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Psalm 8:1-9

To the leader: according to The Gittith. A Psalm of David.
1 O Lord, our Sovereign,
    how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory above the heavens.
2     Out of the mouths of babes and infants
you have founded a bulwark because of your foes,
    to silence the enemy and the avenger.

3 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
    the moon and the stars that you have established;
4 what are humans that you are mindful of them,
    mortals that you care for them?
 
5 Yet you have made them a little lower than God
    and crowned them with glory and honor.
6 You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;
    you have put all things under their feet,
7 all sheep and oxen,
    and also the beasts of the field,
8 the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
    whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

9 O Lord, our Sovereign,
    how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Psummer of Psalms VII: Psalm 8

Last month, I went to Iceland on a class trip with several of my fellow doctoral students. The purpose of our trip was actually to look at Old Icelandic manuscripts. But you can't go all the way to Iceland without taking a look around... So I did. It's an astonishing country, filled with glaciers and valleys, volcanoes and waterfalls, and vast landscapes that can make you feel really, really small in a very, very big world.

I imagine that's something like what the author of today's psalm was feeling when he described the majesty and glory of God's creation--the work of God's fingers--all the heavens above and all the earth below. Then he asks God what is the place of mankind within all that vastness? What are human beings that you are even mindful of them at all?

We'll come back to that question in a moment.

Before verse 1, Psalm 8 begins with an inscription: It is a Psalm "of David." That could either mean it was written by David, to David, for David, about David, or in the style of David. Prepositions are pretty ambiguous in Hebrew, kind of like they are in English.

Psalm 8 is written "to the leader." But like I said last week, we're not entirely sure what leader that refers to... the leader of the country? the leader of the temple? of the worship service?

And finally, it is written "according to the Gittith." Do you know what a Gittith is? Neither do I. And neither does anyone else, although there are about as any theories as there are Bible scholars in the world. Gittith is a word that only shows up three places in the entire Bible--all of them Psalms, and all of them are in the inscription worded exactly like this. It might have been an instrument, it might have been a style of music, or a special occasion on which this Psalm was to be sung.

So if you're keeping track, that's strike three and we haven't even gotten to the first verse yet. There is an important point here, though. If someone ever tells you the Bible is simple--you just read it and do what it says--you should ask them what Gittith they prefer to use. And when they ask you what a Gittith is, tell them it's simple. And then smile cryptically and say "Selah" over your shoulder as you walk away.

What's not cryptic, however, is the main subject of Psalm 8--the majesty and glory of God's name in all the earth. This is repeated in the first and last verses, like bookends, indicating that everything in between, all the poetic descriptions are flowing from God's name, and at the same time building back up to it in anticipation.

Verse 2 is a classic God/Jesus move, flipping everything upside down. In order to silence his enemies and detractors, God builds up a mighty defense, using...what? Battle-hardened warriors? No. Tanks, drones and laser guns? No. Lawyers and Social media influencers? No. The words that will stand up for God come "out of the mouths of babes and infants." This could be taken literally--after all, Jesus came into the world as a helpless baby--but I think it's probably a metaphor for the weakest and most vulnerable among us. God always uses unconventional and questionable people to carry out his most important missions. That should be good news to some of us, and terrifying news to others.

In verse three, the Psalmist shifts from describing God to God (you are this... you have done this) to describing his own personal experience of God (when I look at your heavens) and then finally he turns to his burning question: Why do you even care about us?

I want to pause here for a moment and remind everyone that the Psalms are an excellent model for prayer. If you want to improve your prayers, your communication with God, but you aren't sure how to begin or what words to use... follow the pattern of Psalm 8. First, name the attributes of God that inspire you, or are relevant to your situation:

"Lord, you are amazing. You created everything, and you hold us in the palm of your hand." Or, "Lord, you are forgiving, you see into the depths of our hearts, and you still love us."

Then move into your own personal experience with God: "You've always watched over me and protected me in the past" or "I know that whenever I have messed up, you've been quick to forgive me."

Then comes your question, your plea, your heartfelt request: "Please help me to..." "Please forgive me for..."

