Preaching and Teaching the Psalms

by James L. Mays. Edited by Patrick D. Miller and Gene M. Tucker

Westminster John Knox, Louisville, 2006. 189 pp. $19.95. ISBN 0-664-23041-5.

NO ONE HAS DONE MORE in the past twenty years to contribute to the use of the Psalms in the church and the academy than James L. Mays. His 1986 Society of Biblical Literature Presidential Address, “The Place of the Torah-Psalms in the Psalter” (JBL 106/1 [1987]:3–12), was part of the impetus and inspiration that led to the formation of a Book of Psalms program unit within the society. And his two 1994 publications, Psalms (Interpretation: A
Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching; John Knox Press) and The Lord Reigns: A Theological Handbook to the Psalms (Westminster John Knox Press), have served (and are still serving) as major resources for both scholars and pastors. In light of these marvelous contributions, scholars and pastors alike might well respond, borrowing the words of the Passover liturgy: dayyenu, “it would have been enough for us.” But thankfully, there is more.

The current volume is a product not only of Mays’ years of studying, teaching, and preaching the psalms as a pastor and professor, but also of a lifetime of reading, meditating upon, praying, and singing the psalms. In short, while Mays has a mastery of the historical-critical body of knowledge that has been accumulated through academic study of Psalms, he constantly has in view what he calls the “pedagogical potential” (p. 82) of every psalm. In fact, as he points out, Psalms “contain more direct statements about God than any other book in the two testaments of the Christian canon” (pp. 69–70). This makes Psalms a primary source for both teaching and preaching. Mays has listened closely and carefully to what the psalms teach us about God, the world, human identity, and the life of faith; and he communicates the messages of Psalms in an eminently clear and accessible way.

The volume is divided into three parts. The first part, “Studying the Psalms,” contains lectures and essays that cover topics such as prayer, creation, the portrayal of God’s reign in the Psalter, and an illuminating assessment of the Preface to Calvin’s Commentary on the Psalms. The second part, “Interpreting the Psalms,” consists of exegetical-expository essays on Pss 8, 22, 23, 51, 103, and 133; and as a group, Pss 82, 24, and 98. The third part, “Preaching the Psalms,” contains Mays’ sermons on Pss 1, 9, 13, 51, 98, 100, and 142. Pastors may find this third section especially instructive. Many pastors have told me something like the following: “I don’t know how to preach on a psalm.” This may not be surprising, given the fact that some biblical scholars and homileticians in recent years have actually advised their students and readers not to preach on the psalms. Their logic is rigidly form-critical— that is, the psalms originated as prayers and songs, so they should continue to be prayed and sung, not preached. Mays knows better! To be sure, he advocates praying and singing the psalms; but he also demonstrates clearly and compellingly why Psalms should be preached. And more than that, his sermons serve as concrete examples of the effectiveness, faithfulness, timeliness, and power of the preaching of the psalms. To put it as plainly as possible, if you don’t know how to preach a psalm, this book will show you how.

Pervading the three sections are several themes that demonstrate Mays’ thoroughly theological approach to the psalms. Indeed, as the editors suggest in their foreword, the volume amounts to “virtually a small biblical theology” (p. viii). Prime among these themes is what Mays calls the “organizing theological metaphor” (p. 71) of the Book of Psalms: the reign of God. His essay, “The God Who Reigns: The Book of Psalms,” is an incisive analysis of this metaphor and its comprehensive significance for the psalter. So is his expository essay, “‘He Comes to Reign:’ Psalms 82, 24, and 98,” that also proves to be particularly timely in view of the current debate in the United States concerning the relationship between religion and politics. While professing his love for and loyalty to this country, Mays also points out that “belief in tribe and self is the oldest form of paganism . . . the human spirit needs a more universal and righteous setting for its consciousness than the nation if it is to be redeemed” (p. 148). This more universal setting is to be found in the proclamation of God’s reign, the existence of which is marked by mercy and justice that serves the purpose of life for all.

Biblically speaking, of course, the identity of God and the identity of humankind are inextricably linked, so much so that Mays aptly and elegantly describes humankind as portrayed in Psalms as “the project of God’s kingdom” (p. 59), or “God’s anthropos project” (p. 67). In short, theological anthropology is another major theme of the volume. Psalm 8 is especially important for this topic, and Mays treats it in two essays, “The Self in the Psalms and the Image of God” and “What is a Human Being? Reflections on Ps 8.” His conclusions in the latter essay again prove to be particularly timely, given the persistence and indeed resurgence of tribalism, nationalism, and racism in our contemporary world. These destructive human realities result from the propensity of human beings and groups to define themselves over against other persons and groups, something which Ps 8 refuses to permit. Rather, it claims that humanity is only properly defined in relationship to God, suggesting thereby that “the God of the universe shepherds us toward the realization of universal ben-adam” (p. 105). There is perhaps no more pressing need in our time than the understanding that humankind is essentially one; and as Mays finally suggests, it is the vocation of God’s particular people to live and thus to model a universal existence, thus communicating that the world belongs to God and not to us, and thus effecting a blessing that encompasses the whole world (p. 106).

