The Cruelest Verse in the Bible
Even the most infrequent reader of the Bible has likely heard of or read for himself the infamous Psalm 137:9. To put it a little more in context, I’ll include the last 3 verses in that chapter:
“Remember, Lord, what the Edomites did on the day Jerusalem fell. ‘Tear it down,’ they cried, ‘tear it down to its foundations!’ Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy are those who repay you according to what you have done to us. Happy are those who seize your infants and dash them against the rocks.”
Yikes. How to even begin trying to explain that one… I’ve never come across a decent explanation until this morning, reading through C.S. Lewis’ Reflections on the Psalms. While there is a lot of great insight in there, towards the end, Lewis focuses on the second meanings in the Psalms. He talks at length about how a lot of second meaning applies to Jesus.
At the very end of the book, he recaps on an earlier idea about the “cursing” Psalms (the ones that say things like “May he look in vain for anyone in the world to pity him” and “When he is dead may his orphans be beggars.”) - you know the ones. He brings up the point that in Psalm 36, “My heart showeth me the wickedness of the ungodly,” each of us can reflect that our own heart is the specimen of that wickedness best know to us. We know wickedness primarily because of what we know is inside ourselves. And many of the Psalms allow that inner reflection, including 137. You might need to read this entire section in his book for it to make total sense, but I found his treatment of 137:9 interesting enough to quote here, especially since I’d never heard anyone else tackle it. Here is his quote:
“From this point of view I can use even the horrible passage in 137 about dashing the Babylonian babies against the stones. I know things in the inner world which are like babies; the infantile beginning of small indulgences, small resentments, which may one day become dipsomania or settled hatred, but which woo us and wheedle us with special pleadings and seem to tiny, so helpless that in resisting them we feel we are being cruel to animals. They begin whimpering to us “I don’t ask much, but,” or “I had at least hoped,” or “you owe yourself some consideration.” Against all such pretty infants (the dears have such winning ways) the advice of the Psalm is the best. Knock the little bastards’ brains out. And “blessed” he who can, for it’s easier said than done.”
Certainly, the Psalmist who wrote 137 had an application in his day and time, but Lewis instructs that there is a takeaway for us that applies to ourselves directly. This really illustrates one of the overarching principles in Reflections - the way in which a writer may write with one intended meaning at the time of writing, but there will be more meaning to be extracted as more information becomes available. You’d have to read it yourself for a thorough explanation.
I am happy to at last have a more tangible application for a verse that historically only has the effect of shock upon its readers. Always remember that God is good, and doesn’t make mistakes, and that all Scripture is God-breathed. Therefore, when we encounter problems in Scripture, the best practice is patience and prayer, for it is our own understanding that is lacking, not God’s word.
