Hermeneutics - Lesson 21

The next biblical literary genre that I want to talk about is poetry. Poetry. Huge portions of the Bible are written in poetic form, not just the Psalms, probably more than we recognize. Poetry is a subgenre in every other major genre. We find poetry in the history, in the epistles, in apocalyptic, in prophecy, in the Proverbs. We could go on and on. 

Now, from a biblical theological perspective, we might wonder, “What role does the poetry”—and let’s think like the book of Psalms, for example, “What role does Psalms and Proverbs, the wisdom literature, play in advancing the story?” And we would have to conclude, “Well, it doesn’t advance the story that much, yet it is still an important part of the biblical storyline.” 

DA Carson in his book The God Who Is There, explains, 

“They (that is the poetic sections, particularly Psalms and Wisdom), they are not part of the sequence of narrative books that tell us what happens next to the Israelites or refer to what is going on in world history at the time. Sometimes individual psalms can be shown to spring from a particular period in Old Testament history. By and large, however, these materials contribute something a little different. They reflect the experiences, the insight, the revelation of God that his people turn over in their minds during these times. Even though this material does not, by and large, bring the narrative forward, the contribution it makes is so substantial that it cannot be ignored.” 

So, it does play a role in biblical theology, and because of its extensive nature throughout the canon, we have to pay close attention to how to interpret the biblical poetry. 

Well, first off, let’s just start with the definition. What exactly is poetry? And I would say that poetry is an interpretive presentation of human experience in artistic form. And that doesn’t tell us very much, but it does clue us in that there’s something about human experience, and it is artistic, intentionally so. 

Typically, though, poetry seeks to evoke an emotive response, and so that is of such vital importance that that’s my 21st Axiom: The purpose of poetry is to evoke emotion. And there’s no sense in trying to hide from that, nor should we try to flatten the poetry to eliminate that aspect of it. The biblical authors chose poetry because that is what they wanted to do. Again, think in terms of Speech Act Theory here. What is the author doing in the text? Well, the literary genre of poetry is chosen to evoke emotion. 

And it is artistic, and so, it doesn’t read the same way that prose does. There are at least two places in Scripture where we have both a prose or narrative account, and a poetic account of the same event. And it’s kind of fun to compare and contrast these two. 

If you look at Judges 4, let me turn there, Judges 4:17-22. In this passage, we have the story of Deborah and Barak, and they are being threatened by the armies of Sisera. And as you know, Barak goes to Deborah, who is the judge of Israel at the time. Deborah says, “The Lord is directing you to go attack; he’s going to rescue the people of Israel through your hand.” Barak says, “Well, I’ll only go if you do.” And Deborah says, “Well, okay, I’ll go, but know this, that that the glory for the battle is going to go to a woman.” And that is exactly what happens as we read in this narrative account, prose account. So, this is historical narrative, verses 17 through 22. 

“Meanwhile, Sisera”

Well, I’ll bring you up to speed, that the armies of Sisera have been routed and Sisera is on the lam. So, 

“Meanwhile, Sisera had fled on foot to the tent of Jael, the wife of Heber, the Kenite, because there was peace between King Jabin of Hazor and the family of Heber the Kenite. Jael went out to greet Sisera and said to him, ‘Come in, my lord. Come in with me. Don’t be afraid.’ So, he went into her tent, and she covered him with a blanket. He said to her, ‘Please give me a little water to drink for I am thirsty.’ She opened a container of milk, gave him a drink, and covered him again. Then he said to her, ‘Stand at the entrance to the tent. If a man comes and asks you, “Is there a man here?” say, “No.”’ While he was sleeping from exhaustion, Heber’s wife, Jael, took a tent peg, grabbed a hammer, and went silently to Sisera. She hammered the peg into his temple and drove it into the ground,” (and then we have the three most unnecessary words in the Bible) “and he died.” 

He died. So that’s the narrative account. I love how it’s written. I love the simplicity of it. I love how she went silently to Sisera and then hammered a tent peg into his temple, and he dies. So, that’s the historical narrative account of what occurred. 

