From “VCS the Visual Commentary on Scripture – The One Who Dwells
“Psalm 91 is among the most frequently cited passages of Scripture in the Jewish and Christian traditions. It features frequently in liturgies, sacred music, and devotional writings. Visual artists throughout history have responded to its vivid metaphorical language. But the psalm also appears in other, often surprising places: etched into pendants, printed on camouflage bandanas to wear into military combat, and, during the Covid-19 pandemic, emblazoned on masks. Satan himself quotes the psalm when he tempts Christ in the wilderness (Matthew 4:5; Luke 4:9–11). These various uses suggest the enduring attraction of the psalm’s expansive promises of protection.
“The psalm is divided into two sections. In verses 1–13, the singer addresses an individual, offering a prophetic promise of blessing and protection. In the final three verses (vv.14–16), the voice changes, and God himself now speaks his assurances. These promises are given to someone beloved by and intimate with God. The recipient shares space with God, abiding in his shadow (v.1), finding refuge in him (v.4), cleaving to him in love (v.14), and knowing his very name (v.14). God, in turn, serves as a refuge and fortress (v.2), a deliverer from snares (v.3), and shield against attacks both visible and invisible (vv.4–7).
“In both the Jewish and Christian tradition, the psalm has been used apotropaically, as a means of magically warding off evil. Fifth-century Jews, for example, inscribed the psalm in whole or part on incantation bowls and on amulets, specifically to ward off demons (Jenkins 2023: 53). A medieval commentary on Psalm 91, Midrash Tehilim, interprets ‘pestilence’ and ‘destruction’ (v. 6) as the names of literal demons, one active at night and one at noon, perhaps a notion adopted from other ancient Near Eastern sources (Jenkins 2023: 57). Early Church and medieval Christians, too, frequently wrote the opening words of the psalm—‘the one who dwells in the shelter of the Most High’—on papyrus, parchment, and cloth, and wore or carried it on their person.
“The fifth-century North African lamp in the exhibition is a variation of this practice. However, instead of inscribing the text of Psalm 91 on the lamp, the maker stamped an image that would invoke a specific section of the psalm: the treading of the lion and the adder in verse 13. In this, the lamp also exemplifies the most popular visual representation of the psalm in Byzantine and medieval Christianity: the one who tramples the beasts is Christ himself, crowned by a halo and holding a cross-shaped staff.
“This messianic interpretation of verse 13 stems, in part, from Satan’s use of the previous two verses when tempting Jesus in the wilderness (Matthew 4:5; Luke 4:9–11). Satan challenges Jesus to jump from the top of the Temple, pointing to the promise in verses 11 and 12 that angels will protect the petitioner. He stops short, however, of quoting the final verse of the section, in which evil forces are defeated.
“Jesus replies by quoting Deuteronomy 6:16, asserting that the psalm’s promises are an invitation to trust, rather than test, God (Eaton 2003: 327). Notably, Jesus makes a clear allusion to the missing verse 13 when he declares his messianic mission later in Luke’s gospel: ‘Behold, I have given you authority to tread upon serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing shall hurt you’ (Luke 10:19; Jenkins 2023: 41). Images of Christ treading on a lion and snake—occasionally joined by a basilisk and dragon—appeared in Byzantine mosaics, Carolingian ivories, medieval manuscripts, and architectural sculpture. The formula succinctly represented a triumphant Christ. Depending on the cultural context, however, it could symbolize his victory over evil and death generally, or over more specific foes and even doctrinal heresies.
“Rather than simply reiterating that singular theme, this exhibition explores two other richly evocative metaphors within the psalm. Albrecht Dürer’s watercolour sketch of a blue roller’s wing invites us to consider the beauty and surprising strength of the bird feathers in verse 4. Meanwhile, Julia Hendrickson’s meditative abstract painting suggests the psalm’s frequent usage as part of evening devotions in both Christian and Jewish traditions, claiming God’s assurance of security throughout the dark of the night. Together, all three objects encourage us to consider the psalm’s varied historical usage as well as its present promise that we, too, can rest in the shadow of the Almighty.”