Original Meaning
Recalling Israel’s History of Oppression (129:1–4)
IN THE FIRST STROPHE THE COMMUNITY recalls Israel’s oppression at the hands of the nations. Yet despite the repeated episodes of oppression, the community gives thanks because God has consistently delivered his people.
They have greatly oppressed me from my youth. A number of the Songs of Ascent contain lines that begin with the same word or even phrase (Pss 124:1–2, 3–5; 121:7–8; 122:8–9; 126:2a–b; 127:1a–b; 132:3–4). This feature serves to link lines (anadiplosis; see Ps 121) and reinforce key themes in the psalm. In Psalm 129 the first two verses begin with the same declaration: “They have greatly oppressed me from my youth.” Both lines begin with the Hebrew word rabbat, which comes from the root that means “many” or “numerous.” The NIV’s translators understood the term to refer to the degree to which Israel was oppressed, that is, “greatly” or “severely.” More likely, the word functions adverbially with reference to time (i.e., “often”). The term rabbat appears earlier, in Psalms 120:6 and 123:4, and in both instances the implication is that oppression has happened “too often.” While this grammatical point may appear to be minor, it does inform the reading of the text. The community is not recalling the severity of oppression that marked their past; rather, the community is recalling the oppression that has repeatedly marked that past—it has been “too often.”
In referring to the oppression that has come “too often” on the community, the psalmist uses the verb tsarar, “to oppress.” Although the verb tsarar can refer both to individual attacks and to hostility, tsarar can also refer to political and even military threats at the hands of foreign powers.3
The use of tsarar in the opening lines of Psalm 129 recalls the first psalm in Book 5 of the Psalter—Psalm 107. In that psalm the “hand of the foe” (yad-tsar) is mentioned in verse 2 as a clear reference to the nations that had dispersed Israel to the four corners of the world (v. 3). Although the use of first-person language in Psalm 129:1–2 might warrant interpreting the verb as referring to personal or individual attacks, the context of the psalm suggests that Israel’s larger history of oppression is in view. The reference to “my youth” (ne‘urim) in both verses further validates this claim. In the books of Hosea and Jeremiah the prophets refer to the “youth” (neʿurim) of Israel. In both instances the prophets allude to the time in which Israel came out of Egypt and wandered in the wilderness (Hos 2:17; Jer 2:2).4
The poet in Psalm 129 explains that from that time, from Israel’s youth in the wilderness, Israel’s history has been marked “too often” by oppression at the hands of foreign powers.
Plowmen have plowed my back. The use of “plowmen” (horshim) in verse 3a underscores the theme of foreign oppression.5
The psalmist cries out, “Plowmen have plowed my back and made their furrows long.” Metaphorically, the language suggests heavy oppression at the hands of enemy. With the use of the verb harash (“to plow”), the psalmist “invokes the image of a work animal whipped while laboring,” thus likening Israel’s experience under foreign oppression to that of a beaten animal.6
In the prophetic corpus the image of plowing can also function as a metaphor for total destruction (cf. Mic 3:12; Jer 26:18). Elsewhere in the Old Testament similar agricultural imagery appears in reference to oppression at the hands of foreign powers. In Isaiah 9:4 the prophet writes, “For as in the days of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor.” Although the word “yoke” is absent from Psalm 129, the image of plowing infers the larger metaphorical field that suggests forced labor. The scene in a relief from a tomb at Edfu (ca. 1500 BCE) depicts a plow being pulled by human slaves, a scene similar to the one envisioned in Psalm 129:3.7
In short, the imagery of pulling a plow in verse 3 no doubt functioned metaphorically, but its meaning was likely one not too removed from reality itself.8
The LORD is righteous. In the first three verses the psalmist recounted Israel’s troubled past at the hands of its oppressive neighbors. Over against these powerful forces the psalmist recognizes Israel’s one source of hope, its lone source of power: Yahweh. Verse 4a is terse in its announcement of Israel’s hope: Yahweh tsadiq. The word tsadiq, when used of Yahweh, refers to “righteousness” in the sense of “being just” (cf. Ps 7:12) or establishing justice (Ps 119:137; Zeph 3:5). Yahweh, the just God, the one committed to establishing justice, was the one who intervened in Israel’s past and thwarted the oppressive rule of Israel’s enemies. Continuing the agricultural metaphor, the psalmist announces that Yahweh “has cut me free from the cords of the wicked” (v. 4b), thereby implying that, at some point in the past, Israel was freed from those who had oppressed her. The cord would have tethered the animal or human to the plower, the oppressed to the oppressor. As a remedy, however, Yahweh “cut” the cords. The verb “cut” (qatsats) appears elsewhere in the Old Testament to describe graphically the cutting off of hands (2 Sam 4:12), the cutting off of thumbs and toes (Judg 1:6–7), and the destruction of weapons of war (Ps 46:10). Its usage in Psalm 129 suggests “the disempowerment of the wicked/enemies.”9
The affirmation that Yahweh has cut the cords of the wicked in times past provides the necessary foundation for the imprecations that follow.
