Psalms : Volume 1 (Baker Commentary on the Old Testament Wisdom and Psalms): Psalms 1-41

© 2006 by John Goldingay

Published by Baker Academic

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Page

Series Preface

Author’s Preface

Abbreviations

Introduction

Psalm 1: Promises to Keep in Mind (I)

Psalm 2: Promises to Keep in Mind (II)

Psalm 3: The Question of Deliverance

Psalm 4: Who Shows Us Good?

Psalm 5: Responding to Life-Threatening Falsehood (I)

Psalm 6: Responding to Life-Threatening Falsehood (II)

Psalm 7: On Trial, in Battle, Hunted

Psalm 8: Humanity’s Position in Creation

Psalms 9–10: How to Pray against the Powerful

Psalm 11: Stay or Flit?

Psalm 12: Responding to Faithless Triviality

Psalm 13: How Long, How Long, How Long, How Long?

Psalm 14: The Scoundrel

Psalm 15: Qualifications for Staying with God

Psalm 16: Trust in God for Life

Psalm 17: Yhwh’s Eyes, Lips, Right Hand, and Face

Psalm 18: God’s Acts and David’s Acts

Psalm 19: The Fiery Cosmos and the Encouraging Law

Psalm 20: A Blessing for the King

Psalm 21: The Implications of Someone Else’s Deliverance

Psalm 22: Prayer That Honors Two Sets of Facts

Psalm 23: God as Our Shepherd and Host

Psalm 24: Yhwh’s Ownership of the World, Conditions for Approaching Yhwh, Admitting Yhwh to the City

Psalm 25: The Bases of Prayer from A to Z

Psalm 26: Prayer and Moral Integrity

Psalm 27: Prayer Arising out of Testimony

Psalm 28: Praying for the Punishment of the Faithless

Psalm 29: The Power of Yhwh’s Voice

Psalm 30: How to Give Your Testimony

Psalm 31: When a Prayer Needs to Be Prayed Twice

Psalm 32: When Suffering Issues from Sin

Psalm 33: The Creator and the Lord of History

Psalm 34: Deliverance by Yhwh and Reverence for Yhwh

Psalm 35: How to Respond to Attack

Psalm 36: Human Faithlessness and Divine Commitment

Psalm 37: The Weak Will Take Possession of the Land

Psalm 38: Suffering and Sin

Psalm 39: Living in Light of the Fact That We Will Die

Psalm 40: Testimony Warrants Plea

Psalm 41: The Good Fortune of the Person Who Thinks

Psalm 41:13: Coda to Psalms 1–41: Yes, Yes!

Glossary

Notes

Bibliography

Subject Index

Author Index

Index of Scripture and Other Ancient Writings

Series Page

Series Preface

At the end of the book of Ecclesiastes, a wise father warns his son concerning the multiplication of books: Furthermore, of these, my son, be warned. There is no end to the making of many books! (12:12). The Targum to this biblical book characteristically expands the thought and takes it in a different, even contradictory, direction: My son, take care to make many books of wisdom without end.

When applied to commentaries, both statements are true. The past twenty years have seen a significant increase in the number of commentaries available on each book of the Bible. On the other hand, for those interested in grappling seriously with the meaning of the text, such proliferation should be seen as a blessing rather than a curse. No single commentary can do it all. In the first place, commentaries reflect different theological and methodological perspectives. We can learn from others who have a different understanding of the origin and nature of the Bible, but we also want commentaries that share our fundamental beliefs about the biblical text. Second, commentaries are written with different audiences in mind. Some are addressed primarily to laypeople, others to clergy, and still others to fellow scholars. A third consideration, related to the previous two, is the subdisciplines the commentator chooses to draw from to shed light on the biblical text. The possibilities are numerous, including philology, textual criticism, genre/form criticism, redaction criticism, ancient Near Eastern background, literary conventions, and more. Finally, commentaries differ in how extensively they interact with secondary literature, that is, with what others have said about a given passage.

The Baker Commentary on the Old Testament Wisdom and Psalms has a definite audience in mind. We believe the primary users of commentaries are scholars, ministers, seminary students, and Bible study leaders. Of these groups, we have most in mind clergy and future clergy, namely, seminary students. We have tried to make the commentary accessible to nonscholars by putting most of the technical discussion and interaction with secondary literature in the footnotes. We do not mean to suggest that such information is unimportant. We simply concede that, given the present state of the church, it is the rare layperson who will read such technical material with interest and profit. We hope we are wrong in this assessment, and if we are not, that the future will see a reverse in this trend. A healthy church is a church that nourishes itself with constant attention to God’s words in Scripture, in all their glorious detail.

