by Moshood Raji

The Snare is Broken: Psalm 124 and Ifá’s Òsá Méjì & Òtúrá Méjì in Dialogue on Deliverance

Introduction: A Meeting Point Between Two Worlds

Across cultures and civilizations, human beings have always carried one cry in their souls: deliverance from forces greater than themselves. Whether those forces appear as enemies, injustice, sickness, or unseen spiritual powers, every people have developed languages, rituals, and poetry to describe the mystery of survival.

Psalm 124, one of the Songs of Ascent in the Hebrew Bible, is one such poetic cry. It is a psalm of thanksgiving, giving voice to the relief of a community that narrowly escaped destruction. The imagery is rich: waters threatening to drown, teeth waiting to tear, snares designed to trap, but all of them broken because of divine intervention.

In another part of the world, the sacred verses of Ifá the wisdom corpus of the Yoruba people carry a strikingly similar vision. In Òsá Méjì and Òtúrá Méjì, we encounter verses that speak of traps laid by enemies, snares designed to capture the innocent, and the power of Olódùmarè and the Òrìṣà to shatter those traps.

When we place Psalm 124 alongside Ifá, we are not merely comparing two texts; we are opening a dialogue between traditions that testifies to the universality of human struggles and the shared hope for deliverance.

This essay seeks to explore that dialogue: what Psalm 124 and Ifá teach about survival, divine protection, and the mystery of broken snares.

Psalm 124: A Song of the Escaped Bird

Psalm 124 begins with an almost breathless confession:

“If it had not been the Lord who was on our side, when men rose up against us: Then they had swallowed us up quick, when their wrath was kindled against us…”

The psalmist imagines a scenario of total annihilation. The community was powerless, their enemies powerful. Like floodwaters overwhelming a riverbank, destruction seemed certain. Yet the psalmist announces a reversal: the Lord intervened.

The climax comes in verse 7:

“Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers: the snare is broken, and we are escaped.”

This imagery is unforgettable. Imagine a small bird trapped, wings flapping against the cage of a hunter’s snare. Suddenly, the trap shatters. The bird bursts into the open sky. That is the psalmist’s testimony: deliverance is nothing less than miraculous.

Finally, the psalm ends with a declaration of confidence:

“Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

The source of deliverance is not luck, nor human effort, but the Creator.

Òsá Méjì: The Breaking of Chains and Traps

In Ifá, Òsá Méjì carries a similar theme. One of its verses declares:

Yorùbá (Òsá Méjì):

Ajá tó npa ẹkúté, òun ló ń fi ẹsẹ̀ rẹ̀ sẹ́rú.

Ẹ̀yìn t’ó yẹra fún ikú, kì í wọ́ inú ẹ̀wọ̀n mọ́.

Òrìṣà bó mi, Olódùmarè dá mi lórí.

Wọ́n ti fi ìdẹ sílẹ̀, wọ́n ti fi ìkà ṣe ọ̀nà,

Ṣùgbọ́n gbogbo ìdẹ yóò fọ́, gbogbo ìkà yóò bọ̀.

Mo bó, mo yè, mo yọ.

English Translation:

The dog that hunts the rat uses its own feet to carry chains.

The back that escapes death will never again be bound in captivity.

The Òrìṣà protect me, Olódùmarè delivers me.

They set traps, they laid snares of wickedness,

But every trap shall break, every snare shall fall apart.

I am delivered, I live, I rejoice.

Here too we encounter the imagery of traps and snares. The enemies act with cunning, but their plans fail. Deliverance is not the absence of danger but the breaking of danger’s grip.

Òsá Méjì also introduces an important nuance: the dog that hunts the rat uses its own feet to carry chains. In other words, those who set traps for others often ensnare themselves. This echoes the biblical idea in Psalm 7:15 “He made a pit, and digged it, and is fallen into the ditch which he made.”

Thus, both Psalm 124 and Òsá Méjì affirm that oppression has an expiration date; the schemes of the wicked collapse under the weight of divine justice.

Òtúrá Méjì: The Ram Who Escaped the Field of Wickedness

Another Ifá witness comes from Òtúrá Méjì, which tells the story of a ram walking through a field of wickedness:

Yorùbá (Òtúrá Méjì):

A díá fún Àgbò tó ń rìn ní oko ìkà.

Wọ́n ní kó rúbọ kó má bà a kúrò láyé.

Ó gbọ́, ó rúbọ.

Bí wọ́n bá dẹ̀ sí òun, ó máa gba;

Bí wọ́n bá fi kán sí òun, ó máa bó;

Nítorí Olódùmarè kò jé kó ṣubú nínú ẹ̀wọ̀n.

Àgbò dákẹ́, ó fi inú dídùn wọlé.

