Study Material Psalm 16
Psalm 16: You Are My Lord
Psalm 16 is a song of trust and confession of faith. Although the opening phrase is reminiscent of the appeals that often begin prayers for help, the appeal functions here as a confession of trust rather than as a literal appeal. The sense of trust and confession continues through the poem, especially in vv. 4 (in which the psalmist rejects false ways), 5–6 (in which the psalmist testifies to blessings received), and 10–11 (in which the psalmist expresses confidence in God’s continued guidance). The identity of the psalmist is widely debated, but based on a number of terms that are closely related to the Levitical priesthood (see below), the interpretation here views the psalmist as a priest. Although some scholars prefer to understand the psalmist more generally (seeing the references to sacrificial elements as representing the gifts of the pilgrim one supposes),3 the comparatively higher literacy rate among priests is a further argument in support of interpreting the psalmist as a priest. No firm setting can be established. The opening confession of the Lord as refuge (cf. 7:1; 11:1; 25:20; 31:1; 71:1; 141:8; 144:2) is a general confession of faith rather than a specific appeal for asylum. The interpretation of the speaker as a priest as well as the references to both rituals (v. 4) and God’s presence (v. 11) lead one to identify the psalm with the temple (or at least with a cultic site; Gary Rendsburg’s view that the psalm has northern origins would rule out a narrow identification with the temple).
The structure of the psalm is fairly straightforward, being built upon short stanzas mainly of two verses each:
St. 1 Opening statement of faith in the Lord (vv. 1–2)
St. 2 Description of those with whom the psalmist does and does not identify (vv. 3–4)
St. 3 Testimony of blessing (vv. 5–6)
St. 4 Hymnlike section of praise (vv. 7–8)
St. 5 Closing stanza of trust (vv. 9–11)
A Davidic miktam.
1 Keep me, O God, for I take refuge in you.
2 I say to the LORD, “You are my lord,
my welfare indeed is in you.”
3 Regarding the holy ones, those who are in the land.
They are my mighty ones, all my delight is in them.
4 They have multiplied their sorrows, they have hurried after another (god).
I will not pour out their drink offerings of blood,
and I will not take their names upon my lips.
5 O LORD, my assigned portion and my cup,
you hold my lot.
6 The boundaries have fallen for me pleasantly.
Indeed, my inheritance is pleasing.
7 I bless the LORD, who counsels me;
even at night my conscience chastens me.
8 I keep the LORD before me continually,
because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.
9 Therefore, my heart is glad and my glory rejoices,
even my body dwells securely.
10 For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
you will not allow your faithful one to see the pit.
11 You show me the path of life.
In your presence there is complete gladness,
everlasting pleasures at your right hand.
1–2 As noted above, the opening appeal functions here as a confession of trust in God’s providential guidance, rather than as an appeal for God to intervene. The request keep me (šāmerēnî) does not reflect a specific life situation or speaker, but rather indicates God’s more general protecting guidance (cf. Pss. 17:8; 121:3–8; 140:4; 141:9; Gen. 28:15, etc.). Paradoxically, when paired with the concept of God as refuge (cf. 7:1; 11:1; 25:20; 31:1; 61:4; 71:1; 141:8; 144:2, etc.), the image of God as keeper projects the promise of God’s guiding and protecting power extending far beyond the temple compound. Because one’s refuge is the omnipresent God (rather than a literal, physical fortress or stronghold), the shadow of God’s protection extends over one no matter where the road of life leads (121:3–8; 139:7–12). The twin concepts of keeping and refuge, furthermore, suggest the looming presence of a genuine threat to the psalmist and/or her community. This looming threat is a characteristic element of the psalm of trust—it is precisely the presence of the threat that makes a confession of trust meaningful (see the dark valley of Psalm 23, the encamped armies of Psalm 27, or the tumultuous sea of Psalm 46).
The confession I say to the LORD, “You are my lord” (cf. 31:14; 140:6; cf. 142:5) is an emphatic confession of faith, which goes one step beyond the common confession, “You are my God/lord” (cf. 22:10; 25:5; 43:2; 63:1; 86:2, 5, 15; 118:28). The emphatic element especially sets off the psalmist’s confession as opposed to those who surround the psalmist, who do not share in this confession. This emphatic confession of faith is further accented in the second phrase of v. 2, my welfare indeed is in you. The Hebrew particle bal is interpreted here as a positive emphatic. Others interpret the particle in its negative sense and translate the phrase bal ʿālêḵā as “not apart from you,” and thus “with you alone.” Either way, the psalmist is clearly confessing that she trusts and finds goodness in God alone. As Kraus has aptly commented, “we are to notice and to consider how emphatically the formulation ‘with you alone’ corresponds to the exclusive demand of the First Commandment.” That is, the psalmist not only trusts in the Lord, she trusts in the Lord alone. She spurns the culturally attractive sin of syncretism—worshipping not only the Lord on the Sabbath, but Baal, Asherah, and El on their holy days.
