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Psalms

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  1. Summary of Psalms
  2. Outline of Psalms
  3. Background of Psalms
  4. Introductory Issues in Psalms
  5. Theological Themes in Psalms
  6. Bible in the World - Psalms
Psalms Bible in the World – Psalms
Lesson 6 of 6
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Bible in the World – Psalms

Enter the Bible

Multiple authors contributed entries to this article.

Creation in the Psalms

by Diane Jacobson

One of the most pressing issues of the day is the environmental crisis, or, put in biblical terms, the consideration and the treatment of God’s whole creation. The psalms address this issue in many and various ways. At least 27 psalms make direct reference to God’s creative activity, including: 8, 18, 19, 24, 33, 65, 74, 78, 89, 90, 93-96, 100, 102, 104, 115, 119, 121, 124, 134, 136, 139, and 146-148. Other psalms, such as Psalm 29, relate more indirectly to the issue of creation.

What follows are just a few examples of the many different ways that psalms address creation. 

Many psalms emphasize that the earth and all creatures belong to and were created by God. See, for example, Psalm 24 where the earth is built rather as a temple is built. The earth is created a stable place on pillars, securely constructed. Psalm 33 speaks of God’s creating by word which, in the logic of the psalm, ensures a world permeated and ordered by Yahweh’s faithfulness, justice, and steadfast love.

Psalm 104 paints a portrait of creation as God’s intricate web. The psalmist praises God’s wisdom in creation, speaking of the containment of the chaotic waters, the feeding of the animals, the growing of the grass, and the general wonder of creation. Humans are there in the midst of creation being fed and refreshed, just one creature in the vast web of life. As in the indigenous traditions and in the writings of St. Francis, all parts of creations are our sisters and brothers.Psalm 74 invites us to see creation as a sign of God’s victory over chaos. This psalm was sung in response to the destruction of the Temple. The flesh and blood enemy had ransacked the Temple, wreaking havoc. In the middle verses of this lament (vv.12-23), God changes the chaotic waters of death into life-giving streams. Day and night, stars and sun, summer and winter, still remain standing even after the destruction of the Temple, as a witness that God is still in charge. No matter how dismal the circumstances or how mighty the enemy, creation itself stands as a sign that God will remember and prevail. 

In Psalm 148, creation itself sings praises. Often, when celebrating the Easter Vigil, folks march to the baptismal font singing, “All you works of the Lord, praise the Lord!” The entire psalter moves toward this unified voice of praise. 

In this sense, Psalm 148 is the culmination. God is both the conductor and the listener, recipient of the praise. 

Water in the Psalms

by Diane Jacobson

Water is everywhere in the psalms. Reference to water, in its many manifestations, is made in over one-third of the psalms in at least 115 verses. (see p. 379 of this article) What follows is a brief summary of seven ways that water lives in and through the psalms.

#1 Water is Life in Creation 

Psalm 33:6-7 turns the prose of Genesis 1 into poetry (See Creation in the Psalms), referring to God creating by containing the waters of chaos. These contained waters become the living streams and rivers in such psalms as 46:4 and 65:9.

#2. Water is Life that Sustains and Refreshes

In Psalm 104:5-6, 10-13 (See Creation in the Psalms), water is refreshment not just for humans, but also for wild animals, birds, and even for the earth itself. In Psalm 23:2 the LORD leads the sheep “beside still waters,” lest they drown.

#3. Water Is Life that Itself Sings Praises 

In the psalms, the waters not only receive praise; they themselves are also enjoined to sing praises as in Psalm 98:4, 7-8 where the sea is urged to roar and the floods to clap hands. Water sings!

#4. Water is the Living Lament of our Tears

As in the rest of Scripture, water also marks chaos in the psalms. Quite often the chaos is the intensely personal internal chaos of sorrow and lament. In Psalm 6:6 the flood is a bed full of tears as is the weeping by the rivers of Babylon in Psalm 137:1. This personal chaos is marked by the salt water of tears rather than the salt water of the ocean depths. In such psalms, tears become prayers.

#5. Water is Life in Being Washed in Forgiveness 

Psalm 51 asks God to “Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin” (v2, see also v7.)

A basic use of water is for washing, for cleansing. It is not just clothes that need such washing. We, as sinful people, need deep cleansing. 

#6 Water is Life in our Thirsting after the Living God 

In psalms, the faithful thirst after the living God, as in Psalm 63:1 –

O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; 

my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. 

Similarly Psalm 42 that likens souls thirsting for God to a deer longing for streams. Not incidentally, the root meaning for the Hebrew word nephesh, here translated “soul,” is “throat.” The throat is the metaphorical place where our souls thirst.

#7 Water is Life as We Study the Word Together 

Finally, the Psalter begins with a psalm that guides our reading of all of the Psalter and more. Psalm 1 declares those who meditate on God’s Torah (often translated “law,” but better translated as “scripture”) day and night, to be “happy, blessed”. Such activity, says the psalmist, leads to becoming “like trees planted by streams of water...” (v3) One who is rooted in the soil of God’s word is fed by an ever-flowing and refreshing divine stream. Such a person, such a tree, has leaves that offer shade and shelter as well as fruit. Fruit is never for the tree itself, but is always for nourishing the other. 

Women as Readers and Singers of Psalms

by Diane Jacobson

We have a fairly robust idea about women as readers of psalms throughout history, particularly European and American Christian women from the 16th to early 20th century. Not surprisingly, women throughout history often read psalms with their own emphases and inclinations. 

Modern feminist scholars have made some basic observations about the difficulty of women reading psalms. First and foremost, the language of psalms largely assumes a male reader. This impression is buttressed by the traditional claim of Davidic authorship.  Additionally, not only is the one praying the psalms assumed to be male, and the images used of both humans and God are predominantly male. That said, in the narrative texts of the Bible significant women are the singers of songs. Notable among these are Miriam, Deborah, Hannah and Mary. Theirs are among the most significant songs in Scripture. Also some significant female images of both humans and God can be found in the psalms.

The history of women reading the psalms begins centuries before modern feminism. From the middle ages on, women joined men as readers, singers, and translators of psalms. Psalms were often the entry point for women from all social strata and a range of religious and political affiliation from the late 16th century to the Restoration.

Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603) translated Psalm 13 from the Vulgate. Two women, in particular, followed her lead. Anne Vaughan Lock (1534-1602) who corresponded with John Knox, wrote a sonnet sequence on Psalm 51. Notably her sonnets not only exhibited personal piety, they also offered critiques of the political and religious cultures of her day. Mary Sidney Herbert, Countess of Pembroke, (1561-1621) who knew Greek, completed her brother’s paraphrases of the psalms. 