Since not all commentaries are alike, what are the features that characterize this series? The message of the biblical book is the primary focus of each commentary, and the commentators have labored to expose God’s message for his people in the books they discuss. This series also distinguishes itself by restricting its coverage to one major portion of the Hebrew Scriptures, namely, the Psalms and Wisdom books (Proverbs, Job, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs). These biblical books provide a distinctive contribution to the canon. Although we can no longer claim that they are neglected, their unique content makes them harder to fit into the development of redemptive history and requires more effort to hear their distinctive message.

The book of Psalms is the literary sanctuary. Like the physical sanctuary structures of the Old Testament, it offers a textual holy place where humans share their joys and struggles with brutal honesty in God’s presence. The book of Proverbs describes wisdom, which on one level is skill for living, the ability to navigate life’s actual and potential pitfalls; but on another level, this wisdom presents a pervasive and deeply theological message: The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge (Prov. 1:7). Proverbs also raises a disturbing issue: the sages often motivate wise behavior by linking it to reward, but in reality, bad things happen to good people, the wise are not always rewarded as they expect. This raises the question of the justice of God. Both Job and Ecclesiastes struggle with the apparent disconnect between God’s justice and our actual life experience. Finally, the Song of Songs is a passionate, sensuous love poem that reminds us that God is interested in more than just our brains and our spirits; he wants us to enjoy our bodies. It reminds us that we are not merely a soul encased in a body but whole persons made in God’s image.

Limiting the series to the Psalms and Wisdom books has allowed us to tailor our work to the distinctive nature of this portion of the canon. With some few exceptions in Job and Ecclesiastes, for instance, the material in these biblical books is poetic and highly literary, and so the commentators have highlighted the significant poetic conventions employed in each book. After an introduction discussing important issues that affect the interpretation of the book (title, authorship, date, language, style, text, ancient Near Eastern background, genre, canonicity, theological message, connection to the New Testament, and structure), each commentary proceeds section by section through the biblical text. The authors provide their own translations, with explanatory notes when necessary, followed by a substantial interpretive section (titled Interpretation) and concluding with a section titled Theological Implications. In the interpretation section, the emphasis is on the meaning of the text in its original historical setting. In the theological implications section, connections with other parts of the canon, both Old and New Testament, are sketched out along with the continuing relevance of each passage for us today. The latter section is motivated by the recognition that, while it is important to understand the individual contribution and emphasis of each book, these books now find their place in a larger collection of writings, the canon as a whole, and it is within this broader context that the books must ultimately be interpreted.

No two commentators in this series see things in exactly the same way, though we all share similar convictions about the Bible as God’s Word and the belief that it must be appreciated not only as ancient literature but also as God’s Word for today. It is our hope and prayer that these volumes will inform readers and, more importantly, stimulate reflection on and passion for these valuable books.

It has long been observed that the book of Psalms is a microcosm of the message of the Old Testament. Athanasius, the fourth-century theologian, called the Psalms an epitome of the whole Scriptures. Basil, bishop of Caesarea in the same time period, regarded the Psalms as a compendium of all theology. Martin Luther said the book is a little Bible, and the summary of the Old Testament. The book of Psalms is theologically rich, so the readers of this commentary are privileged to be guided by John Goldingay, one of the foremost experts on biblical theology today. Our prayer is that as you read the Psalms with this commentary, you will grow in your knowledge of the God who reveals himself through the prayers of his ancient people.

Tremper Longman III

Robert H. Gundry Professor of Biblical Studies

Westmont College

Author’s Preface

I am grateful for the excuse to spend time writing on the Psalms; like teachers, authors are the people who gain most from their work. As usual, I wrote much of the volume sitting on our patio with my disabled wife, Ann. I am glad for her companionship and sometimes glad for the way the nature of our life together has driven me into the Psalms. I am also grateful for the resources of the Fuller Theological Seminary library and for the seminary’s encouragement to faculty to write.

