Psalm 118: The Psalm That Sings A–Z, as an Acrostic

When Msgr Ronald Knox translated the Bible, he did something that no translator has ever done: He translated Psalm 118 as an acrostic, from A to W.

From Aleteia

By Daniel Esparza

Psalm 118 is long (the longest one, in fact), so it helps to read it the way it is written: one letter-stanza at a time.

Psalm 118 is the Old Testament’s longest psalm, and it doesn’t use that space to wander. It returns, line after line, to a single love: God’s Torah. Its artistry is as striking as its devotion. The poem is built as an alphabetical acrostic: 22 stanzas (one for each Hebrew letter), with eight verses per letter, for a total of 176 verses.

That structure isn’t a gimmick. It’s a way of saying: from aleph to tav (from alpha to omega, if we were to translate it to Greek) every part of life belongs to God.

What “Torah” means here

Christians often hear “law” and imagine a cold checklist. In Psalm 118, Torah is closer to “instruction” — the path that forms a person. Nearly every verse uses a synonym for God’s teaching: “word,” “decrees,” “statutes,” “precepts,” “testimonies,” and more.

The psalmist yearns more than obeys. He asks for understanding, for steadiness, for deliverance from shame, for courage under pressure — because Torah is not information but the grammar of a faithful life

A prayer disguised as a poem

One of the most surprising scholarly observations (picked up in modern Jewish study sheets) is that Psalm 118 sometimes speaks about Torah with language that earlier biblical texts reserve for God himself — suggesting God’s presence is encountered through his teaching. That doesn’t replace God; it shows how Torah becomes the meeting place where love and obedience learn to walk together.

Rabbinic ears: “Teach me” is the key

Rabbinic commentary hears Psalm 118 as a psalm of study — but study that needs grace.

Midrash Tehillim lingers on verse 12: “Blessed are You, O Lord; teach me Your statutes.” The point is simple and bracing: the psalmist is not self-sufficient. Even devotion cannot manufacture wisdom. Torah must be received, not conquered.

That emphasis repeats throughout the midrash on the psalm: the speaker pleads for a heart capable of learning, remembering, and living what is learned.

Why eight verses per letter?

Rabbinic and later Jewish thinkers often treat numbers as theological hints. A commonly cited idea (found in teaching materials that draw on the Maharal) is that seven suggests the natural order — creation’s rhythm — while eight suggests what goes beyond nature: covenant, holiness, and a life lifted into God’s purposes. If Psalm 118 is Torah from A to Z, the “eight” says Torah is wisdom leading onto the transcendent.

How to read it without getting lost

Psalm 118 is long, so it helps to read it the way it is written: one letter-stanza at a time. Take “Aleph” (verses 1–8) as a doorway: it begins with beatitude — “Happy/blessed are those whose way is blameless” — and immediately ties happiness to walking in God’s teaching.

Read slowly enough to notice its emotional range: joy, frustration, fear, confidence, longing. Torah is what a believer clings to when mocked, tired, or threatened.

Psalm 118’s final gift is this: it makes devotion feel realistic. The holiest person in the poem is not the one who never struggles — but the one who keeps saying, again and again, “Teach me.”

Pictured: Manuscript of verse 81 by Giovannino de' Grassi, Biblioteca Nazionale, Florence