When I was growing up, there was a season when we had regular family devotions in the evenings. We would sing a few songs, read a passage from the Bible, and then pray together.
The Bible reading usually fell to my sister or me, and we had one simple goal: finish as quickly as possible so we could get back to playing or reading. Among our favourites was Psalm 133. It wasn’t just short—only three verses—but also, to our childish minds, quite funny.
I vividly remember giggling my way through the lines about oil being poured on the head, running down the beard of Aaron. I never stopped to wonder why the Psalmist chose that image or what it meant. It simply broke the monotony of the other psalms because it was so different.
Psalm 133 is a different kind of Psalm that gives us a vision of the beauty of togetherness. And the togetherness God invites us into is life-giving and enduring.
What Togetherness Feels Like
The psalm begins with a declaration: “Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!” (Psalm 133:1)
The word “behold” is an invitation to stop and pay attention. What follows is not just a statement but an exclamation of wonder: how good and pleasant it is when people dwell together as one.
The phrase “dwelling together” first appears in Genesis, describing families living in close proximity. It’s not unlike the Indian joint-family system, where multiple generations live under one roof and pool resources for the common good.
But Psalm 133 expands this idea beyond family. It is a “song of ascents,” sung by God’s people as they journeyed together to worship. The context shifts from biological family to spiritual family—the community of God’s people.
Togetherness is not just morally good; it also evokes a sense of wonder that draws you in.
It satisfies something deep within the soul when we experience togetherness in different contexts: a family gathering without tension, a workplace where everyone does their part, friendships marked by trust and honesty. These glimpses of harmony are deeply satisfying—and yet, often fleeting.
Because togetherness is also fragile.
The Fragility of Togetherness
Even in Genesis, we see how difficult it is to sustain. Abraham and Lot couldn’t dwell together because of conflict over resources (Gen. 13:6). Jacob and Esau had to separate (Gen. 36:6-8). Closer to home, many of us have seen how easily joint families fracture—often over property issues.
Even David, the author of this psalm, knew the pain of broken relationships—dismissed by his brothers (1 Sam. 17:28), pursued by his father-in-law (1 Sam. 17), betrayed by his own son (2 Sam. 15).
So when it comes to togetherness, we may feel a mix of longing and weariness. Perhaps we’ve been hurt. Perhaps we’ve grown cautious. Or perhaps we’ve limited our idea of community to people who are easy to love.
Wherever we may find ourselves, Psalm 133 invites us to receive a fresh vision—a togetherness that is truly good and deeply pleasant.
What Togetherness Looks Like
The psalmist gives us two striking images to describe this kind of togetherness.
Like Precious Oil
“It is like the precious oil on the head, running down on the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down on the collar of his robes” (Psalm 133:2).
This is no ordinary oil. It is the sacred anointing oil used to consecrate Aaron, the high priest (Ex. 30:22-33). It was carefully crafted, richly perfumed, and entirely unique—never to be replicated. This togetherness is sacred and is set apart.
Togetherness among God’s people is unique, abundant, and life-giving.
The image is also one of abundance. The oil doesn’t stay contained—it flows. From the head to the beard to the robes, it spreads, symbolically covering the whole community.
Togetherness, then, is like a rich fragrance that fills the entire space. It binds people together—people who may otherwise have nothing in common.
Like the Dew of Hermon
“It is like the dew of Hermon, which falls on the mountains of Zion!” (Psalm 133:3a)
Mount Hermon, in the north, is known for its abundant dew, which brings life and lushness to the land. Zion, by contrast, is in the south and much drier. And yet, the psalm imagines Hermon’s life-giving dew falling on Zion. It’s an impossible picture—and that’s the point.
It reflects the miracle of the togetherness of God’s people drawn across cultures, communities, classes, and castes. Binding people together who are completely different and diverse in Christ.
Togetherness among God’s people is unique, abundant, and life-giving. It is nothing less than a blessing, blessed by God (Psalm 133:3b).
Where Togetherness Comes From
If this is the vision, how does it become reality? The answer is both simple and freeing: togetherness is received, not achieved.
God is the one who dwells in perfect togetherness—Father, Son, and Spirit in perfect unity (Deut. 6:4). Through Jesus, we are invited into that unity. Jesus prays that his followers “may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us” (John 17:21).
Our togetherness as God’s people is only through Jesus, and just like the gospel, it is received, not earned. Togetherness is not something we manufacture. It is not built on shared preferences, personalities, or opinions.
Just like the oil and the dew in the psalm—both flow downward. They come from above.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in his book Life Together, writes, “Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realise; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate.”
The New Testament echoes this call, “bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Eph. 4:3).
Togetherness is a gift of grace. The challenge for us is simple: to steward this gift of togetherness well.
We are not asked to create unity, but to maintain it. That means choosing humility over pride. Patience over frustration. Forgiveness over bitterness. Compassion over criticism. It means being honest and real, not avoiding conflict, but addressing issues with grace.
Learning to Steward the Gift
Whenever I travel, I try to visit a local church where I am. I am curious about how people in different cultures worship, how services are held, and how the liturgy is shaped.
But I’ve also noticed something else. I often carry not just curiosity, but also criticism. I find myself evaluating, comparing, and even judging. And it never helps. It distracts, distances, and puts me above others.
But when I quiet that critical spirit and allow the worship to point me to Christ, something shifts. I begin to see the beauty of what Jesus has done (Eph. 2:14). I feel a connection with people I have nothing in common with—except that we belong to Jesus. And because we belong to Jesus, we belong to one another.
Togetherness is a gift of grace. The challenge for us is simple: to steward this gift of togetherness well.
May we receive the gift with gratitude and steward it with love.
