to the enemy as the ’adam and explains that they devise schemes against the righteous, murder the innocent, and revile God.18
In similar fashion to Psalm 124, Psalm 10 contains various hunting metaphors comparing the enemy to a lion who lies in wait or to a human on the hunt who “catches the helpless and drags them off in his net” (v. 9). Both metaphorical images signal the utter powerlessness of the psalmist in the face of great peril. Perhaps most damning, however, is the admission made by the wicked person in verse 11: “He says to himself, ‘God will never notice.’ ” These psalms take seriously the destructive capacities of humans and nations—and even more, of their arrogance in thinking that such behavior will escape the gaze of the Divine King.
While the psalms do recognize the destructive capacity of the enemies, the psalms also acknowledge that human power is ultimately ineffectual. In Psalm 56:11 the poet confesses: “In God I trust and am not afraid. What can man [’adam] do to me?” And again in Psalm 118 the psalmist queries, “The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals [’adam] do to me?” So how does the interpreter balance this apparent tension in the text? Which view is correct? Are humans truly destructive, or is their threat only illusory? Psalm 124 seems to respond in the affirmative to both questions. The various metaphors in this poem suggest that death seemed immiment and the destructive power of the enemy was real. Yet the psalm is a song of thanksgiving; it is such because it confesses that all human power is ultimately illusory when compared to the help that comes from the Maker of heaven and earth. This claim takes on even greater significance when considered in the light of the congregation’s confession in verses 1a and 2a. In those opening verses the congregation confesses that Yahweh was “for us” (lanu). With this short prepositional phrase, the community makes a profound theological claim by acknowledging that while destructive human power is real, it is not ultimate, and more importantly, while such power is real, the community has not been abandoned to face it alone. Thus, the rationale for thanksgiving is not simply that Israel’s God is the Maker of heaven and earth (v. 10) but, much more significantly, that the Maker of heaven and earth is for us.
This claim finds its counterpart in the New Testament with Paul’s assertion that “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Rom 8:31). Paul is not remiss to mention those things that threaten to destroy life and separate us from the love of Christ: “trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword” (Rom 8:35). He understands well the same tension that existed for the community in Psalm 124, the tension between powers that seem simultaneously to be truly destructive and entirely illusory. According to Paul, all such perceived powers will be thwarted and overcome by the power and love of God, and “we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”
Contemporary Significance
ONE NEED DO LITTLE MORE than turn on the television or scan news sites on the Internet to be reminded that we live in a hostile and violent world. Even as I write the commentary on this psalm, news sources report of a double suicide bombing in Baghdad with more than seventy-five people killed in a market square. Death swallowed people up and they were swept away by the torrents of hate and despair. And in the same region of the world the innocent citizens of Syria remain like a bird in a fowler’s cage as a result of political infighting, violence, and terrorism. But such violence is not just “there”; it is around us all, regardless of our address, nationality, or station in life. The destructive capacity of human beings is staggering—so staggering, in fact, that people could begin to despair. This is part of the power of the psalms. Their beautiful and artistic poetry is matched only by their unfettered realism about the brokenness of the world in which we live. The Songs of Ascent were meant to be sung by pilgrims as they made their way to Jerusalem. If there were ever a reason to become Pollyannaish about the world around us and to sweep aside the concerns of daily life, surely a holy pilgrimage would be sufficient grounds. And yet these psalms invited pilgrims to lean into the tension expressed in Psalm 124, the tension caused by humans who are, at once, strong and weak, powerful and frail, arrogant and timid.
How do we invite people to live in a world fraught with danger and violence, both explainable and unexplainable? Perhaps we remind them of another familiar text, Psalm 23. I have read this psalm at countless graveside services and alongside hospital beds of those preparing to close their eyes for the final time. But in many ways Psalm 23 is not for the dead and dying but for those living and trying to live. The bucolic images of shepherd, sheep, lush grass, and running water are abruptly interrupted by the reality of verse 4: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” We need not remind people of dark valleys or impending evil—not because we have become Pollyannaish ourselves but because people are acquainted with these things all too well. The true question is whether they know the confession made in Psalms 23 and 124, the confession that claims God is “with me,” God is “for us.”