In the 17th century Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672) wrote poetry that followed not just the images but also the structure of psalms, viewing thanksgiving, supplications, lament, and their structures as models of prayer. She herself identified with David. 

Moving to the 18th and 19th centuries, Anna Barbault (1743-1825) wrote “Devotional Pieces Compiled from the Psalms and the Book of Job.” She questioned some of the views of enlightenment scholarship with its overly analytic approach to the psalms and lack of attention to both the communal, emotional experiences of God and the proper context of corporate prayer. Notably she spoke of the maternal care of the creator. Both Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Harriet Beecher Stowe made generous use of psalms in their poetry. Psalms were often the interpretive lens on the world for these writers. 

In the early modern world and beyond, participation in the creation, translation, and performance of the psalms could elevate the status of individuals and groups otherwise accounted as inferior. This included immigrants as well as women. Gradually women also entered the scholarly world as teachers.  Joana Julie Greswell published “A Grammatical Analysis of the Hebrew Psalter” in 1873. Emilie Grace Briggs (1867-1944) was the first woman to earn a diploma from Union Theological Seminary and in 1897 became a member of the Society of Biblical Literature. It turns out that a good many of the entries in Brown, Driver, and Briggs were originally written in her hand rather than the hand of her father. Together with her father, she wrote “A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Psalms.”

And Elisabeth Wordsworth (1840-1932), great niece of poet William Wordsworth, published theological reflections on the psalms, based on her weekly lectures to female students in Oxford. In her “Psalms for the Christian Festivals,” published in 1906, she said this:

We should approach [each psalm] with a deep spirit of reverence, using no doubt, so far as we can, the results of scholarship and historical research, but always remembering that it is not the authorship of the Psalm, not its local and historical setting that gives it its true and lasting value, but the fact that it is the voice of God speaking to the soul, and the soul replying to God.

It seems that throughout history, women read psalms more consciously and more fervently through their own experience. This experience is often the experience of pain, though not exclusively.  For women, psalms tend to be both fiercely personal and fiercely communal, and always about the struggles with and devotion to God.

Music in the Psalms Tradition

by Paul Jacobson

The mystery of psalm singing in ancient Israel

Psalms, music, and singing are inseparable, and this unity is clear from the language of the psalms themselves. That psalms were sung in ancient Hebrew culture is clear from the poetic nature of the psalms, frequent instructional rubrics at the beginnings of many psalms, and, indeed, from the titles themselves. The term “psalm” is from Greek “to pluck a harp.”  In Hebrew the word for “psalm” is mizmor, which can be translated as “melody” or “melody of praise.” And the Hebrew word for “song” (shir) is often part of the description of a psalm, as in the 15 “Songs of Ascent” which were undoubtedly sung while on pilgrimage walking up to the Temple for a festival.

“Sing” is an imperative verb in about 60 psalm verses, “song” in about 55 verses or titles, and  “new song” occurs at least a half dozen times. The Temple had its trained singers. For example, eight psalms in Book II of the Psalter are described as “of the Korahites,” or “a Maskil of the Korahites.” The Korahites were temple musicians, and their maskil may have been a wise saying, a musical mode, or a method of singing. Psalm 50 is attributed to Asaph, a psalmist or singer of the Temple. 

And then there are the instruments, found particularly in psalms of praise. The psalms name at least eight types of instruments, which are named as harps, lutes, lyres, trumpets, horns, pipes, cymbals, and timbrels in the King James and later English translations after instruments contemporary to their translations, and mostly they are educated guesses. There are references to strings and stringed instruments, but certainly there were no ancient Hebrew lutes. Some references are rather detailed, as, for example, the “ten-stringed harp.” The “trumpets” were perhaps shofars (rams’ horns) or metal trumpets, and they are used in triumphant psalm texts. In Psalm 137 the exiled singers “hung up their lyres” by the waters of Babylon. Psalms must have been sung with instrumental accompaniment, for David played on some instrument which we call a “harp.”

We will never know what psalm singing in ancient Israel sounded like, but one can be sure that the singing arose from even older ancient Near Eastern traditions, blended with many cultures, and has evolved steadily over the past three millennia to how psalms are sung in churches, temples, and synagogues in modern times around the world.

Eight Psalm Tones and the liturgy of the early church

The “Eight Psalm Tones” of the early and medieval church have formed both the nature of chanting or singing the psalms and the development of the liturgy of the church, the Western and Eastern traditions (Roman and Orthodox) and Reformation traditions as well. These eight tones were not an invention of the early and medieval church. Ancient Near Eastern clues indicate not only that various systems, and indeed even eight “tones,” were existent from times predating the beginning of the Book of Psalms but also that ANE traditions and Greek traditions shaped the musical traditions of the Temple in Jerusalem and worship practices in the early church.  Clay tablets from Hittite culture mention eight tones. What those tones were, we have no idea. No known musical notation exists, and the tradition may have been purely an oral musical tradition. (See Erik Werner’s monumental work The Sacred Bridge, exploring the connection between early liturgical traditions and the Ancient Near East.) Some psalm superscriptions, such as that of Psalm 6, give enigmatic clues, such as playing the psalm melody on the Neginot upon Sheminit, which may have meant on a particular stringed instrument in a mode called the Sheminit. We simply don’t know. What we do know is that the systems – and instruments – for chanting the psalms date back to time before memory.

Both the western and eastern traditions of the early church, through the Middle Ages and to modern times, have intoned much of the Psalter using “modes” (pre-modern musical scales) and melodic formulas for chanting. The “Eight Psalm Tones” became codified and unified as part of Gregorian Chant during the first millennium C.E. and became an integral part of the mass and festivals throughout the church year and are still used in Catholic tradition today. The Eight Psalm Tones were adopted by Martin Luther early on in the German Reformation and affected the music in other Reformation traditions, as well. In 1529 Luther and colleagues published a hymnal with the eight modes harmonized for congregational singing. This adaptation has had a profound effect on the development of Lutheran hymnody and the whole tradition of sacred music from the early church to the present.

Psalms and Reformation hymnody

Reformation movements challenging the authority of the Roman Catholic Church arose almost simultaneously in Germany and in Switzerland. Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses in Wittenberg in 1517 and John Calvin published the first edition of his Institutes in Basel about two decades later. Both Reformation leaders and their followers fostered the participation in and understanding of worship by all the faithful, and both Luther and Calvin were faced with the challenge of creating music that everyone could sing in worship. They both turned to the psalms as a crucial source for congregational singing. 