Alright. Unpause. The Psalmist in verse three is looking up at the vastness of the heavens, and feeling very insignificant. In verse four, he asks, "What are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?" I mean, come on God--You can make galaxies, supernovas, and black holes--how would you even keep track of something so small as one human being? And what's to love there? We're just squishy meat-sacks, we like to make trouble and argue, we destroy about as much as we build, and compared to the cosmos, we're not that exciting to look at. Why do you even care?

Interestingly, God never directly answers the Psalmist's question--probably because it's the job of the psalmist (the poet, the musician, the artist) to answer the question for everyone else. And he does. But somewhere betweeen veerse 4 and 5 there is a shift, a change in direction, a change in perspective! When we get fixated on something, when we're used to seeing things one way, it's hard to change perspectives, isn't it?

One night, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson were going camping. They pitched their tent under the stars and went to sleep. Sometime in the middle of the night Sherlock woke Watson up and said: “Watson, look up at the sky, and tell me what you see.” Watson replied: “I see billions and billions of stars.” Holmes said: “and what do you deduce from that?” Watson replied: “Well, if there are billions of stars, and if even a few of those have planets, it’s quite likely there are some planets like earth out there. And if there are a few planets like earth out there, there might also be life out there.” And Sherlock Holmes said: “No, Watson, you idiot, it means that somebody stole our tent.”

And suddenly, Watson's perspective was changed.

The Psalmist has been looking up at the vastness of the heavens, and feeling very insignificant. But in the second half of the Psalm, God shifts his perspective from up... to down. Yes, God has glory and honor, reflected in the heavens and the grand things of the universe. But God has also given great glory and honor to human beings, making them (in the words of the NRSV translation) "a little lower than God."

That's actually not a great translation of the Hebrew word חַסְּרֵ֣ (cha-ser) which usually means lacking, not lower. So another way to translate this might be that humans "lack little from God." God gives us almost all that is his...including all the other creatures he's made: The sheep and oxen, the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, the fish of the sea. We are God's regents, God's caretakers in the midst of his creation. And our job is not to exploit or abuse the things God has created, but to love them and care for them just as God loves and cares for us.

In fact, look back at verse 4, where the Psalmist asks God, "what are humans that you are mindful of them, and mortals that you care for them?" There are two prominent verbs here: to be mindful, which in Hebrew is זָכַר (zakar), to remember; and care for, which in Hebrew is פְקַד (paqad). It literally means to visit someone, to go be with them, and in that way care for them.

So even though the psalmist is feeling small and insignificant compared to God--even though he doesn't understand WHY God would remember him and visit him--he acknowledges that this is exactly what God does for people. He remembers us (among the billions) and he comes to visit us; he is present with us in this life, he walks with us along our life's journey and in that way demonstrates his care for us.

So...we in turn, having learned from God our teacher, are called upon to remember each other, to visit each other. To remember God's creatures and God's creation, to visit it, be present in it, and in that way care for it.

But this is not just an "I love nature" or "I love animals" sermon. In fact, I believe you cannot truly love nature (God's creation) or animals (God's creatures) without seeing and honoring the image of God embedded within each of them. We are made in God's image, and all of his creation carries his fingerprints. That's what leads the author of Psalm 8, in the end, right back to where he began: O Lord our Sovereign, how majestic is YOUR name in all the earth.

When he first said those words, he was looking UP at the moon and the stars, the gigantic universe that God created that made him feel small (By the way, there's nothing wrong with doing that, and probably sometimes it's good to be humbled in that way). But now at the end, the Psalmist is saying the exact same words: O Lord our Sovereign, how majestic is YOUR name in all the earth. And this time, he's looking down and around--at the people and places and creatures God has placed in his hands, those who depend upon him for their well-being.

I imagine that makes him feel very big, important, needed, remembered, and most of all...grateful.

Whichever direction you look today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year (and every year)...

Which ever direction you look... I hope you see God.

I hope you see God reflected in the stars, in the mountains and valleys, the deep ocean and the cloud-covered skies.

I hope you see God reflected in the faces staring back at you--the familiar ones and the unfamiliar ones, too.

And when you see God--above you, below you, and all around you...

I hope in that moment, you feel remembered, visited, and loved.

And then I hope you pass it on.