Psalms 135

The Inner Drama of Divine Praise

Psalm 135 read as an interior drama describes a single human psyche staging its own liturgy, trial, and coronation. Read psychologically, the Psalm is not a catalog of distant events but a map of consciousness: praise is attention, the LORD is Imagination—the active, choosing center of awareness—and the named peoples, places and acts are states, decisions, and processes that unfold inside the mind.

The opening refrain, “Praise ye the LORD. Praise ye the name of the LORD; praise him, O ye servants of the LORD,” is an invitation from the conscious self to its faculties. The “servants” are the senses, habits and mental functions that do the work of living: perception, memory, speech, will. They are asked to praise, which here means to recognize, to align with, and to sustain the operative power within: the creative self. Praise is not merely sung words but a turning of attention inward to a unifying source. When attention praises, the faculties stop acting as separate critics and become instruments of a single purpose.

“Ye that stand in the house of the LORD, in the courts of the house of our God,” places attention in two interior zones. The “house of the LORD” names the receptive, contemplative center—an inner chamber where imagination dwells. The “courts” are the outer rooms of practical life: thought, feeling, and behavior. To stand in the house and the courts is to be present in both contemplative depth and everyday action. The Psalm therefore insists that creative power is not a remote ideal but present in both silence and activity: the inner image and the outward expression must match.

“For the LORD is good: sing praises unto his name; for it is pleasant.” Goodness here signifies the harmonious operation of Imagination when undisturbed by doubt. Singing is sustained attention, pleasurable because congruence between inner image and outer life produces right feeling. The psychological teaching is simple: when the imagining faculty is trusted and allowed to form and sustain a state, the mind experiences pleasant coherence.

“For the LORD hath chosen Jacob unto himself, and Israel for his peculiar treasure.” Jacob and Israel are archetypal modes of self. Jacob—one who has wrestled, who has struggled with inner contradictions—is the part of us that negotiates, bargains, and learns. Israel—one who has prevailed through inner covenant—becomes the treasure, the faithful part that can receive and guard a realized state. The text is saying: your restless self is chosen to be indwelt and transformed by the creative center. The one who has fought with self-doubt is not discarded; instead, that capacity is alchemized into the faithful guardian of the new state.

“I know that the LORD is great, and that our Lord is above all gods.” Here the Psalmist distinguishes the active center from lesser claims. The “gods” are the fragmented beliefs, adopted voices and cultural certitudes which demand priority. Psychologically, to say the LORD is above all gods is to recognize imagination as the prime mover above any belief system, dogma, or conditioned reflex. It is a call to re-order interior allegiance: the imagination’s decisions outrank the small stubborn deities of habit and fear.

“Whatsoever the LORD pleased, that did he in heaven, and in earth, in the seas, and all deep places.” This sweeping sentence dramatizes how a resolved inner act ripples through all layers of consciousness. “Heaven” is our highest aspiration; “earth” the body and practical life; “seas” the undercurrents of emotion; “all deep places” the unconscious. When the creative center chooses, it reorganizes perceptions in all these realms. The mind that holds an image persistently will find corresponding impressions in thought, feeling, and circumstance.

The Psalm then lists powers of nature—“He causeth the vapours to ascend... maketh lightnings for the rain... bringeth the wind out of his treasuries”—because these are metaphors for processes in consciousness. Vapors ascending are rising insights; lightning and rain are sudden illumination followed by cleansing. The wind from treasuries is the release of stored creative energy. The psyche stores potentialities in deep repositories; when imagination commands, these energies are liberated and manifest as change in emotional tone and external events.

“Who smote the firstborn of Egypt, both of man and beast. Who sent tokens and wonders into the midst of thee, O Egypt...” Egypt symbolizes the realm of bondage—the limiting mentality, fear, and identification with outer circumstance that claims the first place in awareness. The dramatic “smiting of the firstborn” is the death of the earliest loyalties: the initial habit of naming oneself by history, trauma, or inherited identity. Psychological change requires the removal of those first-born claims; only when the primary allegiance to limitation is dislodged can new possibilities arise. The “tokens and wonders” are inner signs—vivid imaginings, archetypal realizations—that signal the possibility of liberation.