There’s a great victory in Israel because of this. And there’s a song, I guess it’s a duet by Deborah and Barak. Great moments in redemptive history—I hope there’s videotape of this song, where they are celebrating the victory that the Lord has given Israel and they recount the exploits of Jael in their song. And so, listen now to the poetic account of this same exact event. This is 5:24 and following, 

“Jael is most blessed of women, 
the wife of Heber, the Kenite; 
she is most blessed among tent-dwelling women. 
He asked for water; she gave him milk. 
She brought him cream in a majestic bowl. 
She reached for a tent peg, 
her right hand, for a workman’s hammer. 
Then she hammered Sisera – 
she crushed his head; 
she shattered and pierced his temple. 
He collapsed, he fell, he lay down between her feet; 
he collapsed, he fell between her feet; 
where he collapsed, there he fell – dead. 

Sisera’s mother looked through the window; 
she appeared through the lattice, crying out: 
‘Why is his chariot so long in coming? 
Why don’t I hear the hoofbeats of his horses?’ 
Her wisest princesses? answer her; 
she even answers herself: 
‘Are they not finding and dividing the spoil – 
a girl or two for each warrior, 
the spoil of colored garments for Sisera, 
the spoil of an embroidered garment or two for my neck?’ 

Lord, may all your enemies perish, as Sisera did. 
But may those who love him 
be like the rising of the sun in its strength.” 

So, there we have the poetic account. 

What I’d like you to do right now is just pause and jot down what you see the differences are between the poetic account and the prose account. What is the author’s strategy in each? What are the significant differences?

[Dr. Miles pauses to allow the students to consider.] 

Hopefully, you had a chance to look at these two passages again, the passages that I read, and compare and contrast these two accounts. And it’s very interesting, isn’t it, that the literary difference between these two accounts of the exact same event? We get far more language and words in the poetic account. We’re given details that we don’t get in the narratival account. It’s not milk, but it’s cream. It’s in a majestic bowl in the poetic account. 

And then you have this lengthy death scene where she reaches for a tent peg, her right hand for a workman’s hammer. And so, both hands are full. And then she hammered Sisera, she crushed his head, she shattered and pierced his temple. He collapsed. He fell. He lay down between her feet. He collapsed. He fell between her feet. Where he collapsed there, he fell dead. 

I joked in the narratival account that you have like the three most unnecessary words, “and he died.” But those are the only words that describe it. The death scene is very quick. She hammered a tent peg into his temple and he died. But here you have this long, protracted death scene. It’s like William Shatner overacting or something. It’s like die already, will you? He falls down, he collapses, he dies, he dies. 

And then the scene shifts to Sisera’s mom, of all things, who is, you know, meanwhile back at the fortress, she’s wondering where her son is. And she’s starting to lament. But then ladies-in-waiting, I guess, her wisest princesses, they come to her to console her. And actually, she knows this to be true, right? The reason Sisera is so long in coming is because the victory was so great, the spoil was so immense that it’s taking up a long time to divide up all of the plunder. That’s why. 

And then we have this laughing, mocking, “Ha! He ain’t coming back! Do you know why? Because he was killed by a woman. Ha, ha, ha!” That’s my translation of what this says. “Lord, may all your enemies perish as Sisera did.” 

Where did Sisera’s mom come from? How do Deborah and Barak even know what’s going on at Sisera’s home fortress? 

Here you get a victory dance on the heads of the enemies of Israel and this imprecatory curse being rained down on all of Israel’s enemies, So may all of them die, just like Sisera did. 

Again, I would ask the question here, emphasizing the inerrancy, the total inspiration of this text, how did Deborah and Barak know what was going on with Sisera’s mom? Did they know? Did they get some sort of prophetic insight? Did this actually happen? Or is this a kind of literary license, a poetic license? And I suspect that that’s probably the case. I don’t know for sure. I guess it’s possible. I might find out in the new heavens and the new earth when I ask the Lord and he says, “No, Todd, you were wrong, I gave them a prophetic vision of what was going on at home.” But I suspect that this is just a way, a poetic license way of rejoicing in the victory and mocking the enemies of Israel. 

We get the same sort of contrast in narrative and poetry in Exodus 14 and Exodus 15. And that’s interesting to look at as well. I’ll leave that for you to look at on your own. 

But you see here how, one, the narrative account is stark. You get some details. It’s a fairly good story. But then when we are reading the poetic account, we get details and we’re drawn into the story and we’re drawn into the emotion of the story, and we rejoice with Israel that God has delivered his people. And that is the purpose of poetry. 

What are some characteristics of poetry? Well, in the Bible, in the Old Testament, where, say, the Book of Psalms is (and most of the poetry in the Bible) we find this. It’s Hebrew poetry, biblical poetry. Hebrew poetry is dominated by parallelism and figurative language. And so, whenever you see poetry, that’s what you should be looking for. 