In 1524, seven years after posting his 95 Theses, Luther and a colleague, Paul Speratus, published the first Lutheran hymnal, titled “Songs of Praise and a Psalm according to the Pure Word of God from the Holy Scripture made by several learned people to be sung in church as already practiced in part in Wittenberg” (a rather long title!). This first Lutheran hymnal (also called “The Eight Song Book”), contains one psalm setting, probably paraphrased and composed by Luther himself. This hymn, “Out of the Depths,” was based on Psalm 130, and Luther used for its tune the ancient Phrygian Mode from the Medieval Roman Church modes, a rather dark mode appropriate for the text. Five years later came a second hymnal (now lost) which introduced “A Mighty Fortress is our God” based on Psalm 46, which has been called the “Battle Hymn of the Reformation.” For both of these psalm hymns Luther wrote new melodies which support the text in rhythm and affect. The hymns marked the beginning of the Protestant tradition of basing hymns or chorales on psalm paraphrases to be sung in unison or harmony by the congregation.

A century later, Heinrich Schütz, the great Lutheran organist and composer from Northern Germany, undertook a project to compose chorale settings of all 150 psalms based on the psalm paraphrases in German of Cornelius Becker. This collection of chorales was published in 1628 as the “Becker Psalter,” 104 years after the first Lutheran hymnal. Schütz’s settings are musically more challenging for congregational singing and are in use today primarily as chorale settings for choirs. German Lutheran composers Schein and Praetorius followed suit with their own chorale settings of the entire Psalter.

About two decades after the first Lutheran hymnal, Calvin determined that the congregational music for the Swiss Reformation should be the psalms and only the psalms. Thus, he commissioned a collection of all 150 psalms, paraphrased in rhyming metrical verse by the French court poet Clément Marot and set to new tunes by Louis Bourgeois. This collection, the first edition of which was published in Geneva in 1542, was dubbed “The Genevan Psalter.” It found its way, among other places, to Scotland and then England, where it became the hymnic cornerstone of the Reformed traditions there. The Scottish and English versions of the Genevan Psalter used the original tunes of Bourgeois and others but, of course, created English paraphrases for all 150 psalms. Perhaps the best known and loved hymn from the Genevan Psalter is Old 100th, “All People that on Earth do Dwell.” In the original Genevan Psalter, Old 100th was the tune for Psalm 134 but in Scotland and England it was used for Psalm 100. The history of the Genevan Psalter and the traditions it spawned are rich and complex and its influence spread throughout the world. Many of the hymns in modern Lutheran, other Protestant, and Roman Catholic hymnals come from this tradition.

Psalms in modern hymnody

Beyond the influence of The Genevan Psalter, the Book of Psalms has been perhaps the largest source inspiring the tradition of hymnody from ancient to modern times, and the source continues to inspire new hymns and enlarge the body of Christian hymnody. For instance, the Evangelical Lutheran Worship hymnal contains about 260 psalm references. Most of these are paraphrases of small psalm portions, but a very few, such as hymns based on Psalm 23 and, of course, A Mighty Fortress based on Psalm 46 and Out of the Depths based on Psalm 130, are complete paraphrases, the latter two being paraphrased by Martin Luther himself. All Creation Sings, another Lutheran hymnal published in 2020, contains about 114 psalm references, but no complete psalm paraphrases.

Liturgical hymns and canticles based on psalms have also been important in modern Christian liturgies. Two very familiar examples from Lutheran orders of worship are the offertory canticle Create in Me a Clean Heart, O Lord (based on Psalm 51) from Evangelical Lutheran Worship; and Let My Prayer Rise Up (based on Psalm 141) from Holden Evening Prayer by Marty Haugen.

Psalms in performance

by Paul Jacobson

Middle Ages and The Renaissance

Plainsong (single voice or monophonic singing) and the use of the Eight Psalm Tones for chanting the psalm in the liturgy of the Medieval church began to be enriched with polyphonic composition (two or more melodies together) in the late Middle Ages. By the 16th century, polyphonic settings of psalms were in full blossom, and the Roman composer and organist Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina is considered to be the musician who brought the Renaissance polyphonic style to its height of perfection. Of his many psalm settings, the motet Sicut Cervus (“As the deer longs for the water-brooks” – Psalm 42) is considered by many his most beautiful and perfect.

From the Renaissance and forward, settings of the psalms became a driving force in the development of compositional style. Despite a brief ban in 1562 by the Council of Trent on the use of “secular” musical instruments in churches, instruments became important in church music and in musical settings of psalms – just as had been true in the ancient Hebrew culture of King David. The use of instruments, perhaps especially keyboard and string instruments, has played a critical role in the evolution of musical styles and the history of music for psalm singing. During the Baroque era and beyond, psalm-based compositions migrated from church to concert hall and became a medium both for the church and for cultural enrichment. Below are some examples from centuries beginning with the early Baroque (ca. 1600) to the present.

Early Baroque

Giovanni Gabrielli, organist at St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice, developed a polychoral style of performance which echoed the shape of that cathedral. His setting of Psalm 100, Jubilate Deo omnis terra (incidentally, the same psalm as Old 100th   –  see “Psalms and Reformation Hymnody”), is one of his dozens of psalm-based motets.

High Baroque

Johann Sebastian Bach’s motets combined the polyphonic style of the Renaissance with a highly developed harmonic style. Sing to the Lord a New Song, based on Psalm 149, is perhaps the best known of his motets. Bach used psalms and chorales based on psalms for many of his cantatas, such as Cantata 69, Praise the Lord, My Soul, based on Psalm 103. Bach’s cantatas used the musical language, form, and instruments that had grown out of the new world of opera during the Italian Renaissance and Early Baroque periods.

Romantic Era: Johannes Brahms composed The German Requiem (1868) to memorialize his mother. Entirely scripturally based, this requiem has none of the components of the traditional requiem mass of the Roman Catholic Church but instead reflects Brahms’ own theological beliefs. Brahms’ Requiem uses portions of three psalms – Psalms 39, 84, and 126 (as well as several other Old and New Testament sources) – in this magnum opus. The transcendent chorus How Lovely Are Thy Dwellings is a paraphrase of Psalm 84.

The Modern Era

Here are two significant examples:

  1. Igor Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms was commissioned in 1930 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of The Boston Symphony Orchestra. Written for full symphony orchestra, choir, and soloists, this work uses the vocal parts as expansions of the orchestra. Its typical three-movement symphonic style sets the beginnings of three psalms from the Latin Vulgate: Psalms 38, 39, and 150.
  2. Leonard Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms was commissioned for the 1965 Southern Cathedrals Festival at Chichester Cathedral, England. It was performed first in the Philharmonic Hall in New York City and then at the English festival. Like Stravinsky’s symphony described above, it is in three movements, each of which uses all or portions of two paired psalms. Bernstein uses the original Hebrew for the whole work. The second movement contrasts Psalm 2, “Why do the nations rage?” with the pastoral 23rd Psalm. The Psalm 23 setting in this movement is scored for alto sung by a boy paired with harp, as if it were King David singing to his own accompaniment.