3–4 The interpretation of vv. 3–4 is disputed and, we shall have to admit, even the translation of these verses is less than clear. In v. 3, the primary question revolves around how one should construe the identity of the holy ones (līqeḏôšîm) and mighty ones (ʾaddîrê, as the consonantal text of MT is re-vocalized here). Some modern scholars, such as Clifford and Seybold, follow an older tradition of identifying them as heavenly beings who rebel against the Lord’s counsel: “it is more likely that the holy and mighty ones are gods (as in Ps 89:7 and 1 Sam 4:8) whom the pray-er rejects (as in NAB and NJPS).” But qeḏôšîm seems to carry the positive connotation of those in good favor with the Lord, even where it applies to heavenly beings. And the phrase all my delight is in them is difficult to reconcile with the notion of heavenly beings who rebel against God’s will. It is most likely that the holy ones and mighty ones refer to the company of faithful Yahweh-worshippers with whom the psalmist is in community. Thus, in v. 3 the psalmist names those people with whom a relationship is affirmed, while in v. 4 the psalmist names those people with whom affinity is rejected.
The translation and interpretation of v. 4 are even more disputed than those of v. 3 (see translation notes). The syntax of v. 4a is difficult and likely is disturbed. As the text stands, v. 4 is a tricola, which is slightly out of the pattern for the psalm, so one wonders whether a colon dropped out—especially given that vv. 4b and 4c would form a tightly constructed bicolon—I will not pour out their drink offerings of blood, And I will not take their names upon my lips. But vv. 1–2 and v. 11, respectively, are tricola, so the disturbance is not glaring. Overall, the interpretation offered here is that in v. 4 the psalmist describes either those who worship other gods in addition to the Lord (syncretists) or those who worship other gods exclusively. Such people have multiplied their sorrows, because the petty and tyrannical gods that they worship require disturbing and even violent ritual practices. This is probably what is meant by the drink offerings of blood that the psalmist refuses to pour out. As Psalm 106 describes, “They worshipped their idols [ʿaṣabbêhem; cf. translation note above].… They sacrificed their sons, and their daughters to demons; they shed [poured out] innocent blood” (vv. 36–38). The psalmist refuses to take the names of false gods on his lips and refuses to associate with those who engage in bloody worship practices. (On child sacrifice in Israel, see also Lev. 20:3; 2 Kgs. 16:3; 21:6; Isa. 66:3.) Perhaps the psalmist is distinguishing himself from other priests who are willing to blend worship of the Lord with that of other gods. More likely, the psalmist is completely disassociating himself from those other gods and their worshippers. In spite of the translation difficulties in these verses, the overall impression of the passage is clear. As Clifford writes, “The textually damaged verse 3 is not a major hindrance to understanding the poem. Verses 1–2 and 4 are comprehensible without it: The poet is choosing the Lord and rejecting other gods.”
5–6 The next four verses comprise a stanza of trust and a stanza of praise, both of which function as the psalmist’s confession of faith. In the trust-filled vv. 5–6, the psalmist piles up a series of technical terms that draw one to conclude that the psalmist is a Levitical priest: portion, lot, boundaries, and inheritance describe the distribution of the land among God’s people. The tribe of Levi, notably, was given no land as its inheritance; the tithes and offerings of the land (Lev. 6:16–18) and the Lord (Num. 18:20) are described as their portion (on the distribution of the land, see also Josh. 13:14, 33; 14:4). The term cup symbolizes the abundance of God’s gifts (cf. Ps. 23:5) and also indicates Israel’s ritual thanksgiving celebrations (cf. Ps 116:13). The term makes one think of the ritual duties of a priest, as does the reference in v. 4 to the psalmist refusing to pour out their drink offerings of blood.
The psalmist’s confession of faith is difficult to hear, because of the intervening centuries, which insulate our ears against hearing the psalmist’s voice. Today, land is just one more commodity that is traded. In the ancient world, however, land was the means of generating wealth and the means of sustaining life. To be born into a landless class or caste might have been experienced as something far from a blessing. Ironically and powerfully, then, the psalmist, who has inherited no land and thus no literal boundaries, is able to confess, The boundaries have fallen for me pleasantly. The reason the psalmist can confess this as a blessing is that the Lord, the very God of Israel, is the psalmist’s portion and inheritance. The relationship that the psalmist has with God is the psalmist’s all—the portion, cup, lot, boundary, and inheritance.