The community in Psalm 124 remembered well the reality of human violence in their lives and even the threat of death that seemed all but certain, yet they gave thanks for their deliverance—a deliverance achieved only because God was “for us.” Amid a world of swirling waters and fowler’s snares, the Maker of heaven and earth stands watch. He is our help. He is for us.
Original Meaning
Thanksgiving for God’s Deliverance (124:6–7)
THE PSALM SHIFTS FROM WHAT DID NOT HAPPEN (vv. 1–3) to what did happen in the deliverance of the community. In verse 1b the community was invited to confess: “let Israel say.” This attitude of confession continues in verses 6–7.
Praise be to the LORD. Verse 6 opens with a doxological formula, baruk + “the LORD.” The phrase appears repeatedly in the Psalter (Pss 72:18; 89:52; 103:20, 21, 22; 106:48; 135:21; 144:1) with the primary aim of acknowledging “someone in his position of power and in his claim to greatness.”9
The NET captures the sense of the phrase: “the LORD deserves praise.” In addition to denoting that Yahweh’s greatness should be acknowledged, this phrase also appears in texts in which the people celebrate what God has done for them (Pss 28:6; 31:21; 66:20).10
In Psalm 124 both senses may be in view. God’s acts of deliverance demonstrate his power and greatness, and together they substantiate why Yahweh deserves praise.
Who has not let us be torn by their teeth. The second half of verse 6 explains part of the rationale for the praise that is due Yahweh. A more literal rending of the Hebrew in verse 6b explains that it was Yahweh who “did not give [natan] us over as prey to their teeth.” As Hossfeld and Zenger have noted, in such contexts the verb natan “plays on the well-known formula according to which YHWH ‘gives’ Israel or Jerusalem ‘into the hands’ of the enemies.”11
For example, in Psalm 106:41 the psalmist recalls that, following Israel’s disobedience in the land, “He gave them into the hand of the nations.” In the first strophe of that psalm, allusions to “being swallowed” signaled political or national threats. The reference to political or national threats occurs in this verse as well.
The reference to the “teeth” is another frequently occurring metaphor in the Hebrew Bible, as apparent in Psalm 35:15b–16, and can signify a threat imposed by foreigners.12
More specifically, in Ezekiel 22:25 the Babylonians are said to be “like a roaring lion tearing its prey; they devour people.” The image constructed in Psalm 124:6, like that constructed in verses 3–5, is meant to convey a sense of certain death had not Yahweh been on their side.
We have escaped like a bird. The most politically overt metaphor in Psalm 124 appears in verse 7: “We have escaped like a bird from the fowler’s snare [pah].” The imagery of the hunting metaphor signals the entrapment of the victim and its impending death or destruction. The “snare” (pah) is reserved primarily for the capture of birds and small prey. The trap or snare closes upon the bird, thus ensnaring it and making its escape impossible.13
In some ancient Near Eastern texts, the image of a bird caught in a snare serves as a metaphor for death more generally, but its use in Psalm 124 reflects the more narrow, militaristic sense.
When the metaphor of a bird trapped in a cage or snare appears to have a collective sense, as in Psalm 124, the image seems to be a stock metaphor for a city under siege in the ancient Near East.14
The Annals of Sennacherib make use of this ornithological metaphor when recounting the siege of Jerusalem: “As for Hezekiah, the Judean, I besieged forty-six of his fortified walled cities and surrounding towns. . . . He himself, I locked up within Jerusalem, his royal city, like a bird in a cage.”15
The celebration of having escaped such a snare as mentioned in Psalm 124:7 presumably refers to the lifting of a siege or some other kind of deliverance from a foreign occupier. All three images in Psalm 124—water, teeth, and snare—suggest the presence of a force so menacing that it could snuff out the lives of the inhabitants of the city. In Psalm 124 the community celebrates their deliverance from such a dire fate.