Psalms in Jewish Biblical Interpretation

by Anna Marsh

“Moses gave them the five books of the Torah, and in exchange, David gave them the Book of Psalms, which contains five books.” So says part of chapter 1 of Midrash Tehillim, a medieval compilation of psalms and commentary thereupon. This refers to the division of the Psalter into five “books” (1-41, 42-72, 73-89, 90-106, 107-150), making it a kind of mirror of the Pentateuch/Torah. Davidic authorship of the Psalms is firmly embedded in tradition, but critical scholarship suggests that most psalms are of post-exilic origin (roughly over a half century after David may have lived and died). With a reading from the Torah, the Psalms have become an integral part of Jewish prayer services. 

Prayer practices can vary widely by denomination and even by individual. Prayers are generally offered silently, and sometimes in community. An outside observer may assume that the order and repetition of Jewish daily prayers does not inspire a true connection with God, but, in fact, the order establishes a meaningful ritual. Indeed, the Talmud exhorts worshipers to approach the order joyfully, with emotion, not as a burden (Berakhot 29b). 

Psalms in Daily Prayers

By Anna Marsh

For an observant Jewish person, days are marked by a practice of prayer: morning, midday and evening. During the prayers, a worshiper follows an order of service in a prayer book (siddur), which includes a combination of traditional prayers–many of which contain a single verse from various psalms–and other biblical readings. The morning service, called shacharit (from the Hebrew word for “dawn”), which is to be completed before the first quarter of the day has passed, is the longest of the three services. The midday service is called minchah (from the Hebrew for “gift”) and the evening prayers, ma’ariv (from the Hebrew word for “evening”). The morning prayer has seven units, concluding with the shir shel yom, “the song of the day”–a different psalm each day (see below). These are not sung, but the Bible routinely refers to psalms as shirim, “songs,” a nod to the musical origins of the poems collected in our Psalter. This section of the liturgy is called the p’sukei d’zimrah (Hebrew for “verses of praise”), and they precede the Shema (the central creed of Judaism) and the Amidah (a set of blessings and petitions) in the order of service. 

A different psalm closes the shacharit service each day (Sunday, Ps 24; Monday, 48; Tuesday, 92; Wednesday, 94; Thursday, 81; Friday, 93; Saturday, 92). The assignment of Psalm 92 to Saturday, which is observed as Shabbat, a day of rest, comes from the Bible, where the superscription of the Psalm reads “a song for the Sabbath day”. This is the only psalm assigned to a particular day. The rest of the assignments are postbiblical, though they make reference to what happened on that day of creation. However, the rabbis of the early Common Era taught that this practice of reciting the shirim shel yom was observed by the Levites in the Temple after they had finished the daily sacrifice. Since the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 C.E., Judaism has taught that prayer has taken the place of sacrifice–the words of prayers ascending to the heavens as the smoke from the altar once did. While the destruction of the Temple was a massively disruptive event, the notion that the Levites once said the same prayers that people pray today creates a line of continuity in praxis between antiquity and contemporary life.

Psalms in the Shabbat Liturgy

by Anna Marsh

Shabbat is observed both in the synagogue and in the home. The Psalms play a particularly significant role in the former, comprising significant portions of Kabbalat Shabbat (“receiving the Sabbath”).  One biblical scholar notes that “the nine psalms incorporated into Kabbalat Shabbat represent about 5 percent of Psalms.” This service was originally developed as a joyful introduction to the Friday Ma’ariv service, but in many instances it has become the beloved cornerstone of welcoming the Sabbath.
Kabbalat Shabbat came together over many centuries, and the practice remains diverse, especially between Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jewish communities. In the former, more prominent among North American Jewry, six psalms (95-99 and 29) are recited or sung in whole to welcome Shabbat. The call to worship begins with the opening line of Psalm 95, L’khu n’ranenah l’Adonai (“Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord”) and moving into Psalm 96 (Shiru l’Adonai, shir khadash; “sing to the Lord a new song”). Other traditional poems–which draw on biblical language and imagery but are not of biblical origin–set to music may follow (such as Ana Be’Koach and L’cha Dodi), along with Psalms 92-93, which affirm God’s kingship and the endurance of God’s teaching.

The Communal Scope of the Psalms

by Nicholas J. Schaser

Since much of the Psalter consists of prayers in the first-person, it is easy for modern Bible readers to think of the Book of Psalms as the discrete petitions of isolated individuals. However, the psalms are filled with calls to corporate worship that underscore the importance of community and offer a blueprint for contemporary Christian congregations.

While a given psalm may have been authored by a single writer, the content of the Book of  Psalms enjoins the entire globe to pay attention: “Hear this, all peoples! Give ear, all inhabitants of the world! Both low and high, rich and poor together. My mouth shall utter wisdom; the meditation of my heart shall be understanding” (Psalm 49:1-3). Though the psalms are written to and for the people of Israel, these poems envision other nations joining in the worship of Israel’s God: “Let this be written for a generation to come, that the people to be created might praise the Lord… that they may declare in Zion the name of the Lord, and in Jerusalem his praise, when peoples and kingdoms gather together to worship the Lord” (Psalm 102:18, 21-22).

This emphasis on the creation of a global community under God is the basis for the early church’s conviction that the gospel would bring together Jews and Gentiles in Christ. The vision of the New Jerusalem in Revelation offers a picture of what such a community would look like: “On the gates the names of the twelve tribes of the children of Israel were inscribed…. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. By its light the nations will walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it” (Revelation 21:12, 23-24). This presentation of a future diverse community, dependent on the psalms, provides the biblical touchstone for worship within the Christian church in the present. 

The Meaning of “Amen”

by Nicholas J. Schaser

Ending prayers with an “amen” is a fundamental practice in both Judaism and Christianity. The Book of Psalms contains several doxologies (glorifications of God) that end in “amen.” Psalm 41:13 states, “Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting, amen and amen.” Psalm 72:19 declares, “Blessed be [God’s] glorious name. May the whole earth be filled with his glory, amen and amen.” These refrains of “amen” at the end of the psalms provide the template for modern church and synagogue congregants around the world. Yet the term is so common that worshipers may not even think about its meaning. “Amen” is not just an expression to conclude prayer, but a declaration of both petitioners’ faith in God and an affirmation of God’s own faithfulness.

