Commentary on Psalm 15

Psalm 15 presents a picture of holiness, a way of life that is in keeping with God’s own nature. The psalm comprises a two-part question (verse 1) followed by an extended answer (verses 2–5a) and a concluding blessing (verse 5b). It suggests that the righteous person is driven by an overriding concern for the well-being of the neighbor. Personal holiness requires a commitment to the wholeness of the community. God responds to this commitment with an unshakable promise (verse 5b).

A question of access to God (verse 1)

Psalm 15 exhibits antiphony. It presents the interaction of two or more voices through a formula of call and response. Such antiphony is found at several points throughout the book of Psalms (for example, Psalms 24, 91) and is a clear indicator that a psalm originated in a liturgical context.

Even today, liturgies are full of antiphony. Antiphonal words and music can be found in the services of many Christian traditions. Antiphony abounds in calls to worship, prayers of confession, prayers of thanksgiving, the Great Prayer of Thanksgiving. In fact, we have antiphony every time “all God’s people say … Amen!”

“Altar calls” are yet another form of antiphony. The preacher summons the community to “get right with God,” and individuals respond, both with the act of coming down the aisle and with words—a profession, a commitment to a new way of life. Psalm 15 is roughly analogous to an “altar call.” It was part of an ancient entrance liturgy, an antiphonal question-and-answer that accompanied the approach to a holy place. The psalm describes what it takes to get right with God, to come to the altar—a place of sacrifice and devotion where the divine presence can be experienced in a profound way.

The psalm begins with a question about who can approach the holy place: “O LORD, who can abide in your tent? Who may dwell on your holy hill?” (verse 1; see also Psalm 24:3). In the psalm’s earliest liturgical context, God’s “tent” and “holy hill” refer to the temple in Jerusalem, the place where God’s presence was palpable.

The Old Testament reflects many, sometimes contradictory ways of understanding what was required to be in God’s presence. Just like today, there were differing ways of answering fundamental questions of access, inclusion, and belonging. What did it mean to “get right with God”? Who could be in God’s holy places? How long could one be there? How exactly can a human be in contact with the holiness of God? How close can one get? There are many answers to these questions throughout the Old Testament, not just one.¹ For its part, Psalm 15 focuses its answer on what we today would call ethics. Its answer is clear. Getting right with God means getting right with the community.

The characteristics of a holy life (verses 2–5a)

The description of the righteous in verses 2–5a was once part of a liturgy for entrance into the temple. Yet this ancient altar call has an enduring rhetorical effect. A remarkable feature of its poetic form is its alternating list of “dos” (verses 2, 4) and “don’ts” (verses 3, 5), as well as its balance of three positive statements (verse 2) followed by three negative statements (verse 3) characterizing the righteous.

Despite its complex structure, the answer (verses 2–5a) to the opening query (verse 1) is simple. Those who can come to God’s altars are those whose words and actions are pure; they “walk blamelessly” (hôlēk tāmim, verse 2). The very common Hebrew verb “walk” (hālak) has an idiomatic sense in this context, meaning all of one’s actions or behaviors, one’s way of life.  When the psalmist refers to the way one walks, it is not so much a description of how one gets from one place to another, but the totality of how one lives.

There are those who walk in the right ways (see, for example, Psalm 1:1–3; 26:1, 3, 11; 37:14; 84:11), and others whose “walk” reflects their unrighteousness (see, for example, Psalm 68:21; 82:5; 89:30). This Hebrew idiom is so pervasive that the entire legal tradition within rabbinic Judaism is known as Halakhah, literally “the way one walks,” or, as Lawrence H. Shiffman describes it, “the life of Torah, encompassing all areas of human life, including civil, criminal, political, religious, moral, ritual, and familial issues.”²

Psalm 15:2 describes those who walk “blamelessly” (tāmim). The Hebrew tāmim here suggests wholeness, completeness, being fully integrated. This is a picture of people who live with integrity, those who “do what is right and speak truth from their heart” (verse 2). Their internal orientation matches what one sees on the outside and hears in their words.