Bridging Contexts
REALITY OF SUFFERING. From beginning to end Psalm 129 exposes the reality of oppression that had so defined Israel’s experience. Suffering had been there from the beginning (vv. 1–2) and apparently remained before them still (vv. 5–8). Psalm 129 does little to hide the reality of suffering. With the aid of the agricultural images associated with plowing (vv. 3, 4b), the psalmist acknowledges the gravity associated with oppression. The image of a “plowed . . . back” (v. 3) leaves little to the imagination, nor does the idea of a yoked animal forced into labor (v. 4). Rather than denying or “spiritualizing suffering,” this psalm joins the chorus of biblical texts that compel us to acknowledge the reality of suffering.
Throughout the Old Testament, prophets and scribes alike offered explanations for Israel’s suffering at the hands of foreign nations. In the book of Amos, for example, the prophet understood the impending destruction of the Northern Kingdom by the Assyrians as a consequence of rampant social sin (Amos 5:1–17). Jeremiah characterized the arrival of the Babylonians as a consequence of Judah’s breach of covenant with God (Jer 2:4–8), and Ezekiel explained the same event by referring to Judah as a “rebellious people” that had committed abominations (Ezek 2:1–10; 8:6). Even some psalmists connect their suffering with sinfulness. The same types of connections are also made in various poems in the Psalter. In Psalm 79:2 the people remind God that the maurading invaders have “left the dead bodies of your servants as food for the birds of the sky; the flesh of your own people for the animals of the wild.” Later in the psalm the community pleads with God, “do not hold against us the sins of past generations” (v. 8). These texts, and others, imply that there is a causal relationship between suffering and sin, destruction and disobedience—the kind of connection that makes the modern reader uneasy at times. Although one might simply wish to set aside these kinds of connections, the covenantal promises in Deuteronomy 28–30 prevent one from doing so. These chapters remind the community of the devasting consequences of disobedience and of the glorious blessings associated with faithfulness.
The covenantal framework associated with Deuteronomy casts a long shadow. The paradigm outlined in Deuteronomy, and references in the texts above, may lead some interpreters to associate all suffering with sin and disobedience. Although some texts do make that association based on the covenantal framework that governed Israel’s relationship with God, not all suffering was associated with sin in the Old Testament—sometimes suffering was just that, suffering. Within the Songs of Ascent, in particular, the psalmists acknowledge suffering, both past and present, as a reality. None of these psalms, however, associate sin with suffering. Instead, those who recited these psalms acknowledged that they lived among a people “who hate peace” (Ps 120:6) and seek to “swallow” the people of God (Ps 124:3). They confessed that the “scepter of the wicked” rested over the land (Ps 125:3), and they longed for God to restore the fortunes of his people (Ps 126:4). None of these psalms associate suffering with sin, destruction with disobedience. In Psalm 129 the community reviews its history, and, consistently with the other Songs of Ascent, this psalm refuses to attribute suffering to sin. The poet simply acknowledges the reality of suffering in a broken world and then brings that suffering into the sphere of worship.