“Amen” (אָמֵן) is at the root of the Hebrew word אֱמוּנָה (emunah), which indicates trust, surety, and faith. In Psalm 119:30, the writer tells God, “I have chosen the way of faith (emunah); I have set your judgments [before me].” Later in the same prayer, the psalmist says that the divine teachings are trustworthy: “All your commandments are sure (emunah)” (119:86). Similarly, Psalm 33:4 states, “For the word of the Lord is right; and all his acts are [done] in faithfulness (בֶּאֱמוּנָה; be’emunah).” 

Most often, the psalms use emunah to speak of God’s own faithfulness. Psalm 36:5 notes, “Your steadfastness, O Lord, is in the heavens, and your faithfulness (emunah) as far as the clouds.” Elsewhere, the psalmists declare that the trustworthiness in the heavens resounds among God’s people on earth. Psalm 89 begins, “I will sing of the loyalties of the Lord forever; with my mouth I will make known your faithfulness (emunah) to generation after generation” (Psalm 89:1). When contemporary congregants say “amen,” they are engaging in a corporate reaffirmation of their own trust in the faithfulness of God, as in Psalm 106:48: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting to everlasting, and let all the people say, ‘Amen!’ Praise the Lord.”

Hope in the Psalms

by Nicholas J. Schaser

English speakers often use the word “hope” to express speculative desires: “I hope that I get the job,” or “We hope we win this game.” In the Hebrew of the psalms, however, “hope” expresses confidence in the abiding authority of God in the present, not in the potentialities of an uncertain future. While the Bible does not guarantee the outcomes that we desire, the Psalter can provide readers with the kind of hope that expresses present assurance in the presence of God, even in the midst of uncertainty.  

According to the psalms, hope is decisive because it comes from God: “For God alone my soul waits in silence, for from him comes my hope (תִקְוָתִי; tiqvati). He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken” (Psalm 62:5-6). When this prayer speaks of “hope,” it focuses on the strength of God in the present despite the need for waiting.

In Psalm 71, the Hebrew parallelism of the poetic verse shows that “hope” is something founded upon one’s past relationship with God: “For you are my hope (תִקְוָתִי; tiqvati), O Lord God; [you are] my confidence (מִבְטָח; mivtah) from my youth” (Psalm 71:5). Based on the second half of the verse—which says that God is the psalmist’s “confidence from my youth”—readers can see that the “hope” at the start of the statement should be understood in terms of “confidence.” Moreover, this confidence is not anticipated in the future, but rooted in the past—ever since the psalmist was young. In the ancient Hebrew of the psalms, “hope” is founded upon one’s trust in God’s presence throughout life. From a modern perspective, we may not always get what we hope for, but from an ancient Israelite perspective, the object of “hope” is the steadfast and continual presence of God.

Hebrew Poetry and the Origin of Demons

by Nicholas J. Schaser

Demons and demon-possessed people populate the pages of the New Testament. One of Jesus’ main activities is casting out these entities in order to free individuals from demonic oppression. Mark’s Gerasene demoniac (Mark 5:1-20), the daughter of Matthew’s Canaanite woman (Matthew 15:21-27), and the boy with an unclean spirit in Luke (Luke 9:37-43) are just a few of the figures who benefit from Jesus’ exorcisms. But the Old Testament has relatively few references to anything that could be construed as a demonic force (e.g., Leviticus 17:7; 32:17; Psalm 106:37). So, where did this New Testament notion of numerous demons come from?

The translational tradition of the Psalter can offer Bible readers clues about the presence of demons in the New Testament. In the Hebrew text of Psalm 96, the psalmist compares the inferior gods of the nations to the supreme God of Israel, saying, “For the Lord is great, and greatly to be praised; he is to be feared above all [other] gods. All the gods (אֱלֹהִים; elohim) of the peoples are vanities (אֱלִילִים; elilim), but the Lord made the heavens” (96:5). Many years later, the Jewish-Greek translator of this Hebrew verse in the Septuagint would write that “all the gods (θεοὶ, theoī) of the nations are demons (δαιμόνια, daimōnia)” (95:5 LXX). Based on the comparative context of the psalm, it is clear that “demons” is the Greek way of referring to “inferior gods.”  

A similar context emerges in the Septuagint Greek translation of the poetic Song of Moses, which shares the literary approach and parallelism of the psalms. Moses declares that those who made the golden calf “sacrificed to demons (δαιμονίοις, daimonīois) and not God (θεῷ, Theō); [they worshiped] gods (θεοῖς, theoīs) they had not known” (Deuteronomy 32:17 LXX). The poetry of Moses’ song corroborates the assertion in the Psalter; namely, that demons are equivalent to foreign gods who are inferior to the God of Israel. Paul cites this same verse from Moses’ song to prohibit the Corinthians from interacting with idols. The apostle agrees that the calf-worshipers sacrificed to “demons and not God” (δαιμονίοις καὶ οὐ θεῷ, daimonīois kaī ou Theō), and discourages believers in Corinth from being “companions of demons (δαιμονίων, daimonīon)” (1 Corinthians 10:20). Paul’s use of Deuteronomy reflects the fact that the New Testament writers drew directly from the Septuagint’s translations of Hebrew poetry for their understanding of demons, and it is these lesser divine beings who submit to the authority of the Son of God in the Gospels.

Why Does Satan Cite the Psalms?

by Nicholas J. Schaser

In Matthew 4:1-11 (// Luke 4:1-13), the devil tests Jesus in the wilderness. Christ defends against the devil’s demands with three references to Deuteronomy (cf. Deuteronomy 6:13, 16; 8:3; Matthew 4:4, 7, 10), but Satan chooses to cite Psalm 91: “He will command his angels concerning you and on their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone” (91:11-12). A knowledge of ancient Bible translations suggests that Satan’s reference to this particular text is ironic since, by the time of Jesus, Psalm 91 had become a prayer against demonic forces.

The Hebrew of Psalm 91 encourages readers not to fear violent enemies or agricultural disasters: “You shall not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence (דֶבֶר; dever) that stalks in the darkness, nor the destruction (יָשׁוּד; yashud) that wastes at noon” (91:5-6). The Greek Septuagint translation (which predates the time of Jesus) shifts from a focus on nature to a dismissal of demons: “You shall not be afraid of the terror by night nor of the arrow that flies by day, nor of the thing (πράγματος; prāgmatos) that walks in darkness… and the demon (δαιμονίον; daimonīon) at noon.” (Psalm 90:5-6 LXX). Despite this change, the Greek actually reflects a valid way of reading the original Hebrew. Depending on which vowel points are appended to the Hebrew letters (the vowel points were not included in the ancient Hebrew text that the Greek translators used), the words could read either “pestilence” (דֶבֶר; dever) and “destruction” (שׁוּד; shud) or “thing” (דָבָר; davar) and “demon” (שֵׁד; shed). The Greek translator decided on the latter renderings.