My starting point for the commentary is the Masoretic Text as it appears in the Leningrad Codex copied by Samuel ben Jacob in the eleventh century and published in NJPS and BHS. I have assumed that this is a broadly reliable guide to a textual tradition going back into the pre-Christian period. In the translation I have also included some alternative renderings based on the LXX or other versions where these seem to reflect different Hebrew traditions (though I have assumed that much versional variation over matters such as suffixes cannot be assumed to indicate a different Hebrew tradition). I have assumed that variants in post-MT Hebrew manuscripts constitute post-MT errors or corrections rather than preserving pre-MT readings, but I have occasionally referred to these on that understanding. I have noted some modern proposals for emending the text, though also rarely followed them, and I have also rarely followed modern proposals for understanding Hebrew words in light of Arabic or Ugaritic.[1]

I went about the commentary in the following way (I schematize a little since the process is more spiral and untidy than this account suggests). With each psalm, I first sat with MT and the lexica and made a preliminary translation, checking my version especially against NRSV, NJPS, and NIVI. Where I could not see how to make sense of the Hebrew, I took a first look at one or two commentaries to see whether they gave me plausible ideas, or whether MT might be faulty. Making this preliminary translation usually gave me some impression of the structure of the psalm, of questions it raises, and of its significance. I then worked through LXX, Jerome,[2] the Targum, and the other Greek versions, noting where they differed from my translation and asking whether they raised questions about exegesis or text. This again made me dip into commentaries, and also into the Vulgate and Syriac. I then wrote a first draft of an introduction and commentary on the psalm, section by section in light of my preliminary understanding of its structure. As it seemed necessary, I attempted to describe the way the sentences work, the meaning of individual words, the way the poetry works, the development of the argument, and the psalm’s implications regarding spirituality and theology. In the process, I again sometimes referred to commentaries and to OT theological dictionaries. After I had completed a first draft, I looked through the references to the psalm in the Hebrew syntaxes, worked systematically through twenty or thirty commentaries and other works to check out my preliminary conclusions and to correct or amplify my treatment, and read articles on the psalm in periodicals and other works. Finally, I worked through the whole to produce a finished version and wrote the closing reflection section. I drafted the introduction to the volume when I had completed work on Pss. 1–35 and subsequently amplified and reworked it in light of my further study and of other works on the Psalms.

In translating the Psalms I have often let the Hebrew’s gendered language stand where (e.g.) using a gender-inclusive plural would obscure the dynamic of the poetry, and in other respects I have aimed at a translation that sticks close to the dynamics of the Hebrew even if that sometimes means it is not as elegant as a translation for reading in church. I have represented the name of Israel’s God by the unvocalized form Yhwh (traditionally vocalized as Jehovah but most likely pronounced Yahweh). All Bible translations are my own except where otherwise noted. References are to the versification in English Bibles; where the printed Hebrew Bible differs, its reference follows in square brackets (e.g., Ps. 51:1 [3])—except that I omit these in the case of cross-references to other verses within the psalm I am commenting on. References to parts of verses such as v. 1a and v. 1b generally denote the verses as subdivided by MT, but where verses comprise more than two cola (or where I differ from MT in understanding verse divisions), I have often used references that correspond to the subdivisions in my translation. Thus I have referred (for instance) to v. 1c and v. 1d rather than to v. 1bα and v. 1bβ.

I am grateful to Tremper Longman for his comments on my initial draft of the manuscript, to Benjamin Galan for checking biblical references and noticing other slips, and to David Stec for letting me see an advance copy of his translation of the Targum of Psalms.

Abbreviations

Bibliographic and General

Old Testament

New Testament

Other Jewish and Christian Writings

Introduction

We do not know why (humanly speaking) the Psalter as a collection came to exist or why it came to appear within the Scriptures, though we may make one or two guesses. It would not be surprising if the leadership of the Jewish community centered in Jerusalem thought it a good idea to collect prayers and praises that were used and could be used in worship in the temple and elsewhere. Such a collection would both free and constrain the community—it would be a resource for praise and prayer and also set checks on what counted as proper praise and prayer. The Psalter seems not to have needed fixed boundaries in this connection, since the LXX Psalter and the Qumran Psalter included extra psalms, though they are similar to those that appear in MT. The nature, function, and significance of such an anthology of prayers and praises need not be greatly affected by whether it included 140, 150, or 160 examples of things the community can say to God.[1]

Whether or not I have guessed aright regarding the original functions of the Psalter, these guesses illuminate the role the Psalter might play within Christian faith.

If you ask the Father anything, he will give it to you in my name. (John 16:23)

Be filled with the Spirit, speaking to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, singing and making music to the Lord in your heart, giving thanks to God the Father at all times for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. (Eph. 5:18–20)

With every prayer and request, pray on every occasion in the Spirit. (Eph. 6:18)

I urge first of all that requests, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all those who are in a high position. (1 Tim. 2:1–2)