We are put in touch with other dimensions of theological anthropology when we observe, as Mays points out, that Ps 8, with its portrayal of the exalted status and vocation of humankind, is surrounded by prayers (Pss 3–7, 9–10) that present humanity as “a fractured and flawed race” (p. 59). The dissonance is overwhelming; and it means that an understanding of humanity is incomplete apart from the realities of fallibility, finitude, and suffering. Mays offers a penetrating analysis of human sinfulness in his essay, “‘...me, a sinner’: Psalm 51.” His sermon, “Language for Lent: Psalm 142,” is an invitation for us to be acutely aware of our finitude, “to discern our true and authentic neediness” (p. 184). And his essay, “Old Testament Prayer, Cry of Jesus, and Christian Prayer: Psalm 22,” along with his sermon, “The Agony and the Ecstasy: Psalm 13,” are eloquent reminders that the psalms unfailingly “hold hurting and faith together” (p. 113). For humanity in general, and more particularly for the life of the faithful, “The agony and the ecstacy belong together as the secret of our identity” (p. 169).

Once again, as Mays explicitly points out, these lessons from Psalms are timely challenges in our time and place. In a culture of entitlement, we desperately need to learn about culpability and accountability; in a materialistic culture that dazzles us with technological marvels and offers seemingly infinite possibilities, we desperately need to learn our limits and be put in touch with our mortality; in a culture where religion is often equated with the power of positive thinking and the promise of endless prosperity, we need to learn that suffering is part of life; and indeed, that suffering for love’s sake is an inevitable component of the vocation of God’s faithful ones. Mays points out the congruence at this point between Psalms and the gospel, noting the use of the lament tradition in the narratives of Jesus’ passion, and even summarizing the lesson of Ps 22 with the conclusion that it “tells us that the resurrection does not cancel the cross” (p. 115).

If sinfulness, neediness, and suffering are the bad news about human identity, the good news is that Psalms invites us to experience the rightness or righteousness of life by entrusting ourselves to God and by living in fundamental dependence upon God’s grace. The frequent psalmic refrain, God’s “steadfast love endures forever” captures “the central truth about” God (p. 74); and even God’s judgment and wrath communicate the good news that God is never content to leave us and our world to our sinful and destructive ways. In a world bent on self-deception and self-destruction, in a world haunted by death and bad news, the truth of the psalms and their gospel of life beg to be taught, preached, and heard. Mays offers us the inspiration and the instruction to pursue this task. Teachers, preachers, and scholars of the church owe him a profound debt of gratitude.

J. Clinton McCann, Jr.
EDEN THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
WEBSTER GROVES, MISSOURI

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God and World in the Old Testament: A Relational Theology of Creation

by Terence E. Fretheim

Abingdon, Nashville, 2005. 398 pp. $29.00. ISBN 0-68734296-1.

At last Professor Fretheim has brought together much of his important work on biblical creation theology. The result is an effective presentation of the major creation themes of the OT. The strength of the volume lies not so much in breaking new ground in the field as in integrating arguments developed over the past eighteen years by this esteemed scholar. For those new to this emerging field of inquiry within biblical scholarship, Fretheim provides nothing less than the most accessible theological primer available on the topic today, one that is keenly attuned to both the theological and ecological implications of the biblical texts.

Bracketed by helpful introductory and concluding chapters, and interspersed with bits of humor, the volume proceeds in proper (Hebraic) canonical order, beginning with Gen 1 and wending its way through most of the Pentateuch, with a particular focus on creation and law. Next is a foray into the prophetic writings, with extended discussions of Jeremiah and Isa 40–55. The wisdom literature follows with a concentration on Prov 8 and Job 38–41. (Scarcely anything is said of Ecclesiastes, however.) The climax of the work, in my opinion, is reached in the treatment of nature’s praise in Psalms, based on Fretheim’s brilliant 1987 essay.

The volume is fundamentally theological in orientation, though issues of history and exegesis play contextual roles. That is to say, Fretheim maintains a resolute focus on God’s role by identifying various images for God, from God as “speaker” and “evaluator” to God as “molder” and “mediator.” Also of primary importance in his treatment is humanity’s vocation in creation, along with the “vocation” of nonhuman creatures. By holding together the theological and ecological poles, Fretheim keeps his sights on the forest without getting lost among the trees. The various biblical texts, thus, are read canonically. Genesis 1:1–2:4a, for example, is read with, rather than in contrast to, 2:4b–3:24. Overall, Fretheim is interested more in the connections than in the distinctions among the various biblical traditions, which occasionally leads him to homogenize texts and lapse into abstractions.

To demonstrate how much creation pervades the OT, Fretheim defines the term as broadly as possible. Not relegated only to absolute beginnings, creation spans all of history, “the beginning and the end of the world and the times in between” (p. 5). He identifies three “interrelated points of reference”: creation as “originating creation,” “continuing creation,” and “completing creation” (pp. 5–9). Traditional roles of God, particularly that of savior and redeemer, are interpreted within such a creational context. To his credit, Fretheim does not collapse these roles into God’s role as creator. He correctly observes that in Second Isaiah redemptive language is used only for Israel, not for the natural order. But salvation and redemption do have their creational purposes, namely, to bring about well-being for Israel, the nations, and all the world.

