A four-legged mammal that often lives in wooded areas. In most species of deer the males have antlers and the females do not. The land in and around Israel was host to three types of deer: fallow, red, and roe. Deer are mentioned among the many animals regulated in Israel’s dietary laws (Deut. 12–15), and the list of food eaten daily at Solomon’s table mentions roebucks (1 Kings 4:23). Often deer are referred to in similes. Among them, 2 Sam. 22:34; Ps. 18:33 associate deer with sure-footedness, perhaps an indication that some deer inhabited mountainous regions and were known for agility. Probably the most famous mention of deer in the Bible is Ps. 42:1: “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.” Here the beauty and simplicity of a deer longing for refreshing water is compared to the psalmist’s desire for fellowship with God. See also Doe.

The Hebrew plural khermonim (lit., “Hermons”) appears only in Ps. 42:6 (42:7 MT) and is rendered in the KJV as “Hermonites” (NIV: “heights of Hermon”) referring to the multiple peaks of Mount Hermon (cf. NASB). See also Hermon, Mount.

Scope and Uses of the Word “Hope”

At times simply indicating a wish (2 Cor. 11:1), in the Bible the word “hope” most often designates a disposition of soul, the grounds for one’s hope, or the outcome for which one hopes.

Those whom God has helped and delivered expect to see God’s power again when future needs arise, knowing that in God there are reasons for hope. Mere optimism assumes that bad circumstances will improve with the passing of time. In contrast, hope assumes that God is faithful and is convinced that he is able to bring about his good purpose (Isa. 44:1–8). So at its core, biblical hope is hope in God, rooted in God’s covenant faithfulness (Ps. 62:5–8; Jer. 14:8; 17:13; Rom. 4:18; 5:1–5). Hope trusts God in the present and lives even now on the strength of God’s future accomplishments (Gal. 5:5; Heb. 11:1).

Both of the main OT words for “hope” (Heb. roots qwh and ykhl) are at times translated “wait.” By definition, hope means that God’s promised outcome has not arrived, and that some time will pass before it does. But that time is filled with a sense of waiting on God, often with a deep ache of longing for God to act (see Pss. 25:16–21; 39:4–7; Isa. 40:28–31; Lam. 3:19–24).

The inner disposition of hope may be seriously threatened by injustice and other devastating life experiences, as reflected in Job 6:8–13; 14:19; 19:10. The refrain of Pss. 42:5–6, 11; 43:5 is a psalmist’s self-exhortation to hope amid oppressive and depressing circumstances: “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” Words for “hope” function similarly in other psalms of lament (Pss. 9:18; 31:24; 71:5, 14; cf. Mic. 7:7).

The OT usually locates individual hope within the horizon and limits of this world. One hopes for outcomes that may be realized in one’s own lifetime; indeed, when life ends, hope ends (Prov. 11:7; 24:20; Eccles. 9:4; Isa. 38:18). Proverbs that mention hope regarding someone’s character development show an underlying concern that God’s purposes be vindicated in one’s life (e.g., Prov. 19:18; 26:12). When used in conjunction with Israel as a whole, hope looks to a more distant future and coming generations.

In the NT, hope is closely associated with Christ and his saving work. Christians now live by hope in Christ (Eph. 1:12; 1 Pet. 1:3; 3:15); indeed, he is “Christ Jesus our hope” (1 Tim. 1:1), and his future appearing is “the blessed hope” (Titus 2:13). Thus, hope refers to eschatological glory (2 Cor. 3:11–12; Eph. 1:18). It is “the hope of the resurrection” (Acts 23:6; cf. 24:15; 26:6–9), our transformation into Christ’s likeness (1 John 3:1–3). That expectation stimulates various hopes for God’s plans to be realized in one’s own or others’ lives (1 Cor. 9:10, 13; Phil. 2:19, 23; 2 Tim. 2:25; 2 John 12). So hope is named repeatedly as an essential Christian attribute (Rom. 12:12; 15:4, 13; 1 Cor. 13:13).

Hope as a Biblical Theme

With the God of hope as its covenant Lord, hope is a defining reality for Israel and a persistent theme in the historical books (e.g., 2 Sam. 23:1–7; 2 Kings 25:27–30). Psalmists find hope either in continuity with present structures (Ps. 37) or in drastic change (Pss. 33; 82), such as personal or corporate restoration.

Judgment dominates the message of the preexilic prophets, although expressions of hope are also found. But Judah’s downfall in 587/586 BC marks a turning point in prophetic hope. While preexilic prophecy bases its indictment, appeal, and warning in the exodus and the covenant, Jeremiah and Ezekiel tend to redirect hope and expectation to a new work of salvation that God will accomplish through and after the judgment of exile (e.g., Jer. 31:31–34; Ezek. 11:16–21; cf. Isa. 43:18–19). In the wake of Judah’s destruction, these prophets grasp a remarkable new vision of grace and promise. Restoration will be personal as well as national; forgiveness of sin will enable obedience to God’s law, now to be found written on their hearts.

During the exile, collection of Israel’s sacred texts enabled the shattered community to sustain identity and hope. Postexilic prophecy is often “text prophecy” that arises from reflection upon and reapplication of written prophecies, psalms, and other scriptural texts. For example, the book of Zechariah (especially chaps. 9–14) alludes to many earlier writings and also moves toward apocalyptic literature, contributing dramatic new imagery of God’s conquest of evil to establish his cosmic reign and fulfill his covenant. Messianic hopes rose throughout this period, fueled by earlier prophecies (e.g., Isa. 9; 11; 65:17; Jer. 23:5; Mic. 5:2).

If the OT gives occasional hints of an afterlife, this hope becomes manifest in the NT (2 Tim. 1:10). Jesus promises the thief on the cross fellowship after death (Luke 23:43). For Paul, “to depart and be with Christ” is such a vivid hope that “to die is gain” (Phil. 1:21–24). Such texts imply that death ushers the believer into Christ’s presence. Yet this intermediate state is not the whole picture. We are saved in hope of the redemption of our bodies (Rom. 8:23–25)—our resurrection from the dead and entry into a new glorified, bodily existence (1 Cor. 15; Phil. 3:20–21).

Christ is judge as well as savior (Matt. 16:27; 25:31–46; Acts 17:31; Rom. 2:16), and the NT anticipates final judgment of all persons and powers arrayed against God, including sin and death (1 Cor. 15:24–26; 2 Thess. 1:5–10). Christian hope involves nothing less than the return and full revelation of Jesus Christ, the resurrection of the dead, and the renewal of all creation (1 Thess. 4:13–18; Rev. 21–22)—the complete vindication of God’s rule, secured already in Christ. Then God’s redeemed people will see his face and live in his presence forever (Matt. 5:8; Jude 24; Rev. 22:4). A vision of this future enables us to press on with hope, stretching toward what is to come (Phil. 3:13–14).

The classification of thirteen psalms (Pss. 32; 42; 44–45; 52–55; 74; 78; 88–89; 142). All are associated with “authors” (David, the sons of Korah, Asaph, Heman, and Ethan) (see also Superscription). They include individual and communal laments, royal psalms, instruction, and psalms of mixed type, but none are hymns of praise. The root of maskil pertains to understanding or skill. There are two main views as to its meaning. As it relates to “making prudent,” the maskil may be meditative or instructive. Or maskil may be a designation that skilled musicians were required for proper performance.

Mentioned only in Ps. 42:6, this mountain perhaps was in the foothills of Mount Hermon. Alternatively, the Hebrew word mits’ar could be understood as an adjective, so that the phrase here could also be translated as “little mountain.”

The highest mountain in ancient Israel, with its highest peak reaching over 9,200 feet. Due to its height, its peak is snow-covered year-round, causing abundant dew in comparison to the arid land in that region, with its melting ice serving as a major source of the Jordan River.

The Canaanites referred to Hermon as Sirion or Senir (Deut. 3:9), as do some biblical texts (e.g., 1 Chron. 5:23). It is located above the Lebanon Valley (Josh. 11:17) and above Mizpah (11:3), where Joshua pursued the Canaanite kings and defeated them at the Waters of Merom (11:1–7). Hermon is identified with the modern Jebel es-Sheik (Arabic for “mountain of the sheik”), about thirty miles southwest of Damascus.

Hermon formed the northern frontier of Israel’s Amorite conquests (Deut. 3:8; Josh. 11:17). Before the Israelites conquered the region, the Hivites dwelled there (Judg. 3:3), and it was ruled by King Og of Bashan (Josh. 12:4–5) and the Amorite king Sihon (Josh. 13:10–11) and was known as “the area of the Gebalites [NIV: “Byblos”]” (Josh. 13:5).

Ancient Near Eastern mythology associated high mountains with the dwelling of the gods, so it is no surprise that the Canaanites regarded the mountain as sacred. Archaeologists have discovered some Iron Age (1200–586 BC) remains on the summit and more than twenty temples dating from later times. This probably explains references in the Bible to “Baal Hermon” (Judg. 3:3) and “Baal Gad below Mount Hermon” (Josh. 13:5).

Hermon is mentioned fifteen times in the Bible (Deut. 3:8, 9; 4:48; Josh. 11:3, 17; 12:1, 5; 13:5, 11; Judg. 3:3; Pss. 42:6; 89:12; 133:3; Song 4:8; 1 Chron. 5:23). It is known for its lions and leopards (Song 4:8) and pine trees (Ezek. 27:5). It is praised for its dew (Ps. 133:3) and mentioned in reference to other mountains (89:12), the Jordan River (42:6), and the power of God (29:6). Hermon is not mentioned in the NT, but due to its geographical proximity to Caesarea Philippi, some have suggested it was the location for Jesus’ transfiguration, which Mark 9:2 locates on a “high mountain.”

God created and named the darkness “night” (Gen. 1:5). OT writers associated night with aberrant behavior, fear, suffering, sorrow, and terror (Pss. 6:6; 30:5; 42:3; 77:2; 91:5), but they also knew that God worked throughout the night to deliver his people (Exod. 12:29–32; Deut. 16:1). Night is also associated with secrecy and danger, as seen in the Israelite exodus (Exod. 12:31) and the holy family’s flight to Egypt (Matt. 2:14). In OT times night was divided into three watches, but four in the NT Roman world. Night often was chosen to highlight divine activity (Matt. 2:12, 22; Acts 5:19; 12:6–7), but it also served to depict Judas’s betrayal of Jesus as a deed of spiritual darkness (John 13:30). Figuratively, night is used to refer to this present age (Rom. 13:12), and people of the world “belong to the night” (1 Thess. 5:5). There will be “no night” in the new heaven and earth (Rev. 21:25; 22:5).