Bridging Contexts
PSALM 124 EMPLOYS various metaphors to describe the enemy: raging waters, wild animals, and snares. These images capture the sense of helplessness experienced by the community, but even more they reflect a certain sense of powerlessness, eventuating in death. The psalmist does not identify the enemy by name or even leave any interpretive clues; the enemy is simply labeled ’adam, “people.” While the term ’adam invokes idyllic scenes from the Genesis creation stories in which the breath of God enlivened human beings so that they might participate in tending to a well-ordered creation, such an idyllic image has no place in this psalm. On the contrary, the world looks like anything but a well-ordered creation—and it would have been much worse had God not been on the community’s side. In referring to the enemies as ’adam, “people,” the psalmist holds in tension two concepts regarding the human enemy faced by individuals and the community—themes that reverberate across the entirety of the Psalter. The enemies are at once both strong and weak, powerful and frail, arrogant and timid.
Many psalms confess that human enemies have the power to wreak havoc in the world—and that they do so. The psalmists do not shy away from mentioning the threat that comes to them in the form of other humans. A simple analysis of the Hebrew word for “enemy,” ’oyeb, indicates that the term occurs seventy-four times in the book of Psalms—three times more than in any other book. This disparity only increases as words and images associated with the “enemy” word field are included, thereby indicating the prominence of the enemies in the language of the Psalter.17
The frequency of this language suggests that the threats levied against the psalmists and the concomitant actions carried out against them were indeed proper subject matter for prayer—the human enemies represented a real threat to life. In Psalm 10, for example, the psalmist refers to the enemy as the ’adam and explains that they devise schemes against the righteous, murder the innocent, and revile God.18
In similar fashion to Psalm 124, Psalm 10 contains various hunting metaphors comparing the enemy to a lion who lies in wait or to a human on the hunt who “catches the helpless and drags them off in his net” (v. 9). Both metaphorical images signal the utter powerlessness of the psalmist in the face of great peril. Perhaps most damning, however, is the admission made by the wicked person in verse 11: “He says to himself, ‘God will never notice.’ ” These psalms take seriously the destructive capacities of humans and nations—and even more, of their arrogance in thinking that such behavior will escape the gaze of the Divine King.
While the psalms do recognize the destructive capacity of the enemies, the psalms also acknowledge that human power is ultimately ineffectual. In Psalm 56:11 the poet confesses: “In God I trust and am not afraid. What can man [’adam] do to me?” And again in Psalm 118 the psalmist queries, “The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals [’adam] do to me?” So how does the interpreter balance this apparent tension in the text? Which view is correct? Are humans truly destructive, or is their threat only illusory? Psalm 124 seems to respond in the affirmative to both questions. The various metaphors in this poem suggest that death seemed immiment and the destructive power of the enemy was real. Yet the psalm is a song of thanksgiving; it is such because it confesses that all human power is ultimately illusory when compared to the help that comes from the Maker of heaven and earth. This claim takes on even greater significance when considered in the light of the congregation’s confession in verses 1a and 2a. In those opening verses the congregation confesses that Yahweh was “for us” (lanu). With this short prepositional phrase, the community makes a profound theological claim by acknowledging that while destructive human power is real, it is not ultimate, and more importantly, while such power is real, the community has not been abandoned to face it alone. Thus, the rationale for thanksgiving is not simply that Israel’s God is the Maker of heaven and earth (v. 10) but, much more significantly, that the Maker of heaven and earth is for us.
This claim finds its counterpart in the New Testament with Paul’s assertion that “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Rom 8:31). Paul is not remiss to mention those things that threaten to destroy life and separate us from the love of Christ: “trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword” (Rom 8:35). He understands well the same tension that existed for the community in Psalm 124, the tension between powers that seem simultaneously to be truly destructive and entirely illusory. According to Paul, all such perceived powers will be thwarted and overcome by the power and love of God, and “we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”
Contemporary Significance
ONE NEED DO LITTLE MORE than turn on the television or scan news sites on the Internet to be reminded that we live in a hostile and violent world. Even as I write the commentary on this psalm, news sources report of a double suicide bombing in Baghdad with more than seventy-five people killed in a market square. Death swallowed people up and they were swept away by the torrents of hate and despair. And in the same region of the world the innocent citizens of Syria remain like a bird in a fowler’s cage as a result of political infighting, violence, and terrorism. But such violence is not just “there”; it is around us all, regardless of our address, nationality, or station in life. The destructive capacity of human beings is staggering—so staggering, in fact, that people could begin to despair. This is part of the power of the psalms. Their beautiful and artistic poetry is matched only by their unfettered realism about the brokenness of the world in which we live. The Songs of Ascent were meant to be sung by pilgrims as they made their way to Jerusalem. If there were ever a reason to become Pollyannaish about the world around us and to sweep aside the concerns of daily life, surely a holy pilgrimage would be sufficient grounds. And yet these psalms invited pilgrims to lean into the tension expressed in Psalm 124, the tension caused by humans who are, at once, strong and weak, powerful and frail, arrogant and timid.
