As we leave Israel to settle herself in new surroundings, we sidestep again for a week to the co-current Psalms that run alongside the normal readings. Following from the last post on the Psalms back in January, we’ll look specifically at Book II and III, Psalms 42 – 89.

With two children demanding entertainment, my mind has been thrown back to the songs of my childhood. Jack and Jill, Humpty Dumpty, Row, Row, Row the Boat all come flooding back. There is a tradition in Britain of some really quite random nursery-rhymes that are still sung today, generations after their composition.

Yet one of the amusing features of this hallowed collection is the depressing end to which so many of the characters succumb. The forever broken Humpty Dumpty, the starved and frightened Little Miss Muffet, a serious head injury to Jack, a perpetually frustrated Incy Wincy Spider, a King without a nose and my sister-in-law even claims to have learnt a song about a Mummy ladybird who returns home to find her babies have all been eaten! One can’t help thinking, ‘who would burden little children with such mordant woes?!’

But we just pass on the crazy torch without much thought; we never ask the question ‘who wrote these ditties and why?’ Now I’m not suggesting that we should outlaw nursery-rhymes on the basis of their explicit content, but they do serve as a good example of how well-established traditions can flow over a people-group without much critical assessment.

A more significant example is the song ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ which serves as the national anthem of England at the Commonwealth Games and other such events. At summer proms when patriotism is flying high, this explicitly empire-building song is sung in a tradition re-enacted year after year. Yet very few will decry its use as an inappropriate sentiment at a time of international post-colonial tension. It’s not even that most individuals believe what they’re singing; the content of our songs is simply insufficiently assessed.

In the Psalms we have a whole hymnbook ready for our consideration. From marching songs, to laments; from personal vendettas to praises, the Psalms of these books resonate with the passion, pathos and honesty of their authors. That they form part of the Old Testament Scriptures is testimony to the power they wielded in their day. And if we are to understand the undercurrents of ancient Israel we need to embark on a respectful, but honest investigation.

Let’s look at Psalm 51 as a case-study. This is the Psalm attributed to King David after he was confronted by the prophet Nathan over his affair with Bathsheba. King David was in quite a predicament - our readings of the Pentateuch will have given us a better insight into this; according to the Law of Moses, the punishment for adultery is death. So the king is making his plea to the mighty Suzerain*, expressing his regret and contrition for broken faith. As part of his petition, David boldly states, ‘You do not delight in sacrifices, or I would bring it…The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit’ (vs16-17). As an act of leadership, this idea is radically prophetic. Try reconciling this Psalm with the rules of Leviticus and it’s clear that the Representative of the lowly Vassal is charting a re-write – or at least a re-interpretation – of the rules of the Covenant. Something Jesus would later endorse.

Take Psalm 72, by contrast, and we find a eulogy to the might of the monarchy and, more specifically, of King Solomon himself. There is much to be admired in the portrayal of the king: ‘He will defend the afflicted among the people and save the children of the needy’ (v.4). Yet there is much in the psalm that risks the overplay of Solomon’s status. In the Law of Moses, the king is to show himself ‘no better than his brother’s (Deut 17:19-20), yet an exultant crowd hail him: ‘He will endure as long as the sun’ (v.5), ‘All kings will bow down to him and all nations will serve him’ (v.11). It is clear that by Solomon’s day the wonder of the monarchy was a matter of national status. Yet Yahweh receives only a passing mention at the end of the psalm. We should look beyond the jubilance to the very real danger that the Suzerain was being sidelined by a people growing in self-confidence.

Psalm 74 is a great example of a covenant tribunal directed at the Suzerain in demand for defence and deliverance. ‘Remember us’ is the sentiment, graphically expressed through dark stories of oppression. As the humble Vassal, Israel appeals to her overlord in the strongest possible terms. This is your issue, they contend. ‘Rise up… and defend your cause’ they cry (v.22). In the depths of disillusionment, the psalmist cries out for justice. Yet what of the Covenant curse that predicted destruction for fickle dedication? Have Israel forgotten? Where is the contrition of Psalm 51? Or are the People of God questioning the Judge and contending for a re-trial? Somewhere in here I think we read a plea for mercy, though the authors are too proud to put it into words.

Finally, Psalm 87 is only short, but visionary as a work of poetry for a radically exclusive community. The ‘City of God’ is the theme, and as a vision of the Holy City of Zion, where all peoples will come to worship Yahweh, the psalmist celebrates those who can claim their inheritance there. Even Egypt, Babylon, Philistia and Tyre – all the great enemies of Israel – will acknowledge this city and will envy the person born to it (v.4). Indeed they will even credit Zion as their source of existence (v.7). We don’t really encounter Zion in Israelite literature until after the exile to Babylon (which is a few hundred years on from where we’ve got to in the story with Joshua), but essentially it is a longed-for political and religious epicentre where Yahweh reigns (through his Messiah) and the Kingdom of God is established indisputably. As a sign of Israel’s post-exilic political woes, this psalm is so wonderfully paradoxical; full of hope on the one hand, yet flawlessly vacuous in purpose on the other. What drove Israel to this point? And is this vision really the vision of the Covenant with Abraham?

As just four examples, these Psalms show how the tensions and struggles of Israel’s religious and political life were being played out through her worship and its musical tradition. We must never underestimate the impact of music on cultural life. To ask questions of the psalms is crucial for hearing their deepest rhythms. And to listen to their pulse is to feel the very soul of Israel herself.

Questions for reflection:

1. What do our songs tell us about our priorities?
2. Where does our music fail to address themes that are important to us?

*the terms 'Suzerain' and 'Vassal' are part of Israel's covenant understanding. See my post on Deuteronomy for an explanation of what those terms mean in this context.