The study of human beings, their nature and origins. The Christian understanding of anthropology stems from a biblical view of humankind’s relationship to God.

The Origin of Humankind

According to Genesis, the creation of humankind took place on the sixth day of the creation week. The amount of narrative space allotted to this day (Gen. 1:24–31) testifies to the special importance of what happened. Human beings were made on the same day as the animals. Human beings were not given a day of their own, showing that they have a certain kinship with the animals, although they are far more than highly successful and adaptive mammals. This has implications for the care of animals and of the environment generally. The value of human beings and their special place in the created order is clear in passages such as Pss. 8:5–6; 104:14–15.

Created in the image of God. When it came to the making of human beings, God deliberated over this crucial step (Gen. 1:26). The plural of exhortation in “Let us make man in our image” signals that the decision to make humankind was the most important one that God had made so far. Genesis 1 says that human beings are like God in some way.

Various opinions have been canvassed as to what the “image” is. We cannot totally exclude the physical form of humans, given God’s humanoid form in OT appearances (theophanies; e.g., Isa. 6:1; Ezek. 1:26; Amos 9:1). The image has sometimes been interpreted as a task, the exercising of dominion (Gen. 1:28), with humanity appointed as creation’s king, ruling under God. But the image is better understood as the precondition for rule rather than rule itself. The image shows human worth (Gen. 9:6) and differentiates humans from all other creatures. It is proper for the Bible to use anthropomorphic language for God, for humans are remarkably like God. Both male and female are in the image of God (“in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” [1:27]), so that the divine image is not maleness, nor is sexual differentiation the image. Commonly, the image of God is thought to be some peculiar quality of human beings—for example, rationality, speech, moral sense, personality, humans as relational beings.

Every century has its own view of what is the essence of humanity. However, nothing in the passage allows a choice among such alternatives. The point of the passage is simply the fact of the likeness, with no exact definition being provided. The fact of the image is the basis of the divine prohibition of murder and of the strict penalty applied to the transgressor (9:4–6). The fall into sin affected every aspect of the human constitution, and the Bible does not minimize the fact of human sinfulness (Gen. 6:5; 8:21; Rom. 3:10–18); nevertheless, humans are still in the image of God (Gen. 5:1–3; 9:6; 1 Cor. 11:7). God’s plan of salvation is aimed at ridding creation (and especially humanity) of the baneful effects of sin, and this will be achieved through the work of Christ, who is the image of God (2 Cor. 4:4; Col. 1:15–20; Heb. 1:1–3; 2:5–18). The outcome will be the conformity of believers in Christ to his glorious image (Rom. 8:29–30; 2 Cor. 3.18).

Place in the created order. God’s purpose in giving human beings the divine image is “so they may rule” (NET [Gen. 1:26b translated as a purpose clause]). The syntax suggests that the image is a presupposition of dominion. It is plain that such a delegated authority makes humans stewards. The vegetarian diet of Gen.1:29 (there was no eating of meat at first) represents a limitation to the human right of dominion. Adam’s naming of the animals was (in part) expressive of his sovereignty over them (2:19). Later, Noah was charged to bring pairs of animals into the ark to preserve them alive (6:19–20), showing care for other creatures. The patriarchs tended flocks (13:2–9; 26:12–14), and Joseph’s relief measures saved the lives of people and animals (47:15–18). The wanton destruction of the Promised Land was expressly forbidden (Deut. 20:19–20). Humanity is accountable to God for the stewardship of the earth. The divine command “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1:28 NRSV) shows that God’s purpose is that the human race populate the whole earth.

At Gen. 2:7 the biblical narrative becomes thoroughly anthropocentric, picturing the little world that God establishes around the first man, so this account is quite different from the cosmic presentation of Gen. 1. In Gen. 1 humankind is the apex of a pyramid, the last and highest of a series of creatures; in Gen. 2 the man is the center of a circle, everything else made to fit around him, and his connection to the physical earth is emphasized. In either view, a very special place is given to human beings in the created order. The two pictures are complementary, not contradictory.

The “man” (’adam) is formed from the “ground” (’adamah), with the related Hebrew words making a pun. Man’s name reminds him of his earthy origins. He is made from the “dust,” which hints at his coming death. He will return to the dust (Gen. 3:19; cf. Job 10:8–9; Ps. 103:14; Isa. 29:16). The reference to “the breath of life” (Gen. 2:7) is due to the fact that this leaves a person at death (Job 34:14–15; Ps. 104:29–30), so man’s (potential) mortality is implied. Ironically, the making of man is described using the language of death. What is described in Gen. 2 is the making of the first man, from whom the rest of the human race has descended, not the making of humankind, though the word ’adam can mean that in other contexts.

The Nature of Humankind

Body, soul, and spirit. Arguments over whether human nature is bipartite (body and soul) or tripartite (body, soul, spirit) are not to be decided by arbitrary appeal to isolated verses. Verses can be found in apparent support for both the first view (e.g., Matt. 10:28) and the second (e.g., 1 Thess. 5:23), but certainly the first scheme is much more prevalent in the Bible. “Soul” and “spirit” can be used interchangeably (Eccles. 3:21; 12:7; Ezek. 18:31). Death is marked by the parting of soul/spirit and body, but it would be a mistake to think that human beings are made up of separate component parts, or that the physical body is only a dispensable shell and not essential to true humanity. The physicality of human existence in the “body” is owned and celebrated in Scripture, part of that being the positive attitude to sexuality when properly expressed (Song of Songs; 1 Cor. 7) and the nonascetic nature of biblical ethics (1 Cor. 10:31; Col. 2:23). The doctrine of the resurrection of the body is the fullest expression of this (1 Cor. 15), in contrast to ancient Greek thought that viewed the body as inherently evil and understood salvation as the immortality of the liberated, disembodied soul.

The different words used in relation to persons are only intended to refer to and at times focus on different aspects of unified human nature. References to the “soul” may stress individual responsibility (e.g., Ezek. 18:4 NASB: “The soul who sins will die”). In Ps. 103:1–2, “O my soul” expresses emphatic self-encouragement to praise God and is in parallel with “all my inmost being”—that is, “my whole being” (an example of synecdoche: a part standing for the whole [cf. Ps. 35:10]). These are ways of referring to oneself as a person who expresses will and intention (cf. Ps. 42:5–6, 11). The “flesh” is used to stress the weakness of mortal humanity (e.g., Isa. 40:6 RSV: “All flesh is grass”). The “heart” is the volitional center of a human being (Prov. 4:23; cf. Mark 7:17–23). The emotional and empathetic reactions of humans are described by reference to the organs: “liver,” “kidneys,” “bowels.”

Morals and responsibility. In Gen. 2 the complexities of the man’s moral relation to God and his relations with the soil, with the animals, and with the woman are explored. God deposited the man in the garden “to work it and take care of it” (2:15). The words chosen to designate the man’s work prior to the fall have an aura of worship about them, for they are later used in the OT for the cultic actions of serving and guarding within the sanctuary. The priests served by offering sacrifices, and the Levites guarded the gates of the sacred precinct. A theology of work as a religious vocation is presented. The man was a kind of king-priest in the garden of God.

The moral responsibility of humanity is signaled from the beginning. God’s command gives permission for the man to eat from “any tree” except one (Gen. 2:16–17) and as such indicates man’s freedom, so that this command is no great restriction. The wording “you are free to eat” reinforces the point about God’s generous provision. The prohibition is embedded in the description of God’s fatherly care for the man and gracious act in placing him in the garden. The divine restriction is slight and not at all overbearing, though the serpent will seek to make it appear mean-spirited (3:1). The command and prohibition are the very first words of God to the man, marking them out as of fundamental importance for the relationship between them. The prohibition (“you must not eat . . .”) is an absolute one in the style of the Decalogue (Exod. 20:1–17; Deut. 5:6–21). What is placed before the man is a test that gives him the opportunity to express his loyalty to God. A relationship of obedience and trust requires the possibility of choice and the opportunity to disobey (if that is what he wants to do). The moral nature and responsibility of individuals is not a late discovery by the prophet Ezekiel (Ezek. 18); rather, it is the presupposition behind the Mosaic law, for the commands of the Decalogue (“you shall not . . .”) are phrased as commands to individuals (as the Hebrew makes clear). On the other hand, the concept of corporate responsibility is also present (e.g., Achan’s punishment in Josh. 7).

Relationships. Human beings are relational by nature, as the creation of the woman as a helper and partner for the first man makes plain (Gen. 2:18–25). Later in Scripture this is put in more general terms, so that friendship and mutual cooperation are shown to be essential to life (Eccles. 4:7–12). The body life of the church reflects the same fact and need (1 Cor. 12). In Psalms, human needs and vulnerability find their answer and fulfillment in God, with the psalmist acknowledging his frailty and his creaturely dependence on God (e.g., Ps. 90). This also shows the folly of sinful human pride, against which the prophets so often inveighed (e.g., Isa. 2:9, 11–17, 22).

A collection of 150 poems. They are the hymnbook of the OT period, used in public worship. Psalms contains songs of different lengths, types, and dates. The earliest psalm (Ps. 90) is attributed to Moses (mid-second millennium BC), while the content of Ps. 126 and Ps. 137 points to the latest periods of the OT (mid-first millennium BC). They continue to be used as a source of public worship and private devotion.

Historical Background

Most psalms have a title. In the Hebrew text this title comprises the first verse, whereas English translations set it off before the first verse. Titles vary. Many name an author (e.g., David [Ps. 3]; Asaph [Ps. 77]; sons of Korah [Ps. 42]), while others provide information about genre (e.g., Psalms of Ascent [Pss. 120–134]), tune (e.g., “Do Not Destroy” [Ps. 75]), use in worship (Ps. 92), and a circumstance that led to composition (Ps. 51). Information in the title gives hints concerning how psalms were written and brought into a final collection.

Composition

As mentioned, the titles of the psalms often give indications of authorship and occasionally name the circumstance that led to the writing of the psalm. A good example is Ps. 51, where the title states, “For the director of music. A psalm of David. When the prophet Nathan came to him after David had committed adultery with Bathsheba.” The title connects the psalm with the events recorded in 2 Sam. 11–12 and suggests that David wrote the song in response to his sin and Nathan’s confrontation.

Although only a handful of the psalms have such a historical title, it is likely that most psalms were composed in response to some specific circumstance that encouraged the author to write. Interestingly, though, the psalmists do not speak about the specific circumstance in the psalm itself. Psalm 51, for instance, fits perfectly with the situation that the title describes in that it expresses guilt toward God and asks for forgiveness, but nowhere does it speak specifically about adultery. The psalmists do this intentionally because they are writing the song not as a memorial to an event, but rather as a prayer that others who have had similar though not identical experiences can use after them. Thus, Ps. 51 has been used as a model prayer for many penitents, whether they have sinned like David or in another way.