Cursing the enemy and the worship of God. A psalm with such a raw analysis of Israel’s plight, both past and present, may seem questionable in a collection of psalms intended to accompany pilgrims as they make their way to worship and festal life in Jerusalem. Perhaps one could argue that the recounting of Israel’s deliverance in the first four verses seems understandable; it provides a rationale for worship and thanksgiving. Even if that point is granted, however, the remaining verses, filled with images of cursing or imprecation, prove more daunting to explain. Is such language appropriate for worship? Admittedly, other psalms contain imprecatory language that is far more graphic than the language employed in Psalm 129 (cf. Pss 18; 58; 83; 109; 137), yet all these psalms were retained in the Psalter and deemed suitable for use, both private and communal. Even subsequent communities recognized these imprecatory psalms as part of the witness of the Psalter. Both the Septuagint and the various psalms manuscripts among the Dead Sea Scrolls retained the imprecatory psalms, thus suggesting their continued use by communities of faith. Had these communities considered the imprecatory psalms inconsistent with Israel’s larger scriptural witness, they might have opted to jettison the poems. But they did not do so. These psalms remained part of the Psalter, part of “Our words to God and God’s word to us.”
Although these psalms were retained in the Psalter, the thought of their use as worship texts remains difficult to imagine. Few people today would attend a church in which the congregation identified enemies and then prayed that those people would wither up and die. Consequently, some may assume these psalms are pre-Christian or sub-Christian and, hence, not appropriate them for use in the church.13
This kind of dismissive move operates from the hermeneutic that the modern reader has the right to determine what is truly authoritative and what is not. Rather than jettisoning certain psalms or verses from the canon based on their incompatibility with our “modern” notions of civility, perhaps we would do well to consider the larger theological confession being made in Psalm 129. For the community who prays Psalm 129, the reality of suffering is juxtaposed with the reality of a just God (v. 4). The community leans into the latter reality but is no less cognizant of the former. These kinds of prayers are not analogous to a schoolyard fight between two children with each child hurling threats at the other until a scrum breaks out. The reality presented in Psalm 129 is far more ominous, one-sided, and ill fated for the people of Israel. Their history of being oppressed is like having had their backs plowed into long furrows—only it was much worse. The book of Lamentations provides shocking and graphic imagery meant to illustrate the devastation brought about at the hands of the Babylonians. Lamentations 4 records that the tongues of children stuck to the roofs of their mouths due to thirst (v. 4) and that mothers had to boil their own children for food (v. 10). Texts such as these suggest that Israel’s struggle with the nations was never between equals. Consequently, Israel’s only hope was her God. The cries of imprecation in Psalm 129 are Israel’s last hope and only confession. These cries are acts of worship lifted up to God in the hope that he will hear their cries and be moved to respond (Exod 2:23–25).
Contemporary Significance
IN HIS VOLUME
Evil and the Justice of God, N. T. Wright reminds us that the “Old Testament never tries to give us the sort of picture the philosophers want, that of a static world order with everything explained tidily.” The Old Testament presents little of a “static world order” and even less of a tidy explanation. As Wright explains, “What we are offered instead is stranger and more mysterious: a narrative of God’s project of justice within a world of injustice.”14
In preaching and teaching Psalm 129 we may be inclined to “explain away” or “justify” the presence of the imprecations in the psalm. In doing so, however, we take attention away from the psalm’s great theological claim—a just God is present in the midst of an unjust world. For many of us living in North America, the notion of injustice may seem foreign. We may think it unjust because we can’t afford to buy the house we always dreamed of or drive the car we desire. We may think it unjust because our pay raise was not as high as we had hoped. Perhaps we consider it unjust when we get pulled over for speeding and others do not. These inconveniences do not merit the label “injustice,” nor do they signal an unjust world—at least not the kind envisioned in Psalm 129. But there are those who know something of the world envisioned by the psalmist. Children and women who have been trafficked in the sex industry know something of the oppression referenced in Psalm 129. Christian communities experiencing persecution at the hands of those around them have experienced the kind of powerlessness understood by those confessing in Psalm 129. Workers in foreign countries who are making pennies on the hour so that companies can sell cheaper goods in first-world countries know something of having their backs plowed. Rather than ignoring Psalm 129 in our preaching and teaching, perhaps we would well to invite our congregations into what Wright termed “God’s project of justice within a world of injustice.” We should acknowledge the injustice—the true injustice—in the world and long for God’s redeeming and redemptive work that will overturn this injustice. Such an approach to injustice can be heard again in the teaching of Jesus: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matt 5:6).
