Stillness and salvation: Reading Psalm 46 in its context

Abstract

A society is significantly shaped by the myths it perpetuates. These myths serve as lenses for how its people see and make sense of the world around them. Myths, particularly origin myths like Enuma Elish, offer a perspective on the world that legitimates the way a society structures itself and responds to crisis, as opposing forces threaten to undermine its conception of order. This essay proposes to read Psalm 46 against the backdrop of Israel’s own origin myths which undergird and shape their own conceptions of order and in Psalm 46 are called to mind to bolster hope in the midst of crisis. This is argued on the basis of numerous literary parallels with the so-called ‘Song of the Sea’ in Exodus and the creation accounts in Genesis. In addition, parallels with First Isaiah suggest the likelihood of Sennacherib’s siege of Jerusalem as the crisis to which the psalmist responds.

Introduction

A society is, to a not insignificant degree, shaped by the stories it tells. In and through such stories, its ideologies are given expression and a perspective is proffered that serves to provide a way of explaining the world they inhabit. This can be seen particularly in the group’s origin myths: stories that tell of how the world as they know it came to be, often through divine action. ‘Myth’ in this sense differs from its popular use as a near synonym for ‘fictitious’ or ‘made up’. On such definitions the value of such stories would seem to lie in their historicity—that is, whether or not the events depicted really took place. The term, however, carries another more fundamental set of connotations. ‘Myth’ refers, loosely, to stories framed in the past tense, shaped by and told with a view to present significance, intended to move their audience to respond appropriately. ¹ As such, the point of myths lies less in their historicity and more in their significance; less in their content and more in their function. As Mary Midgley (2011: 7) explains: ‘Myths are not lies. Nor are they detached stories. They are imaginative patterns, networks of powerful symbols that suggest particular ways of interpreting the world. They shape its meaning’.

This can be seen, for instance, in the neo-Assyrian empire of the 8–7th centuries BCE, for which the creation epic Enuma Elish served a key origin myth. ² In it, Marduk (or Aššur, as Sennacherib would have it) defeated Tiamat—who was representative of chaos—and brought order, for which he was crowned king over the other gods. Yet in referring to this story as a ‘creation epic’ we should not think of it merely as a story of origins; it was also (perhaps more so) a story of legitimation—not just about how things came to be, but about how they came to be the way they are. The story is told as a depiction of the divine realm, which was participated in by humanity. Assyria was a microcosm of the divine kingdom, and their king a counterpart of the deity. With this story as a lens for seeing the world, their conquests were not seen as impositions upon the kingdoms of others but as the fulfilment of a divine calling to overcome chaos and bring the world to order—which simply amounted to bringing it under Assyrian rule. This was simply how things were meant to be, the natural order of things; not just features of the world around them, but the very lenses through which it was perceived. ³

In the present essay I make the case that Psalm 46 offers a response to a particular crisis—which I will argue is most likely to have been Sennacherib’s siege of Jerusalem—that is prominently shaped by Israel’s own origin myths: the Exodus (particularly the so-called ‘Song of the Sea’ in Exod. 15) and, to a lesser degree, the creation and flood accounts in Genesis. Of the Exodus events, Michael Fishbane (1979: 140) writes: ‘The simultaneous capacity of the exodus paradigm to elicit memory and expectation, recollection and anticipation, discloses … its deep embeddedness as a fundamental structure of the biblical historical imagination’. These stories were the myths the Israelites told to reaffirm their identity as the people of God and bolster their hope for deliverance and served as the lenses through which they saw the world. Israel’s God had demonstrated the ability to bring order out of chaos before; surely, in the present crisis, their God could do it again.

All this, of course, assumes that the city in question is in fact Jerusalem. It is worth noting, however, that neither Zion nor Jerusalem is explicitly named in the psalm. ⁴ This, along with the emphasis on the topography presented in the psalm, has led several interpreters to suppose that the psalm is not in fact a ‘Zion psalm’, despite its usual categorization as such, with some suggesting northern provenance—that is, that the psalm might in fact have originated in Dan. Thus, before considering the evidence for the particular political threat addressed as Sennacherib’s siege of Jerusalem, a case will be made for the claim that it is indeed Jerusalem that is depicted in Ps. 46, despite several geographical features that might suggest otherwise.