Most modern hymns have a similar background. John Newton, for instance, was inspired to write “Amazing Grace” because of awe that he felt at his conversion to Christianity from the evil of being a slave trader. However, when he wrote it, he wanted others to sing it as reflecting not on his conversion but on their own.

Collection

The psalms were composed over a thousand-year period. Thus, it appears that the book of Psalms was a growing collection until it came to a close at an unknown time between the writing of the two Testaments.

In 1 Chron. 16:7–36 we may get a glimpse of how the process worked. The text describes David turning a musical composition over to the Levitical musician Asaph and his associates. It is likely that the priests kept an official copy of the book of Psalms in the holy place (the temple while it stood). The psalms, after all, were the hymns of ancient Israel. Their primary function was as a corporate book of prayer, though certainly they could be used in private devotions (note Hannah’s prayer in 1 Sam. 2:1–10 and its relationship to Ps. 113).

Organization and Structure

The psalms have no obvious organization that explains the location of all the psalms. They are not organized in terms of genre, authorship, time of composition, or length. There is only one statement about organization, found in Ps. 72:20: “This concludes the prayers of David son of Jesse.” In the light of this comment, it is surprising that a number of Davidic psalms appear in subsequent sections (Pss. 101; 103; 108–110; 122; 124; 131; 133; 138–145). The best explanation is that at one point Ps. 72 concluded the Davidic psalms, but there was a reorganization before the canonical order was permanently closed.

A number of contemporary theories try to find some deep structure to the book, but it is best to refrain from speculation in regard to the overall structure. Nonetheless, a few structural characteristics are obvious. First, the division of Psalms into five books seems to reflect the fivefold division of the Pentateuch:

I. Book 1 (Pss. 1–41)

II. Book 2 (Pss. 42–72)

III. Book 3 (Pss. 73–89)

IV. Book 4 (Pss. 90–106)

V. Book 5 (Pss. 107–150)

Each book ends with a doxology. Such an intentional association with the Pentateuch would lend support to the Psalter’s claim to authority. Although these are prayers to God, they are also God’s word.

Second, within the Psalter there are subcollections. That is, there are psalms that came into the book not individually but as a group. The best-known such group are the Psalms of Ascent (Pss. 120–134), probably so named because worshipers sang them while going up (ascending) to the Temple Mount during one of the annual religious festivals in Jerusalem.

Third, it appears that psalms are intentionally placed at the beginning and at the end of the book to serve as an introduction and a conclusion. Psalms 1–2 serve as an introduction that alerts the reader to the twin important themes of law and messiah. Psalm 1 pronounces a blessing on those who love God’s law. The psalms, after all, are an intimate and personal conversation with God. One must be on the side of the godly to enter such a holy textual space, just as one must be godly to enter the precincts of the temple. After the reader enters, Psalm 2 provides an encounter with God and his anointed one (messiah). At the end of the book, the last five psalms (Pss. 146–150) constitute a tremendous doxology of praise.

This leads to the final observation on structure. Psalms of lament predominate at the beginning of the book, but they give way to hymns of praise toward the end. It is almost as if one enters the Psalter mourning and leaves it praising. Indeed, the Psalter brings the reader into contact with God and thus transforms the reader from sadness to joy.

Literary Considerations

Genre. The individual psalms may be identified as songs, prayers, or poems. Specifically, they are lyric poems (expressing the emotions of the poet), often addressed to God, and set to musical accompaniment. Although the categories overlap, seven different types of psalms can be recognized, with the first three being by far the most common.

• Lament. The largest single group of psalms are the laments, characterized by the expression of unhappy emotions: sadness, disappointment, anger, worry. The lamenters call on God to save them, even while at times complaining about God’s actions toward them (Ps. 42:9–10). Some laments contain petitions for forgiveness (Ps. 51), while others assert innocence of any wrongdoing (Ps. 26). A few laments even contain curses directed toward the enemies who are trying to harm the psalmist (Ps. 69:19–28). Most laments end by praising God or reaffirming confidence in God (Ps. 130:7–8). Usually the reason for the change from mourning to rejoicing is not given, but Ps. 77 pinpoints the reason as the memory of God’s great salvation events in the past (vv. 10, 16–20). One psalm, Ps. 88, laments but never makes the turn, remaining in the pit of despair. Yet even here we have a glimmer of hope in that the one who laments is still speaking to God.

• Thanksgiving. When God answers a lament, the response is thanksgiving. Psalms of thanksgiving are very similar to hymns (see below), but they cite an earlier problem that God has addressed. Psalm 30 praises God for restoring the psalmist’s good fortune and health after he suffered due to his earlier arrogance that led him to forget God (vv. 6–7).

• Hymn. Hymns are psalms of unalloyed praise directed toward God. The psalmists often call for others to join their worship of God (Ps. 100).

• Remembrance. While many psalms evoke memories of God’s actions in the past (as the lament in Ps. 77 recalls the exodus), certain psalms focus on rehearsing the actions of God in the past. Psalm 136 is one of the most memorable examples. As a liturgical psalm, it recites a divine action (“[God] swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea” [v. 15]) followed by a congregational response (“His love endures forever”).

• Confidence. These psalms are defined by their mood of quiet trust in God even in the midst of trouble. They often present a reassuring image of God. The picture of God as a shepherd in Ps. 23 or as a mother in Ps. 131 are good examples.

• Wisdom. Some psalms meditate on the law (Pss. 1; 119) or have interests similar to those of wisdom literature, such as Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes (Pss. 49; 73).

• Kingship. A number of psalms praise God as king (Ps. 47) or the human king as his agent (Pss. 20–21) or both (Ps. 2).

Style. The psalms are poems, and so their style is characterized by the use of parallelism and figurative language. Poetry is also notable for its short lines. A poet packs a lot of meaning into very few words. So it is important to slow down and reflect on a psalm in order to derive its maximum effect. Besides brevity of expression, parallelism, and figurative language, poets create interest by using other literary tools. The psalmists use these poetic devices not only to inform their readers’ intellect but also to stimulate their imagination and arouse their emotions. (See also Acrostic; Imagery; Poetry.)

Theological Message

Although the psalms are not theological essays, readers can learn about God and their relationship with God from these poems. The book of Psalms is a bit like a portrait gallery of God, using images to describe who he is and the nature of our relationship with him. Some examples include God as shepherd (Ps. 23), king (Ps. 47), warrior (Ps. 98), and mother (Ps. 131), and the list could be greatly expanded. Each one of these picture images casts light on the nature of God and also the nature of our relationship with God. After all, the aforementioned psalms explicitly or implicitly describe God’s people as sheep, subjects, soldiers, and children.

Connection to the New Testament and Today

Jesus himself draws attention to Psalms as a book that anticipated his coming suffering and glorification (Luke 24:25–27, 44). The Gospels recognized that Jesus’ zeal for God was well expressed by Ps. 69:9 (John 2:17). When at the apex of his suffering on the cross, Jesus uttered the words found in Ps. 22:1 (Matt. 27:46). The NT writers also saw that Jesus was the fulfillment of the covenant that promised that a son of David would have an everlasting throne (2 Sam. 7:16). Accordingly, the royal psalms (e.g., Pss. 2; 110) often were applied to Jesus, who is the Messiah (the Christ, “the anointed one”).

Today we read Psalms not only as an ancient witness to the coming work of Christ but also, as John Calvin put it, as a mirror of our souls. The psalms were written for worshipers who came after them with similar though not identical joys and problems. The psalms should become models of our prayers.

The descendants of the Le-vite Korah, grandson of Kohath (Exod. 6:24; Num. 16:1; 26:11, 58), not the Edomite Korah (Gen. 36:5, 16). They were a guild of temple singers during the monarchic period, residing certainly in the southern kingdom but also possibly in the northern kingdom. They appear in the superscriptions of Pss. 42–49; 84–85; 87–88, which focus on the themes of Zion, rescue from trials and estrangement from God, and God’s faithfulness as a refuge for his people. In postexilic times they were gatekeepers at the temple and bakers of the sacred bread (1 Chron. 9:19, 31).

The descendants of the Le-vite Korah, grandson of Kohath (Exod. 6:24; Num. 16:1; 26:11, 58), not the Edomite Korah (Gen. 36:5, 16). They were a guild of temple singers during the monarchic period, residing certainly in the southern kingdom but also possibly in the northern kingdom. They appear in the superscriptions of Pss. 42–49; 84–85; 87–88, which focus on the themes of Zion, rescue from trials and estrangement from God, and God’s faithfulness as a refuge for his people. In postexilic times they were gatekeepers at the temple and bakers of the sacred bread (1 Chron. 9:19, 31).

The descendants of the Le-vite Korah, grandson of Kohath (Exod. 6:24; Num. 16:1; 26:11, 58), not the Edomite Korah (Gen. 36:5, 16). They were a guild of temple singers during the monarchic period, residing certainly in the southern kingdom but also possibly in the northern kingdom. They appear in the superscriptions of Pss. 42–49; 84–85; 87–88, which focus on the themes of Zion, rescue from trials and estrangement from God, and God’s faithfulness as a refuge for his people. In postexilic times they were gatekeepers at the temple and bakers of the sacred bread (1 Chron. 9:19, 31).

The land of Israel is strategically located on a land bridge between significant geopolitical powers. About the size of New Jersey, it is geographically diverse, ranging from fertile mountains in northern Galilee to the arid Negev steppe. It was indeed the “testing ground of faith” in which God planted his people.

The “Land Between”

The Mediterranean Sea to the west and the great Arabian Desert to the east confined the flow of military and commercial traffic to this land bridge. Throughout most of Israel’s history, Egypt and the succession of political entities in Mesopotamia were intent on expanding their empires; Israel was in between. To a lesser extent, this also involved invaders coming from or through Anatolia (modern Turkey).

The sea and the desert also affect the weather patterns as Israel is dependent on rainfall in the winter months and dew in the summer for its continued agricultural fertility. The promises regarding the “early and latter rains” (autumn and spring) indicate blessing (Deut. 11:14; Jer. 5:24; Joel 2:23). The prospects of drought and famine hover over the land. These vulnerabilities to enemy attack and potential lack of rainfall figure prominently in God’s challenge to faithful obedience (Deut. 11:10–17; 28:25).

Geographical Regions

There are four north-south longitudinal zones that help to define the geography of Israel. From west to east, they are the coastal plain, the hill country, the Jordan Rift Valley, and Trans-jordan. South of these zones lies the Negev, a marginal region between Israel proper and Sinai.