Original Meaning
Imprecations against the Enemy (129:5–8)
IN THE SECOND STROPHE OF THE PSALM the poet turns to a series of curses or imprecations. The curses in verses 5–8 suggest that a persistent threat remains—a threat that must be redressed by Yahweh. The psalmist shifts metaphors and language in verse 5, where he employs overt militaristic images and momentarily suspends the agricultural theme before returning to that imagery in verses 6–7.
May all who who hate Zion be turned back. The psalmist refers to the enemies as “all who hate Zion,” thus pitting all Israel (v. 1b) against “all who hate Zion” (v. 5). The desire of the psalmist is that the enemies of Zion be shamed (bosh) and turned back (sug).10
Both verbs, which appear to function as a hendiadys in this context, can allude to militaristic and political upheaval.11
Frequently the idea of shame (bosh) appears in texts related to warfare and signals the shame endured by those routed or yet to be routed in battle (cf. Isa 20:5; Jer 2:26, 36; 51:51; Zech 10:5). When used in the niphal elsewhere, sug suggests the repelling of an attacking force (cf. Pss 35:4; 40:15; 70:3). Just as the community had experienced deliverance from the oppressing foes (vv. 1a, 2a) in the past, the psalmist implores Yahweh to mount up and rout the forces that threaten the community.
May they be like grass. In the remaining verses the psalmist returns to agricultural imagery, but of the type that undermines the perceived power and strength of the enemy. In the first strophe the agricultual imagery presented the enemy as the “plowmen” (v. 3) who hold tightly to the reigns of oppression (v. 4). The agricultral imagery in the second strophe of the psalm reverses the images of power. The “grass” that withers is here understood as the grass seed that blows onto the rooftop and begins to take root. Because there is no fertile soil on the roof, such weeds can only develop shallow roots and hence, under an oppressive sun, are prone to wither. The agricultural metaphor in verse 6 also depicts more militaristic imagery, thus connecting verses 5 and 6. In Isaiah 37:27 Yahweh explains how he has used the Assyrians to accomplish his purposes. He recounts how God caused the Assyrians to invade cities (Isa 37: 26–27) and overwhelm their populations and, in so doing, make their habitants “like grass sprouting on the roof, scorched before it grows up.” The psalmist requests that God act again—and in this instance, wither up the rootless grass that plagues Israel.12
In Psalm 129:6b the poet apparently opts for another term that appears to have an agricultural meaning in the present context, but one that also carries with it military connotations. The word shalap can mean to “pull up” or “uproot,” agriculturally speaking, but in texts related to battle and military struggle shalap refers to the act of pulling out a sword in battle (cf. Num 22:23, 31; Josh 5:13; Judg 3:22; 8:10, 20; 9:54; 20:2, 15, 17, 35, 46; 1 Sam 17:51; 31:4; 2 Sam 24:9; 2 Kgs 3:26; Job 20:25). In the present context the term no doubt refers to the uprooting of a plant. Read in this way, the psalmist requests that the enemy wither up before there is even time for it to be uprooted. If the term functions as a double entendre, however, the psalmist may be requesting that the enemies wither up before they have the opportunity to pull out the sword again in military conquest.
A reaper cannot fill his hands with it. In the Old Testament, harvesting signals a time for celebration, joy, and thanksgiving (cf. Ps 126:6; Ruth 2). Although the writer of Psalm 129 extends the agricultural metaphor in verse 7 by appropriating the language of harvesting, he alters the nuance of the image. Typically, celebration is associated with an abundant harvest, and the abundant harvest is indicative of God’s intervention in Israel’s life—an assurance of his provision. In Psalm 129, however, the psalmist explains that the grass grown on the rooftop will wither, thus resulting in nothing to harvest—not even enough to fill one’s hands with the yield (v. 7a). After the work of God against those who hate Zion (v. 4), the remaining threat will be reduced to nothing more than a handful. Consequently, and ironically, the absence of sufficient yield for the harvest is cause for celebration by the community.
