Commentary on Psalms 137

Psalm 137 is one of the most raw and unsettling songs in the Psalter. Set by the rivers of Babylon, it captures the grief of exiled Israelites who cannot sing the Lord's song in a foreign land. The psalm moves from aching memory (v. 1-4) to fierce loyalty (v. 5-6) to a shocking cry for vengeance (v. 7-9). It refuses to sanitize the pain of displacement or the anger of the oppressed. In the broader biblical story, this psalm becomes a cry that only the cross of Christ can fully answer — where judgment and mercy meet.

Historical context

The superscription of Psalm 137 places it during the Babylonian exile (586–539 BC). After Nebuchadnezzar's destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple, the elite of Judah were deported to Babylon. The psalmist writes from the perspective of those who lived by the canals (the 'rivers of Babylon' — likely the Euphrates and its irrigation canals) and were taunted by their captors to sing the songs of Zion.

The Edomites (v. 7) are singled out for their treachery during Jerusalem's fall. Obadiah 1:10-14 records how Edom rejoiced over Judah's destruction and even handed over fugitives. Babylon, the great empire, is personified in v. 8-9. The shocking final verse reflects the ancient Near Eastern practice of 'lex talionis' (the law of retaliation, Exod 21:23-25) applied to the horrors of war. This psalm is not a command but a cry — a raw prayer that God would act justly.

Verse by verse

• 1:

  By the waters of Babylon, the exiles sit down and weep — literally 'wept' in the Hebrew (bachah). The rivers were places of public gathering, but also of memory. They remember Zion, the city of God, now in ruins. The posture is one of defeat: sitting down, weeping, unable to move forward.

• 2:

  On the willows (arabim, poplars or willows) they hang their harps. The instruments of worship become useless in a land where worship feels impossible. The lyre (kinnor) was used for temple praise; now it is a symbol of silence. This is not a rejection of God, but a recognition that some grief cannot be sung through.

• 3:

  The captors demand a 'song of Zion' — a taunt, not a request. They want entertainment from their defeated enemies. The irony is crushing: the songs that once celebrated God's presence in the Temple are now demanded by those who destroyed it. The exiles are asked to perform their faith for mockers.

• 4:

  This is the emotional center of the psalm. 'How shall we sing the Lord's song in a foreign land?' The question is rhetorical. The exiles cannot separate worship from the place of God's presence. But the deeper truth — one the exiles had not yet learned — is that God is present even in Babylon (Ezek 1:1-3). The psalmist's loyalty is admirable; his theology is still incomplete.

• 5:

  A self-imprecation: if I forget you, Jerusalem, let my right hand forget its skill. The right hand was used to pluck the harp strings. To forget Jerusalem is to lose the very ability to make music. This is a vow of loyalty, not a command for others. The psalmist binds himself to memory as an act of resistance.

• 6:

  The tongue that sings praise must also remember. If the psalmist does not prioritize Jerusalem above his 'highest joy' (rosh simchah), let his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. This is the language of covenant loyalty — the same kind of devotion God demands (Deut 6:5). Memory is not nostalgia; it is a form of faithfulness.

• 7:

  The psalm turns dark. The Edomites, kin of Israel (descendants of Esau), cheered as Jerusalem fell and urged its complete destruction ('Lay it bare!'). The psalmist calls on God to 'remember' — the same word used for God's covenant faithfulness. He is asking God to act justly toward those who showed no mercy.

• 8:

  Babylon is addressed directly as 'daughter Babylon' — a personification of the empire. The psalmist pronounces a beatitude ('Blessed is the one who repays you') that echoes the ancient principle of just retribution (Deut 32:35). This is not personal vengeance; it is a cry for cosmic justice. The psalmist trusts that God will act, even if the means are brutal.

• 9:

  This is the most difficult verse in the Psalter. The image of dashing infants against rocks is horrifying. It reflects the reality of ancient warfare (2 Kgs 8:12; Isa 13:16) and the depth of trauma the exiles experienced. The psalmist is not commanding violence; he is crying out for God's justice to be as thorough as Babylon's cruelty. The church has always read this verse with discomfort, recognizing that only in Christ — who took the full weight of divine judgment on himself — can such cries be resolved.

Key themes

• Exile and displacement
• Memory as an act of faithfulness
• The tension between worship and suffering
• Justice and the cry for vengeance
• The problem of evil and divine judgment

Application

Psalm 137 gives us permission to bring our rawest emotions to God. The psalmist does not pretend to be okay. He weeps, he remembers, he vows loyalty, and he screams for justice. Many Christians feel pressure to sanitize their pain — to offer 'praise in all circumstances' without acknowledging the depth of their hurt. This psalm says otherwise.

But the psalm also points beyond itself. The cry for vengeance in v. 9 is a cry that only the cross can answer. On the cross, Jesus absorbed the full weight of human sin and divine judgment. He was dashed against the rock of God's justice so that we might be set free. The New Testament calls us to leave vengeance to God (Rom 12:19) and to overcome evil with good (Rom 12:21). That does not mean we stop crying for justice — it means we trust the Judge who is also the Savior.

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