The geographical context

The psalm’s opening scene is one of cosmic chaos. Oceans surge. Mountains crumble. Landslides threaten to wash their world away. Disasters such as these, alluded to in the first stanza of Ps. 46, were not mere metaphors; they spoke to Israel’s lived experience of the natural world around them. Seasonal rainfall was relied upon in the region for life and agriculture. Such waters were a blessing—‘a delight to the city of God’ (Ps. 46.5). ⁵ But this was a two-edged sword: necessary as it was, when it rained, it poured, resulting in ‘increased runoff, flood, and, consequently, soil erosion’ (Brown, 2002: 105). ⁶ With an opening statement as dramatic as this, it seems reasonable to suppose that the forces of nature and the havoc it can wreak might be the primary concern of the psalmist. ⁷

On these grounds, and particularly with an eye to the topography depicted in the psalm, several interpreters have proposed a Danite provenance, despite its traditional label as a ‘Zion psalm’. ⁸ A key proponent of this view is Michael Goulder (1982: 12–22). ⁹ Concerning the mountain mentioned in the first stanza of the psalm, Mt Zion hardly compares with Mt Hermon, which he considers a more likely referent. Here, the mythical Mt Zaphon, believed to be the dwelling place of Baal in Ugarit, might be in view, a possibility strengthened by possible parallels with Canaanite mythology. ¹⁰ Moreover, while acknowledging that it is disputed, Goulder nevertheless takes reference to God as אלהים‎ to be a distinctly northern tendency. And, while the refrain in Ps. 46 does refer to יהוה צבאות‎ (vv. 8, 12), Goulder suggests that this too is a northern tendency, along with the reference to אלהי יעקב‎, which is ‘linked with the Jacob shrines at Shechem and Bethel’ (1982: 16), again suggesting northern provenance. Of course, the psalm likely came to be used in Jerusalem at a later stage—perhaps after the fall of Dan and Naphtali, when some priests moved down to Tabor (cf. Ps. 89.12)—but was nevertheless Danite in origin.

Though not impossible, Goulder’s reconstruction falters at several points. Firstly, regarding the mountains, whether Zion or Zaphon is in view would seem to be irrelevant: in the first stanza, the mountains are crumbling. I would maintain that Ps. 46 is in fact appropriately numbered among the Zion psalms, but this has to do with identifying the city in v. 5, not measuring the height of the mountains in vv. 2–4. The point, rather, is that even the mountains, emblematic of stability, protection, everlastingness, ¹¹ are unable to withstand the tempest—such is the extent of the chaos. And, of course, the greater the chaos, the greater the god who can offer refuge from it and rescue their people through it (vv. 2–3). Secondly, regarding the way God is referred to, although the titles used here in the psalm might suggest northern provenance, this is by no means sure. ¹²

A potentially more decisive piece of evidence evinced by Goulder, picked up also by Goldingay (2007: 68–69), is the presence of the river in Ps. 46.5: Dan has a river; Jerusalem does not. Again, however, this is not as decisive as it first appears. Firstly, it is noteworthy that the prophets had no qualms about placing a river in Jerusalem (Ezek. 47.1–12; Zech. 14.8). This is strengthened, secondly, by a possible allusion to Gen. 2.10, to which we will return below. ¹³ Thirdly, when read in an Isaianic context, as I will argue for in the next section, another possibility presents itself: Hezekiah’s tunnel. And finally, Goulder once again may be missing the wood for the trees. The point is not necessarily to describe the land exactly as it was but to offer a poetic depiction of a delightful setting, dwelling in security within the city of God. Indeed, gently flowing streams is a common trope in the ancient Near East, much as chaotic waters were. ¹⁴

Finally, it is worth noting that a reading such as Goulder’s in fact fails to reckon with the more prominent foe in the psalm. As in Enuma Elish, the chaotic forces of nature are brought together with and used to explain the chaotic forces of opposing nations. In Ps. 46, Yhwh is a stronghold against flood and storm (vv. 2–4), the ultimate resolution of which is the breaking of bows, spears, and shields, ¹⁵ and bringing wars to an end (v. 10). ¹⁶ Nations rage (חמה‎) and the kingdoms fall (מוט‎, v. 7), as the waters rage and mountains fall (vv. 3–4). And God, a present help (עזרה‎) in the midst of the storm (v. 2), will help (עזר‎) the city under siege (v. 6). ¹⁷

We are thus safe in concluding that the city in v. 5 is indeed Jerusalem. While it should be acknowledged that a Danite provenance is at least possible, it is at least as plausible, perhaps more so, that the psalm originated in Jerusalem, responding to a particular crisis, that of Sennacherib’s siege. In what follows I will argue that numerous connections with First Isaiah make this even more likely.

