Psalm Chapter 129 - A Song of degrees

Psalm 129: The Furrows That Could Not Finish the Field

There is a peculiar kind of testimony that only the long-afflicted can give. "Many a time have they afflicted me from my youth," Israel says — and then, with what must have been a grim and glorious smile — "yet they have not prevailed against me." The image is agricultural and brutal: plowers plowing upon a man's back, making long their furrows. One feels the weight of it, the slow cruelty of oppression drawn out like a blade across skin. And yet the psalm does not end in the furrow. The Lord, who is righteous, has cut the cords of the wicked — snapped them like frayed rope. What follows is not revenge so much as a kind of holy withering: the enemies of Zion become like grass on a rooftop, rootless and purposeless, too thin to fill a mower's hand, too sparse for anyone to bless. No one pauses over such grass to say, "The blessing of the Lord be upon you." It simply dries and disappears. The psalm is not asking us to gloat; it is asking us to notice which things last and which do not.

00:00 Afflicted from My Youth
00:20 Furrows on the Back
00:32 The Lord Cuts the Cords
00:42 Grass upon the Housetops
00:52 No Blessing for the Rootless