Psalm 148

7 Praise the Lord from the earth, *
you sea‑monsters and all deeps;

8 Fire and hail, snow and fog, *
tempestuous wind, doing his will;

9 Mountains and all hills, *
fruit trees and all cedars;

10 Wild beasts and all cattle, *
creeping things and wingèd birds;

11 Kings of the earth and all peoples, *
princes and all rulers of the world;

12 Young men and maidens, *
old and young together.

13 Let them praise the Name of the Lord, *
for his Name only is exalted, his splendor is over earth and heaven.

14 He has raised up strength for his people and praise for all his loyal servants, *
the children of Israel, a people who are near him.
Hallelujah!

Sometimes the psalms just don’t seem plausible to me. Am I the only one? The first part of this psalm is weird enough, but at least I can conceive of angels praising the Lord. That is, I suppose, what they do, after all. But by the time we get to sea-monsters, my credulity is strained. “Would somebody hand Nessie a tambourine?” I mean, c’mon! And this bit about fire and hail “doing his will”. That’s just a bit too much. …I know! It’s poetic, right? And this is just lyrical imagery intended to make us long for a world governed by Yahweh where all is well and all manner of things are well. That’s the only reason we can talk about kings and peoples and generations praising the Name together, right?, poetic wishful thinking. Hoping. It’s poetic hyperbole, isn’t it? Maybe one day in “heaven” this will be reality, but not today, right?

And what about that last verse? Can we really say that God has – past tense – done this for us? In seminary we’d call it “proleptic”, speaking of the future as though present. Surely if we join this Hallelujah, it’s in hope of something to come, right? Right?

Unless it’s Easter. If it’s really Easter and the End has broken into the present with the rising of Jesus from the dead, then anything is possible. The future hope can be today’s because of what He did yesterday. Then it’s real and right now. If it’s Easter, then the implausible becomes the imperative. Praise him! All of it praises him. I praise him and the trees praise him and UFO’s praise him and your dog in the back yard praises him. And Barack and Hillary and John all praise him. And Katrina praises him because everything gets redeemed. One day death will praise him. What else am I doing today that’s so important anyway? Praise him.
Hallelujah!