This poetry, it’s specialized. It’s a more concentrated form of discourse. It is more consciously artistic. And Hebrew poetry is not based on grammatical or phonetic rhythm or rhyme. It doesn’t sound like it rhymes, but it does rhyme conceptually. And the way that it rhymes conceptually is called parallelism. And this is the chief formal characteristic of Hebrew poetry, something that we should be looking for because we find it in most poems. 

What is parallelism? Well, there’s a variety of kinds of parallelism. But parallelism is where there are consecutive lines, or lines perhaps that are separated in a stanza of the poetry that consciously say the same thing or consciously say the opposite thing. And the difference is in the names that we’ll give them. 

There is, for example, synonymous parallelism. This is saying the same thing twice, but using different words to say the same thing. In complete synonymous parallelism, like the very simple kind, you will have a line where there’s a subject, a verb, and an object, and that will be paralleled with different subject, verb, and object but it’s trying to say the same thing. 

For example, Isaiah 1:3 is a very simple, synonymous parallelism passage. We get 

“The ox knows its owner 
And the donkey its master’s crib.” 

So, we have two subjects: ox and donkey. We have a verb, knows, in the first line. The verb is missing in the second line, but it’s assumed. And then we have an object, its owner, in the first line and master’s crib in the second line. So, these two lines are saying the same thing: 

“The ox knows its owner
The donkey its master’s crib.” 

Then the next two lines after that are also synonymously parallel with each other, 

“Israel does not know, 
My people do not understand.” 

These, again, are parallel lines, synonymous parallelism. And here’s the thing with parallelism. We ought not to spend a lot of time trying to figure out what is the difference between an ox and a donkey, and maybe that’s the difference between Israel and my people. Why is God saying two different things there? The point is, he’s not saying two different things. Don’t waste your time in synonymous parallelism trying to figure out the difference between lines when the whole point is that they would be the same. 

Another example of synonymous parallelism would be in Proverbs 17:4: 

“An evildoer listens to wicked lips; 
A liar gives ear to a mischievous tongue.” 

That is complete, simple, synonymous parallelism where an evildoer is likened to a liar, “listens” is replaced by “gives ear,” and wicked lips is likened to a mischievous tongue. Two lines saying the same thing. And again, don’t waste a lot of your interpretive time trying to figure out the differences in synonymous parallelism. The point is that they are the same. 

There’s also what is called antithetical parallelism and this is where you have two lines that say the opposite things. The second line will negate the first, if you will. You could go back to Isaiah 1:3, where we have 

“The ox knows its owner, 
The donkey, its master’s crib.” 

And the opposite is affirmed in the third and fourth lines, “An ox knows its owner, Israel does not know;” “A donkey knows its master’s crib,” “My people do not understand.” 

So, you could almost read it this way: “Even an ox knows its master but my people do not know.” And the implication there is they don’t know me; they don’t know their Master. The donkey, even a donkey knows its master’s crib. “My people don’t understand. My people don’t understand.” That is antithetical parallelism. 

A simpler one, Psalm 37:21, we get antithetical parallelism: 

“The wicked borrows, but does not pay back, 
But the righteous is generous and gives.” 

So, the wicked is contrasted with the righteous. Borrowing is contrasted with being generous. Not paying back is contrasted with giving. So, the wicked borrows, but the righteous are generous. The wicked, they don’t pay back; the righteous, give. That’s antithetical parallelism. 

And then there’s different kinds of synonymous parallelism. Synthetic or step or climactic parallelism is where the second line will pick up the thought of the first line and advance it a bit. Rather than just repeating it like in synonymous parallelism, it develops or advances the thought. So, Jesus in a proverbial saying of his, he says in Matthew 10:34,

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace on the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” 

And so, the first line, “Don’t think I’ve come to bring peace.” Then the second line, he says, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” He advances it just a bit. We might say the same thing in Psalm 1:3, where we read that he, the righteous man, the blessed man, the wise man, is 

“…like a tree 
planted by streams of water,
that yields its fruit in its season, 
its leaf does not wither.” 

You have these three lines here. Each of them are affirming kind of the same thing but the ball is being picked up and advanced, so to speak. And then you have more of a summary line after that, 

“in all that he does, he prospers.” 

So, synthetic parallelism is a kind of synonymous parallelism. But instead of just simple repetition saying the same thing, you get an advance in the thought. 