We bless you in the name of the LORD. Psalm 129 concludes with an irreal situation—a situation that will not occur given the imprecations already announced (vv. 5–7). As the book of Ruth suggests, during the harvest season passersby and those harvesting in the field would exchange greetings (e.g., Ruth 2:4). Although the exchange of greetings may seem perfunctory, and perhaps was so, the greetings do convey the notion that in the act of harvesting God was at work blessing his people. Yet the psalmist announces that once God has exacted his punishment upon those who “hate Zion” (v. 5a), there will be nothing to harvest (v. 7), and consequently there will be no need for passersby to issue a greeting. In ironic fashion, the lack of harvest in Psalm 129 is reason for hope and celebration for the community. The absence of the enemies, represented by the meagerness of the harvest, suggests that Israel’s God remains righteous (v. 4) in once again thwarting the ways of the oppressive peoples that have plagued the nation of Israel since her youth (vv. 1–2).
Bridging Contexts
REALITY OF SUFFERING. From beginning to end Psalm 129 exposes the reality of oppression that had so defined Israel’s experience. Suffering had been there from the beginning (vv. 1–2) and apparently remained before them still (vv. 5–8). Psalm 129 does little to hide the reality of suffering. With the aid of the agricultural images associated with plowing (vv. 3, 4b), the psalmist acknowledges the gravity associated with oppression. The image of a “plowed . . . back” (v. 3) leaves little to the imagination, nor does the idea of a yoked animal forced into labor (v. 4). Rather than denying or “spiritualizing suffering,” this psalm joins the chorus of biblical texts that compel us to acknowledge the reality of suffering.
Throughout the Old Testament, prophets and scribes alike offered explanations for Israel’s suffering at the hands of foreign nations. In the book of Amos, for example, the prophet understood the impending destruction of the Northern Kingdom by the Assyrians as a consequence of rampant social sin (Amos 5:1–17). Jeremiah characterized the arrival of the Babylonians as a consequence of Judah’s breach of covenant with God (Jer 2:4–8), and Ezekiel explained the same event by referring to Judah as a “rebellious people” that had committed abominations (Ezek 2:1–10; 8:6). Even some psalmists connect their suffering with sinfulness. The same types of connections are also made in various poems in the Psalter. In Psalm 79:2 the people remind God that the maurading invaders have “left the dead bodies of your servants as food for the birds of the sky; the flesh of your own people for the animals of the wild.” Later in the psalm the community pleads with God, “do not hold against us the sins of past generations” (v. 8). These texts, and others, imply that there is a causal relationship between suffering and sin, destruction and disobedience—the kind of connection that makes the modern reader uneasy at times. Although one might simply wish to set aside these kinds of connections, the covenantal promises in Deuteronomy 28–30 prevent one from doing so. These chapters remind the community of the devasting consequences of disobedience and of the glorious blessings associated with faithfulness.
The covenantal framework associated with Deuteronomy casts a long shadow. The paradigm outlined in Deuteronomy, and references in the texts above, may lead some interpreters to associate all suffering with sin and disobedience. Although some texts do make that association based on the covenantal framework that governed Israel’s relationship with God, not all suffering was associated with sin in the Old Testament—sometimes suffering was just that, suffering. Within the Songs of Ascent, in particular, the psalmists acknowledge suffering, both past and present, as a reality. None of these psalms, however, associate sin with suffering. Instead, those who recited these psalms acknowledged that they lived among a people “who hate peace” (Ps 120:6) and seek to “swallow” the people of God (Ps 124:3). They confessed that the “scepter of the wicked” rested over the land (Ps 125:3), and they longed for God to restore the fortunes of his people (Ps 126:4). None of these psalms associate suffering with sin, destruction with disobedience. In Psalm 129 the community reviews its history, and, consistently with the other Songs of Ascent, this psalm refuses to attribute suffering to sin. The poet simply acknowledges the reality of suffering in a broken world and then brings that suffering into the sphere of worship.