The historical context

While it is worth noting that it is not the only possibility and that we have to admit at least a degree of speculation, it is hardly surprising that, of the battles that might plausibly be taken as the historical backdrop to the psalm, Sennacherib’s siege of Jerusalem in 701 BCE has proved the most popular among interpreters. ¹⁸ The most detailed case has been made by Lloyd Neve (1975), who argues that, in light of numerous parallels between Ps. 46 and First Isaiah, Sennacherib’s siege is plausibly taken as a common historical referent.

Neve identifies four common traditions between First Isaiah and Ps. 46. ¹⁹ The first is ANE mythology, in particular, cosmic chaos (Ps. 46.3–4; Isa. 17.12–14) and the paradisiacal river (Ps. 46.5; Isa. 8.6). ²⁰ Though the latter is not exactly paralleled in Isaiah, ²¹ Neve argues that the waters’ flowing into Jerusalem offers a significant clue that what is in view is Hezekiah’s tunnel, which safely channeled the waters of the Gihon spring into the city. ²² For this same reason, Neve dismisses parallels with Ezek. 47.1–12; Zech. 14.8; or Gen. 2.10–14. ²³ However, this requires Neve to go beyond the evidence; while Hezekiah’s tunnel remains a plausible referent, it should also be noted that the psalm does not actually specify which direction the river is flowing, only that its streams are delightful (v. 5). To be sure, Ps. 46 is almost certainly not alluding to Ezekiel or Zechariah, both of which were only written much later. ²⁴ Even so, parallels with these texts are instructive, pointing to a common trope of life-giving water flowing through Jerusalem, despite the fact that there was no actual river flowing through the city.

Secondly, Neve highlights cultic traditions regarding Zion: the dwelling of the Most High (Ps. 46.5; Isa. 8.18); as the center of the world (Ps. 46.10; Isa. 2.2–3); ²⁵ its inviolability (Ps. 46.6; Isa. 10.27–34; 17.12–14; 29.8; 31.4–5); and as a place of refuge (Ps. 46.2; Isa. 14.32; 28.14–17). We should note that in the psalm, refuge is found in Yhwh, not Zion; though, given God’s presence in and with the city (vv. 5–6), it follows that Zion is where refuge is to be found. In any case, the idea of Yhwh as refuge and strength is not foreign to Isaiah (עז‎, Isa. 12.2; מחסה‎, 25.4; cf. Ps. 46.2, 5) ²⁶ —which offers a neat segue into the next tradition Neve identifies.

The third is the Holy War tradition. In Isa. 17.12–14, the nations roar like the seas (המה‎; cf. Ps. 46.4, 7), but by the morning are gone (cf. Ps. 46.6, 9–10). ²⁷ Similar themes are found in Isa. 29 wherein Jerusalem’s deliverance by Yhwh of Armies (יהוה צבות‎, v. 6; cf. Ps. 46.8, 12) is again described in cosmological terms (Isa. 29.5–6; cf. Ps. 46.2–4). Even for Yhwh’s own people, woes are pronounced by Isaiah upon those whose houses have been made desolate (שׁמה‎, Isa. 5.9) and who ‘do not regard the works [פעל‎] of Yhwh’ (Isa. 5:12; cf. Ps. 46.9), in contrast with those who respond appropriately in trust (Isa. 7.9; cf. Ps. 46.11). ²⁸ Along these lines, Hezekiah is berated in Isa. 22.8–11 for relying on his own efforts to secure Jerusalem—including securing a water supply, which offers further support for the possibility noted above of Hezekiah’s tunnel being in view in Ps. 46.5—while failing to turn to Yhwh who made it all in the first place. In Isa. 31.1–9, woes are pronounced upon those who make alliances and trust in the power of horses and chariots rather than seeking aid from the Holy One of Israel, the one who can deliver Jerusalem from the Assyrians (cf. 2.22)—and indeed the one who will make all wars cease (2.2–5; cf. Ps. 46.10–11). ²⁹ For both Isaiah and the psalmist, the appropriate course of action is to stand back and trust that God will bring deliverance: ‘by repentance and rest you will you be saved; in quietness and trust will be your strength’ (Isa. 30.15; cf. Ps. 46.11). ³⁰ To this we might add the theme of Yhwh’s exaltation: in Isa. 6, Yhwh is seen to be ‘high and lifted up’ (רם ונשׂא‎, v. 1; cf. Ps. 46.11). ³¹ In Isa. 2, the lofty (רום‎) are brought low while Yhwh and their dwelling are lifted up (שׂגב‎, 2.10–18), along with their dwelling place, Mt Zion (v. 2). ³² Similarly, in Isa. 12.4–6 the people will sing of Yhwh’s salvation, exalting Yhwh’s name (שׂגב‎), and making Yhwh and his works known (ידע‎) to the nations (cf. Ps. 46.11).