There is what’s called a chiasm or introverted [recte inverted] parallelism. This involves the inverting of parallel statements. The purpose of a chiasm is usually to drive your attention to the middle point. And the basic form is like an A line, then a B line, followed by a B line, then an A line. Kind of like ABBA, I suppose, if you’re into 70s disco music. 

Now, it’s really popular in a lot of literature to find chiasms everywhere and so I want to be—I’m often a little skeptical of people finding chiasms, but there are certainly some chiasms. So, here’s a good example of one. Psalm 30:8-10. We read in verse 8, 

“To you, Oh Lord, I cry, 
and to the Lord I plead for mercy: 
What profit is there in my death, 
If I go down to the pit? 
Will the dust praise you? 
Will it tell of your faithfulness? 
Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me! 
O Lord, be my helper!” 

So, verse 8 is paralleled with verse 10, 

“To you, O Lord, I cry.” 

Verse 10, 

“Hear, O Lord, be merciful to me!” 

But in between is verse 9, where there’s two lines that are parallel with each other. 

“What profit is there in my death if I go down to the pit? 
Will the dust praise you? 
Will it tell of your faithfulness?” 

And so here we have parallel lines here, and then parallel lines in between, and that is a chiasm. 

There is incomplete parallelism. Incomplete parallelism is where one element of the first line is omitted in the second, and that’s typically occurring in synonymous parallelism. We saw an example that in Isaiah 1:3, where we read that “The ox knows,” So, the verb, ‘knows’ “its owner. The donkey,” there’s a missing verb there, “its master’s crib.” So that is incomplete, synonymous parallelism. 

Another example of this would be Psalm 24:1,

“The Earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, 
the world and those who dwell therein.” 

So, the Earth belongs to the Lord and the fullness thereof, the world—and we expect to see a verbal statement, “is the Lord’s” or “belongs to him” or something like that, but that’s missing. And we get “and those who dwell therein.” Our minds automatically fill in that verb, and oftentimes, oftentimes our attention is drawn to that missing element. So, it’s like emphasis through absence, if you will. 

One other kind of parallelism that we find that I want to mention because sometimes I see people doing strange things with the interpretation of it, is where you have, say, like in Proverbs 6:16-19, we read here, “There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him.” 

And if you’re like me, you might be thinking, “Oh, six things he hates, seven that are an abomination to him. Now what’s the difference between hating and an abomination, abhorring something? What is that? And what’s that seventh thing? That must really tip the scales! That must be worse.” And so, then you start counting off, 

“haughty eyes, a lying tongue,
hands that shed innocent blood, 
a heart that devises wicked plans, 
feet that make haste to run to evil, 
a false witness who breathes out lies, 
and one who sows discord among brothers.” 

Boy, that’s the seventh one: one who sows discord among brothers. That must be the tipping point. That’s what moves everything from hate to abhorrence, right? Well, I don’t think so. I don’t think so. 

The name that I use for this, I got it from somewhere, you don’t always see it is: “(X), (X +1) formula for parallelism.” So, in this case there are six things the Lord hates, seven that are abomination to him, and these are just parallel statements. Again, I don’t think we should waste time trying to figure out why is that seventh one so much worse? It’s just a literary device, a kind of parallelism that you often see. 

We see the same thing in Proverbs 30,

“Three things are too wonderful for me; 
four I don’t understand.” 

So (X), (X + 1), three and four. 

“the way of an eagle in the sky, 
the way of a serpent on a rock, 
the way of a ship on the high seas, 
and the way of a man with a young woman.” 

So that’s (X), (X + 1). 

There are other poetic devices that are used occasionally. There’s something called (I’m probably going to mispronounce it) paronomasia. And that’s where words actually rhyme, kind of. And it’s so strange in Hebrew poetry that oftentimes, even if you don’t have a study Bible, there will be a note down below in the footnotes that alerts you to the fact, “Hey, guys, all you poets out there, this thing actually rhymes.” 

So, like in Isaiah 5:7 we read this,

“The vineyard of the Lord of hosts 
is the house of Israel, 
and the men of Judah 
are his pleasant planting; 
he looked for justice, 
but behold, bloodshed, 
for righteousness, 
but behold, an outcry!” 

And the word, you’re looking for justice, but he finds bloodshed. The Hebrew word for justice sounds an awful lot like bloodshed. So, you have mišpāṭ and miśpāḥ. So, it’s really clever. It’s really clever. I looked for this, I found this other thing. They sound very similar, but they’re exact opposites. I looked for righteousness, ṣᵊḏāqâ, but behold an outcry, ṣᵊʿāqâ. So, these words kind of rhyme. 

