We’re going to look at Psalm 148 this morning. The last few Psalms are like a climax to the entire collection. At the end, it all erupts in songs of praise to God. It’s a joyful, upbeat way to end what is a very diverse collection. I’m sure many of us have seen Handel’s Messiah. If so, you’ll know that it climaxes in the Hallelujah Chorus. Well, think of Psalm 148 and the psalms surrounding it as the Hallelujah Chorus of the Bible.
Before we dive into Psalm 148, let me just say a few brief comments about Psalms.
- Psalms are like hymns or religious poems. They were written for public worship, in much the same way our hymns were written. But some of them are quite intimate and personal and vulnerable, much more so than our hymns.
- More than anything, the psalms are honest about what it’s like to be a human being in relationship to God. Within the Psalter, you’ll find the entire range of human experience—happiness and joy, pain and sorrow, depression and fear, hope and wonder, anger and vengeance. It’s all there, which tells me that anything we feel or think or experience is welcome at the throne of grace. You don’t have to tidy yourself up before coming to God—just come. If you got out of bed today in a bad space, there’s a psalm for you. If you are feeling happy and hopeful, there’s a psalm for that too (today’s psalm is of the second variety, but don’t let that put you off if you’re feeling otherwise).
- The Psalms are meant to be a regular companion in our Christian life, which is why we Anglicans read one every week. If you want to do more than that, the prayer book arranges them so that you can read through them all in a month.
With that in mind, let’s have a look at Psalm 148.
As I said, this is a praise song. I don’t know who wrote it, but it was obviously written by someone in awe of the beauty and wonder and order of this great universe that God has made.
The psalmist imagines a two-story universe. The top level is the heavens; the bottom level is the earth. The heavens and the earth. The psalm is about everything in those two levels praising God.
He starts with the exclamation “Praise the Lord!” (Hebrew is Hallelujah).
Then he describes the top level—the heavens—praising God. This is the level where angels and supernatural beings live. This is also the level where the sun and moon and stars live. And the “highest heavens” and the waters above the heavens (this may strike us as puzzling, but before the advent of modern science people generally assumed there was a dome above the sky that held back water. Occasionally it would open and there would be rain. Even though we know differently know, you could see how that would make sense).
Then the psalmist gives the reason why all these cosmic things are praising the creator—because God brought them all into being by his word. And God’s Word holds them in being and sustains them at every moment. In other words, there is a good reason for everything praising God—because everything is utterly dependent on God! If God didn’t exist, nothing else would exist either. Everything is held in existence by God’s great love.
And so everything at the top level—the cosmic level—is praising God. God is greater than angels and supernatural beings and stars and planets, and all these things praise the one who created them.
Then we move from the heavens to the second level, the earth. And here we’re on more familiar ground. Everything down here praises God too. We have the waters and the mysterious creatures who live in them, we have the elements (fire, hail, snow, rain, winds), mountains, trees, land animals, birds. All these things are praising the Creator.
And then it moves to human life, starting with the most powerful. Kings and princes are praising God too. So are young men and women, and so are old people and children. All the people of the earth are praising God.
And again the psalmist gives a reason—God’s name is greater than any name. No other god can pull this off! An orderly universe, all brought into being by his word.
Not only that, but God has also entered history by choosing Israel as the vehicle for salvation. This is something new—the King of the universe coming to us and choosing to bring healing to the wounds we’ve inflicted on the world. The King of the universe wants a relationship with his creation. This is good news!
Now I want to ask what seems to be an obvious question: In what way are all these different things “praising” God? We might think of praise as saying prayers, or singing hymns, or going to church. Obviously stars and cows aren’t doing that, and honestly most human beings aren’t doing that either. But this Psalm says they’re all praising God—in what way are they praising God?
Well, they’re praising God by simply being what they were created to be. Let me use an example: Most of you either have an iPhone or have seen one. The iPhone is a remarkable device—it can make phone calls, send text messages, send and receive email, take pictures, play music, monitor your health, not to mention run increasingly sophisticated applications. And that’s all a tribute to the vision and ingenuity of Apple, the company that designs and creates the iPhone. Every time an iPhone does what it was created to do, it is—in a sense—praising the work of Apple, which is it say it is bringing honor and appreciation and—yes—glory to the people who created it.