As the subtitle indicates, Fretheim argues for a “relational model of creation,” one that avoids pitting divine sovereignty against human freedom, or espousing a static view of creation in which everything was created perfectly within the first seven days. (Creation was declared “good” but not perfect, he observes.) Divine sovereignty under such a model is one that “gives power over to the created for the sake of a relationship of integrity” (p. 272). Because Fretheim’s treatment is so vast in its coverage, any summary must be limited to listing some of his more prominent points:

1. “The world of the Hebrew Bible is a spiderweb of a world” (p. 19). That is,
   the interrelatedness of all creatures, human and nonhuman, is a fundamental feature of biblical creation.
   
2. Through free initiative, God has “decisively and irrevocably committed the
   divine self to be in a faithful relationship,” never to be suspended (p. 22).
3. Creation in Gen 1 establishes a “good” world that is far from perfect. A
   perfect world would be static and preclude new creational developments (p. 139 and passim).
4. Cosmic order is bound up with moral order (passim).
5. The pre-Sinai story of Genesis and Exodus gives evidence of “implied law”
   that is creationally based and developmental in nature. Implicit law relies
   as much on human insight as on divine revelation (pp. 97–100).
   
6. Sinai legislation has its roots in the natural order to help ensure “the best
   life possible” (p. 154).
7. Israel’s liberation from Egypt stands in the service of the entire creation (p. 110).
8. God is active in creation rather than passively “letting it be.” Ecological
   disasters, such as the Exodus plagues, illustrate the grievous consequences
   of human sin. However, the movement from sin to consequence is no
   mechanical process. The moral order is constituted by a “loose causal
   weave” (p. 122).
9. Relatedly, God’s judgment is more a matter of consequence than judicial
   verdict. God mediates or facilitates the move from sin to consequence
   (pp. 163–64).
10. Wisdom in Proverbs is the “glue” that holds everything together, the
    “relational infrastructure” of creation (207–8). She is God’s “cocreator”
    (pp. 213–14).
11. Job’s world is no static, risk-free world. There is chance and wildness as well as stability and order. God’s answer to Job exposes the insufficiency of justice-oriented thinking about our complex world and its suffering (p. 244).
12. Nature’s praise of God as found in Psalms compels human beings to
    ensure that “nature’s praise might show forth with greater clarity” (p. 265).
    “Environmental activity is directly related to the praise possibilities of
    nature” (p. 284).
13. Both the human and the nonhuman share in an “interdependent mutuality of vocation” (p. 275).

These points do not do justice to, much less exhaust, the depth of theological inquiry Fretheim brings to the biblical text.

Fretheim’s monumental work, however, raises some concerns, particularly in the way he develops his arguments. While standing firmly on the shoulders of many interpreters who have seriously wrestled with creation themes in Scripture (e.g., Westermann, Knierim, Schmid, Simkins, Brown), Fretheim does not hesitate to step on their toes, sometimes unnecessarily by overstating their observations. Case in point: he associates W. P. Brown with the traditional demonic portrayal of the snake in the garden, whereas Brown, if I understand him correctly, simply highlights the ambiguity of this serpentine character in view of its exceeding cleverness and association with the wild (Gen 3:1). But the embodiment of evil? Absolutely not. Conversely, Fretheim seems to present a rather naïvely “neutral” portrayal of the serpent.

Amid the diversity of divine roles identified by Fretheim (and there are others not mentioned), there is one in particular that Fretheim takes issue with, namely, “God as King” in Gen 1 (pp. 46–48). For him such an image implies a micromanagement of creation. But this is at best a caricature, and an unhelpful one at that. Texts, such as Gen 1, Ps 8, and Second Isaiah, that in Fretheim’s words “democratize” royal imagery (“communalize” would be a more appropriate term) are read as subversive texts. Perhaps such texts did function in such a way socio-historically, but theologically such a transformation of royal ideology can be seen as more organic than polemical—kingship language is extended in new, life-inclusive ways. The ideal of the king was to ensure the well-being of his land, take responsibility for it, and, in so doing, delegate some of the responsibility to others (see the royal roles given to the sun and moon in Gen 1:18). Fretheim dismisses the royal background of God-talk in Genesis, though it might have helped his case to note that the language of humanity created “in the image of God” (Gen 1:27) exhibits more of a cultic than royal basis.

There are other places where Fretheim overstates his case (his arguments for the traditional translation of Prov 8:30 are particularly tenuous), but such objections are more exegetical than theological quibbles. The success of this volume lies in Fretheim’s keen ability to sustain a conversation about creation’s place both in “biblical theology” and in our lives as inhabitants of God’s green earth. Fretheim’s magnum opus is an essential study text for all who share an interest in Bible and ecology and want to learn more, indeed, want to be inspired to do more.

William P. Brown
COLUMBIA THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY
DECATUR, GEORGIA

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