7–8 The psalmist continues his confession of faith with a brief stanza of praise. Specifically, the psalmist praises God for God’s counsel. Some have interpreted the term counsel (yāʿaṣ) here as referring to a priestly oracle that the singer of the psalm has received in response to seeking asylum in the temple. But the term can refer either to the plots or plans that one makes (cf. Ps. 83:3–5) or to advice or counsel that one offers (32:8). The psalm later references the path of life (ʾōraḥ ḥayyîm, v. 11), which in Prov. 5:6 and 15:24 refers to the ways in which the wise live and represents the opposite of the path to Sheol. It is best to understand the counsel of Psalm 16 as referring to advice or even laws about how to live. The psalmist praises God because of the experience of having been guided through life by God’s good and gracious law. Without this counsel, the psalmist might have wandered blindly down the path to destruction. The concepts of counsel and conscience go hand-in-hand. By my conscience (kilyôṯāy), literally “my kidneys,” is meant the organ of emotion or feeling. In modern culture, guilt has so often bordered on the narcissistic that the value of discipline and being aware of one’s flaws is obscured. God’s counsel is efficacious when the conscience becomes aware of shortcomings and the sinner is driven to repent by seeking forgiveness and seeking renewal (cf. Deut. 8:5–6).
The assurance that a person shall not be moved (bal ʾemmôṭ) is a statement of confidence that can reflect either positive or negative spiritual orientation, depending on whether the individual is basing this confidence on God (cf. 15:5) or on the self (cf. 30:6). Here, the positive connotation is intended, because the psalmist trusts in the external grace of the Lord, who is before me continually and is at my right hand.
9–11 The psalm crescendos in a fitting stanza of trust. V. 9 sums up the psalmist’s embodiment of the Lord’s salvation. Heart and body (or “flesh,” bāśār) combine to represent the totality of the psalmist’s life. God’s deliverance is not merely an intellectual matter for the mind, or a spiritual matter for faith, but a reality in which the entirety of the self partakes. The terms is glad (gîl) and rejoice (śāmaḥ) form a regular pair (cf. also 31:7; 118:24; note that śāmaḥ also occurs in v. 11). Perhaps the pairing here indicates that the psalmist is singing or intends to sing a formal song of thanksgiving in response to an experience of God’s deliverance. The confession in v. 10 is the negative counterpart to what was confessed in vv. 7–8. God, stated positively, gives the psalmist the counsel and guidance so that the psalmist is secure. God, stated negatively, does not allow the psalmist to go down to Sheol or see the pit.
The psalm ends with a tricolon, just as it opened with one. As mentioned above, the phrase path of life may indicate communion with God in the temple. In support of this, the reference to God’s presence in v. 11b can be taken as a reference to God’s dwelling in the temple. However, the path of life also occurs in Prov. 2:9; 5:6; 10:17; 12:28; and 15:24, so the direct connection with the temple is not necessary. Rather, the role of the priest as a teacher of the people (cf. Hos. 4:4–10) is in mind here. The priest is only able to show the path of life to others because God has first shown and guided the priest along the path to begin with.
Reflections
My Portion and Cup
The countercultural confession of faith and trust that is found in Psalm 16 resonates deeply, precisely because the values that it expresses are so profoundly dissonant with our culture. For one who has been bequeathed no tangible inheritance and been born into no boundaries to confess, nevertheless, that my inheritance is pleasing and the boundaries have fallen for me pleasantly is astonishing, both for the psalm’s rejection of the primary cultural values of wealth and self-sufficiency and in its embrace of the lordship of God and acceptance of God’s promises of guidance and care. The psalmist here grasps firmly onto God’s promises in a way that King Ahaz in Isaiah 7 could not. In that case, the king wanted the promise of assurance from God without the costly necessity of relinquishing personal independence or the insurance policy of relying on the help of Babylon.
The psalmist of Psalm 16, moreover, rejects the syncretistic and worldly values of the gods of Canaan, whose rituals included, according to the Old Testament, such horrendous practices as child sacrifice. To be sure, both the Christian and Jewish faiths that have inherited the promises of the Old Testament have themselves been guilty of horrendous crimes in the name of faith and the name of God. This has been especially the case in the Christian tradition, which has often found itself deeply entangled with political and military leadership. Moreover, there are few or no—thanks be to God—religions today that would actively promote harm to children as a part of ritual adherence (although child abuse in the name of faith is still a global problem, including for Christians). So in order to confess with Psalm 16 that I will not pour out their drink offerings of blood, the modern disciple needs to be able to confess this not merely over against the extinct worship cults of Canaan, but also over against the still extant violent ideologies that constantly spring up in the name of the Lord and in the name of Jesus. Psalm 16 teaches us that to confess that “You are my LORD” one also must be ready to say to anyone who would do violence in the name of keeping God, “No, I will not pour out your drink offerings of blood.”