Coastal plain. The coastal plain extends almost the entire length of Israel, with the exception of Mount Carmel’s promontory, jutting out into the Mediterranean Sea. Because of the straight coastline, there are no natural good harbors as there are farther north in Lebanon. This region characteristically was controlled by more cosmopolitan and generally hostile non-Israelites, the most notable being the Philistines in the south. As a result of these factors, the Israelites generally were not a seafaring people, and in fact they seemed to view the sea as a place of chaos and danger (e.g., Pss. 42:7; 74:13–14; Jon. 2:2–7).

Much of the coastal plain was swampy in antiquity due to calcified sandstone ridges along the coastline that prevented runoff from the hills from flowing unimpeded into the sea. In addition, sand dunes along the coast were obstacles to travel. Because this region was relatively flat and easily traversed along the eastern edge, the International Coastal Highway skirted the swamps and dunes and carried the major traffic through the land. Erosion from the hill country to the east brought excellent soil to the plain. Once the swamps were drained in the twentieth century, the plains became fertile farming areas.

The coastal plain has significant subdivisions. To the north of Mount Carmel, the Plain of Akko includes a crescent-shaped area around the city of Akko and extends to Rosh HaNikra, a promontory at the boundary with Lebanon. Immediately south of Mount Carmel is the small Plain of Dor, generally under the control of foreigners and not significant in the biblical text. The Crocodile River separates the Plain of Dor from the Sharon Plain. In the early first century AD, Herod the Great built Caesarea Maritima on the site of Strato’s Tower along the coast of the Sharon Plain and constructed an immense artificial harbor (Josephus, Ant. 15.331–41). It was Herod’s intent for Caesarea to serve as the entry point for Roman culture into what he considered to be the backwaters of Palestine. In God’s plan, however, the process was reversed: Caesarea became a major Christian center, and the gospel went out through the entire Roman Empire.

The Yarqon River, with its source at Aphek, separates the Sharon and the Philistine plains. Because this created a bottleneck for the International Coastal Highway, whoever controlled Aphek had a military and commercial advantage. It is significant that the Philistines were at Aphek when the Israelites took the ark of the covenant to battle (1 Sam. 4). The Philistine Plain extends fifty miles south to Besor Wadi (dry riverbed) in the western Negev (see below). Its width ranges from about ten miles in the north to twenty-five miles in the south. The five significant Philistine cities were Gaza, Ashkelon, Ashdod, Gath, and Ekron.

Hill country. A mountainous spine runs from the north to the south, with several aberrations due to seismic activity in the distant geologic past. The hill countries of Judah, Benjamin, Ephraim, and Manasseh are in the southern two-thirds of the country. Because the terrain is rugged, with steep V-shaped valleys, these regions are somewhat more isolated and protected, especially in Judah and Ephraim. Travel in the interior is along the north-south ridge, often called the “way of the patriarchs” because Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob journeyed this route, stopping at Shechem, Bethel, Salem (Jerusalem), Hebron, and finally Beersheba at the southern end of the mountain range. Agriculture in the hill country is excellent when there is sufficient rainfall. The hard limestone bedrock means that springs are bountiful and the eroded terra rossa soil is productive. The triad of crops that appears in the Bible includes grain (“bread”), new wine, and oil (Deut. 11:14; Joel 1:10), noted in the order in which they are harvested.

West of the Judean hill country are lower, rolling foothills known as the Shephelah. Cut through by five significant east-west valleys, this region was a buffer zone between the people living in the hill country and the Philistines or other foreign forces passing through on the International Coastal Highway. When Israel was particularly vulnerable, these valleys served as invasion routes into the heartland of Judah. The most famous of these, the Elah Valley, was the site of the face-off between David and the Philistine warrior Goliath (1 Sam. 17).

On the eastern side of the hill country, especially in the tribal areas of Judah and Benjamin, lies the wilderness. Because most of the precipitation falls on the western slopes of the mountain range, rainfall for the regions right around the Dead Sea (in the “rain shadow”) is less than four inches per year. Sparsely inhabited, the wilderness was occasionally a place of refuge, as when David was fleeing from Saul (1 Sam. 23–26). Generally, it was viewed as a place to pass through. When the Israelites conquered the land, they traversed the wilderness to get to the central Benjamin Plateau (Josh. 10:9–10). David fled through the wilderness when Absalom took over the kingdom (2 Sam. 15–16). When Jesus traveled from Jericho (below sea level) to Jerusalem, he climbed through the wilderness to an elevation of about twenty-five hundred feet above sea level. Shepherds grazed their flocks in this area during the winter wet months and then migrated farther north and west as the dry season advanced. Some chose to withdraw into the wilderness, most notably the Qumran community along the northwestern shore of the Dead Sea and the later monastic communities.

The major city in the rugged hill country of Ephraim was Shiloh, a well-protected location for the tabernacle and the ark of the covenant early in Israel’s history (Judg. 18:31; 1 Sam. 1–4). In fact, the decision to take the ark out to battle against the Philistines at Aphek was catastrophic. The tribal territory of Manasseh, north of Ephraim, was more open to foreign influence. The major cities were Shechem, lying between Mount Gerizim and Mount Ebal, locations for the renewal of the covenant (Josh. 8:30–35; 24:1), and Samaria, eventually the capital of the northern kingdom. When Omri moved the capital west to Samaria (1 Kings 16:24), it was a bid for more connection with cosmopolitan coastal communities and particularly with the nation of Phoenicia to the northwest. Omri’s son Ahab married the Phoenician princess Jezebel, cementing the alliance and bringing Baal worship to Israel with even greater force.

Mount Carmel, to the northwest of Samaria, served as the effective boundary between Israel and the expanding power of the Phoenicians. It was the perfect stage for the confrontation between Elijah and the prophets of Baal and Asherah (1 Kings 18). Due to its elevation (over seventeen hundred feet at its highest point), it normally receives about thirty-two inches of rain per year. At Elijah’s word, however, the rain had ceased for more than three years (1 Kings 17:1; James 5:17), and the glory of Carmel had withered (cf. Isa. 33:9; Amos 1:2; Nah. 1:4). This was a direct challenge to the supposed powers of Baal, the god of storm and rain. The contest apparently took place near the heights of the promontory overlooking the Mediterranean Sea (1 Kings 18:42–43). There are, however, three sections in the entire twenty-four-mile range, each separated from the next by a chalk pass, providing access through the mountain range. At the southeastern end of Mount Carmel lies the Dothan Valley, location of one of the routes connecting the International Coastal Highway with the major Transjordanian highway (see Gen. 37; 2 Kings 6:8–23).

The Dothan Valley rests between Mount Carmel and Mount Gilboa to the east. These two mountains, along with the Jezreel and Harod Valleys on their northern flanks, create a natural barrier between the central hill country and Galilee. Because of the strategic importance of this region, the Israelites fought early defensive battles against the forces of Jabin king of Hazor (Judg. 4) and against the Midianites camped in the Jezreel Valley (Judg. 7). Later, the Philistines swept through this valley, dividing the southern tribes from those in the north. Saul and his sons lost their lives on Mount Gilboa in this confrontation (1 Sam. 31). The night before the battle, Saul was so troubled by God’s silence that he ventured behind enemy lines on Mount Moreh (directly north of Mount Gilboa) to the town of Endor and requested a medium to summon the prophet Samuel (1 Sam. 28). The city of Megiddo, situated on the edge of the Jezreel Valley at the base of Mount Carmel, guarded the most important pass through the mountain and was the site of numerous battles. It may be the basis for the name “Armageddon,” “Har Megiddo” in Hebrew (Rev. 16).

North of the Jezreel and Harod Valleys, Galilee can be divided into lower and upper Galilee. The latter is called “upper” because it is both farther north and significantly higher in elevation. Upper Galilee is rugged and relatively isolated. As a result, few biblical events unfolded there. In fact, Galilee is seldom mentioned in the OT, with the exception of Isa. 9:1, the passage that Matthew quotes in speaking of the inauguration of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee (Matt. 4:13–16).

The western part of lower Galilee has ridges that run east to west, providing natural conduits for the winds from the Mediterranean Sea as they sweep eastward. This contributes to sudden and strong storms on the Sea of Galilee. The town of Nazareth is nestled near the top of the southernmost ridge, overlooking the Jezreel Valley from the north. This would have afforded Jesus a panoramic view of a historical stage as he was growing up. Nearby was Gath Hepher, hometown of the prophet Jonah (2 Kings 14:25). As Jesus looked east, he would have seen Mount Tabor (Judg. 4–5) and Mount Moreh (Judg. 7; 1 Sam. 31). The “brow of the hill” at Nazareth (Luke 4:29) is a sharp precipice overlooking the Jezreel Valley. Although not mentioned in the Gospels, the Roman city of Sepphoris was only about three miles northwest of Nazareth, and it might have been the place where Joseph was employed as a builder. Eastern lower Galilee is characterized by beautiful rolling hills and valleys that slope down toward the Jordan Valley. Just west of the Sea of Galilee are the cliffs of Arbel, past which the International Coastal Highway made its way as it ran from the Jezreel Valley around Mount Tabor and down into the Jordan Rift Valley.

Jordan Rift Valley. The Jordan Rift Valley, ranging in width from about four to fourteen miles, is a remarkable geological cleft in the earth that extends well beyond the immediate area of Israel. The Arabah, the Dead Sea, the Sea of Galilee, and the Huleh Valley north of the Sea of Galilee lie in the Jordan Rift Valley. In modern times, the Arava (Arabah) refers to the wasteland between the Dead Sea and the Gulf of Eilat (Aqaba), but in the OT the term also included the barren desert north of and around the Dead Sea (Josh. 8:14; 11:2; 1 Sam. 23:24; 2 Sam. 2:29; 4:7). The Dead Sea was called the “Sea of the Arabah” in texts that indicate its role as a boundary marker (Deut. 3:17; 4:49; Josh. 12:3; 2 Kings 14:25).

In the Hebrew Bible, the Dead Sea is called the “Sea of Salt.” The mineral content exceeds 30 percent, compared to normal sea salinity of 3–5 percent. These minerals include calcium, potassium, magnesium, and sodium chlorides. Nevertheless, some algae and bacteria do survive in the sea. Bitumen (asphalt) also seeps from the sea floor, especially when there is more seismic activity in the region. The salinity varies, depending on the level of the Dead Sea, which does fluctuate with variations in rainfall. The level is currently receding rapidly, at a rate of almost three feet per year. One reason for this is the increasing demand for water from the headwaters of the Jordan River. The north end of the sea, at about thirteen hundred feet below sea level, is the lowest place on earth, and the depth of the water at that point is more than one thousand feet.