“Who smote great nations, and slew mighty kings... And gave their land for an heritage, an heritage unto Israel his people.” Conquest of kingdoms and kings represents an overthrow of dominant beliefs and authorities inside the mind. Each “king” is a ruling conviction—“I am helpless,” “I am unworthy,” “I must be this way”—which, when confronted by the authority of imagination, fall away. The giving of land as “heritage” to Israel is the inheritance of new states of consciousness. The psyche receives newly won inner territories—peace, confidence, creativity—as its rightful possession once the old rulers are dethroned.

“Thy name, O LORD, endureth for ever; and thy memorial... throughout all generations.” The name and memorial are memory and identity. When imagination establishes itself firmly, its memorial endures across the mind’s generations: all future thoughts and stories inherit a different register. This is the psychological idea of an identity change that persists: once a state is deeply assumed and felt, it becomes the root memory that shapes subsequent experience.

“For the LORD will judge his people, and he will repent himself concerning his servants.” Judgment here is interior discernment: the creative center evaluates the servants—habits and beliefs—testing whether they serve the new state. Repentance, psychologically, is correction or reorientation: the inner authority 'repents' meaning it shifts its attitude toward those faculties, learning to reassign them to constructive roles. This is not condemnation but reeducation of the mind’s servants.

“The idols of the heathen are silver and gold, the work of men's hands. They have mouths, but they speak not... neither is there any breath in their mouths.” Idols are the lifeless constructs—rational explanations, reputations, material attachments—made by the intellect that appear powerful but lack animating breath. They can be spoken about, admired, and defended, yet they do not originate living change. The description of the idol’s mute senses warns that reliance upon external forms will not produce inner life. Those who trust them become like their makers: rigid, echoing, limited.

“They that make them are like unto them: so is every one that trusteth in them.” This is a forensic psychology of projection: what you worship, you become. If one worships a dead idea—achievement, status, fixed identity—one hardens into that image. The Psalm calls for self-examination: are you shaped by lifeless constructs, or by living imagining?

“Bless the LORD, O house of Israel... house of Aaron... house of Levi: ye that fear the LORD, bless the LORD. Blessed be the LORD out of Zion, which dwelleth at Jerusalem.” The closing benediction assigns roles in the inner temple. Israel, Aaron, Levi represent aspects of the self aligned with covenant, priesthood, and service. Fear of the LORD here is reverent attention. Zion and Jerusalem name the heart’s citadel—stillness and sovereign center—where the creative presence dwells. The Psalm ends where it began: with praise. Psychologically, the work of transformation circles back to grateful recognition: the faculties, now reorganized, bless the center that made the change possible.

Taken as a whole, Psalm 135 stages the process of inner liberation: attention (praise) finds and honors the creative center (Imagination); that center reorders the manifold faculties (servants, courts); it removes the firstborn claims of bondage (Egypt), dethrones inner rulers (kings), and grants the mind ownership of new territories (heritage). False authorities (idols) are exposed as lifeless, while priestly functions (Aaron, Levi) are consecrated to the living presence. The persistent teaching is operational: the creative power operates within human consciousness, and it acts by choice, image, and sustained attention.

Practically, the Psalm instructs how to use imagination. Begin by praising—focus attention and feel the tone of completion. Enter the inner house; imagine the desired end as already present. Allow the treasuries of deep feeling to release their winds and rains—let emotions be reshaped by sustained inner images. When the old rulers rise, confront them by maintaining the higher image until their authority dissolves. Keep the sabbath of confidence after imagining: do not fret about means; rest in the memorial you have planted. The Psalm’s final blessing is proof: when imagination is honored and allowed to work, the whole inner house shifts, and the outer life follows.