How is the church to go about making such requests, praises, intercessions, and thanksgivings? And how are individuals or small groups to do that? The Bible assumes that we do not know instinctively how to talk with God but rather need some help with knowing how to do so. The Psalter is the Bible’s book of praise and prayer to provide the answer to those questions and meet that need. It is given to us so that we can adapt and adjust our minds and feelings so that they are in accord with the sense of the psalms.[2] Eugene Peterson thus comments that the Psalms are where Christians have always learned to pray—till our age![3] My own impression is that on the whole neither the Christian church nor Christian individuals have accepted the invitation to learn from the Psalter’s teaching, though occasionally groups or individuals have recovered (e.g.) the enthusiasm of the Psalms’ praise, the witness of their thanksgiving, and the freedom of their protest. Thus, one of the great twentieth-century Psalms scholars, Claus Westermann, tells of the way the present transitions and disasters, the church struggle in Germany in the 1930s when the church was under severe trial, confronted the church with the question of the praise of God. It was this that drove Westermann to study the nature of praise as the Psalms undertake it.[4] The reality of the way the Psalms speak to God has proved powerful as kerygma as well as didachē, as evangelistic preaching as well as teaching. At the end of the Second World War, a teenage German soldier who eventually became one of the two greatest German systematic theologians of the last third of the twentieth century found himself in a British prisoner-of-war camp. He describes how some of his contemporaries lost the will to live. He was initially unimpressed by the gift of a New Testament with the Psalms from a well-meaning chaplain, but found himself captured by the Psalms and by the way they speak out of the depths.[5] They brought him to God. The Psalms make it possible to say things that are otherwise unsayable. In church, they have the capacity to free us to talk about things that we cannot talk about anywhere else.[6]

A hint that the Psalter is designed as a teaching manual for worship and prayer is the fact that it is divided into five books, like the Torah (see the introductions in EVV before Pss. 1; 42; 73; 90; and 107, and the blessings in the Hebrew text that follow Pss. 41; 72; 89; and 106, marking the endings of these books). In both cases the fivefold division is artificial. There are some plausible divisions into which the Pentateuch could have been broken up, but the familiar fivefold division does not correspond very well to the dynamic of its narrative. The division of the Psalter into five books is even more random, but that makes its symbolic significance the clearer. It comprises a work of teaching concerning proper response to God in worship and prayer. As such it correlates to the work of teaching that appears in the Torah concerning God’s story with Israel and the response God looks for in terms of worship and everyday life. Psalm 1 is then a fitting introduction to this book of teaching, especially if it means to invite readers to treat the Psalter like Torah.[7] Likewise, Ps. 150 understands the book which it closes as a primer in worship; from this point on, the way stands open for every conceivable variation in praise as the world takes up its hallelujah.[8]

But the Psalter teaches not by telling us how to pray but by showing us how to pray. Jesus follows its example. He responds to a request for teaching on prayer by giving his disciples an actual prayer that they can pray, which also is a prayer they can use as a model and a canon for their prayer. The Psalms speak from God by showing us how to speak to God. To paraphrase the first great Christian work on the Psalms known to us, Athanasius’s Letter to Marcellinus, "Most of Scripture speaks to us; the Psalms speak for us."[9]

Historically, I assume, the Psalms came into being as Israelites prayed and praised in these words. They do not document so much their seeking of God as their responding to God’s seeking of them, though this response is a spluttering and awkward one.[10] Its incorporation in the Scriptures suggests the conviction that God accepted these prayers and praises, which could therefore provide God’s people with 150 examples of things one can say to God. They become part of God’s inspired Word, capable of being instructive far beyond the context for which they were written (2 Tim. 3:14–17).

The Psalms and History

Not long after we start reading the Psalter, it becomes clear that the Psalms relate closely to the history of the people of God, the history of its leaders, and the history of individuals.

Admittedly, the Psalter actually begins with that general statement about the great good fortune of people devoted to Yhwh’s teaching and about the trouble that comes to the wicked. That statement arose in history and was designed to be tested in history, but it is framed as a generalization. Historical particularity is nearer the surface in Ps. 2, which pictures nations making a concrete declaration of independence from Yhwh and from Yhwh’s anointed, and it urges them to desist. In Ps. 3, someone speaks out of a similar situation, under enemy attack, but declares ongoing trust in Yhwh and pleads for deliverance and for blessing for the people as a whole; Pss. 4 and 5 are similar. In Ps. 6, an individual again speaks but does so out of less confidence and more sense of fear and weariness. Psalm 7 is slightly different again in speaking more overtly about a suppliant’s integrity, which seems to have been impugned. Psalm 8 returns to the atmosphere of Ps. 1. It must again have arisen out of history, and it is designed to be tested in history, but it takes the form of a universal statement about the majesty of Yhwh and the delegated authority of humanity. Psalms 9–10 are originally one psalm that has been subdivided; the first part is more a testimony to what Yhwh has done in delivering someone and in sending enemies to their downfall, the second more a prayer for God to do that again. Continuing to work through the Psalter as a whole in this way broadly confirms the impression we gather from the opening psalms. While a number comprise general statements of praise, promise, or challenge and do not allude to specific historical circumstances, many talk as if they arise out of concrete events. But even these do not tell us what these events were.