The Jordan River Valley north of the Dead Sea is approximately sixty-five miles long, and the Jordan River winds for over 120 miles. The name “Jordan” comes from the Hebrew word yarad, which means “to descend.” The Sea of Galilee is 690 feet below sea level, so there is a significant drop between that point and the north end of the Dead Sea.

Key cities in the Jordan Valley include Jericho, just north of the Dead Sea, and Beth Shan, at the junction of the Harod and Jordan valleys. The first city to be conquered (Josh. 6), Jericho represented the vulnerable “underbelly” of Canaan and paved the way for the campaigns that swept first through the south and then the north (Josh. 9–11). Beth Shan was under Philistine control in the early Israelite period. Later, it became the one Decapolis city west of the Jordan River and was known as Scythopolis.

The Jordan Valley has three sections. The entire expanse is called the “Ghor,” an Arabic name. The river valley itself is called the “Zhor,” and it includes the “pride” or thickets of the Jordan, a dense tangle of lush underbrush in which lions could be found in the biblical period (Jer. 12:5; 49:19; 50:44; Zech. 11:3). In between the Ghor and the Zhor is the Qatarra, lifeless marl terraces. In antiquity, during flood stage the Jordan River could be a mile wide. The Israelites crossed the Jordan in the springtime, near Passover, when the river was at flood stage (Josh. 3:15; 5:10).

The Jordan River has its headwaters north of the Sea of Galilee at the base of Mount Hermon. It provides a constant source of freshwater coming into the seven-by-thirteen-mile body of water. In addition, there are salt springs in the northwestern corner. These contribute to the good fishing in that part of the sea. The Hebrew name is “Yam [Sea of] Kinnereth” (Num. 34:11; Josh. 12:3; 13:27). It was also known as the Sea of Tiberias (John 6:1; 21:1) and the Lake of Gennesaret (Luke 5:1). This last name comes from the fertile plain around the northwestern corner of the lake and the city of Gennesaret on that plain.

The ministry of Jesus unfolded around the Sea of Galilee after he moved his base of operations from Nazareth to Capernaum (Matt. 4:13), at the northern end of the sea. Nearby were the cities of Bethsaida and Chorazin, which, along with Capernaum, Jesus condemned for not believing even though he worked miracles in their midst (Matt. 11:20–24). The city of Capernaum profited from the industries of fishing and oil pressing. It was also a likely place for a tax collector, as it was close to the border between Herod Antipas’s Galilee and Herod Philip’s territories to the east. Across the lake, in non-Jewish territory, was the town of Gergesa, perhaps the site where Jesus sent the legion of demons into a herd of pigs (Mark 5:1–20 pars.).

Just north of the Sea of Galilee is an elevated sill, formed by a basalt flow across the Golan Heights and over this section of the Jordan Rift Valley. Hazor, a major site of some two hundred acres, sat astride the sill and dominated the northern region in the Late Bronze and Israelite periods. Hazor is mentioned in texts from both Mari in Mesopotamia and El Amarna in Egypt.

The Huleh Valley, north of the sill, is twenty miles in length and receives about twenty-four inches of rain per year, making it a marshland swamp in antiquity that was called “Lake Semechonitis.” The International Coastal Highway made its way along the western edge of the valley, turned eastward past Mount Hermon, and continued to Damascus.

Transjordan. On the eastern side of the Jordan Rift Valley, at the very northern extent of Israel, Mount Hermon rises to nine thousand feet. Abundant precipitation percolating through the limestone results in prolific springs at its base. These are the headwaters of the Jordan River, the two most important of which are at Dan and Caesarea Philippi. With the abundance of water and lush surroundings, it is not surprising that Dan was a tempting location for the tribe of Dan to resettle, given their precarious position between the tribe of Judah and the Philistines to the west. The idols set up at that point (Judg. 18:30–31) established a precedent for Jeroboam’s choice to position one of the golden calves there as an alternative to worship in distant Jerusalem (1 Kings 12:29–30). Another name for Caesarea Philippi is “Panias” (modern Arabic, “Banias”), in celebration of the god Pan. The rock face from which the spring poured forth is covered with niches for pagan gods; Herod the Great also built a temple to Augustus. In this context, Peter declared that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the “living” God (Matt. 16:16).

The region south of Mount Hermon was Bashan in the OT period. In the NT era it consisted of a number of small provinces. One of those was Gaulanitis, which is recognizable in the modern name “Golan.” With significant annual rainfall (about forty inches per year), the natural vegetation includes trees and rich pasture that supports large herds (cf. the “bulls of Bashan” in Ps. 22:12; Ezek. 39:18).

Separating the region of Bashan from Lower Gilead is the Yarmuk River Gorge, a significant natural boundary. There was an ongoing contest between the northern kingdom of Israel and Syria to the northeast to control the key site of Ramoth Gilead (1 Kings 22; 2 Kings 9). Cutting through the elevated Dome of Gilead is the Jabbok River, the site of Jacob’s wrestling match with God (Gen. 32).

The area to the east and south of the Dead Sea includes the plains of Moab (Mishor), extending north of the Arnon River Gorge; geopolitical Moab, between the Arnon and the Zered rivers; and Edom, reaching from the Zered down to the northern end of the Gulf of Eilat (Aqaba). To the east of the Mishor lay the kingdom of Ammon. According to Gen. 19, Moab and Ammon were descendants of Lot by his daughters. When they fled eastward from Sodom and Gomorrah, this was the general area they settled.

Transjordan was significant in the OT as the Israelites skirted Edom, conquered the cities of the Amorites and the king of Bashan, and encountered Moab en route to the promised land (Num. 20–25). The tribes of Reuben and Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh requested the right to settle in Transjordan after the conquest of the land was completed (Num. 32). In the ensuing centuries these tribes suffered the ravages of war on the eastern front (Judg. 10:8; 1 Sam. 11:1; 2 Kings 15:29; 1 Chron. 5:23–26). In the intertestamental period most of northern and central Transjordan came under Hellenistic control. Decapolis cities were located in Bashan, Gilead, and as far south as Philadelphia, at the site of modern Amman.

Negev. To the south of the Judean hill country lies the Negev, whose name means both “dry” and “south.” The biblical Negev is a smaller region shaped somewhat like a bowtie, with Beersheba at the center, Arad in the eastern basin, and Gerar controlling the western basin. The south end of the Philistine plain merges with the western Negev. In the patriarchal period there were tensions over water rights between the herdsmen of Abraham and Isaac and those of the Philistine king Abimelek (Gen. 21:22–34; 26:12–33). Although the region only receives eight to twelve inches of rainfall per year, this was sufficient to sustain small populations, especially if they conserved water. The soil of the Negev is loess, a windblown powder from which the water simply runs off unless catch basins are constructed.

The biblical Negev is bounded by the greater Negev to the south, where rugged limestone ridges predominate. An artificial line drawn from Gaza to Eilat, at the northern end of the Gulf of Eilat, defines the southwestern boundary of the greater Negev; the Jordan Rift Valley is the eastern boundary. The Negev was historically a corridor for spice trade coming from southwestern Arabia and India on the “ship of the desert” (the camel) to reach the Mediterranean markets. The Nabateans, Arab commercial nomads who knew the secrets of the desert, flourished in the spice trade from the fourth to the first centuries BC. Once the Romans co-opted the spice trade, the Nabateans built cities, developed water conservation techniques, and grew extensive vineyards.

The Testing Ground of Faith

Because the land is marginal in terms of both sufficient rainfall and national security, God’s covenant people faced the constant challenge of obedience. The temptations to worship the Canaanite gods for agricultural fertility and to form alliances with more-powerful neighbors instead of putting their trust in God were powerful. Often they succumbed and then experienced God’s chastisement that they might return to him (Lev. 26). Even the land itself would experience pollution due to the sins of its inhabitants (Lev. 18:25). In sum, the land was much more than living space; it was an integral part of the Israelites’ identity as God’s covenant people. When it was flowing with “milk and honey,” the people experienced the shalom of God.

The classification of thirteen psalms (Pss. 32; 42; 44–45; 52–55; 74; 78; 88–89; 142). All are associated with “authors” (David, the sons of Korah, Asaph, Heman, and Ethan) (see also Superscription). They include individual and communal laments, royal psalms, instruction, and psalms of mixed type, but none are hymns of praise. The root of maskil pertains to understanding or skill. There are two main views as to its meaning. As it relates to “making prudent,” the maskil may be meditative or instructive. Or maskil may be a designation that skilled musicians were required for proper performance.

About a third of the OT is poetic. Poetry is a more elevated way of speaking and writing than prose. It is a departure from normal patterns of speech and exhibits a high degree of attention to literary artifice. In poetry, how something is said is as important as what is said. Poetry employs various poetic devices and conventions that are less frequent in or completely absent from ordinary speech. Among these are acrostic, inclusion, chiasm, succinctness, parallelism, and the heightened use of imagery (see also Acrostic).

Hebrew poetry also employs the full range of figures of speech, including metaphor, simile, synecdoche (substituting part for whole or vice versa, such as “set sail” or “lying in wait for blood”), anthimeria (substituting one part of speech for another, such as “let the dry appear”), merism (the whole expressed with two opposites, such as “day and night”), anthropomorphism, personification (“let the rivers clap their hands” [Ps. 98:8]), and so on.

Inclusion and Chiasm

Inclusion (or inclusio) is a structuring device whereby a unit of text begins and ends with the same or a very similar word or phrase. Thus the included material is bounded and defined as a unit of text. For example, Song 2:8–17 begins, “Listen! My beloved! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag,” and it ends, “Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.” This opening and closing with the same metaphor bounds the enclosed material as a unit of text. Another example is the way Prov. 1:2–7 (NRSV) begins and ends with the words “wisdom,” “instruction,” and “understanding/knowledge,” which delineates these verses as a block of text.

Chiasm (or chiasmus) is a way of organizing material whereby the second half of a text is a mirror image of the first half. “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27 pars.) can be diagrammed as A/B/Bʹ/Aʹ. More and more elaborate chiasms have been proposed for various parts of Scripture, with many elements on each side. The flood narrative, the Abraham cycle, the book of Ruth, and so on may be written to a chiastic structure.

Succinctness and Imagery

One of the characteristics of Hebrew poetry is its succinctness; it says a lot with a few words. One way this is accomplished is through the use of imagery. “The Lord is my rock” (Ps. 18:2) compresses volumes of theology into a single image, thus requiring far less verbosity than if the concept had been stated without imagery. However, the trade-off is that more is required of the reader. The reader must ask, “How is the Lord like a rock?” and fill in the blank. This is true also of other ways that poetry is succinct—for example, its tendency to leave out particles and connectives. For example, “The Lord is my shepherd, / I lack nothing” (Ps. 23:1) leaves out a needed conjunction between the two phrases, which the reader must supply. Is it “The Lord is my shepherd, sooner or later I shall need nothing”? “The Lord is my shepherd, even so I shall need nothing”? Or “The Lord is my shepherd, therefore I shall need nothing.” The reader must decide the correct association between the two lines because the conjunction is purposely left out of the verse. Thus poetry engages the reader and must be read slowly and carefully.