A few centuries after Jesus, the Aramaic translation of the Hebrew Book of Psalms (called the Targum) added several references to demonic entities into Psalm 91: “You will not be afraid of the terror of the demon that goes about in the night… nor of the company of demons that destroy at noon…. No evil shall befall you, and no plague or demons shall come near your tent, for he will command his angels concerning you.” (Psalms Targum 91:5-6, 10-11). Thus, the devil’s decision to cite Psalm 91 during Jesus’ temptation is the worst possible choice to make, since first-century Jews would likely have known that the psalm was a prayer that guarded against demons. Of all the scriptural possibilities, Satan chooses a passage that was meant to drive him away. This comedy of satanic errors would have elicited laughter from ancient Gospel readers who would have concluded that the devil is a bit of a dunce.

The Afterlife According to the Psalms

by Nicholas J. Schaser

According to Israel’s Scriptures, the destination of the dead is a realm called Sheol. This postmortem place should not be confused with the later Jewish concept of “hell” (Gehinnom/Gehenna), which is the eschatological endpoint for the wicked on the final day of judgment. Instead, Sheol is an area in which everyone—both the righteous (e.g., Genesis 37:35) and the wicked (Psalm 9:17)—ends up in the afterlife. While the psalms note that activities such as work and worship cease in Sheol, this reality is not equivalent to a lack of consciousness or absence of God after death. Moreover, the psalms join a chorus of other biblical texts that envision the ultimate release of the deceased from Sheol—a notion that, when fully formed over the course of ancient Jewish history, will be described as the resurrection of the dead. 

Though the psalmists ask God for salvation from death, they also imply that Sheol will be their eventual destination after their earthly life. The righteous writer of Psalm 18 recalls a near-death experience in which “the cords of Sheol entangled me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called upon the Lord; to my God I cried for help” (Psalm 18:5-6 NRSVUE). Psalm 6:5 declares, “For in death there is no remembrance of you; in Sheol who will give you praise?” Yet, this lack of “remembrance” or “praise” does not disqualify continued consciousness. For the ancient Israelites, the praise and memorialization of God was something that one did during one’s life on earth, in the congregation of the living—activities that are no longer possible for those whose lives have ended. Psalm 116 shows that “praise” is an on-earth endeavor experienced in a living community: “Because you have delivered my life from death… I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living…. In the presence of all his people, in the courts of the house of the Lord, in your midst, Jerusalem, praise the Lord” (Psalm 116:8-9, 18-19). Likewise, “remembrance” of God is something in which each living generation engages: “Your name, Lord, endures forever; and your remembrance, Lord, throughout all generations” (Psalm 135:13). When Psalm 6:5 says that there is no “praise” or “remembrance” of God in Sheol, the verse maintains that these earthly activities are over after death, but it does not argue that all consciousness of God or relationship with the Lord ceases in Sheol.

On the contrary, Psalm 139:8 says of God, “If I ascend to the skies, you are there. If I make my bed in Sheol, look: [it is] you!” (cf. Job 26:6; Proverbs 15:11) Though this verse suggests continued interaction with God for those in Sheol, this postmortem place is not the final destination. Scripture reaffirms God’s ability to raise the dead out of Sheol (e.g., 1 Samuel 2:6; Psalm 16:10; 30:3; 49:15; Hosea 13:14), and these instances provide the foundation for the idea of bodily resurrection so central to later Judaism and Christianity. 

The Psalms and Resurrection

by Nicholas J. Schaser

There are a few places in the Old Testament that describe the resurrection of the dead (e.g., 2 Kings 4:32-37; 13:21; Daniel 12:2), but Jewish sages in Jesus’ day and beyond located the idea in less explicit portions of Scripture. The Book of Psalms belongs to this latter category, but it may have influenced Jesus’ own belief in resurrection as a biblical concept. Jesus cites a verse from Exodus that he feels proves the truth of resurrection, telling the Sadducees, “As for the dead being raised, have you not read in the Book of Moses, in the passage about the bush, how God spoke to him, saying, ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’ [Exodus 3:6]? He is God not of the dead, but of the living” (Mark 12:26-27).

Jesus’ choice may seem odd since, by the time he had his discussion with the Sadducees, the patriarchs of Genesis had been dead for hundreds of years. But the broader context of Exodus 3:6 holds the key to understanding the exegetical logic. After mentioning the ancestors, God tells Moses, “I have come down… to bring them up (עלה; alah) out of that land [of Egypt]…. The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob… is my name forever, and this is my memorial (זכר; zeker) for all generations.” (Exodus 3:8, 15).

The psalms echo this language of being “brought up” as a divine “memorial,” not with reference to the exodus, but to God rescuing individuals from the realm of the dead. The author of Psalm 30 declares, “Lord, you have brought up (עלה; alah) my life from Sheol…. Give thanks to the memorial (זכר; zeker) of his holiness” (30:3-4). The later rabbis would interpret this passage as an indication of David being raised from the dead (cf. Ecclesiastes Rabbah 4:3; Exodus Rabbah 8:1), and Jesus seems to have anticipated this interpretation of the same terminology as it appears in Exodus 3. In choosing the passage about the burning bush to prove resurrection, Jesus alludes to specific liberative terms that the psalms also use to describe God bringing life out of the grave. From a single verse about “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,” Jesus taps into the larger context of Scripture—including the Book of Psalms—to prove the resurrection power of God.

The Word in the Psalms

by Nicholas J. Schaser

The Gospel of John begins, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…. [The Word] was in the world, and the world was made through him” (John 1:1, 10). The conclusion of the Johannine prologue is that this preexistent and creative Word eventually “became flesh and dwelt among us” in the person of Christ (1:14). But where is the evangelist getting the idea that the “Word” (Greek: λόγος, lōgos) was present at creation? 

According to Psalm 33:6, “By the word (דָּבָר; davar) of the Lord the heavens were established, and all the host of them by his breath.” In the Greek translation of the Book of Psalms with which the Gospel writer would have been familiar (the Septuagint) this verse contains the same term for “word” that we find in John: “By the word (λόγος, lōgos) of the Lord the heavens were established, and by the breath of his mouth all their host” (Psalm 32:6 LXX). Statements like these would have provided support for the fourth evangelist’s conviction that the “Word” made flesh was behind creation.

John also says of the Word that, prior to the incarnation, there were “those who believed in his name” (John 1:12). The psalms of praise would have corroborated this idea. The author of Psalm 56 declares, “In the Lord I will praise a word (דָּבָר; davar). In God I have put my trust” (Psalm 56:10-11). Once again, the Septuagint uses λόγος (lōgos) in its translation: “In the Lord I will praise a word (λόγος). In God I have hoped” (Psalm 55:10-11 LXX). The author of John is the heir of a long theological tradition in which the notion of the Word developed and, eventually, was understood through a christological lens by the first followers of Jesus. The psalms are among the biblical voices that give rise to the notion of the divine Word that we find in the Gospel.    

