When God’s People Sing Their Greatest Hits
What’s Psalm 135 about?
This is Israel’s ultimate worship playlist – a remix of their greatest spiritual hits that celebrates God’s supremacy over dead idols and living nations. It’s part victory song, part theology lesson, and completely designed to get stuck in your head.
The Full Context
Psalm 135 sits right in the heart of what scholars call the “Hallel Psalms” – a collection of praise songs that were sung during major Jewish festivals. Written during or after the Babylonian exile, this psalm serves as a powerful reminder to a community that had seen their world turned upside down. When everything familiar had been stripped away – temple, land, independence – they needed to remember who their God really was.
The psalmist (likely a Levite or temple musician) crafted this as what we might call a “compilation album” – weaving together phrases and themes from earlier scriptures like a master DJ mixing tracks. But this isn’t lazy songwriting; it’s brilliant theology. By echoing the language of Deuteronomy 7:6, Exodus 15, and other foundational texts, the psalm creates a sonic bridge between past victories and present struggles. It’s designed to be sung antiphonally – with different groups responding to each other – creating a communal experience where individual doubt gets swallowed up in collective faith.
What the Ancient Words Tell Us
The psalm opens with halleluyah – literally “praise Yah!” – but notice how it immediately gets specific. The Hebrew word tov (good) in verse 3 isn’t just “nice” – it’s the same word used in Genesis 1 when God looks at creation and declares it “very good.” When Israel sings God’s praise, they’re tapping into the fundamental goodness that underlies all reality.
Grammar Geeks
The phrase “chosen Jacob for himself” uses the Hebrew verb bachar, which implies careful selection after examination – like a jeweler choosing the perfect stone. This isn’t arbitrary favoritism; it’s deliberate, purposeful choosing.
But here’s where it gets interesting – verse 5 uses gadol (great) to describe God, then immediately contrasts this with the elohim (gods) of other nations. The psalmist isn’t denying these other spiritual forces exist; he’s saying they’re simply not in the same league. It’s like comparing a symphony orchestra to a kazoo band.
The verb asah (made/did) appears repeatedly throughout the psalm, creating a drumbeat of divine activity. Unlike the static idols described later, Israel’s God is constantly asah – making, doing, acting. The grammar itself pulses with life and movement.
What Would the Original Audience Have Heard?
Picture this: You’re a Jewish exile who’s spent decades in Babylon, surrounded by massive ziggurats and golden statues that seem to declare the superiority of Marduk and Nebo. Your children are starting to speak Akkadian better than Hebrew. Some of your neighbors have stopped observing Sabbath altogether – what’s the point when the temple lies in ruins?
Then someone starts singing Psalm 135, and suddenly you’re hearing echoes of Deuteronomy 4:28 – Moses’ ancient warning about idols. The congregation responds with verses about Egypt and the Exodus, and you remember that your God has a track record of bringing his people out of impossible situations.
Did You Know?
The phrase “struck down many nations” in verse 10 would have resonated powerfully with exiles who had witnessed Babylon’s seemingly unstoppable military machine. It’s a reminder that the same God who defeated Egypt’s chariots could handle Nebuchadnezzar’s armies.
When they reached the section about lifeless idols (verses 15-18), the irony would have been palpable. Here they were, surrounded by Babylon’s magnificent temples, singing about gods with “mouths that cannot speak” and “eyes that cannot see.” It’s spiritual satire at its finest – mocking the very powers that seemed to have conquered them.
Wrestling with the Text
Here’s something that might bother modern readers: Why does this psalm seem to celebrate military conquest so enthusiastically? Verses 10-12 aren’t exactly gentle, talking about striking down nations and killing kings.
But remember the context. This isn’t bloodthirsty triumphalism – it’s trauma survivors reclaiming their story. The Israelites had been on the receiving end of conquest and exile. They’d watched their own kings killed and their own nation struck down. When they sing about God’s victories over “Sihon king of the Amorites and Og king of Bashan,” they’re not celebrating violence for its own sake; they’re remembering that their God has the power to reverse seemingly hopeless situations.
Wait, That’s Strange…
Notice how the psalm jumps from creation (verse 6-7) straight to military conquest (verses 8-12) without any transition. This isn’t sloppy editing – it’s deliberate theology. The same power that controls weather and water can reshape the political landscape.
The real wrestling happens in the idol section. It’s easy to mock ancient people for bowing to “silver and gold” statues, but what are our modern equivalents? What do we trust in that has “mouths but cannot speak” when crisis hits – our bank accounts, our technology, our political systems?
How This Changes Everything
This psalm does something remarkable: it turns worship into resistance. When the Israelites sang these words in exile, they weren’t just being nostalgic about the good old days. They were making a subversive political statement – declaring that despite appearances, their God remained supreme over all earthly powers.
The structure itself tells the story. It moves from praise (1-4) to theology (5-14) to mockery (15-18) and back to praise (19-21). It’s a complete worldview in song form, designed to reshape how you see reality.
“When you can sing about your God’s supremacy while living under foreign rule, you’ve discovered something more powerful than any army.”
The repetitive nature isn’t accidental either. Ancient peoples understood that truth gets embedded through repetition, rhythm, and communal singing. This psalm was designed to get so deep into your bones that you’d find yourself humming it during the darkest moments.
Key Takeaway
True worship isn’t just about feeling good – it’s about getting your perspective right. When life makes God seem small and problems seem insurmountable, sometimes you need to sing until your heart catches up with your theology.
Further Reading
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