Psalms 146 to 150 constitute, as we mentioned in chapter 13, a third Hallel, recited by the Jews in the morning. Their message is not very different from that of Psalms 113 to 118 and Psalm 136, yet somehow their impact is more immediate, more pertinent for our present situation. While God's help to his people Israel in the past is not overlooked, it is his eternal presence in the fleeting life of the world that is especially celebrated. One can almost see the person, freshly awake from a good night's sleep, exulting in the promise of a new day's experience.
Psalm 146 praises God for all he does at any time:
As long as I live I shall praise the Lord;
I shall sing psalms to my God all my life long.
Put no trust in princes or in any mortal,
for they have no power to save.
Indeed they are mere mortals, and their plans, exalted though they may be, do not survive their own transience. It may well be that someone else takes over the project, but its subsequent shape will be very different from that envisaged by its initiator. When we consider the amazing history of the Church in respect of the life and teaching of its Founder, we may well wonder at the spiritual impotence of human endeavour, so often corrupted by avarice and the lust for power. But even in its moral extremity God has been with her, for his Spirit sustains her integrity, sometimes in the face of an intransigent hierarchy.
The writer goes on to extol the unique power of God, our only true hope and helper, who not only is the supreme Creator but also stoops to deal out justice to the oppressed, feed the hungry, restore sight to the blind, and raise the bent and humiliated. He supports all those who are weak: the stranger, the fatherless and the widow, while thwarting the course of the wicked. How, it may well be asked, does the Lord perform these various works of goodness? It is through the agency of humans that charity flows. It is especially the prerogative of the Messiah to undertake these great works: Isaiah 11:1-9 and 61:1-3 (quoted in Luke 4:18-19 in respect of Christ's mission) are key texts. But through the divine indwelling of the Holy Spirit we too are expected to carry on the work of God. The ethical psalms, such as 15, 24 and 101, stress the negative side of this commitment: that we should neither do nor countenance any base action. The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats (Matt. 25:31-46) points to the positive requirements already defined in Psalm 146. We must feed the hungry, give drink to those who thirst, house the stranger, clothe the naked, help the sick and visit the prisoner. The reason is that God in Christ is immanent in all human souls, even if the perverted will refuses to acknowledge him and proceeds in its own destructive way. But a time of reckoning will come, as it did to the Prodigal Son, and then a firm decision will have to be made. We may hope that all of us will return to the Father, as he did in the famous parable (Luke 15:11-32). The divine forgiveness does not harden, but the human arrogance may persist indefinitely. Pride is indeed the foremost of the seven deadly sins.
Psalm 147 is particularly delightful, juxtaposing God's mighty creative acts, which never come to an end since the present disposition of the elements is part of the ongoing creation of the universe, with his fatherly care for his people:
It is he who heals the broken in spirit
and binds up their wounds,
who numbers the stars one by one
and calls each by name . . .
The Lord gives support to the humble
and brings evildoers to the ground.
The description of God's creation is especially fine, reminding us of Psalm 104 in its vivid evocation of the natural scene:
He veils the sky in clouds
and provides rain for the earth;
he clothes the hills with grass.
He gives food to the cattle
and to the ravens when they cry.
Yet God is not impressed with the horse's strength or the runner's speed; what he desires is the fear (which is best understood as respect) of his rational creatures who wait for his steadfast love. This respect shows itself in a sense of awesome responsibility as we in turn play our part in assisting God's unceasing activity. We do this both by conserving the present structure and by being open to new directives of the Holy Spirit. It is thus that human creativity finds its natural fulfilment.
He sends his command over the earth,
and his word runs swiftly.
He showers down snow, white as wool,
and sprinkles hoar-frost like ashes;
he scatters crystals of ice like crumbs;
he sends the cold, and the water stands frozen.
This fine description of the cold reminds us of a somewhat similar revelation of God's creative power to Job near the beginning of the great theophany (the appearance of God to man) that forms the peak of that great Wisdom book (Job 37:10 and 38:22).
The psalm concludes with a touching reminder of Israel's election:
To Jacob he reveals his word,
his statutes and decrees to Israel;
he has not done this for other nations,
nor were his decrees made known to them.
St Paul would reply that in Christ a universal knowledge of God's love and wisdom has become available to gentile as well as Jew, but in fact much spiritual spadework still needs to be done before the depth of this knowledge will become accessible to all people. It seems as if a Job type of experience is still necessary to open human eyes to the spiritual foundation of the world.