Many parts of the Bible imply that we need to know their historical background if we are to understand them. This is so with the Prophets, which make it clear in two ways. The content of their prophecies makes many references to specific nations, individuals, and events. And the actual books begin by drawing attention to their historical background, to the period in which God gave these messages to the prophets, as if to say, You will understand these prophecies aright only if you see that they are not timeless truths. They do transcend their time, speaking beyond their original context, but to understand how they do so, you must understand their original context.

With the Psalms, the opposite is the case. They do not contain the specific historical references that appear in the Prophets, and it is much more obvious that they stand independent of their original context and are designed for people to use as the vehicles for praise and prayer throughout the story of God’s people. Beginning at the beginning again reveals how this is so. Psalm 1 is that general statement about paying attention to Yhwh’s teaching and resisting wrongdoing. Psalm 2 is a promise and a challenge about Yhwh’s commitment to the king of Israel, but no king is named; it speaks of underlings rebelling against the king but names none and points to no concrete context in which specific enemies did so. Psalms 3–7 are appeals to Yhwh for protection and help, affirmations of trust, declarations of confidence that Yhwh has heard the appeal and is answering, and promises of praise when the answer has become reality, but they refer to no specific dangers or enemies. Psalm 8 is a hymn of praise to Yhwh as the sovereign God and an expression of wonder that this God should have given such significance to human beings as God’s servants, but it refers to humanity in general and offers no pointers to a context. Psalms 9–10 offer no information on who experienced the deliverance they refer back to, on what occasion, or why this person now needs deliverance once more. Working through the Psalter as a whole again establishes that this continues to be a feature of it. There are occasional exceptions: e.g., 60:9 [11] refers to Edom; 137:1 refers to Babylon. But even those exceptions prove the rule, because these Psalms do not tell us what crisis in relations between Israel and Edom or what stage in the exile in Babylon they apply to (though the heading has something to say about the former).

David and the Psalms

The Psalms conceal their origins. It is thus an odd fact that study of the Psalms in both the premodern and modern periods paid considerable attention to their authorship and historical background.

As far as we can tell, biblical books originally had no titles; like other ancient Middle Eastern works, books such as Genesis were referred to by their opening words. The collection of hymns, testimonies, prayers, prophecies, and other material that we call the Psalms eventually came to be known in Hebrew as tĕhillîm, Praises. In LXX, Vaticanus calls it psalmoi, Songs Sung to a Stringed Instrument, while Alexandrinus calls it psaltērion, apparently a term for the instrument itself; these two words generate the English titles Psalms and Psalter. None of these titles is very accurate,[11] but there is no title that really does justice to the varied contents of the work.

Tractate b. Baba Batra (14b–15a) says that David wrote the Book of Praises (admittedly in collaboration with ten elders, such as the Levitical music leader Asaph, and the Korahites), and through the premodern period David was treated as the author of the Psalms, individual psalms being commonly linked with episodes in his life. The NT makes a link between David and Pss. 110 (e.g., Mark 12:35–37; Acts 2:33–35); 69 and 109 (Acts 1:15–20; Rom. 11:9–10); 16 (Acts 2:25–32); 2 (Acts 4:24–28); 32 (Rom. 4:6–8); and 95 (Heb. 4:7). In Christian tradition the Psalter as a whole became The Psalms of David, and in the Psalter itself the headings to many individual psalms refer to David, but these allusions are more ambiguous than they may seem. That is true of other aspects of these headings to Psalms, which Today’s English Version (the Good News Bible) therefore transferred to the margin, while the NEB simply omitted them.[12] The NEB, at least, was also influenced by indications that the headings are later than the content of the Psalms (though they are just as much part of the text as anything and have verse numbers in printed Hebrew Bibles).[13] One such indication is that some headings look as if they reflect adaptations of the psalm to new circumstances: e.g., Pss. 120–34 are Psalms of Ascents, suggesting they were used for pilgrimage or procession, but they do not look as if they were written for that. Further, the LXX and the Qumran Psalter have extra headings, suggesting that the headings were still developing at the end of the OT period. It is in the LXX that Ps. 95 becomes of David, as it is referred to in Heb. 4:7. Likewise Acts 4 refers to Ps. 2 as Davidic though the psalm itself is not so identified.

