Singing the psalms

Randal Rauser has been attacking the propriety of singing imprecatory psalms in Christian worship. I’ll make a few observations.

i) Some Christians think it’s inappropriate to sing the imprecatory psalms in Christian worship because they think the imprecatory sentiment of the psalms conflicts with the new covenantal ethics in the Sermon on the Mount.

Even if that were the case, Rauser doesn’t believe in the infallibility of the Bible. For that matter Rauser doesn’t believe in the infallibility of Christ. From his standpoint, there’s no reason to assume Jesus ever spoke the words attributed to him in the Sermon on the Mount. That might as well be a speech which the anonymous redactor put on the lips of Jesus.

And even if the Sermon on the Mount is a verbatim transcript of what Jesus said, Rauser doesn’t think Jesus was an infallible teacher.

As such, even if (arguendo) we grant a contradiction between the Sermon on the Mount and the imprecatory psalms, Rauser can’t use the Sermon on the Mount as a standard of comparison–given his kenotic Christology and his repudiation of inerrancy.

ii) Apropos (i), Rauser is an unbeliever. He never believes the Bible. He doesn’t trust Jesus. Rauser only believes in himself. Rauser is the object of Rauser’s faith. Rauser has total faith in his intuitions. He accepts the Bible on those occasions when the Bible happens to coincide with his intuitions.

iii) Are OT ethics essentially different from NT ethics? Here’s an example of OT ethics:

4 If you meet your enemy's ox or his donkey going astray, you shall bring it back to him. 5 If you see the donkey of one who hates you lying down under its burden, you shall refrain from leaving him with it; you shall rescue it with him (Exod 23:4-5).

And here’s an example of NT ethics:

10 They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?”  (Rev 6:10).

iv) Ironically, even liberal Bible scholars can appreciate the false dichotomy between OT ethics and NT ethics. John Goldingay is just as liberal as Rauser, but unlike Rauser, Goldingay is a Bible scholar, so he has a much better sense of how the two Testaments are interrelated:

But we have already stated the key conclusion that the NT does not seem to be uneasy about questions that trouble modern Christian readers, and that we need to rethink our uneases…It is not the case that theological insight develops through Scripture n such a way that the NT provides a kind of theological filter by which unacceptable aspects of the Psalms or other aspects of the OT can be strained out by being reinterpreted. The NT itself rather implies that the OT provides the broader context in which the NT needs to be understood.

Psalms 1-41 (Baker 2006), 76.

v) Apropos (iii-iv), when the NT commands Christians to love their enemies, is that conditional or unconditional? To judge by other passages, I’d say that’s implicitly conditional. We pray that God show mercy to our enemies on condition that our enemies repent and come to faith. But if they remain impenitent, then we pray that God judge them for their iniquity.

So there’s no essential tension between wishing your enemy well and wishing your enemy ill. That’s simplistic.

Of course, Randal may reject that, but he does so in the teeth of Scripture. For it’s easy to document both sides of that equation in the NT itself.

vi) What about the imprecatory psalms? Here’s a general distinction we need to keep in mind. Among other things, Scripture is a record of what people said. And not everything every speaker says is true. I’m not claiming that that’s the best approach to the imprecatory psalms. I’m just drawing attention to a consideration that’s often overlooked.

Let’s take a comparison. Consider the book of Job. How is the reader supposed to appropriate the book of Job? Not everything the various speakers say in Job is true. For instance, Job’s comforters mistakenly assume a one-to-one correspondence between sin and suffering.

Job himself makes some intemperate statements. Job is mad at God. Job lashes out at God. Job imagines that God has wronged him. Treated him unjustly. Job feels betrayed.

The book of Job is a record of what a grieving man said, right or wrong. Yet there’s nothing wrong with the Bible recording what a grieving man said, right or wrong. And the reader can learn something from Job’s experience. We can learn from his mistakes. There’s a progression from initial incomprehension to greater understanding in the course of the book. We can make his lesson our lesson.

vii) Which brings me to another point: It would be erroneous to evaluate the statements of Job or his comforters in isolation. For what’s normative is the viewpoint of the narrator. How those statements function in the overall strategy of the book. What they contribute to the message of the book.

There’s the individual meaning of the statements, but there’s also the meaning of the book as a whole, and how those individual statements contribute to the overarching message of the book. To some extent, Job is a foil. His statements are a set-up for God’s speech at the end. They stand in contrast to God’s speech.

The reader is supposed to evaluate Job’s statements in light of the prologue, epilogue, and God’s speech.

viii) Suppose, for the sake of argument, that that’s how we ought to understand the imprecations in Ps 109. Suppose this is just a record of the Psalmist’s vindictive indignation. Suppose he is wrong to harbor those feelings.

I’m not saying that’s the case. But even if that were the case, there would be nothing wrong with Scripture recording that sentiment. After all, don’t God’s people sometimes feel that way when they are severely mistreated? Should the Bible be a sanitized book that edits out the hurt and anger that believers feel? Should the Bible present a very one-sided, very unrealistic depiction of the religious experience?  Don’t we want the Bible to honestly mirror the walk of faith? Wouldn’t we have reason to feel betrayed if the portrayal of Scripture didn’t reflect the actual experience of God’s people?

ix) Compare an imprecatory psalm like Ps 109 to Ps 88. Ps 88 is not imprecatory. Yet it raises comparable questions. It’s a terribly bleak psalm. Practically hopeless. The psalmist is on the verge of despair. He sees no way out.