Parallelism

The most recognizable feature of biblical poetry is the phenomenon of parallelism. This is the counterweight to succinctness. While poetry is designed to say much with few words, these words occur in line pairs, the second of which takes the thought further. For example, “Why do the nations conspire / and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). Obviously, “nations” is parallel with “peoples,” and “conspire” with “plot in vain.” Line A and line B state in essence the same thought with different words, and they state it in the same way. This is called synonymous parallelism. “Lazy hands make for poverty, / but diligent hands bring wealth” (Prov. 10:4). In this verse, the parallel elements are opposites: lazy and diligent, poverty and wealth. This is called antithetical parallelism.

Sometimes, the second line completes the thought of the first line, forming complementary parallelism: “Israel, put your hope in the Lord / both now and forevermore” (Ps. 131:3). When a symbol is set in parallel with the thing symbolized, this is emblematic parallelism: “As the deer pants for streams of water, / so my soul pants for you, my God” (Ps. 42:1). Sometimes line B follows line A in time, forming sequential parallelism: “I call out to the Lord, / and he answers me from his holy mountain” (Ps. 3:4). When line B follows logically from line A, this is consequential parallelism: “In peace I will lie down and sleep, / for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Ps. 4:8). Traditionally, when the relation between the lines does not fit into any defined category, the parallelism is called synthetic.

The study of human beings, their nature and origins. The Christian understanding of anthropology stems from a biblical view of humankind’s relationship to God.

The Origin of Humankind

According to Genesis, the creation of humankind took place on the sixth day of the creation week. The amount of narrative space allotted to this day (Gen. 1:24–31) testifies to the special importance of what happened. Human beings were made on the same day as the animals. Human beings were not given a day of their own, showing that they have a certain kinship with the animals, although they are far more than highly successful and adaptive mammals. This has implications for the care of animals and of the environment generally. The value of human beings and their special place in the created order is clear in passages such as Pss. 8:5–6; 104:14–15.

Created in the image of God. When it came to the making of human beings, God deliberated over this crucial step (Gen. 1:26). The plural of exhortation in “Let us make man in our image” signals that the decision to make humankind was the most important one that God had made so far. Genesis 1 says that human beings are like God in some way.

Various opinions have been canvassed as to what the “image” is. We cannot totally exclude the physical form of humans, given God’s humanoid form in OT appearances (theophanies; e.g., Isa. 6:1; Ezek. 1:26; Amos 9:1). The image has sometimes been interpreted as a task, the exercising of dominion (Gen. 1:28), with humanity appointed as creation’s king, ruling under God. But the image is better understood as the precondition for rule rather than rule itself. The image shows human worth (Gen. 9:6) and differentiates humans from all other creatures. It is proper for the Bible to use anthropomorphic language for God, for humans are remarkably like God. Both male and female are in the image of God (“in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them” [1:27]), so that the divine image is not maleness, nor is sexual differentiation the image. Commonly, the image of God is thought to be some peculiar quality of human beings—for example, rationality, speech, moral sense, personality, humans as relational beings.

Every century has its own view of what is the essence of humanity. However, nothing in the passage allows a choice among such alternatives. The point of the passage is simply the fact of the likeness, with no exact definition being provided. The fact of the image is the basis of the divine prohibition of murder and of the strict penalty applied to the transgressor (9:4–6). The fall into sin affected every aspect of the human constitution, and the Bible does not minimize the fact of human sinfulness (Gen. 6:5; 8:21; Rom. 3:10–18); nevertheless, humans are still in the image of God (Gen. 5:1–3; 9:6; 1 Cor. 11:7). God’s plan of salvation is aimed at ridding creation (and especially humanity) of the baneful effects of sin, and this will be achieved through the work of Christ, who is the image of God (2 Cor. 4:4; Col. 1:15–20; Heb. 1:1–3; 2:5–18). The outcome will be the conformity of believers in Christ to his glorious image (Rom. 8:29–30; 2 Cor. 3.18).

Place in the created order. God’s purpose in giving human beings the divine image is “so they may rule” (NET [Gen. 1:26b translated as a purpose clause]). The syntax suggests that the image is a presupposition of dominion. It is plain that such a delegated authority makes humans stewards. The vegetarian diet of Gen.1:29 (there was no eating of meat at first) represents a limitation to the human right of dominion. Adam’s naming of the animals was (in part) expressive of his sovereignty over them (2:19). Later, Noah was charged to bring pairs of animals into the ark to preserve them alive (6:19–20), showing care for other creatures. The patriarchs tended flocks (13:2–9; 26:12–14), and Joseph’s relief measures saved the lives of people and animals (47:15–18). The wanton destruction of the Promised Land was expressly forbidden (Deut. 20:19–20). Humanity is accountable to God for the stewardship of the earth. The divine command “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 1:28 NRSV) shows that God’s purpose is that the human race populate the whole earth.

At Gen. 2:7 the biblical narrative becomes thoroughly anthropocentric, picturing the little world that God establishes around the first man, so this account is quite different from the cosmic presentation of Gen. 1. In Gen. 1 humankind is the apex of a pyramid, the last and highest of a series of creatures; in Gen. 2 the man is the center of a circle, everything else made to fit around him, and his connection to the physical earth is emphasized. In either view, a very special place is given to human beings in the created order. The two pictures are complementary, not contradictory.

The “man” (’adam) is formed from the “ground” (’adamah), with the related Hebrew words making a pun. Man’s name reminds him of his earthy origins. He is made from the “dust,” which hints at his coming death. He will return to the dust (Gen. 3:19; cf. Job 10:8–9; Ps. 103:14; Isa. 29:16). The reference to “the breath of life” (Gen. 2:7) is due to the fact that this leaves a person at death (Job 34:14–15; Ps. 104:29–30), so man’s (potential) mortality is implied. Ironically, the making of man is described using the language of death. What is described in Gen. 2 is the making of the first man, from whom the rest of the human race has descended, not the making of humankind, though the word ’adam can mean that in other contexts.

The Nature of Humankind

Body, soul, and spirit. Arguments over whether human nature is bipartite (body and soul) or tripartite (body, soul, spirit) are not to be decided by arbitrary appeal to isolated verses. Verses can be found in apparent support for both the first view (e.g., Matt. 10:28) and the second (e.g., 1 Thess. 5:23), but certainly the first scheme is much more prevalent in the Bible. “Soul” and “spirit” can be used interchangeably (Eccles. 3:21; 12:7; Ezek. 18:31). Death is marked by the parting of soul/spirit and body, but it would be a mistake to think that human beings are made up of separate component parts, or that the physical body is only a dispensable shell and not essential to true humanity. The physicality of human existence in the “body” is owned and celebrated in Scripture, part of that being the positive attitude to sexuality when properly expressed (Song of Songs; 1 Cor. 7) and the nonascetic nature of biblical ethics (1 Cor. 10:31; Col. 2:23). The doctrine of the resurrection of the body is the fullest expression of this (1 Cor. 15), in contrast to ancient Greek thought that viewed the body as inherently evil and understood salvation as the immortality of the liberated, disembodied soul.

The different words used in relation to persons are only intended to refer to and at times focus on different aspects of unified human nature. References to the “soul” may stress individual responsibility (e.g., Ezek. 18:4 NASB: “The soul who sins will die”). In Ps. 103:1–2, “O my soul” expresses emphatic self-encouragement to praise God and is in parallel with “all my inmost being”—that is, “my whole being” (an example of synecdoche: a part standing for the whole [cf. Ps. 35:10]). These are ways of referring to oneself as a person who expresses will and intention (cf. Ps. 42:5–6, 11). The “flesh” is used to stress the weakness of mortal humanity (e.g., Isa. 40:6 RSV: “All flesh is grass”). The “heart” is the volitional center of a human being (Prov. 4:23; cf. Mark 7:17–23). The emotional and empathetic reactions of humans are described by reference to the organs: “liver,” “kidneys,” “bowels.”

Morals and responsibility. In Gen. 2 the complexities of the man’s moral relation to God and his relations with the soil, with the animals, and with the woman are explored. God deposited the man in the garden “to work it and take care of it” (2:15). The words chosen to designate the man’s work prior to the fall have an aura of worship about them, for they are later used in the OT for the cultic actions of serving and guarding within the sanctuary. The priests served by offering sacrifices, and the Levites guarded the gates of the sacred precinct. A theology of work as a religious vocation is presented. The man was a kind of king-priest in the garden of God.

The moral responsibility of humanity is signaled from the beginning. God’s command gives permission for the man to eat from “any tree” except one (Gen. 2:16–17) and as such indicates man’s freedom, so that this command is no great restriction. The wording “you are free to eat” reinforces the point about God’s generous provision. The prohibition is embedded in the description of God’s fatherly care for the man and gracious act in placing him in the garden. The divine restriction is slight and not at all overbearing, though the serpent will seek to make it appear mean-spirited (3:1). The command and prohibition are the very first words of God to the man, marking them out as of fundamental importance for the relationship between them. The prohibition (“you must not eat . . .”) is an absolute one in the style of the Decalogue (Exod. 20:1–17; Deut. 5:6–21). What is placed before the man is a test that gives him the opportunity to express his loyalty to God. A relationship of obedience and trust requires the possibility of choice and the opportunity to disobey (if that is what he wants to do). The moral nature and responsibility of individuals is not a late discovery by the prophet Ezekiel (Ezek. 18); rather, it is the presupposition behind the Mosaic law, for the commands of the Decalogue (“you shall not . . .”) are phrased as commands to individuals (as the Hebrew makes clear). On the other hand, the concept of corporate responsibility is also present (e.g., Achan’s punishment in Josh. 7).

Relationships. Human beings are relational by nature, as the creation of the woman as a helper and partner for the first man makes plain (Gen. 2:18–25). Later in Scripture this is put in more general terms, so that friendship and mutual cooperation are shown to be essential to life (Eccles. 4:7–12). The body life of the church reflects the same fact and need (1 Cor. 12). In Psalms, human needs and vulnerability find their answer and fulfillment in God, with the psalmist acknowledging his frailty and his creaturely dependence on God (e.g., Ps. 90). This also shows the folly of sinful human pride, against which the prophets so often inveighed (e.g., Isa. 2:9, 11–17, 22).

