For those who want a change from the Gospel

Easter Sunday – Psalm 114

For some reason the Psalm set for the main Easter Sunday service is the same as that for Palm Sunday last week, so I could have told you simply to go back and reread last week’s blog. However that feels like cheating, so instead I have chosen an alternative Easter Day Psalm, Ps 114. In many versions, including the Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible known as the Septuagint, Psalms 114 and 155 form a single text, but the subject matter suggests little in the way of a connection, so it is probably correct to think of each of these Psalms as originally independent. Like Ps 118 last week, 114 is a part of the collection known as the Egyptian Hallel, and this one particularly expresses praise for the mighty deliverance from slavery in Egypt, an event which according to the NT prefigures the deliverance won for the human race by the cross and resurrection of Christ. Scholars disagree (as they often do!) about the dating of this Psalm, or when it might originally have been used liturgically.

The Psalm falls neatly into four two-verse sections, and although the overall sentiments are clear, the text is not without its interpretative difficulties. V.1-2 are clearly a reference to the Exodus from Egypt, and the reference to ‘people of foreign tongue’ is both a statement of fact, but also elsewhere in the OT implies not just foreigners but foreigners hostile to Israel, which of course the Egyptians were. V.2 is more difficult: Judah did indeed become (or did house) Yahweh’s sanctuary, so this might be a reference to the Jerusalem Temple. However if this is the interpretation the parallelism doesn’t quite work: the whole point about Israel as opposed to Judah was precisely that it did not contain the Temple, but rather two rival sanctuaries at Bethel and Dan, which were perceived as huge mistakes and stumbling blocks to the Northern Kingdom. So it may be better to translate v.2 as Judah became his holy people, as did the Northerners of Israel. The NT, of course, has no need for a Temple, but rather sees Christians as the Temple of the Holy Spirit, which would provide a good parallel for this understanding of the Jewish nation.

V.3-4 take us back to the actual mechanism of God’s rescue of his people, although again interpretation is difficult. The reference to the Red Sea seems clear, and may refer back to the common Babylonian creation myth in which Marduk, the god, defeats Tiamat the sea-monster and cuts her body in two halves, creating the heavens and the earth from the two parts. Other OT passages use this allusion (without of course actually believing a word of it), but the contrast here is significant. Yahweh has no need to engage in a prolonged struggle against the Sea: he simply appears and the Sea flees before him. The skipping mountains present a further problem. In Deutero-Isaiah nature dances around to celebrate the return of the exiles from Babylon, but here it seems, particularly in the context of v.7, that the skipping is about terror, not celebration. Perhaps this is a reference to the firework display on My Sinai, when the Law was given amidst thunder and lightning, but this is by no means clear.

Even the Psalmist doesn’t appear to be clear about this physical movement, asking in v.5-6 two rhetorical questions about why exactly the sea and the mountains were so active. They are not answered, but the Psalm ends with a further exhortation to the created world to tremble in awe at the presence of Yahweh. Water appears again as the opening of the Red Sea and the River Jordan, events at either end of the Exodus journey sit like brackets around another watery incident, the miraculous spring of water at Kadesh, a story which perhaps sums up and symbolises all God’s provision for the people during their 40 year journey.

Well, all very fascinating, I’m sure you’ll agree, but so what? One insight came to me whilst meditating this week on the Passion Narratives, which is reflected in this Psalm of celebration of God’s mighty deliverance. It has to do with the very physical nature of the passion and resurrection. On Palm Sunday Luke tells us that if human praise could be silenced the rocks and stones would cry out to replace it. A fig tree withers at Jesus’ curse. The sun refuses to shine while Jesus is dying on the cross; Matthew has the ground cracking open and the dead rising from their graves, and the Temple veil is ripped in half. We think of the death of Jesus as for our salvation, and it is, but we often forget the way in which the created world is affected by it, and the manifestations of victory in the physical realm. In a world obsessed with saving the planet from climate change and the effects of human activity, this Psalm gives us a healthy reminder that our world is not just somewhere we live, but an active player in the drama of redemption. We look for a new heavens and a new Earth, and Easter kindles in us hope for that time.