English Translation:

This was the divination for the ram walking in the field of wickedness.

He was told to sacrifice so that he would not be cut off from life.

He listened and sacrificed.

When they set a trap for him, he escaped.

When they laid snares for him, he broke free.

For Olódùmarè did not allow him to fall into bondage.

The ram returned home in peace and joy.

The parallels to Psalm 124 are astonishing. The imagery of the bird escaping the snare becomes, in Ifá, the ram escaping traps in the field. The same truth is affirmed: divine protection makes survival possible.

But Òtúrá Méjì adds another layer: the ram survives because he listened and sacrificed. In Yoruba cosmology, sacrifice (èbò) is a way of aligning oneself with divine will, removing obstacles, and securing protection.

Deliverance, then, is not random; it is tied to obedience and spiritual discipline.

Psalm 124 does not speak of sacrifice directly, but the broader Hebrew Bible does: offerings at the temple, acts of covenant faithfulness, and the practice of thanksgiving. Both traditions insist: human beings must respond to divine grace with faith and action.

Shared Imagery: Waters, Teeth, Snares

When we place Psalm 124, Òsá Méjì, and Òtúrá Méjì side by side, three recurring images leap out:

Waters/Fields of Wickedness

Psalm 124: “Then the waters had overwhelmed us.”
Òtúrá Méjì: The ram walks “in the field of wickedness.”
Both represent overwhelming chaos and hostility.

Teeth/Violence

Psalm 124: “Blessed be the Lord, who hath not given us as a prey to their teeth.”
Òsá Méjì: The dog who hunts becomes chained itself.
Both see violence as devouring, but ultimately self-destructive.

Snares/Traps

Psalm 124: “The snare is broken, and we are escaped.”
Òsá Méjì & Òtúrá Méjì: Traps are set, but broken; the ram escapes.
This is the central image: life itself is a series of snares, yet divine intervention brings freedom.

Deliverance as a Universal Human Experience

The resonance between Psalm 124 and Ifá verses is not accidental; it reveals a universal human pattern. All people, across times and geographies, experience life as a struggle against forces that threaten survival. All people long for assurance that they are not alone.

For the Hebrew psalmist, the assurance is “the Lord who made heaven and earth.” For the Yoruba babaláwo, it is Olódùmarè and the Òrìṣà who break traps and deliver the faithful. Different names, different rituals; but the same testimony: without divine help, we would be consumed.

This universality challenges us to see spirituality not as competition between religions, but as a conversation among humanity’s deepest cries.

Deliverance and Responsibility

Yet both traditions also remind us: divine help does not absolve human responsibility.

In Psalm 124, the community does not boast of its own strength, but it also acknowledges its role in remembering and retelling the story of deliverance. Gratitude itself is a spiritual act.

In Òtúrá Méjì, the ram escapes because he “listened and sacrificed.” Deliverance comes when one aligns with divine instructions.

Thus, survival is a partnership: divine grace meets human obedience.

Modern Reflections: What Are Today’s Snares?

The ancient imagery of snares and waters still speaks today. Our “snares” may not be literal animal traps, but they appear in modern forms:

Economic Snares: Poverty cycles that keep families trapped.

Political Snares: Corruption, oppression, systemic injustice.

Social Snares: Addictions, destructive relationships, peer pressures.

Spiritual Snares: Fear, hopelessness, false teachings, disconnection from purpose.

Psalm 124 and Ifá both insist: these snares are real, but they are not final. Deliverance is possible. The human spirit can still say, “The snare is broken, and we are escaped.”

A Blended Prayer of Deliverance

Bringing both traditions into harmony, we can compose a blended prayer:

If it had not been the Lord who was on our side,

when men rose up against us,

we would have been swallowed alive.

But Olódùmarè broke the snares.

The Òrìṣà stood watch over our path.

The traps of wickedness shattered under their own weight.

We escaped like the bird who bursts from the hunter’s cage,

like the ram who walks home in peace.

Our help is in the name of the Creator,

who made heaven and earth,

who sets the innocent free,

who gives us life, joy, and song.

This blended prayer shows how two traditions, though distinct, can echo one another in powerful harmony.

Conclusion: The Broken Snare as a Universal Symbol

Psalm 124 ends not with despair but with confidence: “Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Ifá verses from Òsá Méjì and Òtúrá Méjì end the same way: with joy, gratitude, and testimony.

The broken snare is more than a poetic image; it is a universal human symbol. It reminds us that no matter how overwhelming the waters, how sharp the teeth, or how cunning the traps, there is always a force greater than destruction.

Whether we call upon the Lord, Olódùmarè, or any name for the Supreme, the testimony is the same:

We are not prey.

We are not trapped.

The snare is broken.

We are escaped.