Tonight we turn to Psalm 137. We will read the whole psalm and then dive into it as we unpack it together.
Psalm 137
By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our lyres, for there our captors required of us songs and our tormentors mirth, saying, "Sing us one of the songs of Zion."
How shall we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill. Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.
Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem, how they said, "Lay it bare, lay it bare, down to its foundations." O daughter of Babylon, doomed to be destroyed, blessed shall he be who repays you with what you have done to us. Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock.
The word of the Lord from Psalm 137. There is a lot for us to unpack this evening, but first, we begin with the concept of imprecatory psalms.
The word "imprecatory" or "imprecate" simply means to invoke a curse upon someone or something. In the Psalter, we have what are called imprecatory psalms. While there is debate over how many actually exist, they are usually classified as a subclass found within the category of laments. You can see this in Psalm 137: it opens with a lament and ends with a curse. They flow from a spirit of lamentation—a broken crying out to God.
Of the 150 psalms, roughly 30 contain some form of curse language. Eight are usually defined strictly as imprecatory laments, where these elements fill a significant portion of their meaning. These include Psalms 7, 35, 58, 59, 69, 83, 109, and 137. These psalms are all prayers to God, calling for His work to be done. They flow from a cry for justice or vindication, coming from a place of deep need where the speaker is unable to act themselves and must trust fully in God’s work.
Most imprecatory psalms are personal, often written by David in the midst of his struggles. However, Psalm 137 is unique; it is a national call for God’s justice, set during the Babylonian exile.
The setting is specific: "By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept when we remembered Zion." These singers were likely part of the priesthood, those required to sing the psalms in the temple courts. Now, they have been pulled out of the temple and sent into exile. They sit by the waters of Babylon—likely the Euphrates River or one of its tributaries.
Babylon was nothing like Jerusalem. It was a lush city, overflowing with greenery and water in the midst of the desert. Yet, even in this beautiful, immaculate city, the exiles focused on what they had left behind. They did not want to forget that Babylon was not where they belonged. In the midst of this beauty, they wept because their home no longer existed as they knew it. To them, Jerusalem was now a barren wasteland, and the glory that was Zion was no more.
As the psalm continues, we see them being taunted: "On the willows there we hung up our lyres, for there our captors required of us songs, and our tormentors mirth, saying, 'Sing us one of the songs of Zion.'" There is debate over whether they hung their lyres simply to rest or as an act of hiding them. Regardless, they were putting away their instruments to avoid being mocked. Their captors ridiculed their faith, essentially saying, "Dance for us! Sing us one of those joyous songs you used to sing in your temple. We've conquered your God and your city, but your songs are pretty—sing for us."
This leads to a profound question: "How shall we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?" How do you sing of the glory and beauty of God in the midst of destruction? How do you sing the joyous psalms of ascent—songs of journeying to the temple—while that temple lies in ruins? They were tormented by the reminder of all that had been lost.
Yet, they could not forget. The psalmist writes, "If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill." This is a vow of remembrance. Even if they cannot sing the songs of their glorious land for their captors, they will not forget their home.
I am reminded of the song "Jerusalem" by Matisyahu, which reflects on this very line: "If I forget you, let my right hand forget what it's supposed to do." It is a call to never forget what God has done, even when overwhelmed by the "waters of Babylon." The exiles were being assimilated into Babylonian culture, but the prayer here is a resistance to that assimilation.
Jeremiah had told the exiles to build homes and pray for the welfare of Babylon, but they were not to become Babylonians. They were to be in the city but not of it. This is a great admonition for us today. It is easy to get wrapped up in our current lives and forget that our true citizenship is in heaven. Like the children of these exiles, we must not forget our roots or become assimilated into the world around us.
The psalmist continues, "Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy." In the history of Israel, Jerusalem or Zion represents God Himself. It is not just about a location; it is about the presence of God. Yahweh resided in Jerusalem. When we speak of our home, we speak of where God is. That is our greatest joy.
As we reach the end of the psalm, we encounter the harsh language of imprecation: "Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem... O daughter of Babylon... blessed shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock." This sounds shocking to our ears, but it must be understood in context.
The Babylonians were notoriously cruel. Historical accounts tell us they slaughtered the sons of King Zedekiah before his eyes before blinding him and taking him in chains. They were a people who showed no mercy. The psalmist is not creating a new category of violence; he is calling on the prophecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah. Isaiah 13:16 prophesied that those who destroyed Jerusalem would have their own infants dashed in pieces. The psalmist is essentially praying, "Lord, do what You said You would do. Bring Your justice to pass against those who have committed such atrocities."
This is not a personal vendetta; it is a cry for divine vindication. It is a trust that God will ultimately be just. We see this echoed in the book of Revelation, where the martyrs under the altar cry out for God to vindicate them. God’s justice has an eternal perspective. The Babylonian captivity lasted 70 to 80 years; the psalmist likely never saw Babylon fall. Yet, in time, God was faithful, and Babylon was brought to ruins.
Ultimately, we are called to trust God in the fullness of time. We pray that His majestic name is honored and glorified, and we trust Him with the outcome. No one escapes God’s judgment in the end. We are His children, and we must never lose sight of our true allegiance.
Let us pray.