About a third of the OT is poetic. Poetry is a more elevated way of speaking and writing than prose. It is a departure from normal patterns of speech and exhibits a high degree of attention to literary artifice. In poetry, how something is said is as important as what is said. Poetry employs various poetic devices and conventions that are less frequent in or completely absent from ordinary speech. Among these are acrostic, inclusion, chiasm, succinctness, parallelism, and the heightened use of imagery (see also Acrostic).

Hebrew poetry also employs the full range of figures of speech, including metaphor, simile, synecdoche (substituting part for whole or vice versa, such as “set sail” or “lying in wait for blood”), anthimeria (substituting one part of speech for another, such as “let the dry appear”), merism (the whole expressed with two opposites, such as “day and night”), anthropomorphism, personification (“let the rivers clap their hands” [Ps. 98:8]), and so on.

Inclusion and Chiasm

Inclusion (or inclusio) is a structuring device whereby a unit of text begins and ends with the same or a very similar word or phrase. Thus the included material is bounded and defined as a unit of text. For example, Song 2:8–17 begins, “Listen! My beloved! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills. My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag,” and it ends, “Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the rugged hills.” This opening and closing with the same metaphor bounds the enclosed material as a unit of text. Another example is the way Prov. 1:2–7 (NRSV) begins and ends with the words “wisdom,” “instruction,” and “understanding/knowledge,” which delineates these verses as a block of text.

Chiasm (or chiasmus) is a way of organizing material whereby the second half of a text is a mirror image of the first half. “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27 pars.) can be diagrammed as A/B/Bʹ/Aʹ. More and more elaborate chiasms have been proposed for various parts of Scripture, with many elements on each side. The flood narrative, the Abraham cycle, the book of Ruth, and so on may be written to a chiastic structure.

Succinctness and Imagery

One of the characteristics of Hebrew poetry is its succinctness; it says a lot with a few words. One way this is accomplished is through the use of imagery. “The Lord is my rock” (Ps. 18:2) compresses volumes of theology into a single image, thus requiring far less verbosity than if the concept had been stated without imagery. However, the trade-off is that more is required of the reader. The reader must ask, “How is the Lord like a rock?” and fill in the blank. This is true also of other ways that poetry is succinct—for example, its tendency to leave out particles and connectives. For example, “The Lord is my shepherd, / I lack nothing” (Ps. 23:1) leaves out a needed conjunction between the two phrases, which the reader must supply. Is it “The Lord is my shepherd, sooner or later I shall need nothing”? “The Lord is my shepherd, even so I shall need nothing”? Or “The Lord is my shepherd, therefore I shall need nothing.” The reader must decide the correct association between the two lines because the conjunction is purposely left out of the verse. Thus poetry engages the reader and must be read slowly and carefully.

Parallelism

The most recognizable feature of biblical poetry is the phenomenon of parallelism. This is the counterweight to succinctness. While poetry is designed to say much with few words, these words occur in line pairs, the second of which takes the thought further. For example, “Why do the nations conspire / and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). Obviously, “nations” is parallel with “peoples,” and “conspire” with “plot in vain.” Line A and line B state in essence the same thought with different words, and they state it in the same way. This is called synonymous parallelism. “Lazy hands make for poverty, / but diligent hands bring wealth” (Prov. 10:4). In this verse, the parallel elements are opposites: lazy and diligent, poverty and wealth. This is called antithetical parallelism.

Sometimes, the second line completes the thought of the first line, forming complementary parallelism: “Israel, put your hope in the Lord / both now and forevermore” (Ps. 131:3). When a symbol is set in parallel with the thing symbolized, this is emblematic parallelism: “As the deer pants for streams of water, / so my soul pants for you, my God” (Ps. 42:1). Sometimes line B follows line A in time, forming sequential parallelism: “I call out to the Lord, / and he answers me from his holy mountain” (Ps. 3:4). When line B follows logically from line A, this is consequential parallelism: “In peace I will lie down and sleep, / for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Ps. 4:8). Traditionally, when the relation between the lines does not fit into any defined category, the parallelism is called synthetic.

A collection of 150 poems. They are the hymnbook of the OT period, used in public worship. Psalms contains songs of different lengths, types, and dates. The earliest psalm (Ps. 90) is attributed to Moses (mid-second millennium BC), while the content of Ps. 126 and Ps. 137 points to the latest periods of the OT (mid-first millennium BC). They continue to be used as a source of public worship and private devotion.

Historical Background

Most psalms have a title. In the Hebrew text this title comprises the first verse, whereas English translations set it off before the first verse. Titles vary. Many name an author (e.g., David [Ps. 3]; Asaph [Ps. 77]; sons of Korah [Ps. 42]), while others provide information about genre (e.g., Psalms of Ascent [Pss. 120–134]), tune (e.g., “Do Not Destroy” [Ps. 75]), use in worship (Ps. 92), and a circumstance that led to composition (Ps. 51). Information in the title gives hints concerning how psalms were written and brought into a final collection.

Composition

As mentioned, the titles of the psalms often give indications of authorship and occasionally name the circumstance that led to the writing of the psalm. A good example is Ps. 51, where the title states, “For the director of music. A psalm of David. When the prophet Nathan came to him after David had committed adultery with Bathsheba.” The title connects the psalm with the events recorded in 2 Sam. 11–12 and suggests that David wrote the song in response to his sin and Nathan’s confrontation.

Although only a handful of the psalms have such a historical title, it is likely that most psalms were composed in response to some specific circumstance that encouraged the author to write. Interestingly, though, the psalmists do not speak about the specific circumstance in the psalm itself. Psalm 51, for instance, fits perfectly with the situation that the title describes in that it expresses guilt toward God and asks for forgiveness, but nowhere does it speak specifically about adultery. The psalmists do this intentionally because they are writing the song not as a memorial to an event, but rather as a prayer that others who have had similar though not identical experiences can use after them. Thus, Ps. 51 has been used as a model prayer for many penitents, whether they have sinned like David or in another way.

Most modern hymns have a similar background. John Newton, for instance, was inspired to write “Amazing Grace” because of awe that he felt at his conversion to Christianity from the evil of being a slave trader. However, when he wrote it, he wanted others to sing it as reflecting not on his conversion but on their own.

Collection

The psalms were composed over a thousand-year period. Thus, it appears that the book of Psalms was a growing collection until it came to a close at an unknown time between the writing of the two Testaments.

In 1 Chron. 16:7–36 we may get a glimpse of how the process worked. The text describes David turning a musical composition over to the Levitical musician Asaph and his associates. It is likely that the priests kept an official copy of the book of Psalms in the holy place (the temple while it stood). The psalms, after all, were the hymns of ancient Israel. Their primary function was as a corporate book of prayer, though certainly they could be used in private devotions (note Hannah’s prayer in 1 Sam. 2:1–10 and its relationship to Ps. 113).

Organization and Structure

The psalms have no obvious organization that explains the location of all the psalms. They are not organized in terms of genre, authorship, time of composition, or length. There is only one statement about organization, found in Ps. 72:20: “This concludes the prayers of David son of Jesse.” In the light of this comment, it is surprising that a number of Davidic psalms appear in subsequent sections (Pss. 101; 103; 108–110; 122; 124; 131; 133; 138–145). The best explanation is that at one point Ps. 72 concluded the Davidic psalms, but there was a reorganization before the canonical order was permanently closed.

A number of contemporary theories try to find some deep structure to the book, but it is best to refrain from speculation in regard to the overall structure. Nonetheless, a few structural characteristics are obvious. First, the division of Psalms into five books seems to reflect the fivefold division of the Pentateuch:

I. Book 1 (Pss. 1–41)

II. Book 2 (Pss. 42–72)

III. Book 3 (Pss. 73–89)

IV. Book 4 (Pss. 90–106)

V. Book 5 (Pss. 107–150)

Each book ends with a doxology. Such an intentional association with the Pentateuch would lend support to the Psalter’s claim to authority. Although these are prayers to God, they are also God’s word.

Second, within the Psalter there are subcollections. That is, there are psalms that came into the book not individually but as a group. The best-known such group are the Psalms of Ascent (Pss. 120–134), probably so named because worshipers sang them while going up (ascending) to the Temple Mount during one of the annual religious festivals in Jerusalem.

Third, it appears that psalms are intentionally placed at the beginning and at the end of the book to serve as an introduction and a conclusion. Psalms 1–2 serve as an introduction that alerts the reader to the twin important themes of law and messiah. Psalm 1 pronounces a blessing on those who love God’s law. The psalms, after all, are an intimate and personal conversation with God. One must be on the side of the godly to enter such a holy textual space, just as one must be godly to enter the precincts of the temple. After the reader enters, Psalm 2 provides an encounter with God and his anointed one (messiah). At the end of the book, the last five psalms (Pss. 146–150) constitute a tremendous doxology of praise.

This leads to the final observation on structure. Psalms of lament predominate at the beginning of the book, but they give way to hymns of praise toward the end. It is almost as if one enters the Psalter mourning and leaves it praising. Indeed, the Psalter brings the reader into contact with God and thus transforms the reader from sadness to joy.

Literary Considerations

Genre. The individual psalms may be identified as songs, prayers, or poems. Specifically, they are lyric poems (expressing the emotions of the poet), often addressed to God, and set to musical accompaniment. Although the categories overlap, seven different types of psalms can be recognized, with the first three being by far the most common.

• Lament. The largest single group of psalms are the laments, characterized by the expression of unhappy emotions: sadness, disappointment, anger, worry. The lamenters call on God to save them, even while at times complaining about God’s actions toward them (Ps. 42:9–10). Some laments contain petitions for forgiveness (Ps. 51), while others assert innocence of any wrongdoing (Ps. 26). A few laments even contain curses directed toward the enemies who are trying to harm the psalmist (Ps. 69:19–28). Most laments end by praising God or reaffirming confidence in God (Ps. 130:7–8). Usually the reason for the change from mourning to rejoicing is not given, but Ps. 77 pinpoints the reason as the memory of God’s great salvation events in the past (vv. 10, 16–20). One psalm, Ps. 88, laments but never makes the turn, remaining in the pit of despair. Yet even here we have a glimmer of hope in that the one who laments is still speaking to God.

• Thanksgiving. When God answers a lament, the response is thanksgiving. Psalms of thanksgiving are very similar to hymns (see below), but they cite an earlier problem that God has addressed. Psalm 30 praises God for restoring the psalmist’s good fortune and health after he suffered due to his earlier arrogance that led him to forget God (vv. 6–7).

• Hymn. Hymns are psalms of unalloyed praise directed toward God. The psalmists often call for others to join their worship of God (Ps. 100).