These people are known for what they avoid doing as much as for what they do. They avoid “slander” (verse 3), speaking falsehoods that are meant to bring harm to others. In fact, they never do anything that would hurt or disgrace those who are near them: they “do no evil to their friends [rēʿā], nor take up reproach against their neighbors [qārōb].” The Hebrew words in verse 3 for “friends” and “neighbors” are general terms that simply describe those who share the same proximity. The one who can come close to God is the one who does no harm to those who are close by.

The characterization of the righteous ones continues with a description of their disposition and perceptions. They can tell the difference between good and bad (verse 5), and they align their loyalties with those who recognize God’s authority. The righteous ones acknowledge God’s law and are wary of those who are a law unto themselves, those who acknowledge no authority over their own desires. Because the righteous know that their words matter, they keep their promises. They do so even when it is difficult or costly.

The last characteristic of the righteous has to do with economics. To “take a bribe against the innocent” (verse 5) meant profiting from a lie to the detriment of someone wrongly accused. Likewise, in the context of ancient Israel, “to lend money at interest” meant that one was making a profit off the poverty of others (see Leviticus 25:35–38). In short, those who enter God’s presence do not exploit the difficulties of their neighbors for their own advantage.

God’s unshakable commitment to the righteous (verse 5b)

At the end of Psalm 15, we have heard an answer to the opening questions “Who may abide …? Who may dwell?” The answer resounds clearly: the people whose words, actions, and dispositions are oriented toward building up the community, not tearing it down. The people who dedicate themselves to the stability of the neighbors will be stable themselves. They “shall never be moved [yimmôṭ]” (verse 5b).

Since the psalm begins with the idea of abiding and dwelling, one might interpret the final benediction to mean that the righteous ones will never depart the abode of God. God’s home becomes their home. They will never move. While this reading is possible, it is more probable that “not being moved” here (mwṭ in the niphal stem) has a different sense, meaning one has stability and certainty of divine protection. This security keeps one upright amidst difficult circumstances, a scenario that is described in many psalms (for example, Psalms 16:8; 21:7; 30:6; 62:2; 112:6).

By contrast, when someone or something is “moved” (mwṭ) in the Psalms, it is a sign of trouble, chaos, even social and moral disarray (for example, Psalms 13:4; 46:2, 6; 60:2). Yet Psalm 15 claims that the righteous ones can approach God’s presence and stand firm.

Connections for the church

For communities reading Psalm 15 today, it can be difficult to discuss drawing distinctions about who can have access to God. It is important to remember that the Old Testament presents different views about access to divine presence and blessing.

The challenge of a text like Psalm 15 is that many of us will quickly associate ourselves with the righteous, the holy ones, before attending to the terms of the holiness the text describes. We can use this text to reinforce group identities in unhelpful and unreflective ways. It can be all too easy for us to identify who is in and who is out, who is good and who is bad, who are the righteous and who are the wicked. We often mischaracterize difference as wickedness and similarity as righteousness. Readers must be aware of this dynamic when approaching the clear moral terms expressed in Psalm 15.

Yet for careful readers, there is a great benefit to meditating on this text, with its extreme clarity and specificity about what holiness looks like. This ancient altar call invites us to get right with God, to examine ourselves, to reconsider our actions, our motivations, our essential orientation to those around us. It forces us to acknowledge that there is no division between right beliefs and right actions. God upholds us as we uphold others. We support those around us even when it is costly—especially when it is costly. Whatever the cost, we shall not be moved.

Notes

1. Many studies trace these issues across the Hebrew Bible. See, for example, Eyal Regev, “Priestly Dynamic Holiness and Deuteronomic Static Holiness,” VT 51 (2001): 243–261; Paul Jensen, Graded Holiness: A Key to the Priestly Conception of the World, JSOTSup 106 (Sheffield: 1992); Christian Frevel and Christophe Nihan, eds., Purity and the Forming of Religious Traditions in the Ancient Mediterranean World and Ancient Judaism (Leiden: 2013).
2. Lawrence H. Shiffman, “Halakhah: Second Temple and Hellenistic Judaism,” EBR 11:2.