Finally, Neve highlights the Immanuel tradition. Though the parallel here is not exact, it is nevertheless a shared theme and unusual enough in the Hebrew Bible to warrant seeing a connection (Ps. 46.8, 12; Isa. 7.14; 8.8, 10). ³³ As Nathan Lovell (2022: 126) points out, though ‘[t]he Psalms are sometimes cited as a source for Israel’s Immanuel theology, … the language is in fact only explicit in Ps. 46, which shares the same divine warrior motif’. ³⁴

These four common traditions, with the evidence marshalled in support of each, plausibly suggest Sennacherib’s besieging of Jerusalem as a historical referent shared by Ps. 46 and First Isaiah. We may thus interpret the psalm in the following way: in light of Sennacherib’s invasion of Jerusalem in 701 BCE, the psalmist expresses confidence that Yhwh will prove to be their refuge, no matter the turbulency, and echoes Isaiah’s call for Hezekiah not to trust in the ingenuity of his own engineering or military might but in Yhwh. After all, while the invasion of Assyria is compared with the crashing of waves and the crumbling of mountains in the first two stanzas, in the third we learn that it is Yhwh who brings desolation, as in Isaiah, where in Ahaz’ time the Assyrians are said to be but an axe in Yhwh’s hand (Isa. 10.5–19; cf. 37.21–38).

An appeal to Israel’s origin myths

Connections to the account of Sennacherib on Jerusalem’s doorstep strongly suggest the possibility that these were the events in view in Ps. 46. Several other allusions, however, indicate that this might not have been the only story on the psalmist’s mind. In addition to the parallels noted above with Isaiah, numerous parallels can also be found between the psalm and another rescue: the Exodus. ³⁵ Both the psalm and the Song of the Sea open with the declaration that God is their strength (עז‎, Ps. 46.2; Exod. 15.2). This same verse in Exodus is quoted verbatim in Isa. 12.2, where, similar to Ps. 46.2–3, it serves as a reason not to be afraid. In Ps. 46.3 the mountains crumble ‘in the heart of the seas’ (בלב־ימים‎), while in Exod. 15.8 the surging waters congeal there to form a wall; and in v. 7 the land dissolves (מוג‎), as do the nations in Exod. 15.15. ³⁶ Both refer to God’s holy residence: a holy city in Ps. 46.5, a holy dwelling in Exod. 15.13. ³⁷ In Ps. 46.9 the listener is beckoned to behold the works of Yhwh (פעל‎), that is ‘the utter destruction he causes in the land’, calling to mind the devastation Yhwh brought upon the land of Egypt, after which Yhwh would ‘plant them on their own mountain’, which Yhwh ‘made [פעל‎] for [Yhwh’s] abode’ (Exod. 15.17).

Looking beyond the Song of the Sea, in Ps. 46.6 God helps their people at dawn, as in Exod. 14.27. ³⁸ And, just as the psalm’s call to ‘be still and know [ידע‎] that I am God’ (v. 11) is reminiscent of Isaiah’s words to Hezekiah—‘in quietness and trust will be your strength’ (Isa. 30.15)—so also it calls to mind Moses’ words to the Israelites at the edge of the Red Sea: ‘Stand firm and you will see the deliverance Yhwh will bring you today; … you need only to be still’ (Exod. 14.13–14). ³⁹ This is strengthened by the prominence of the knowledge (ידע‎) of God as a theme in Exodus: by Yhwh’s actions, it would be made known that Yhwh is God among the Egyptians (7.5, 17; 8.6 [10]; 9.14; 14.4, 18), among the other nations (9.16), and among Yhwh’s own people (6.7; 10.2). ⁴⁰

In calling to mind the Exodus, however, the psalmist does not simply call to mind another story of Israel’s rescue, but a rescue framed in terms of Israel’s origins; indeed, the language used to recount the Exodus is strongly reminiscent of the creation and flood accounts in Gen. 1–2 and 6–9. ⁴¹ The rise of the nation of Israel is depicted using the language of fruitful multiplication (Exod. 1.7; cf. Gen. 1.28), which, Hamilton (2010: 90) explains, connects Adam and Israel and ‘foregrounds the cosmic significance of what God is doing in Israel’. Moses, like Noah, is rescued from deadly waters in a תבה‎ (Exod. 2.3; cf. Gen. 6.14–19). And the Israelites, again like Noah, are ‘remembered’ (זכר‎) by God at a critical turning point in the story (Exod. 2.24; cf. Gen. 8.1), a connection strengthened by shared language between Gen. 8.1–2 and Exod. 15.8. ⁴²