The Holy Spirit in the Psalms

by Nicholas J. Schaser

Given its importance in the Trinitarian theology of Christianity, the concept of the “Holy Spirit” can sound like a uniquely Christian idea. However, the term appears first in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament, and its use in the psalms can provide modern readers with guidance as to how the Holy Spirit of God was understood in ancient Israel.

In Psalm 51, traditionally attributed to David after his sinful sexual encounter with Bathsheba, the psalmist pleads, “Create in me a new heart, God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10). Then, the petitioner states, “Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your Holy Spirit from me” (51:11). In the Hebrew parallelism of this verse, the first part of the sentence mirrors and restates the second part. The reference to “your presence” (or, more literally, “from your face” [מִלְּפָנֶיךָ; milfanekha]) parallels the reference to “your Holy Spirit” (רוּחַ קָדְשְׁךָ; ruah qadshekha). This parallelism shows that God’s “presence” is synonymous with God’s “Holy Spirit.” For the psalmist, the Holy Spirit is another way of describing the Lord’s very being, and this divine presence has the power to renew the heart and spirit of the worshiper.

Jews of the early centuries CE inherited and developed the notion of the Holy Spirit that appears in the Book of Psalms. Whereas the Spirit of God is able to renew the inner life of the psalmist according to Psalm 51, later ancient readers maintained that this Spirit could (and would) renew the physical body through resurrection from the dead. Paul, for instance, says that “God’s love has poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us…. If the Spirit of… [the God] who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you” (Romans 5:5; 8:11 NRSVUE). The rabbis after Paul, whose teachings serve as the basis for modern Judaism, agree about the Holy Spirit’s resurrective power: “Piety leads to the Holy Spirit (רוּחַ הַקֹּדֶשׁ; ruah ha’qodesh), and the Holy Spirit leads to the resurrection of the dead” (Mishnah, Sotah 9:15). While the rabbis do not subscribe to the Trinitarian theology that would develop over the course of patristic Christianity, both Jews and Christians are indebted to the description of the Holy Spirit in the psalms.   

Protection in the Psalms

 by Nicholas J. Schaser

A major theme of the Book of Psalms is humanity’s need for divine protection. The psalmists bemoan their various struggles and petition God for comfort and salvation. Though many of the lament psalms begin with the writers’ worries and complaints, these introductions lead to requests for deliverance and, most often, a divine response. The trust in God’s protection in the Book of Psalms finds its counterpart in the command for God’s people to watch over one another and build up the life of the worshipful community by God’s grace.

Speaking to God, Psalm 5 declares, “But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy. Spread your protection over them, so that those who love your name may exult in you” (Psalm 5:11). Sometimes, the psalmist puts words of protection on God’s lips: “Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name” (Psalm 91:14). This trust in divine protection is the basis for the petition for God to “guard me as the apple of the eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings” (Psalm 17:8).

The psalms’ words regarding the protection of God resound throughout Christian history. St. Augustine addresses God, saying, “For my part, I carry out your command by actions and words; but I discharge it under the protection of your wings. It would be a far too perilous responsibility unless under your wings my soul were submissive to you” (Confessions 10.4.6). Here, Augustine reflects the belief that accomplishing God’s just will in the world depends on God’s people being protected under the guidance of the Lord—the One who, says the psalmist, has been “my protector since my mother’s womb” (Psalm 71:6).

Psalm 22 in Christian and Jewish Tradition

by Nicholas J. Schaser

Psalm 22 has a rich interpretation history in both Judaism and Christianity. Jesus cries its opening line from the cross, and his later followers came to understand the entire psalm with reference to him. One prominent Jewish tradition understood the psalm to be speaking of Esther. These interpretations highlight the role of Psalm 22 in the church and synagogue as a conduit for reflections on others’ suffering and the ultimate redemption of God.

Psalm 22 begins with a lament over God’s apparent absence: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?” (Psalm 22:1). The first half of this verse is familiar to Christians as Jesus’ final words from the cross: “And about the ninth hour, Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ (Matthew 27:46; cf. Mark 15:34). The Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) echo other events of the psalm during Jesus’ passion. For instance, the psalmist says of encroaching enemies, “they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots” (Psalm 22:18) and, likewise, the Roman soldiers divide and cast lots for Jesus’ clothes (Matthew 27:35; Mark 15:24; Luke 23:34). 

Whereas the Synoptic Gospels do not cite Psalm 22 explicitly when the soldiers take Jesus’ garments, the later Gospel of John ensures that readers identify the connection: “When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them… [saying], ‘Let us not tear… [his tunic] but cast lots for it’…. This was to fulfill what the scripture says, ‘They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots’” (John 19:23-24). Later Christian writers like Tertullian added to the Gospels’ links by arguing that the damage done to the psalmist’s “hands and feet” (Psalm 22:16) signify the “special cruelty of the cross,” and that the psalm recounts “the entire passion of Christ” (Against Marcion 3.19).

Jewish tradition also looks beyond the psalm itself and applies it to other figures, including Esther. According to Rabbi Levi, “once she [Esther] reached the chamber of the idols, which was in the inner court [of King Ahasuerus’s house], the Divine Presence left her. She immediately said, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Babylonian Talmud, Megillah 15b). Yet, the rabbis also cite Psalm 22 to show that the suffering of Esther (and the Jewish people) is not the end of the story. Though Ahasuerus may have ruled in Esther’s day, Rabbi Aibu recalls that the psalm promises, “For the kingdom is the Lord’s and he is the ruler over the nations” (Psalm 22:28). Therefore, “when Israel repents God will take [the kingdom] from the idolaters and restore it to them” (Esther Rabbah 1:13).

Jews and Christians reapply the psalmist’s lament in Psalm 22 and repurpose the prayer in differing historical contexts. In both traditions, however, the suffering of individuals turns out to be the preamble to divine redemption.    

Hosanna: A Psalmic Prayer of Ancient Jews

by Nicholas J. Schaser

When Jesus enters Jerusalem in the final week of his life, “those who went before [him] and those who followed were shouting, ‘Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David. Hosanna in the highest!” (Mark 11:9-10; cf. Matthew 21:9, 15; John 12:13). The origin of this exclamation can be traced back to the Psalms, and the scene in Jerusalem resonates with Jewish traditions during joyful gatherings.