Cursing the enemy and the worship of God. A psalm with such a raw analysis of Israel’s plight, both past and present, may seem questionable in a collection of psalms intended to accompany pilgrims as they make their way to worship and festal life in Jerusalem. Perhaps one could argue that the recounting of Israel’s deliverance in the first four verses seems understandable; it provides a rationale for worship and thanksgiving. Even if that point is granted, however, the remaining verses, filled with images of cursing or imprecation, prove more daunting to explain. Is such language appropriate for worship? Admittedly, other psalms contain imprecatory language that is far more graphic than the language employed in Psalm 129 (cf. Pss 18; 58; 83; 109; 137), yet all these psalms were retained in the Psalter and deemed suitable for use, both private and communal. Even subsequent communities recognized these imprecatory psalms as part of the witness of the Psalter. Both the Septuagint and the various psalms manuscripts among the Dead Sea Scrolls retained the imprecatory psalms, thus suggesting their continued use by communities of faith. Had these communities considered the imprecatory psalms inconsistent with Israel’s larger scriptural witness, they might have opted to jettison the poems. But they did not do so. These psalms remained part of the Psalter, part of “Our words to God and God’s word to us.”
Although these psalms were retained in the Psalter, the thought of their use as worship texts remains difficult to imagine. Few people today would attend a church in which the congregation identified enemies and then prayed that those people would wither up and die. Consequently, some may assume these psalms are pre-Christian or sub-Christian and, hence, not appropriate them for use in the church.13
This kind of dismissive move operates from the hermeneutic that the modern reader has the right to determine what is truly authoritative and what is not. Rather than jettisoning certain psalms or verses from the canon based on their incompatibility with our “modern” notions of civility, perhaps we would do well to consider the larger theological confession being made in Psalm 129. For the community who prays Psalm 129, the reality of suffering is juxtaposed with the reality of a just God (v. 4). The community leans into the latter reality but is no less cognizant of the former. These kinds of prayers are not analogous to a schoolyard fight between two children with each child hurling threats at the other until a scrum breaks out. The reality presented in Psalm 129 is far more ominous, one-sided, and ill fated for the people of Israel. Their history of being oppressed is like having had their backs plowed into long furrows—only it was much worse. The book of Lamentations provides shocking and graphic imagery meant to illustrate the devastation brought about at the hands of the Babylonians. Lamentations 4 records that the tongues of children stuck to the roofs of their mouths due to thirst (v. 4) and that mothers had to boil their own children for food (v. 10). Texts such as these suggest that Israel’s struggle with the nations was never between equals. Consequently, Israel’s only hope was her God. The cries of imprecation in Psalm 129 are Israel’s last hope and only confession. These cries are acts of worship lifted up to God in the hope that he will hear their cries and be moved to respond (Exod 2:23–25).
Contemporary Significance
IN HIS VOLUME
Evil and the Justice of God, N. T. Wright reminds us that the “Old Testament never tries to give us the sort of picture the philosophers want, that of a static world order with everything explained tidily.” The Old Testament presents little of a “static world order” and even less of a tidy explanation. As Wright explains, “What we are offered instead is stranger and more mysterious: a narrative of God’s project of justice within a world of injustice.”14
In preaching and teaching Psalm 129 we may be inclined to “explain away” or “justify” the presence of the imprecations in the psalm. In doing so, however, we take attention away from the psalm’s great theological claim—a just God is present in the midst of an unjust world. For many of us living in North America, the notion of injustice may seem foreign. We may think it unjust because we can’t afford to buy the house we always dreamed of or drive the car we desire. We may think it unjust because our pay raise was not as high as we had hoped. Perhaps we consider it unjust when we get pulled over for speeding and others do not. These inconveniences do not merit the label “injustice,” nor do they signal an unjust world—at least not the kind envisioned in Psalm 129. But there are those who know something of the world envisioned by the psalmist. Children and women who have been trafficked in the sex industry know something of the oppression referenced in Psalm 129. Christian communities experiencing persecution at the hands of those around them have experienced the kind of powerlessness understood by those confessing in Psalm 129. Workers in foreign countries who are making pennies on the hour so that companies can sell cheaper goods in first-world countries know something of having their backs plowed. Rather than ignoring Psalm 129 in our preaching and teaching, perhaps we would well to invite our congregations into what Wright termed “God’s project of justice within a world of injustice.” We should acknowledge the injustice—the true injustice—in the world and long for God’s redeeming and redemptive work that will overturn this injustice. Such an approach to injustice can be heard again in the teaching of Jesus: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled” (Matt 5:6).