How does a Christian reader appropriate that psalm? What if you don’t feel the way the psalmist did at the time you read Ps 88. How do you relate to his experience–or do you?

Even if you’re not actually in that situation, you can imagine yourself in that situation. You can still project yourself into his situation. And that might better prepared you for the future in case, some day, you do find yourself in the same dark place.

x) In addition, it would be a mistake to consider Ps 88 in isolation. On the one hand, Ps 88 has its own meaning. On the other hand, we should also read that particular psalm in light of the Psalter as a whole. It presents a genuine, but limited perspective. It wasn’t meant to stand alone. It needs to be counterbalanced.

xi) Back to the imprecatory psalms–Rauser seizes on Ps 137:9. One problem with Rauser’s approach is that he singles out v9. But, of course, Ps 137 isn’t a one-verse psalm.

Suppose Ps 137 didn’t have v9. Suppose it started and ended with 1-6. Would Rauser will carry on the way he does? No.

Apparently, Rauser doesn’t object to Christians appropriating vv 1-6 of Ps 137. And suppose, for the sake of argument, we say that’s just a record of the exilic experience. The homesickness of an exile. The sense of isolation, alienation, rootlessness, and loss.

What if the Christian reader hasn’t had that experience? Does that mean he cannot or should not appropriate vv1-6? Does that mean he’s unable to identify with the experience of the Psalmist?

Well, in one sense, so what? Every psalm needn’t speak to the personal experience of every reader. Moreover, the same psalm may speak to you at one time of life, but not another.

If you’re a happily married man with a growing family, perhaps vv1-6 don’t resonate with you. But if you’re a widower, they suddenly resonate with you. At different times of life, depending on what’s happening to you, you may or may not find yourself in the psalm.

Sometimes it wasn’t meant for you. At other times, reading it becomes an act of self-discovery.

xii) If vv1-6 preserve a record of the exilic experience, so does v9. Why would Rauser think vv1-6 are appropriate, but v9 is inappropriate? It’s all of a piece. It’s all part and parcel of the Babylonian exile. It reflects the viewpoint of a Jew (speaking for the Jewish community), living far from home. Oppressed and dispossessed. V9 is just as legitimate in that respect as vv1-6.

xiii) In addition, v9 is meant to be jarring. Nothing prepares the reader for that brutal ending. The psalm opens with that triste, elegiac plaint. So the reader expects the psalm to either continue on that wistful note or work it’s way up to something more upbeat. But, instead, it terminates with that gruesome picture–all the more acerbic because it stands in studied contrast to the melancholy nostalgia of the opening.

Ps 137 is a literary unit. You can’t have the beginning without the ending. They go together.

xiv) Keep in mind, too, that this is a figurative. Even liberal scholars grasp that point. As one of them notes:

Yet we should not press the psalm’s metaphorical language. None of the passages that refer to smashing children are simple reports of someone’s action; all come in the words of the prophets, apart from this psalm that appeals to the words of prophets. Zedekiah’s sons were not actually smashed on a crag and neither are the children of Iraq, and it is unlikely that this is what the psalm literally envisages. Middle Eastern writings like to express things concretely rather than abstractly…We need to consider whether these “little ones” ought not to be understood just as symbolically as “Mother Babylon” [v8]. The inhabitants of the oppressor-city or the children of the ruling dynasty concretize the continuation of the unrighteous empire. One might translate: “Happy is he who puts an end to your self-renewing dominion!”

J. Goldingay, Psalms 90-150 (Baker 2008), 609-10.

But Rauser can never be bothered to do his homework. He always prefers to wing it with kitschy illustrations.

xv) Up till now I’ve explored the possibility that even if the psalmist was wrong to express these sentiments, it wouldn’t be wrong for Scripture to record these sentiments. And it would still be possible for the Christian reader to appropriate the material.

Likewise, what ultimately matters is not their atomistic significance, but how these little units of meaning contribute to the editorial viewpoint of the text as a whole.

But even that understates the case. As a matter of fact, Ps 139:7-9 is expressing a normative perspective. Properly understood, Christians ought to identify with that perspective. It is good for God to judge the wicked. It is good for God to right the scales of justice. And it is good for God’s people to call upon God to judge the wicked. That’s a pervasive theme throughout Scripture.

We should identify with what the imagery signifies. Use the imagery as a lens. Of course, you need to know what it means. Correctly interpret the text.

We should show solidarity with the psalmist. Share his righteous indignation. Integrate that outlook into our worship and our prayer life–both private and corporate. Even if you yourself are spared grave injustice, it’s virtuous to empathize with the plight of those who suffer at the hands of their enemies–especially persecuted Christians.

Rauser never gets beyond the surface wording of Scripture. He prejudges Scripture, assuming it must be wrong. He doesn’t even try to find out what it means before he rejects it.