Psalms 120:5 Meaning: When Your Neighbors Feel Like Enemies

Three Hebrew words stand out here. First, the cry oyah, “woe.” It is not casual frustration. It is a groan from deep inside, the sound someone makes when they feel trapped and helpless. The psalmist is not just annoyed; he is grieving.

The second key word is garti, “I have sojourned.” It comes from a root that means to live as a foreigner, a temporary resident. He is not at home. He is stuck in a place that feels alien, among people who do not share his heart for God or for peace. That sojourning has stretched on too long.

The third word is shakhanti, “I have dwelt.” It means to settle down, to take up residence. But here the dwelling is among the tents of Kedar, a nomadic, often hostile tribe. The contrast is sharp: he is supposed to be settled, but his home feels like a battlefield. The words together paint a picture of a person who feels permanently displaced by the cruelty around him.

Christian readers have understood these names in different ways. Older commentators like Calvin and Gill say Meshech and Kedar are symbolic. The psalmist is not literally living among those distant tribes; he is surrounded by people just as barbarous and hostile. Others, like Adam Clarke and Barnes, note that some Israelites were actually taken captive to regions near Meshech and Kedar during the exile. In that reading, the verse describes real, painful displacement. The ancient Greek and Latin versions read “my sojourning is prolonged,” taking Meshech as a word for “drawing out” rather than a place. These views do not fight each other. They all see a person crying out from a life surrounded by hostility, longing for a different home.

A common mistake is to read the verse as a literal travel report, that the psalmist lived among the actual Moschi tribe and the Kedarite Arabs at the same time. In fact, the two peoples lived far apart (north of the Black Sea and south in Arabia), so a literal reading makes no sense. Commentators agree the names are symbolic. The psalmist is describing the kind of people he lives among: rough, quarrelsome, opposed to peace. He could just as well say he dwells among “Turks and Tartars,” as some older writers put it.

You may not live near Meshech or Kedar, but you might know what it feels like to be surrounded by people who are quick to lie, quick to argue, quick to make peace impossible. It might be at work, in your neighbourhood, even in your own family. The psalmist does not pretend otherwise. He does not say “just be thankful” or “look on the bright side.” He groans. He names the pain. And he prays. That is the application: when you feel like an alien in your own life, you can take your raw honesty to God. He heard the psalmist. He hears you.