How do we invite people to live in a world fraught with danger and violence, both explainable and unexplainable? Perhaps we remind them of another familiar text, Psalm 23. I have read this psalm at countless graveside services and alongside hospital beds of those preparing to close their eyes for the final time. But in many ways Psalm 23 is not for the dead and dying but for those living and trying to live. The bucolic images of shepherd, sheep, lush grass, and running water are abruptly interrupted by the reality of verse 4: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” We need not remind people of dark valleys or impending evil—not because we have become Pollyannaish ourselves but because people are acquainted with these things all too well. The true question is whether they know the confession made in Psalms 23 and 124, the confession that claims God is “with me,” God is “for us.”
The community in Psalm 124 remembered well the reality of human violence in their lives and even the threat of death that seemed all but certain, yet they gave thanks for their deliverance—a deliverance achieved only because God was “for us.” Amid a world of swirling waters and fowler’s snares, the Maker of heaven and earth stands watch. He is our help. He is for us.
Original Meaning
Declaration of Trust (124:8)
IN THIS PSALM THE COMMUNITY gives thanks and confesses that Yahweh has been on their side. As a result, the threat of death has been averted (vv. 1–3) and deliverance has been granted (v. 6–7). Yet the community acknowledges this outcome was only possible because Yahweh was their help. The noun ‘ezer, “help,” occurs often in the Old Testament, where it frequently “refer[s] to the majestic ‘help’ of God in some sort of military situation (Exod 18:4; Deut 33:26; Ps 33:20).”16
In Psalm 124 the stakes appear to have been quite high. The community was about to be swept away and their lives snuffed out like a bird in a snare. The concluding verse in Psalm 124 stands in stark relief to verse 2b. In verse 2 the community remembers “when people [’adam] attacked us.” The threat posed by the ’adam, however, is little match for the “Maker of heaven and earth.”
Bridging Contexts
PSALM 124 EMPLOYS various metaphors to describe the enemy: raging waters, wild animals, and snares. These images capture the sense of helplessness experienced by the community, but even more they reflect a certain sense of powerlessness, eventuating in death. The psalmist does not identify the enemy by name or even leave any interpretive clues; the enemy is simply labeled ’adam, “people.” While the term ’adam invokes idyllic scenes from the Genesis creation stories in which the breath of God enlivened human beings so that they might participate in tending to a well-ordered creation, such an idyllic image has no place in this psalm. On the contrary, the world looks like anything but a well-ordered creation—and it would have been much worse had God not been on the community’s side. In referring to the enemies as ’adam, “people,” the psalmist holds in tension two concepts regarding the human enemy faced by individuals and the community—themes that reverberate across the entirety of the Psalter. The enemies are at once both strong and weak, powerful and frail, arrogant and timid.
Many psalms confess that human enemies have the power to wreak havoc in the world—and that they do so. The psalmists do not shy away from mentioning the threat that comes to them in the form of other humans. A simple analysis of the Hebrew word for “enemy,” ’oyeb, indicates that the term occurs seventy-four times in the book of Psalms—three times more than in any other book. This disparity only increases as words and images associated with the “enemy” word field are included, thereby indicating the prominence of the enemies in the language of the Psalter.17
The frequency of this language suggests that the threats levied against the psalmists and the concomitant actions carried out against them were indeed proper subject matter for prayer—the human enemies represented a real threat to life. In Psalm 10, for example, the psalmist refers to the enemy as the ’adam and explains that they devise schemes against the righteous, murder the innocent, and revile God.18
In similar fashion to Psalm 124, Psalm 10 contains various hunting metaphors comparing the enemy to a lion who lies in wait or to a human on the hunt who “catches the helpless and drags them off in his net” (v. 9). Both metaphorical images signal the utter powerlessness of the psalmist in the face of great peril. Perhaps most damning, however, is the admission made by the wicked person in verse 11: “He says to himself, ‘God will never notice.’ ” These psalms take seriously the destructive capacities of humans and nations—and even more, of their arrogance in thinking that such behavior will escape the gaze of the Divine King.