Psalm 148 is a cosmic hymn of praise:
Praise the Lord from the heavens;
praise him in the heights above.
Praise him, all his angels;
praise him, all his hosts.
All the supramundane creation is summoned to praise God, for he is their eternal Creator. And so all the earth's creatures are called to praise God also, sea monsters and ocean depths, fire and hail, snow and ice and gales of wind. Then follow the earthly inhabitants, animals of various kinds, kings and commoners, princes and rulers, boys and girls, old and young. All are summoned to praise the name of the Lord, whose name is high above all others, and whose majesty extends beyond the created universe. As in Psalm 147, there is a final allusion to Israel's special position with God;
He has exalted his people in the pride of power
and crowned with praise his loyal servants,
Israel, a people close to him.
Psalm 149 has a national theme. The Israelites' privilege is celebrated: they are to be the instrument of God's justice against the pagan nations, looking towards the latter days of mankind. This eschatology, the doctrine of the last things, is prominent in the prophetic writings, especially those of Ezekiel, and is the great theme of the latter part of the Book of Daniel. This finds its New Testament counterpart in the Revelation of John which concludes the Bible. The people of Israel are called on to rejoice in God their maker, to praise his name (which means his nature, for the Lord can have no tangible name that may be misused by thoughtless humans) in dancing and song. God accepts his people, and crowns the lowly with victory. The psalm ends on a belligerent note: the people carry a two-edged sword to wreak vengeance on the nations, so carrying out the judgement decreed against them. This is the glory for all God's loyal servants.
In a strange way this does seem to have been the destiny of the Jews, although their witness to the truth has been one of suffering and martyrdom rather than the military power envisaged in the psalm. Though they have been driven from pillar to post, expelled from one country after another in their chequered history since the destruction of the Temple in AD 70, they have survived as a small but spiritually vital witness, while their various persecutors lie dead in the dust of history.
Psalm 150 is a final chorus of praise, the zenith of the gradually mounting climax building up in its four predecessors. God is to be praised in his holy place and in the vault of heaven, he is to be praised for his acts of power and his immeasurable greatness. Every musical instrument is to take part in this mighty chorus of praise: fanfares on the trumpet, on harp and lyre, with tambourines and dancing, with flute and strings, and with clashing cymbals.
Let everything that has breath praise the Lord!
So ends this elaborate doxology, the liturgical formula of praise to God.
The joy of sheer living is, of course, expressed in many less emotionally charged psalms. Psalm 23 delights in God's abundant providence as we live soberly and do our work diligently: the Lord is our shepherd, and in him we lack for nothing. The images of green pastures in which to lie down, and water in which to rest impart trust and warmth as we proceed onwards in a world that is by no means encouraging to spiritual aspiration. Even the thought of travelling through a dark valley causes little disturbance when we know that God, with his shepherd's staff and crook, is near us. Though we may be of small consequence in the world's eyes, we are important to our Creator, who protects each of us at all times, possibly by the mediation of a special guardian angel.
Psalm 49 shows us where true joy is to be found:
Why should I be afraid in evil times
when beset by the wickedness of treacherous foes,
trusting in their wealth
and boasting of their great riches?
The writer reminds us that no one could ever ransom himself nor pay God the price of his release, for the ransom would be too high. We all share a common destiny, death and oblivion, at least from the memories of all those apart from our loved ones. All we once had falls into other people's hands, a theme we have considered in a slightly different context on page 111. The Psalmist uses an ironical dictum both in the middle of the psalm and at its end:
For human beings like oxen are short-lived;
they are like beasts whose lives are cut short.
Such is the fate of the fool who depends on material support. He will die like those before him, and be swallowed up in the sea of oblivion.
But God will ransom my life
and take me from the power of Sheol.
And so we are not to envy the selfish, affluent person whose end is lamentable no matter how well he may live at present. In God alone is joy, and in his service is that real freedom to give of ourself unashamedly for the benefit of our fellow creatures. In the end this is the only joy, for its end product is a transformed world. As Jesus put it in the story of Zacchaeus, the very rich superintendent of taxes who was converted to honest living, "Today salvation has come to this house - for this man too is a son of Abraham. The Son of Man has come to seek and to save what is lost" (Luke 19:9-10). The joy of the father of the Prodigal Son, pacifying the virtuous older brother, when the scapegrace returns, has a similar ring: "How could we fail to celebrate this happy day? Your brother here was dead and has come back to life; he was lost and has been found" (Luke 15:32).