Again, in Hebrew poetry that’s so rare that your Bible translators almost always will have a footnote to alert you to this fact. So, Hebrew poetry ain’t the kind of poetry you learned how to write in kindergarten. I’ll just say it that way. 

The Psalms, though, are lyrical and they are meant to be sung. Oftentimes, we will refer to the Book of Psalms as the Psalter. It’s like the hymn book of Israel, if you will. Because they are songs, they are often almost always subjective and deeply personal. They’re also emotional. And thankfully, with the exception of Psalm 119, they’re brief, because you can’t keep up that passion for that long. It’s difficult. 

The structure of a poem. Well, just think of the structure of a song. There will be, you know, verses and a chorus line, and oftentimes there’ll be different verses, but you’ll repeat the chorus; that happens often. This grouping of a verse together is called a strophe, a strophe. Or if you want to think of it this way, a strophe is to poetry what a paragraph is to prose. So, in prose, the basic unit of thought is the paragraph. In poetry, it’s the strophe. I often like to think of verses, if you will, you know, first verse, second verse, third verse, and then a chorus. 

How do you identify a strophe? That would be a good interpretive key here. How would you look for it? If a strophe is a verse, a unit of thought like a paragraph would be, except in a poem or a song, we might want to be able to identify those. Thankfully, most Bible translations will give you strophes, they’ll identify them for you, here on my Bible here, with extra lines in between the different verses, if you will. 

And so, I just opened up to Psalm 72, verses 1-4 looks like it would be a strophe. Verses 5-11 are also a strophe. Verses 12-14… So, your Bible translators have done a bit of interpretive work for you. Again, remember that the strophe is supposed to be like a verse, a unit of thought. 

Turn, though, to Psalm 42. And this is a really helpful psalm to analyze when it comes to strophes. Psalm 42—and again, I’m going to use my own Bible here. I’m going to, this is like a really in-depth Bible study here. 

I look at Psalm 42 and my eyes immediately notice that there’s a lot of white on the page. It’s not like a dense paragraph. So I think: poetry, this is poetry. 

And then because I’ve been alerted to the fact that there’s these strophe things, I’m going to, I look and I see that between verses 4 and 5, there’s an extra line there, there’s an extra space. I think, “Ah, there must be a strophe from 1-4.” So, let’s take a look at this. 

“As a deer longs for flowing streams, 
so I long for you, God., 
I thirst for God, the living God. 
When can I come and appear before God? 
My tears have been my food day and night, 
while all day long people say to me, 
’Where is your God?’ 
I remember this as I pour out my heart: 
how I walked with many, 
leading the festive procession to the house of God, 
with joyful and thankful shouts.” 

And then, in my Bible at least, there’s this extra space. So, I’m thinking to myself, This is probably a strophe. And then verse 5, 

“Why, my soul, are you so dejected? 
Why are you in such turmoil? 
Put your hope in God, for I will still praise him, 
my Savior and my God.” 

I think, “Hmm.” So, I’m used to singing songs at church, and I know that oftentimes there’s a verse followed by a chorus and I think, “Okay, so maybe 1 through 4 was the verse, and then verse 5 was the chorus.” I’ll want to check that out. 

And when I look down at verse 11 I see, 

“Why, my soul, are you so dejected? 
Why are you in such turmoil? 
Put your hope in God, for I will still praise him, 
my Savior and my God.” 

Aha! My suspicions have been confirmed. The Bible translators, it appears, did a good job, at least with the Bible that I have. They have this extra space between 1 through 4. That was verse 1. There’s that chorus in verse 5, and then verses 6 through 10 must be the second verse followed again, or second stanza, followed by the chorus again in verse 11. 

So, if I were teaching this or preaching this passage, I would probably want to have some sort of unit of thought, or main point, that came from verses 1 through 4. And then I would think about the chorus; I want to tie that in. And then I would go to verses 6-10 and I would have a second point because I would see that as being kind of, you know, this was the second verse of the Psalm. 

Now, something that’s interesting though, is look at Psalm 43. Look at Psalm 43. We read this, 

“Vindicate me, God and champion my cause 
against an unfaithful nation; 
rescue me from the deceitful and unjust person. 
For you are the God of my refuge. 
Why have you rejected me? 
Why must I go about in sorrow 
because of the enemy’s oppression?” 