But what does the expression of David imply? There are two aspects to that question. First, as well as referring to David ben Jesse, in the OT David can refer to a subsequent Davidic king or to a coming David (see Jer. 30:9; Ezek. 34:23–24; 37:24–25; Hosea 3:5). In the latter case, of David would almost mean messianic. That latter possibility links with the second matter. In the Hebrew expression translated Psalm of David (mizmôr lĕdāwid), of is not a genitive (as it is in expressions such as the words of Isaiah). It is the preposition lĕ. While lĕ can mean of, it has many other meanings, mostly more common than of. BDB lists some of these meanings as to, belonging to, for, on behalf of, and about. This variety in the meanings of the preposition is in fact reflected in translations of the headings. In an expression such as To the choirmaster. Of David (Pss. 11 and 14 RSV), to and of both represent lĕ, and it may seem arbitrary to translate it in these two different ways. In light of the wide range of meanings of lĕ, we can see that mizmôr lĕdāwid might be understood in a variety of ways:

to (this psalm is addressed or offered to David or the Davidic king, present or future)

belonging to (cf. belonging to the Korahites, Ps. 42; this psalm belongs to a collection sponsored or authorized by David or the Davidic king—compare expressions such as "Sankey’s Sacred Songs and Solos or Alexander’s New Gospel Hymns," compiled respectively by Ira D. Sankey and Charles M. Alexander, but written by many authors and composers)

for (for David or the Davidic king, present or future, to use or learn from)[14]

on behalf of (prayed for David or the Davidic king)

about (about David or the present or future Davidic king)

by (authored by David or the Davidic king)

BDB rightly implies that the meaning of the expression likely changed over the centuries. It might originally have suggested that a particular psalm is for the present king, then have pointed to the future king, then later have been understood to denote authorship—though Hab. 3:1 is the only passage outside the Psalms where the preposition might suggest authorship.

There is a recurrent pattern within the Scriptures whereby books that were anonymous come to have authors associated with them (e.g., Matthew, Mark, and Hebrews). Once books have become accepted within the community, people want to associate them with someone they know of. One can see how the references to David in the headings, the emphasis on David as patron of the worship in the temple (see Chronicles), and his reputation as a musician and poet would have made him a natural candidate for identification as author of the Psalter as a whole. This may have encouraged or followed the development of a tradition of linking psalms with incidents in David’s life. The long headings attached to some psalms that do that (Pss. 3; 7; 18; 34; 51; 52; 54; 56; 57; 59; 60; 63; 142) must be referring to David ben Jesse, but they still need not imply his authorship; they could be to, for, on behalf of, or about him. In commenting on references to David in the headings, I will take up one or other of these possibilities with regard to different psalms, but in translating the psalms, I shall render lĕdāwid David’s, leaving the meaning of the expression open.

A major argument that influences Christians in assuming David wrote the Psalms is the impression that Jesus refers to them as David’s. We have seen that in fact Jesus connects David with only one psalm. I take it that Jesus is actually speaking conventionally, as when he speaks as if the sun goes round the earth, or refers to the mustard seed being the smallest of seeds, or takes up the traditional story of the rich man and the poor man in his parable about Dives and Lazarus. In such cases he is not pronouncing on questions of cosmology, botany, eschatology, or authorship, but taking up the way people speak about these matters in his culture and making his point by means of these ways of speaking. And in each case his argument does not depend on his adoption of this conventional way of speaking; it works without that. So I do not think that Jesus’s comment on Ps. 110 constitutes a dominical declaration on its authorship. But someone who thought that it did would have no reason to infer that Jesus had also thereby pronounced on the authorship of the other 149 psalms. And if we do not assume that David wrote the Psalms, we do not have the problem of understanding how he could have been a combination of Napoleon (great general), JFK (great leader and womanizer), and Henri Nouwen or Eugene Peterson (great teacher on spirituality).[15]

The long headings referring to specific incidents in David’s life may have a further significance. With these, too, there is no presumption that a heading such as David’s, when he fled from his son Absalom (Ps. 3) is originally a statement about authorship, though people have come to understand it thus. When we label a stained-glass window with a title that relates it to a biblical person or scene, we do not imply that the person or scene actually looked like that. We are rather seeking to help people use their imagination to enter into the reality of the scene or come to an understanding of the person in such a way as to see how he or she impacts their lives. The long headings do something similar.

