Psalms 68:15–17

Psalms 68:15 — "The mountains of Bashan are majestic mountains"

The region of Bashan, lying northeast of the Sea of Galilee in what is today the Golan Heights, was renowned in the ancient Near East for its towering, volcanic peaks (notably Mount Hermon at over 9,000 feet), its dense forests of oak, and its fatted livestock (cf. Amos 4:1; Ezekiel 39:18). To call the mountains of Bashan majestic (Hebrew: har elohim, literally "mountains of God" — a superlative idiom denoting exceptional height and grandeur) is to grant them their due: they are genuinely impressive by every human or natural standard. The phrase sets up the contrast deliberately. The Psalmist does not dismiss Bashan; he acknowledges its splendor only to subordinate it to a higher logic — divine election.

Psalms 68:16 — "Why do you look in envy, you rugged mountains?"

The Hebrew verb teratzdun carries connotations of jealous watching, hostile surveillance, or resentful glaring. The mountains are personified as rivals staring with covetous eyes at a lesser peak. The "rugged mountains" — literally mountains of peaks or many-peaked mountains — are mocked for their envy of Zion, which by every outward measure is their inferior: smaller, less dramatic, less fertile. Yet it is Zion that God has chosen (cf. Psalm 132:13–14). This rhetorical device — the question directed at an inanimate rival — is a powerful poetic technique. It exposes the absurdity of measuring divine favor by human or natural criteria. Election, the Psalm insists, is purely a matter of God's sovereign will, not of observable merit. The verse anticipates the New Testament logic of 1 Corinthians 1:27–28: "God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise."

Psalms 68:17 — "The chariots of God are tens of thousands and thousands of thousands"

The verse now pivots from polemic to theophany. The Hebrew rikbey elohim (chariots of God) invokes the divine warrior imagery pervasive in ancient Semitic religion, here utterly reappropriated for Israel's God. The number — ribbotayim, "twenty thousand," supplemented by alephey shin'an (thousands upon thousands) — functions hyperbolically to express the overwhelming incomparability of divine power. These are not merely more chariots than any earthly king possesses; they are beyond counting. The verse references Sinai: "the Lord has come from Sinai into the sanctuary." God's triumphant procession — celebrated throughout Psalm 68 as a royal military march — reaches its destination at Zion. Sinai, where the covenant was given and God first appeared in fire and cloud, is now surpassed not in holiness but in fulfillment: the God of Sinai now dwells permanently among His people on Zion. The progression from Sinai to Zion is the progression from theophanic visit to permanent indwelling, from law-giving to presence.

Typological and Spiritual Senses

In the typological reading, Zion foreshadows the Church and, more specifically, the Virgin Mary, both of whom are "small" by worldly estimation yet chosen as the dwelling-place of God Incarnate. The Fathers consistently read the choice of Zion over Bashan as an icon of grace overriding nature. Eusebius of Caesarea (Commentary on the Psalms) identifies the "mountain God desires to dwell in" as the Church built upon the humble rock of apostolic faith. The divine chariots of verse 17 are read by several Fathers, including Origen (Homilies on Ezekiel), as the angelic hosts accompanying Christ at His Ascension — the "tens of thousands" who escort the King to His heavenly throne. This reading coheres powerfully with Acts 1:9–11 and Hebrews 12:22.

Catholic tradition brings a distinctively layered reading to these three verses, illuminating them along three interlocking axes: election, humility, and eschatological fulfillment.

Divine Election and the Logic of Grace. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that God's election is always gratuitous — it flows from His love alone, not from the worthiness of the recipient (CCC §218). The choice of Zion over Bashan dramatizes this principle spatially and poetically. God does not choose the tallest mountain; He chooses the mountain He loves. St. Augustine, commenting on this Psalm in his Enarrationes in Psalmos, reads Zion as a figure for the humble soul: "The mountain that God desires for His habitation is a contrite and humble heart; the proud soul, like Bashan's peaks, towers above others but is passed over by God."

Zion as Type of the Church and Mary. Catholic typology, formalized in the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation (Dei Verbum §16) — "the New Testament lies hidden in the Old" — identifies Zion as the primary Old Testament type of the Church. Pope Pius XII's Mystici Corporis describes the Church as the dwelling-place of the Holy Spirit in the world, precisely the role Zion plays in this Psalm. Marian interpretation further deepens this: the Catechism quotes the Second Vatican Council's Lumen Gentium (§63) in presenting Mary as the perfect type of the Church, and patristic commentary (especially St. Cyril of Alexandria and St. Ephrem the Syrian) identifies the "mountain the Lord desires" as the Theotokos — the small, hidden maiden of Nazareth chosen above all earthly greatness as the dwelling of the Incarnate God.

The Divine Warrior and the Angelic Hosts. The patristic reading of the divine chariots in relation to the Ascension (cf. Psalm 68:18 and Ephesians 4:8) situates this verse within the Church's liturgical and creedal tradition. The Ascension is not merely Christ's departure but His enthronement, the arrival of the victorious divine warrior at His eternal sanctuary. The General Instruction of the Liturgy of the Hours notes how the Church reads Psalm 68 in its totality as a Christological Psalm of victory, most fittingly on the Feast of the Ascension.

Contemporary Catholics live in a culture that relentlessly equates greatness with scale: larger parishes, more prestigious universities, more influential platforms, more imposing institutions. Psalm 68:15–17 is a direct rebuke to this metric. God passes over Bashan — the objectively impressive, the naturally powerful — and chooses Zion.

For the individual Catholic, this passage is an invitation to stop measuring one's spiritual worth by visible accomplishment. The humble parish in a small town, the quiet contemplative life, the unglamorous works of mercy performed without recognition: these are the "Zions" God desires to inhabit. When envy of others' apparent spiritual greatness or ecclesial prestige creeps in — the "rugged mountain" glaring at what it does not possess — the Psalmist's rhetorical question lands like a corrective: Why do you look with envy? God has already chosen where He wishes to dwell.

Practically, this passage might anchor a weekly examination of conscience: Where am I striving for Bashan — impressive, visible, lauded — when God is inviting me to become Zion: small, hidden, available, chosen? The answer is not passivity, but a deliberate ordering of ambition toward the place where God has promised to meet us: in humility, prayer, the sacraments, and fraternal love.