Interestingly enough, in my Bible, they have an extra space in between verses one and two. So, I’m automatically going, okay, the Bible translator here at least thought that there was, that maybe verses one and two is its own verse. Then I get to verse three: 

“Send your light and your truth; let them lead me. 
Let them bring me to your holy mountain, 
to your dwelling place. 
Then I will come to the altar of God, 
to God, my greatest joy. 
I will praise you with the lyre, 
God, my God.”

 I have another space. Was that stanza two? Hmm. But look at verse 5, 

“Why, my soul, are you so dejected? 
Why are you in such turmoil? 
Put your hope in God, for I will still praise him, 
my Savior and my God.” 

That sounds familiar. That sounds like the chorus line from Psalm 42, which was repeated twice. What’s going on? Is Psalm 43 actually Psalm 43? Or is Psalm 43, Psalm 42, third verse? I wonder. I wonder. I wonder so much that as I said before in my Bible, there’s an extra space between verses 2 and 3. I’m thinking maybe that shouldn’t have been the case. Maybe they should have just left it as a one verse with a chorus. 

Then another thing pops into my head as I’m looking at this, I notice that in virtually every other Psalm, there’s, at the very beginning, there’s some direction given for like the choir director or how it’s to be sung or something like that, you know. You know, “For the choir director.” “A Psalm of David.” “To be sung,” you know, “to the tune of the lilies,” or something like that, you know, that, that great song that we’re all so familiar with. And I’ll tell you that that’s actually part of the original text. And in a lot of Hebrew Bibles, that instruction will be verse 1. And so oftentimes the versification between the Hebrew, or the Psalms in a Hebrew Bible, will be off a verse with the versification, the verse numbering, in English Bibles. 

But I notice in Psalm 43 there is no instruction. There’s nothing that tells me that it’s a Maskil of the Sons of Korah, or no instructions to the choir director. Look at Psalm 45, 

“For the choir director; according to the Lilies., A Maskil of the Sons of Korah. A love song.” 

But in Psalm 43, we don’t have that. Why is that? I’m not sure, but it makes me wonder maybe Psalm 43 isn’t actually Psalm 43. Maybe Psalm 43 is Psalm 42, third verse. Could be. 

It doesn’t change anything about it being the inspired Word of God, doesn’t change anything about it being in the canon. But maybe, maybe whoever put the Psalter together thought 150 would be better than 149, but all they had was 149 Psalms, and so they just broke one into two and said, “There, it’s taken care of. We got 150 now.” I don’t know. Anyway, that’s kind of an interesting exercise when we’re thinking about strophes. 

One other way to look for a strophe would be that very cryptic Hebrew word, Selah, which if you asked me, “Todd, what does that word mean?” I will tell you this (three most important words in all of theology): I don’t know. I don’t know what it means. 

I’ve seen lots of ideas out there. Some people think maybe pause for reflection. Some people think it means, you know, like a musical instruction that, you know, your voices should swell or raise here. I don’t know. I’m pretty suspicious of anyone who claims to definitively say, “This is what Selah means.” But one thing I do know is it often appears at significant points in the Psalms, and that could be an indicator that we’ve moved from one strophe to another strophe. 

Look for acrostics or alliteration. That would be, say, a different letter starts each line or the same Hebrew letter in each strophe. Psalm 119 is famous for that. If you turn to Psalm 119, you see it looks like it’s broken up eight verses at a time. And in the Hebrew verses 1-8 all begin with the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet and verses 9-16, the second letter. So, it’s all Alef, Bet, then the 17th through 24 Gimel, we go on to the whole Hebrew alphabet, Dalet, He, Vav, Zayin, Chet, Tet, Yod, and on it goes. So, each set of eight lines, each line begins with the same Hebrew letter, and it just works through the Hebrew alphabet that way. 

This is kind of helpful because if, you know, if you’re ever sitting in a sermon and you’re bored with the preaching, you can always go memorize the Hebrew alphabet because most of our Bibles will tell you what those Hebrew letters are. The Book of Lamentations is like this as well. It is an acrostic with alliteration. 

Again, I’ll remind you that the content is emotional. It’s brief, it’s personal. We read and we identify with someone else’s response to God. Which does raise an interesting question that will come back to: how are our words to God simultaneously God’s words to us? How is David confessing his sin in Psalm 51, how are David’s words to God simultaneously God’s words to us? Something to think on.