That the creation accounts from Genesis might also be in the psalmist’s purview is suggested by the cosmic imagery of the first stanza (Ps. 46.2–4), calling to mind the order brought out of chaos in Gen. 1.1–2.4. ⁴³ Through the course of Gen. 1, Yhwh brings order to what begins as a watery chaos through the use of their voice; similarly, the psalmist highlights Yhwh’s power to make wars cease, not through fighting, but by virtue of the fact that God ‘lifts their voice’ (v. 7). As such, God stands above the created world with the power to reduce it to naught in an act of judgment should it be necessary, as in the flood narrative in Gen. 6–9 or Yhwh’s judgment on Egypt noted above in Exod. 14–15. The possibility is strengthened by the focus on the ארץ‎—a clear leitword in the psalm (vv. 3, 7, 9–11) ⁴⁴ —which, as John Sailhamer (1992: 81–82) notes, is also a major theme in Gen. 1. ⁴⁵ Following Sailhamer, Seth Postell (2011: 86–95) argues that the ארץ‎ in question in Gen. 1 is the land of Canaan. This fits well with the context for the psalm proposed above: Sennacherib had already taken hold of a number of the other Judean cities; Jerusalem was one of the last to stand. ⁴⁶ As each city fell, it was as if the land around them was crumbling (Ps. 46.3). Indeed, while ארץ‎ is more appropriately translated ‘land’ than ‘earth’, it is nevertheless the case that, in this final stand, this could be the end of their world.

In addition, it was noted above that the river in v. 5 likely alludes to the river in Gen. 2.10. Though the location of the garden in Gen. 2 has been a point of scholarly puzzlement, ⁴⁷ Michael LeFebvre (2018: 35–42) argues compellingly for Eden being atop Mt Zion and the garden as a sort of paradisiacal Jerusalem. ⁴⁸ Against this, it might be objected that this interpretation is open to problems of topography. LeFebvre (2018: 38–39), in fact, identifies the river in Gen. 2.10 with the Jordan, which would not appear to help his case. ⁴⁹ In response, he points out that, as noted above, the prophets had no qualms with symbolically changing the lay of the land to make their point (cf. Mic. 4.1–2; Isa. 40.3–5; Zech. 14.8, 10). The author of Genesis is merely doing the same, and the psalmist, with Gen. 2.10 in mind, is following suit.

In sum, the psalmist grounds the hearers’ confidence in Yhwh in what they believe about Yhwh and the world around them, shaped by the stories the people told themselves of creation and rescue, which framed their identity as the people of God. In the creation accounts, Yhwh brings the chaotic forces of nature to order and rests Yhwh’s people beside quiet streams where they are free to dwell in the presence of God. In the Exodus, the nation that sought to hold Yhwh’s people captive had these same chaotic forces wielded against them, to bring Yhwh’s people to safety and make known to all that Yhwh, and no other, is God. In Ps. 46 all these images coalesce to depict a God who is not overcome by the crumbling of the mountains or surging of the seas but who, by the power of their voice, wields these chaotic forces of the cosmos against those who stand in opposition; a God who will be exalted above all; and a God who will dwell with their people beside gentle streams.

Conclusion

We began with the notion of myth: a story told to shape a group of people’s perspective, to foster a sense of purpose and evoke a response. This is seen especially in a society’s origin myths, which serve to ground the group’s sense of purpose with a sense of antiquity. For Assyria, this was the significance of Enuma Elish, a myth that served to explain, not just how things came to be, but why things are the way they are. It provided the Assyrians with the lenses through which they saw the world and their place within it. This, we noted, bears several similarities with Ps. 46. Both employ cosmic imagery and the forces of nature in uproar, juxtaposed with wartime imagery and the eventual establishment of order. This is all the more striking when we note the probable historical backdrop of the psalm: Sennacherib’s besiegement of Jerusalem in the time of Hezekiah.

Faced with a crisis of such proportions, the psalmist turns to Israel’s own origin myths: stories of creation and rescue, Yhwh bringing them up out of Egypt, delivering them from their enemies through chaotic waters, and resting them near a gently flowing stream atop Mt Zion. When the storm clouds gathered—when chaos threatened to encroach on their world and perhaps even to envelop it—these were the stories they told to make sense of it all. Ps. 46, then, was written as a psalm of confidence in the face of crisis. In the Exodus, Yhwh had brought their people through such a tempest before, and on that basis the psalmist is confident that Yhwh can do it again. All God’s people need to do is to be still.