The Psalm envisions something like that going on. Whenever something does what it was created to do—angels doing their heavenly duties, the Sun burning and giving light, clouds sending down rain and snow, birds building nests, kings ruling their kingdoms, and children playing and daydreaming—whenever any of that happens it brings honor and appreciation and glory to the one who created it all. Simply by being what it was created to be, it is—in a sense—“praising” the one who designed and created it.
Now what’s interesting to me about all the things that are listed is the unique place occupied by human beings. Of all the things God has created (angels excluded), only human beings have what we might call an advanced level of consciousness, which is to say that we’re self-aware. Only human beings ask questions about what is true and good and beautiful; only human beings wonder about God and what they should do with their life. Only human beings wonder about things like sin and grace and eternal life. As far as I know, cows don’t ask those questions, and I’m reasonably certain planets don’t either (I’m sure angels do, but I can’t say for sure since I’ve never met one).
It seems to me that human beings have the capacity to praise God in a different way than planets and cows and clouds do. Planets and cows and clouds can praise God simply by existing and doing what they were created to do. Human beings were created for more than that. We have the capacity to praise God in a much more intentional way than the rest of creation. Irenaeus—a bishop in the second century—said “the glory of God is a human being fully alive.” You could spend a lifetime pondering that, but at the very least it suggests that we have a special place in God’s plan. At the very least, the praise we can offer is unique.
In what way is our praise unique?
Well, for one thing, we can talk to God. We call that prayer, but it is simply speaking to the one who created us. We are invited and encouraged and welcomed to do that. This presumes a level of intimacy that cows and planets don’t have.
We are also invited to think about God and use the minds he has given us. Earlier I pointed out that the Psalmist gives reasons for praising God—namely that he created by his word, and that he is working good things in the lives of his people. See, the Bible assumes that religious belief is a reasonable thing. There are good reasons to believe in God, and there are good reasons to organize your life around belief in God.
That’s another sermon, but suffice it to say that Christians are not simply aiming in the dark. Our faith is rational. We’re not shutting our minds off. Quite the opposite, in fact: our minds are broadened even more so by our faith. Pope Benedict XVI used to say that being a Christian opens your mind to what he called “the grandeur of reason.” Rather than being anti-reason, Christianity invites us to a broader and deeper reason.
But it isn’t simply rational, is it? It’s profoundly relational. We think of belief as something intellectual, as if it’s only something our minds do. Belief just means trust. To believe in God is to trust God. Believers are people who put their confidence in God. You will never have God fit into your mind (our minds are much too small for that), but we can put our confidence in God, and trust that he’s on our side and working for our good. If that’s what we hang our hat on, it’s enough.
All of this invites us to live in the present, which is where we’ll find God. We don’t need to look back in regret or nostalgia. God is ready to meet us right here and right now. And the psalmist assumes we only need to look around us and we’ll see obvious signs of God’s presence.
But trust in God also has a future element, doesn’t it? And our reading today from Revelation points us ahead to that glorious future. I’ll read a part of it:
(This is John the Seer describing his vision)
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw a holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with human beings. God will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, no pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. And he who was seated on the throne said “Behold, I am making all things new.” …And he said “I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of water of life without payment.”
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,
“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”
And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.” (Rev. 21:1-5a, 6)
See, I think the Psalmist is right. The heavens and the earth express how wonderful God is, and in fulfilling their nature they are praising God. But the psalmist did not mention that the world is bent by sin, and that what we need most of all is not an orderly universe but a loving Savior, one who comes to us and teaches us and dies for us. One who—to use the language of Revelation—brings heaven to earth for us.
So, yes, look out at the world and see God’s hand. See God’s love and order and design. All of that is good and true. But also see the one who died to bring heaven to you—Jesus the Christ—because it’s his name you’ll remember when tears are wiped from your eyes and death is vanquished.