A comparison of these long headings with the content of the psalms they introduce reveals a significant pattern. It is characteristic that one can see both points of contact and points of discontinuity.[16] This is famously so with the heading to Ps. 51: The leader’s. Composition. David’s, when Nathan the prophet went in to him as he went in to Bathsheba. On one hand, the psalm is very appropriate for a king who needs not to have Yhwh’s spirit withdrawn from him, and a man who has blood on his hands. On the other hand, David can hardly say to Yhwh, Against you alone have I sinned, and it is surprising (though not impossible) to have him asking Yhwh to build up the walls of Jerusalem.[17] This suggests that the psalm was not written in the circumstances to which the heading refers; the heading was added later. The object of the headings was to link these psalms with incidents in David’s life to which the OT story refers in such a way that they function a little like the collocation of passages in a lectionary. Such collocation implies not that two passages originally belong together but that they have enough overlap to make it profitable for readers to look at them alongside each other.[18] There is no external evidence that this approach to the long headings is right, but it does account for both features of them—both the way they fit their psalms and the fact that the fit is incomplete. It also coheres with the fact that other aspects of the psalm headings convey information about the use of the psalms rather than about their origin.

The nature of the headings then reflects the way David became a hero for Bible readers, as early as the writing of Chronicles (where his portrait is less equivocal than that in Samuel–Kings). The traditional Jewish midrash on Psalms thus tells us that R. Yudan taught in the name of R. Judah: All that David said in his Book of Psalms applies to himself, to all Israel, and to all the ages.[19] His prayers are not just his one-off prayers, nor are they illuminating just (e.g.) for great kings, but they are for praying by everyone. It may be that the development of such an interest in David generated the headings. Linking psalms with incidents from David’s life helped people to see more of the significance of both psalm and narrative. The process has continued as people have tried to link many other David psalms (and other psalms) with specific incidents in David’s life. Although this is not a piece of historical study, it may be a helpful exercise in imagination (or it may not—not everyone likes stained glass).

The Modern Quest

The essence of criticism is to question tradition. Historical criticism thus questioned the tradition that David wrote the Psalms and tried to discover their origin and date from within the psalms themselves. Unfortunately (or not), this has been a fruitless exercise, or an overfruitful one. More than a century of careful study has produced no agreed-upon answers to the question. Critical conclusions about the dating of Psalms vary over a millennium (from before the time of David himself to the time of the Hasmoneans). They thus do not even agree over whether psalms come from before or after the exile, the great watershed of the OT story. From time to time the world of scholarship comes to a broad consensus on some aspects of the question, but that consensus then collapses. This situation will never change. The world of scholarship will never come to a conclusion on these questions, because the very task that scholarship here sets for itself works against the nature of the psalms themselves. They proceed and work by not making reference to the particularities of their origin, so that such information does not distract people who use them and make them more difficult for worshippers to identify with.

One way or another, it thus seems best to proceed on the assumption that we do not know who wrote the Psalms but that this is an advantage, not a disadvantage. In this commentary I therefore make little reference to the dating of psalms. In every case the reader may assume that there have been many opinions about the matter and that there are no criteria for deciding the question. I have thus followed the principle enunciated by the great patristic exegete Theodoret of Cyrrhus in connection with Ps. 29 (whose historical origin is even more controverted today than it was in the fifth century), to be brief in commenting on historical matters but to speak at greater length about ways in which the psalm relates to us.[20]

This conclusion troubles the world of modern scholarship, which works on the basis of the conviction that understanding is dependent on knowing a text’s historical background and that understanding texts’ historical backgrounds is necessary for portraying the history of Israelite religion.[21] I think the first conviction is mistaken; the reader will have to decide from the commentary whether my sidelining this question makes understanding impossible. I think the second conviction is correct, but this only proves that portraying the history of Israelite religion cannot be done (or at least that the Psalms are of no help in this connection).

The conclusion also troubles the world of the modern believing community. One reason is that as part of the modern world it shares the scholarly world’s conviction about understanding texts in light of their historical context. Another is the conviction that the authority of the Scriptures is related to the identity of their human authors. While there may be material of which this is true (perhaps Paul’s letters with their appeal to his personal authority, and some material in the Prophets), in general that conviction is also fallacious. The fact that most of Scripture is of anonymous authorship is again an indication of this. God does not especially work through people with big names, and people through whom God works may not be very interested in others knowing their names. The Psalms’ power and authority derive not from their being written by someone important whose name we know but from their having been prayers and praises that God accepted. Like (e.g.) Genesis or Ruth, psalms came to be accepted in the believing community because it knew they had the ring of truth, even if they were anonymous (for Christians, Jesus’s acceptance of these books then buttressed that recognition). Actually, the same is true of the prophecies of people whose names we do know; they came to be accepted because their hearers knew themselves convicted by God when they heard them, not because bearing the name of (e.g.) Jeremiah automatically gave them authority (his story shows this was not so). The community that recognized them then invites us to listen for God speaking to us through them—in the case of the Psalms, to make them our own prayers and praises. And doing that does not depend on knowing who wrote them and when, as is also the case with Christian prayers and hymns. Often their power and meaningfulness derive from their having been the expression of real people’s personal turning to God. Charlotte Elliott’s Just as I Am is an example. But even if we do not know precisely what that experience was, our experience resonates with that human experience and enables us to interpret it.

