Psalms (Tehillim): The Songs of Israel

The Prayer Book That Wrote Itself

If you have ever been to a Jewish funeral, you have heard the psalms. If you have ever attended a Shabbat morning service, you have sung them. If you have ever sat with someone who was sick, or grieving, or afraid, you may have reached for them without thinking — because the psalms have a way of saying what we cannot say on our own.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” “Out of the depths I cry to You, O Lord.” “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept.” “How good and how pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together in unity.” “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

These are not just lines of scripture. They are the emotional bedrock of Jewish life. For three thousand years, Jews have turned to the Book of Psalms — Tehillim in Hebrew — to express what human language alone cannot reach: the depths of grief, the heights of praise, the raw confusion of suffering, the quiet trust of faith.

There are 150 psalms. Some are only a few verses long. Others stretch across pages. Together, they form the most complete emotional and spiritual vocabulary in the Hebrew Bible — a book that encompasses everything from rage to rapture, from the grandeur of creation to the loneliness of a single human being crying out in the dark.

David the Psalmist

Jewish tradition attributes the Book of Psalms primarily to King David, the shepherd-boy-turned-king who played the harp, killed Goliath, united the twelve tribes, conquered Jerusalem, and danced before the Ark of the Covenant. Seventy-three psalms carry the superscription “Of David” (l’David), and the Talmud says David composed the entire collection, incorporating earlier compositions and adding his own.

Modern scholarship suggests the psalms were written by many authors over several centuries — some as early as the period of the Judges, others as late as the Babylonian exile or even the Persian period. But the traditional association with David is not arbitrary. David’s life — marked by triumph and tragedy, faith and failure, public glory and private anguish — mirrors the emotional range of the psalms themselves.

The Midrash imagines David composing psalms in every situation: as a shepherd boy watching the stars, as a fugitive hiding in caves, as a king mourning his son Absalom, as an old man reflecting on a life of both greatness and sin. The psalms are, in this reading, the autobiography of a soul.

Categories: The Psalms Are Not All the Same

Scholars divide the psalms into several broad categories:

Hymns of Praise — Songs celebrating God’s power, creation, and sovereignty. Psalm 19 (“The heavens declare the glory of God”), Psalm 104 (a magnificent nature poem), and Psalm 150 (“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord”) are among the finest. These psalms are joyful, expansive, and often cosmically grand.

Laments — The largest category. Individual laments (Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”) and communal laments (Psalm 44, Psalm 74) cry out in pain, protest suffering, demand answers from God, and — most remarkably — do not always receive them. The psalms of lament give permission to be angry at God, to question, to struggle. They are the Bible’s most honest prayers.

Thanksgiving Psalms — Songs of gratitude for deliverance from danger, illness, or enemies. Psalm 30 (“You turned my mourning into dancing”) and Psalm 116 (“How can I repay the Lord for all His kindness to me?”) express the relief and joy of someone who has survived.

Royal Psalms — Psalms connected to the king: coronation hymns (Psalm 2), wedding songs (Psalm 45), and prayers for the king’s success (Psalm 72). These later took on messianic significance.

Wisdom Psalms — Meditations on the righteous and the wicked, the rewards of following Torah, and the mysteries of divine justice. Psalm 1 (“Happy is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked”) sets the tone for the entire collection.

Pilgrimage Songs — Psalms 120–134 are called Shir HaMa’alot (“Songs of Ascent”), traditionally sung by pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem for the three festivals. Psalm 121 (“I lift my eyes to the hills — from where does my help come?”) is perhaps the best known.

The Psalms Everyone Knows

Psalm 23: The Lord Is My Shepherd. The most famous psalm in any language. Six verses of perfect simplicity: “He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul.” It moves from pastoral calm through “the valley of the shadow of death” to a table set in the presence of enemies, ending with the promise of dwelling in God’s house forever. It is read at funerals, at bedsides, in moments of fear. Its power lies in its intimacy — God is not a distant king here, but a shepherd who knows each sheep by name.

Psalm 121: I Lift My Eyes to the Hills. A pilgrimage psalm of quiet confidence. “My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot stumble; He who guards you will not slumber.” It is recited at the start of journeys, sung at weddings, and spoken over the sick.

Psalm 137: By the Rivers of Babylon. The great psalm of exile: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung our harps.” The exiles’ captors demand a song. The response is defiance: “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” The psalm ends with a vow of remembrance — and a cry of vengeance so raw that many liturgical settings omit the final verses.

Psalms in Daily Jewish Prayer

The psalms are not a museum exhibit. They are a living part of Jewish prayer every single day.

Pesukei d’Zimra — The morning service begins with “Verses of Song,” a collection of psalms (145–150 and others) that warm up the soul for prayer. Psalm 145 (Ashrei) is so important that the Talmud says anyone who recites it three times a day is guaranteed a share in the world to come.

The Psalm of the Day — Each day of the week has its assigned psalm, recited at the end of the morning service. Sunday is Psalm 24, Monday is Psalm 48, and so on through Shabbat, which gets Psalm 92 (“A Song for the Sabbath Day”).

Hallel — Psalms 113–118, recited on Passover, Shavuot, Sukkot, Hanukkah, and Rosh Chodesh (the new month). “Full Hallel” includes all six psalms; “Half Hallel” omits portions. These are psalms of exuberant praise and thanksgiving, often sung communally with great energy.

Kabbalat Shabbat — The Friday evening service that welcomes Shabbat opens with six psalms (95–99 and 29), followed by the hymn Lecha Dodi. Psalm 92 and Psalm 93 conclude the sequence.

Healing Psalms

In Jewish tradition, reciting Tehillim is one of the primary spiritual responses to illness, danger, and distress. When someone is sick, communities organize to recite the entire book of 150 psalms, dividing it among participants so the whole cycle is completed in a single day. Some psalms are considered especially potent for healing — Psalms 6, 20, 30, 41, 88, 103, and 121 are commonly chosen.

The practice is not magic. It is an expression of solidarity, faith, and the belief that words spoken with sincerity have power — that the ancient cry of a psalmist in distress can carry the pain of someone suffering today. “Out of the depths I cry to You, O Lord” (Psalm 130) — those words have been spoken by every generation, and they are never exhausted.

Five Books of Psalms

The 150 psalms are divided into five “books,” echoing the five books of the Torah:

• Book I (Psalms 1–41): Mostly attributed to David, intensely personal
• Book II (Psalms 42–72): Mixed authorship, includes Korahite psalms
• Book III (Psalms 73–89): Asaphite psalms, communal concerns
• Book IV (Psalms 90–106): Praise and kingship of God
• Book V (Psalms 107–150): Includes the Songs of Ascent and the closing Hallel

Each book ends with a doxology — a formulaic praise. The final psalm, 150, is itself one long doxology: “Praise Him with the blast of the shofar! Praise Him with harp and lyre! … Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Hallelujah!”

A Book That Never Closes

The psalms have outlived every empire that tried to silence them. They were sung in the Temple in Jerusalem. They were whispered in the ghettos of Europe. They were chanted in displaced persons camps after the Holocaust. They are recited today in synagogues on six continents, in hospital rooms, at gravesides, at joyful celebrations, and in the quiet of a person praying alone.

Their endurance is not an accident. The psalms endure because they refuse to pretend that faith is easy. They give voice to doubt, anger, loneliness, and despair — alongside gratitude, wonder, trust, and praise. They insist that all of these emotions are legitimate expressions of a relationship with God.

As the Talmud says: “David composed the Book of Psalms, incorporating the work of ten elders.” But in truth, the psalms belong to everyone who has ever opened the book and found their own life written there.