The Hebrew “Hosanna” (הוֹשִׁיעָה נָּא; hoshiah na) means “Save us, please” and the crowd’s words in the Gospel are quoted from Psalm 118: “Lord, please save us. Lord, please give us success. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” (118:24-25). The original context for these statements in the psalm seems to be a congregational prayer on the way to a temple sacrifice. Though the precise meaning of the Hebrew that follows the Hosanna exclamation is uncertain, it could be rendered, “Bind the festival [sacrifice] with cords to the horns of the altar” (118:27). Insofar as the reference to the “horns of the altar” is relatively clear, a temple context is probable. If the Gospel writers understood the psalm in the same way, then this verse, though left uncited in the Gospels, would have provided an implicit allusion to the upcoming sacrifice of Jesus on the cross.

The Mishnah, the first compilation of rabbinic literature (c. 220 CE), includes the Hosanna exclamation of Psalm 118 in its description of rituals in Jerusalem during the holiday of Sukkot. The text describes the waving of willow branches (known as aravot) being accompanied by recitation of the psalm: “[As to] the commandment of the willow branch… [worshipers would] come and stand them [i.e., the branches] upright at the sides of the altar…. Each day they [would] circle the altar one time and say, ‘Lord, please save us (הוֹשִׁיעָה נָּא; hoshiah na). Lord, please give us success’ [Psalm 118:25]” (m. Sukkah 4:5). The rabbis recount that, in the time of the Second Temple, Jews would wave branches near the altar and exclaim, “Hosanna!” This scene is remarkably similar to John’s description of the crowd following Jesus who “took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, ‘Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the King of Israel” (John 12:13). This shows that the New Testament presentation of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is not only dependent on the psalms but also reflective of ancient Jewish tradition.  

The Psalms and the Beatitudes

by Nicholas J. Schaser

The Beatitudes are among the most famous sayings of Jesus. These pithy and poignant statements at the outset of the Sermon on the Mount all begin in the same way: “Blessed are….” The Greek for “blessed” is (μακάριος; makārios), which the Septuagint authors use to translate the Hebrew אַשְׁרֵי (ashrei)—perhaps better translated “happy.” The term opens the Psalter: “Happy (אַשְׁרֵי; ashrei) is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, nor stand in the way of sinners, nor sit in the seat of scoffers” (Psalm 1:1). Similarly, Jesus begins his sermon by saying, “Happy are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3). 

While it is fitting that Jesus would start his sermon in a way that echoes the beginning of the Psalter, his decision turns out to be even more appropriate when readers compare the broader contexts of the Sermon and the psalms. In the latter, after describing the happy person who avoids evil, the first psalm continues to say that this person’s “delight is in the Torah of the Lord, and on his Torah he meditates day and night” (Psalm 1:2). Incidentally, in the Jewish ordering of the biblical canon (the Tanakh) these first lines of the Book of Psalms inaugurate the third section of Scripture known as the Ketuvim (Writings). In beginning with this reference to meditating day and night on God’s Torah, the Writings echo the start of the second section of the Tanakh—the Neviim (Prophets): “This book of the Torah shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night” (Joshua 1:8). In this way, both the Prophets and the Writings undergird the importance of the first section of the Tanakh, the Torah itself (Genesis–Deuteronomy).

That Jesus begins his sermon with an echo of Psalm 1, which recounts blessings for meditating on the Torah, is particularly appropriate given the heart of his teaching from the mountain. Immediately following the Beatitudes, Jesus mentions the Torah explicitly, saying, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Torah or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For amen, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Torah until all is accomplished” (Matthew 5:17-18). He proceeds to enumerate several of the Torah commands and offer his own interpretations and extensions of God’s statutes (Matthew 5:21-48). In organizing Jesus’ speech in this way, it is clear that the writer of Matthew’s Gospel is intimately familiar with the first psalm and alludes to it in multiple ways throughout the Sermon on the Mount. 

Martin Luther on the Psalms and Prayer

by Nicholas J. Schaser

The Psalms have always been an indispensable part of the Christian life of faith. They offer comfort to those who are suffering, hope to those who are uncertain, and the power of God to those who are oppressed. These ancient Israelite texts have been a source of prayer for some of the greatest leaders of the church, not least among them Martin Luther. The psalms offered Luther a way to energize his prayer life and served as an avenue for relating to God. 

In “A Practical Way to Pray” (1535), Luther wrote to his barber, Peter Beskendorf, detailing some of the ways that he prayed, along with suggestions for how other believers might do the same. Luther writes, “Dear Master Peter: I will tell you as best I can what I do personally when I pray. May our dear Lord grant to you and to everybody to do it better than I! Amen. First, when I feel that I have become cool and joyless in prayer because of other tasks or thoughts (for the flesh and the devil always impede and obstruct prayer), I take my Book of Psalms, hurry to my room, or, if it be the day and hour for it, to the church where a congregation is assembled and, as time permits, I say quietly to myself and word-for-word the Ten Commandments, the Creed, and, if I have time, some words of Christ or of Paul, or some Psalms, just as a child might do.” 

Several points in this paragraph are instructive in terms of prayer. First, the ideal scenario for Luther is to bring the Book of Psalms into a congregation. This impulse resonates with the psalms themselves, which enjoin public worship: “I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you…. From you comes my praise in the great congregation; my vows I will pay before those who fear [God]” (Psalm 22:22, 25 NRSVUE). Second, Luther couples his reading of the psalms with recitation of the Ten Commandments and the Creed, by which he both revisits the biblical roots of his faith and reaffirms the tenets of that faith as expressed in the tradition of the Christian church. Finally, he notes that, in speaking the words of “Christ or of Paul, or some Psalms,” he is doing “as a child might do.” In acknowledging this, Luther follows the guidance of Jesus’ words to his disciples: “Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3-4 NRSVUE). Luther’s program, in tandem with the psalms, reflects a well-rounded approach to prayer that Christians can (and should) emulate today.

For Martin Luther, Holy Scripture proclaims Jesus Christ, and the Psalter was no exception. “It promises Christ’s death and resurrection so clearly,” he wrote, “… that it might well be called a little Bible…. I have a notion that the Holy Spirit wanted to take the trouble himself to compile a short Bible…so that anyone who could not read the whole Bible would here have anyway almost an entire summary of it, comprised in one little book.” Unique to the Psalter, however, is that one can find there not only Christ but also oneself: “Everyone, in whatever situation he may be, finds in that situation psalms and words that fit his ease, that suit him as if they were put there just for his sake, so that he could not have put it better himself.” So, Luther said, in the Psalter “you have a fine, bright, pure mirror that will show you what Christendom is. Indeed you will find in it also yourself… as well as God himself and all creatures” (Luther’s Works, vol. 35 [Philadelphia: Muhlenberg, 1960] 253-257.)

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