While the psalms do recognize the destructive capacity of the enemies, the psalms also acknowledge that human power is ultimately ineffectual. In Psalm 56:11 the poet confesses: “In God I trust and am not afraid. What can man [’adam] do to me?” And again in Psalm 118 the psalmist queries, “The LORD is with me; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals [’adam] do to me?” So how does the interpreter balance this apparent tension in the text? Which view is correct? Are humans truly destructive, or is their threat only illusory? Psalm 124 seems to respond in the affirmative to both questions. The various metaphors in this poem suggest that death seemed immiment and the destructive power of the enemy was real. Yet the psalm is a song of thanksgiving; it is such because it confesses that all human power is ultimately illusory when compared to the help that comes from the Maker of heaven and earth. This claim takes on even greater significance when considered in the light of the congregation’s confession in verses 1a and 2a. In those opening verses the congregation confesses that Yahweh was “for us” (lanu). With this short prepositional phrase, the community makes a profound theological claim by acknowledging that while destructive human power is real, it is not ultimate, and more importantly, while such power is real, the community has not been abandoned to face it alone. Thus, the rationale for thanksgiving is not simply that Israel’s God is the Maker of heaven and earth (v. 10) but, much more significantly, that the Maker of heaven and earth is for us.
This claim finds its counterpart in the New Testament with Paul’s assertion that “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Rom 8:31). Paul is not remiss to mention those things that threaten to destroy life and separate us from the love of Christ: “trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword” (Rom 8:35). He understands well the same tension that existed for the community in Psalm 124, the tension between powers that seem simultaneously to be truly destructive and entirely illusory. According to Paul, all such perceived powers will be thwarted and overcome by the power and love of God, and “we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”
Contemporary Significance
ONE NEED DO LITTLE MORE than turn on the television or scan news sites on the Internet to be reminded that we live in a hostile and violent world. Even as I write the commentary on this psalm, news sources report of a double suicide bombing in Baghdad with more than seventy-five people killed in a market square. Death swallowed people up and they were swept away by the torrents of hate and despair. And in the same region of the world the innocent citizens of Syria remain like a bird in a fowler’s cage as a result of political infighting, violence, and terrorism. But such violence is not just “there”; it is around us all, regardless of our address, nationality, or station in life. The destructive capacity of human beings is staggering—so staggering, in fact, that people could begin to despair. This is part of the power of the psalms. Their beautiful and artistic poetry is matched only by their unfettered realism about the brokenness of the world in which we live. The Songs of Ascent were meant to be sung by pilgrims as they made their way to Jerusalem. If there were ever a reason to become Pollyannaish about the world around us and to sweep aside the concerns of daily life, surely a holy pilgrimage would be sufficient grounds. And yet these psalms invited pilgrims to lean into the tension expressed in Psalm 124, the tension caused by humans who are, at once, strong and weak, powerful and frail, arrogant and timid.
How do we invite people to live in a world fraught with danger and violence, both explainable and unexplainable? Perhaps we remind them of another familiar text, Psalm 23. I have read this psalm at countless graveside services and alongside hospital beds of those preparing to close their eyes for the final time. But in many ways Psalm 23 is not for the dead and dying but for those living and trying to live. The bucolic images of shepherd, sheep, lush grass, and running water are abruptly interrupted by the reality of verse 4: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” We need not remind people of dark valleys or impending evil—not because we have become Pollyannaish ourselves but because people are acquainted with these things all too well. The true question is whether they know the confession made in Psalms 23 and 124, the confession that claims God is “with me,” God is “for us.”
The community in Psalm 124 remembered well the reality of human violence in their lives and even the threat of death that seemed all but certain, yet they gave thanks for their deliverance—a deliverance achieved only because God was “for us.” Amid a world of swirling waters and fowler’s snares, the Maker of heaven and earth stands watch. He is our help. He is for us.