• Remembrance. While many psalms evoke memories of God’s actions in the past (as the lament in Ps. 77 recalls the exodus), certain psalms focus on rehearsing the actions of God in the past. Psalm 136 is one of the most memorable examples. As a liturgical psalm, it recites a divine action (“[God] swept Pharaoh and his army into the Red Sea” [v. 15]) followed by a congregational response (“His love endures forever”).

• Confidence. These psalms are defined by their mood of quiet trust in God even in the midst of trouble. They often present a reassuring image of God. The picture of God as a shepherd in Ps. 23 or as a mother in Ps. 131 are good examples.

• Wisdom. Some psalms meditate on the law (Pss. 1; 119) or have interests similar to those of wisdom literature, such as Job, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes (Pss. 49; 73).

• Kingship. A number of psalms praise God as king (Ps. 47) or the human king as his agent (Pss. 20–21) or both (Ps. 2).

Style. The psalms are poems, and so their style is characterized by the use of parallelism and figurative language. Poetry is also notable for its short lines. A poet packs a lot of meaning into very few words. So it is important to slow down and reflect on a psalm in order to derive its maximum effect. Besides brevity of expression, parallelism, and figurative language, poets create interest by using other literary tools. The psalmists use these poetic devices not only to inform their readers’ intellect but also to stimulate their imagination and arouse their emotions. (See also Acrostic; Imagery; Poetry.)

Theological Message

Although the psalms are not theological essays, readers can learn about God and their relationship with God from these poems. The book of Psalms is a bit like a portrait gallery of God, using images to describe who he is and the nature of our relationship with him. Some examples include God as shepherd (Ps. 23), king (Ps. 47), warrior (Ps. 98), and mother (Ps. 131), and the list could be greatly expanded. Each one of these picture images casts light on the nature of God and also the nature of our relationship with God. After all, the aforementioned psalms explicitly or implicitly describe God’s people as sheep, subjects, soldiers, and children.

Connection to the New Testament and Today

Jesus himself draws attention to Psalms as a book that anticipated his coming suffering and glorification (Luke 24:25–27, 44). The Gospels recognized that Jesus’ zeal for God was well expressed by Ps. 69:9 (John 2:17). When at the apex of his suffering on the cross, Jesus uttered the words found in Ps. 22:1 (Matt. 27:46). The NT writers also saw that Jesus was the fulfillment of the covenant that promised that a son of David would have an everlasting throne (2 Sam. 7:16). Accordingly, the royal psalms (e.g., Pss. 2; 110) often were applied to Jesus, who is the Messiah (the Christ, “the anointed one”).

Today we read Psalms not only as an ancient witness to the coming work of Christ but also, as John Calvin put it, as a mirror of our souls. The psalms were written for worshipers who came after them with similar though not identical joys and problems. The psalms should become models of our prayers.

The highest mountain in ancient Israel, with its highest peak reaching over 9,200 feet. Due to its height, its peak is snow-covered year-round, causing abundant dew in comparison to the arid land in that region, with its melting ice serving as a major source of the Jordan River.

The Canaanites referred to Hermon as Sirion or Senir (Deut. 3:9), as do some biblical texts (e.g., 1 Chron. 5:23). It is located above the Lebanon Valley (Josh. 11:17) and above Mizpah (11:3), where Joshua pursued the Canaanite kings and defeated them at the Waters of Merom (11:1–7). Hermon is identified with the modern Jebel es-Sheik (Arabic for “mountain of the sheik”), about thirty miles southwest of Damascus.

Hermon formed the northern frontier of Israel’s Amorite conquests (Deut. 3:8; Josh. 11:17). Before the Israelites conquered the region, the Hivites dwelled there (Judg. 3:3), and it was ruled by King Og of Bashan (Josh. 12:4–5) and the Amorite king Sihon (Josh. 13:10–11) and was known as “the area of the Gebalites [NIV: “Byblos”]” (Josh. 13:5).

Ancient Near Eastern mythology associated high mountains with the dwelling of the gods, so it is no surprise that the Canaanites regarded the mountain as sacred. Archaeologists have discovered some Iron Age (1200–586 BC) remains on the summit and more than twenty temples dating from later times. This probably explains references in the Bible to “Baal Hermon” (Judg. 3:3) and “Baal Gad below Mount Hermon” (Josh. 13:5).

Hermon is mentioned fifteen times in the Bible (Deut. 3:8, 9; 4:48; Josh. 11:3, 17; 12:1, 5; 13:5, 11; Judg. 3:3; Pss. 42:6; 89:12; 133:3; Song 4:8; 1 Chron. 5:23). It is known for its lions and leopards (Song 4:8) and pine trees (Ezek. 27:5). It is praised for its dew (Ps. 133:3) and mentioned in reference to other mountains (89:12), the Jordan River (42:6), and the power of God (29:6). Hermon is not mentioned in the NT, but due to its geographical proximity to Caesarea Philippi, some have suggested it was the location for Jesus’ transfiguration, which Mark 9:2 locates on a “high mountain.”

Worship of God is a critical dimension of both Testaments. One might argue that it is the very goal for which Israel and the church were formed.

Terminology

Our understanding of worship is informed by the terms, practices, exhortations, and warnings of Scripture. The worship vocabulary in both Testaments provides insight into the personal dispositions and posture associated with worship focused on the person of God. The first set of biblical terms concerns the posture of the worshiper. The Hebrew terminology communicates the idea of bowing down and falling prostrate before the sovereign and worthy God (Ps. 95:6; 1 Chron. 29:20). NT words bear a similar idea of humble acknowledgment of God’s authority with a reverent prostrate position (Matt. 28:9; Rev. 5:14).

The second set of worship terms concerns service. In the OT, the worship of God includes the idea of serving with a view to bringing honor to him (Exod. 3:12; Mal. 3:14, 18). In the NT, worship bears the nuance of serving in the sense of carrying out religious duties (Heb. 12:28). This set of terminology has a priestly connotation to it. The OT priests and the NT believers (1 Pet. 2:5) serve God with their individual lives and their routines of life as acceptable offerings.

The final set of terms describes the attitude or disposition of worship. This word group includes terms such as “fear,” “awe,” and “dread,” which initially seem out of place in the context of worship. However, the terminology serves to inculcate an attitude of genuine respect. Yahweh is the awesome God, who is to be feared (Exod. 3:6; 15:11). Israel is to love and trust who God is and what God says in promise or in warning. The fear that one is to have for God involves a respect for him, a reverence for his divine worth (Col. 3:22; Rev. 11:18).

God as the Object of Worship

The worship terminology sets the focus of worship. The living God is the sole object of worship. He delights in the satisfying joy that his children find in him. The nature of worship is not about servant entertainment or passive observation; it is an active acknowledgment of God’s worth in a variety of humble ways.

A genuine selfless focus on the person and work of God brings about a humble response that affects one’s posture, generates works of service, and stirs up a healthy attitude of fear and respect. Knowledge of God is the foundational element in worship. God is worshiped for who he is and what he does. He is the Eternal One (Ps. 90:1; 1 Tim. 1:17), unique in every way (Isa. 44:8); he is God alone (Deut. 6:4). He is distinguished by his self-existence, the self-reliant quality of his life (Exod. 3:14; Deut. 32:30). The psalmist calls God’s people to shout joyfully to their good, loving, eternal, and faithful Creator (Ps. 100).

God is worshiped as the Creator of all life. This magnificent creative work of God, declared in the opening of Genesis, is a critical focus in worship (Ps. 95:6; Rom. 1:25; Rev. 4:11). Along with this is the companion declaration that God is the redeemer. The redemptive work of God is celebrated in the Song of Moses (Exod. 15:1–18) and in the Song of the Redeemed (Rev. 14:3).

Worship is also associated with the royal aspects of God’s character. It was the desire of the magi to find Jesus the king and worship him (Matt. 2:1–2). The final scenes of history will be characterized by humble submission to and worship of the King of kings (1 Tim. 6:15; Rev. 17:14; 19:16; cf. Rev. 15:3–4). The psalms often draw the reader’s attention to God’s royal character as a basis for worship (Pss. 45:11; 98:6).

Finally, God is worshiped as the Lord of his covenant relationship with the nation of Israel. This covenant theme and metaphor summarize the varied aspects of God’s character and his relationship with Israel. The God who brought Israel into a covenant relationship is to be sincerely and exclusively worshiped (2 Kings 17:35, 38; cf. Deut. 31:20). These confessional statements about the character of God are a glorious weight that moves believers to prostrate themselves, to have an attitude of awe and respect, and to obediently serve.

The Form of Worship

Although the form of worship looks different in each Testament, the essential elements of worship are constant. In the OT, the priests primarily led the worship of God. In addition, the duties of the king (Deut. 17:18–20) and of the prophet (18:14–22) had worship implications and responsibilities. Ideally, these three administrators were to work together to ensure a healthy quality of covenant life for the nation. Worship in both Testaments has both corporate and individual aspects.

OT worship was organized around sacred places such as designated locations (Gen. 3:8; 12:7), the tabernacle (Exod. 29:42), and the temple (1 Kings 8; cf. Rev. 21–22). In addition, there were sacred times in the calendar of Israel for celebration of the appointed feasts (Lev. 23). The three main feasts in Israel’s calendar are Unleavened Bread, Weeks, and Tabernacles (Deut. 16:16; cf. Exod. 34:23). The sacred actions of worship for the nation involved burnt offerings, meal or tribute offerings, peace offerings, sin offerings, and guilt offerings (Lev. 1–5).

The regulation and routine of OT worship never were intended to be merely dutiful. The routine of worship was to manifest a love for God and for the covenant community (Deut. 6:1–5; Mal. 2:10). The prophets often challenged Israel to have a heart for God and at times called upon them to consider the emptiness of their worship routine (Isa. 1:11). The heart of worship was nurtured in psalms of praise and lament and in the call to remember God (Pss. 42; 77:11).

The form of NT worship is not distinguished with the same externals as in the OT. However, similar core beliefs underlie the form and practice of NT worship. The distinguishing feature in this new era is the final and sufficient work of Christ (Heb. 9–10). As with previous revelation, worship is not anthropocentric; it is joyfully Christocentric, based on the gospel (1 Cor. 15:1–5). Christ and his work replace the OT temple. Jesus is the greater temple that has come (Matt. 12:6). Sacrifice is no longer limited to any particular geographic location, but instead involves the offering of oneself (Rom. 12:1–2) along with the presentation of spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God (1 Pet. 2:4–5). NT worship is regulated by the Spirit and truth (John 4:20–24). This type of worship is distinguished by the word of God, the Spirit, preaching, prayer, Spirit-filled service, and mutual edification. NT worship also includes the regular celebration of the ordinances of baptism and the Lord’s Supper (Acts 2:42–47) within the context of the local church.