One other possible implication of the Psalms’ anonymity is worth mentioning. Several of the named composers of psalm-like praise elsewhere in Scripture are women: see Exod. 15; Judg. 5; 1 Sam. 2. It therefore seems likely that many of the composers of psalms in the Psalter were women,[22] though one can imagine that female authorship might need to be concealed in a patriarchal context in Israel. It may therefore give us some insight into the origin of psalms to imagine them on the lips of women. For instance, Ps. 6 might be the prayer of a woman who was raped, Ps. 11 might be the prayer of an abused woman against her inner enemies, Ps. 16 might be the prayer of a devout elderly widow, Ps. 54 might be the prayer of a woman who was the victim of slander, and Ps. 69 might be the prayer of a woman prophet and reformer.[23] Although Marchiene Vroon Rienstra intends these as observations about the use of the Psalms today, reflecting on the use of the Scriptures today has the potential to offer us insight on their use in Israel.[24]

Psalmody before the Psalms

As is the case with other forms of writing in the OT such as proverbs and laws, the nature of the Psalms overlaps with the praise and prayer of contemporary Middle Eastern peoples, and it is illuminating to compare the Psalms with these.[25] Although most of this Middle Eastern material is centuries older than the Psalms, it is probably inappropriate to think in terms of direct development from it. The similarities rather reflect a common humanity and a common culture. The comparison also highlights contrasts, often reflecting differences of theology. For instance, Egyptian praises and prayers (whose form does not especially resemble the Psalms) naturally presuppose a number of gods, assume that the planets and stars represent deities, and manifest an interest in the afterlife—specifically that of the king.[26] At the same time, the way they characterize a particular god and the way that god relates to the suppliant may significantly overlap with the Psalms. The Egyptian king Amenophis IV’s Hymn to the Sun (Aton) bears comparing with Ps. 104,[27] while an Egyptian hymn from about the time of Moses describes Amon-Re in this way:

He who dissolves evils and dispels ailments, a physician who heals the eye without having remedies, opening the eye and driving away the squint. . . . Rescuing whom he desires, even though this one be in the Underworld; who saves from fate as his heart directs. He has eyes and ears wherever he goes, for the benefit of the one he loves. Hearing the prayers of the one who calls him, coming from afar in a moment for the one who cries to him. He makes a life long, or shortens it. He gives more than was fated to the one he loves. . . . He is more effective than millions for the person who sets him in their heart. One is more valiant than a hundred thousands because of his name, the godly protector in truth.[28]

A Babylonian prayer to the goddess Ba’u likewise illustrates theological similarities and differences that arise from its polytheistic assumptions.[29]

²⁴O Ba’u, mighty lady who dwells in the bright heavens,

²⁵O merciful goddess, the bestower of . . .

²⁶Whose regard is prosperity, whose word is peace!

²⁷I beseech you, lady, stand and hearken to my cries!

²⁸. . . give judgment, make a decision . . .

²⁹I have turned to you, I have sought you, your ulinnu[30] have I grasped like the ulinnu of my god and goddess!

³⁰Give my judgment, make my decisions, . . . my path,

³¹Since you know to protect, to benefit, to save,

³²Since to raise to life, to give prosperity rests with you!

³³Lady . . . tears have I given you, your name have I . . .

³⁴. . . my ears, will you protect me and let me . . . your divinity!

³⁵The raising of my hand accept and take away my sighing!

³⁶Let me send you to my angry god, to my goddess who is angry,

³⁷To Marduk, the god of my city who is incensed, whose heart is enraged [?] with me!

³⁸In the dream and the vision that . . .

³⁹In the evil of an eclipse of the moon which in such and such a month and such a day has taken place,

⁴⁰In the evil of the powers, of the portents, evil and not good,

⁴¹That are in my palace and my land,

⁴²I am afraid, I tremble, and I am cast down in fear!

⁴³At the word of your exalted command that . . . in Ikur,

⁴⁴And your sure mercy that does not change,

⁴⁵May my wrathful god return, may my angry goddess . . . ,