THAT’S WHAT MATTHEW tells us. The disciples had just finished their final meal together, the yearly Passover seder commemorating the miraculous exodus of God’s people from Egypt. The disciples were probably filled with a sense of foreboding because earlier, Jesus predicted that one of them would betray him that night. Then, as they took Passover bread and wine together, he spoke darkly of his body and blood. And after the hymn, when they left the Upper Room, he would declare that all of them, not just the one betrayer, would soon scatter like frightened sheep, leaving him to face his trials alone.

Was anyone in the mood for singing?

And what could they possibly have sung? A praise song?

There’s no way to know for certain, but it’s possible to take a good guess. The disciples didn’t have to be in the mood to sing a hymn. More likely, they sang the psalms traditionally associated with Passover and other Jewish festivals. And perhaps sometime later — after the emotional whirlwind of the crucifixion and resurrection — they were able to go back and reflect on the significance of those psalms for what they had just experienced.

COLLECTIVELY, PSALMS 113 to 118 are known as the Hallel; the phrase hallelujah, or “praise God,” occurs repeatedly in them. Sometimes, these psalms are known more specifically as the “Egyptian” Hallel, because Psalm 114 clearly highlights the Exodus from Egypt. But all of these psalms celebrate the goodness and faithful love of God for his people. As Psalm 117 — the shortest psalm in the Bible — teaches, “For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever” (vs. 2, NIV). Similarly, the very last verse of the Hallel, at the end of Psalm 118, says, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever.”

Psalm 113 is a scant nine verses. As the first psalm in the Hallel, it is framed by hallelujahs at the beginning and end. After that opening hallelujah, the psalmist issues a universal call to praise:

Praise the LORD, you his servants;
    praise the name of the LORD.
Let the name of the LORD be praised,
    both now and forevermore.
From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets,
    the name of the LORD is to be praised. (Ps 113:1-3)

The phrase “you his servants” may refer specifically to those whose official calling it was to praise God in communal worship. But the command to praise, of course, was not only for them; there is no limit to when and where God is to be praised. His name is to be praised “now and forevermore,” says the psalmist — in other words, throughout time. And it is to be praised from the “rising of the sun to the place where it sets”; we might say, “from east to west.”

And why is God to be praised? First of all, the psalmist insists, it’s because there’s no other god like him:

The LORD is exalted over all the nations,
    his glory above the heavens.
Who is like the LORD our God,
    the One who sits enthroned on high,
who stoops down to look
    on the heavens and the earth? (vss. 4-6)

The psalmist’s words are implicitly political: each nation may have its own god or gods, but the God of Israel is above them all. He doesn’t merely dwell in the heavens but is enthroned above and beyond them. Indeed, he has to “stoop down” to look upon both the heavens and the earth.

Moreover, the verb that the New International Version translates as “stoops down” is generally used to suggest either humbling oneself or being humbled by others. Elsewhere in the psalms, and especially in the book of Isaiah, the word is used to describe how God as the righteous Judge brings down the proud and the wicked. But here, it is used to describe how the incomparably exalted God is not for that reason disinterested and aloof.

Quite the contrary: as the final verses insist, he humbles himself to take a compassionate interest in human affairs:

He raises the poor from the dust
    and lifts the needy from the ash heap;
he seats them with princes,
    with the princes of his people.
He settles the childless woman in her home
    as a happy mother of children. (vss. 7-9)

Here, the psalmist is echoing the words of another song, which we’ll look at next time. But the direction and theme of what the psalmist writes is familiar: God cares about the poor and needy. Indeed, the verb used to describe God “lifting” the needy from the ash or rubbish heap is the same one used earlier to describe God as “exalted.”

That’s not to say, of course, that God will take every destitute person in the world and seat them in the halls of social and political power. But it is to say that all the social distinctions we take for granted between prince and pauper, rich and poor, high and low, mean nothing to a God who is both incomparably exalted and incomparably merciful and kind.

WHEN WE SING praise songs in the context of a contemporary worship service, we may not feel like it. We may be dealing with bad news or a sense of impending doom, as the disciples probably were. When that happens, the “hallelujahs” we sing may feel flat and empty. Can the psalmist or anyone else, then, really command us to praise?

Yes: because this and other psalms of praise are not a command to feel a particular way that we may not feel at the moment. Instead, it’s an invitation to enter back into a story we may have temporarily forgotten. This is the high and exalted God whom we serve, in whom we believe, and to whom we sing. This is the God who from beyond the heavens humbles himself to lift up those who have been brought low on earth. We may not feel like praising God, but we can sing our way into the memory of his mercy.

And who knows? Perhaps the next time they took a Passover meal together and sang their hallelujahs, the disciples remembered, This is also the God who raises the dead.