Psalms

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Psalm 42


Like the deer that yearns
for running streams,
so my soul is yearning
for you, my God.

My soul is thirsting for God,
the God of my life;
when can I enter and see
the face of God?

My tears have become my bread,
by night, by day,
as I hear it said all the day long:
“Where is your God?”

These things will I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I would lead the rejoicing crowd
into the house of God,
amid cries of gladness and thanksgiving,
the throng wild with joy.

Why are you cast down, my soul,
why groan within me?
Hope in God; I will praise him still,
my saviour and my God.

My soul is cast down within me
as I think of you,
from the country of Jordan and Mount Hermon,
from the Hill of Mizar.

Deep is calling on deep,
in the roar of waters:
Your torrents and all your waves
swept over me.

By day the Lord will send
his loving kindness;
by night I will sing to him,
praise the God of my life.

I will say to God my rock:
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning
oppressed by the foe?”

With cries that pierce me to the heart,
my enemies revile me,
saying to me all the day long:
“Where is your God?”

Why are you cast down, my soul,
why groan within me?
Hope in God; I will praise him still,
my saviour and my God.

Commentary

While each of Psalms 42 and 43 could be sung separately, they also constitute a single, close-knit poem, one of the most sadly beautiful in the Psalter. This is clear, not only from the early Hebrew manuscripts, which indicate no break between the psalms, but also from the fact that Psalm 43 has no title. They also reveal an identical rhythm, with the same recurring refrain (see 42:5, 11; 43:5), and they have the same theme.

The author is one of the sons of Korah, and therefore a Levite, who is in exile in the north, far away from the Temple in Jerusalem which he longs for. He lives in the district which later history called Caesarea Philippi, an area where the Jordan river rushes down into the valley below from the slopes of Mount Hermon (42:6ff). The sons of Korah had a chequered history. As a group of Levites they had had responsibility for the Temple worship (see 2 Chronicles 20:19), but they had been demoted. The reason why the present author was in exile is not known (see 1 Chronicles 9:31). We find him pining for the House of God, and for the intimacy he once enjoyed with God there. He feels wounded and hurt, and pours out his soul to God in this deeply moving lamentation:

Like the deer that yearns
for running streams,
so my soul is yearning
for you, my God.

My soul is thirsting for God,
the God of my life;
when can I enter and see
the face of God?

My tears have become my bread,
by night, by day,
as I hear it said all the day long:
“Where is your God?”

These things will I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I would lead the rejoicing crowd
into the house of God,
amid cries of gladness and thanksgiving,
the throng wild with joy.
                                  (vv. 1-4).

The poet expresses his grief and longing in an image of incomparable beauty. Looking for words to describe his painful need for God, he thinks of the deer, which, in the blazing hot summer, stretches its neck out as far as possible in its search for water in the dried up streams and pools. He identifies with the pain of the deer because he himself is reaching out to God with all his heart, in his own spiritual dryness. God is the “God of my life”, or “the Living God”, for God has become his most important relationship. His whole life centres around God, so his sense of loss is great. He longs to see the face of God again. This does not imply a face-to-face seeing, which is not given in this life; it means that the poet wishes to present himself before the presence of God in the Temple, far away in Jerusalem (see Deuteronomy 31:11). He feels that it is only there that he can have full communion with God (v. 2).

His anguish increases as the unbelievers taunt and mock him daily, asking: “Where is your God?” The pagans of those times mocked the Israelites for worshipping a God who could not be seen, and who did not allow representations of Himself to be made. All the pagan religions had idols which could be carried about, so that it did not matter where they were supposed to live. The problem for the Israelite was that he believed, wrongly, that God could only be found in the Temple in Jerusalem. This crisis will be answered by the psalm itself, as the Levite discovers that he is in spiritual communion with God. No one can take this privilege away from a child of God.

However, the Levite feels very vulnerable before these pagans, because he has declared his faith. He is not like the camel, able to survive the desert drought. He is the stricken deer, worn out by his longing for the living waters of God’s grace, God’s Word, and God’s life. He does not even realize that he is among those called “blessed” by Jesus because they hunger and thirst for what is right, or those who believe without seeing (see Matthew 5:4; John 20:29). He does not understand the deceptive ease of the worldly people around him, who have their fill now, people who know nothing of this painful longing for God, which is a deep grace.

Trying to relieve the pain, the poet relives those wonderful scenes in the Temple during the great festivals, when he had the privilege of leading the processions into the House of God. He loved the excitement of the great ceremonies, and felt the sense of the presence of God when the people offered their shouts of joy and praise (v. 4).


Why are you cast down, my soul,
why groan within me?
Hope in God; I will praise him still,
my saviour and my God.

My soul is cast down within me
as I think of you,
from the country of Jordan and Mount Hermon,
from the Hill of Mizar.

Deep is calling on deep,
in the roar of waters:
Your torrents and all your waves
swept over me.

By day the Lord will send
his loving kindness;
by night I will sing to him,
praise the God of my life.
                       (vv. 5-8).

During the time lost in reverie the Levite found relief from his distress. Now as he returns to reality he plunges into depression and an even greater sense of loss. In a touching dialogue with himself, he soon realizes that all this day spent dreaming about “the good old days” did not help him to deal with the problem on hand. Healing lies in facing the reality of the present moment with the strength that comes from God. He must learn to do what all the saints had done before him, namely, to wait on God, and also to wait for God’s perfect timing for things to resolve themselves. He needs the advice of Isaiah 40:31: “They that hope (wait) in the Lord will renew their strength, they will soar as with eagles’ wings. They shall run and not grow weary, walk and not grow faint” (N.A.B.). This means that the Levite must bear the whole tension of his life in faith and trust before God, until he experiences God coming to him as saviour in this situation, as He has done in all others. Only then will he be able to testify to God’s goodness again (v. 5).

What is so attractive about this Levite is the honesty with which he reveals his inner struggle. While he tries to take hold of himself with faith and hope, he continually falls back into his home-sickness for Jerusalem and his need for God’s presence. His struggle is real, and he falls many times before his final victory. He cannot see any beauty in this place of exile. Neither the grandeur of Mount Hermon, nor the sight of the origin of the Jordan river, with its cascading waters tumbling down the mountain, has any effect on him. His thoughts are on the little Mount Zion in Jerusalem. He ruefully refers to Hermon as “Mizar”, which means a “little” mountain; obviously its natural grandeur could not compare with the privilege of Mount Zion, which houses the Living God (v. 6; see also Psalm 68:16-17).

This thought plunges him again into trouble as he resonates with the waters of the Jordan plunging into the valley below over the roaring cataracts. He feels that he has lost his foothold and is being carried along with those raging torrents of pain and sorrow; he wonders if this could be the hand of God in punishment (v. 7). Even if it is, he will stretch out his own hand to God yet again! This deeply moving candour and simplicity is the way out for this sufferer. In spite of everything, including his own inability to remain faithful to God in quiet trust and hope, he acts in faith that the loving-kindness of God will reach him again. Therefore he will continue, day and night, to praise God. He is determined, with God’s help, to persevere in faith and trust (v. 8).

I will say to God my rock:
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning
oppressed by the foe?”

With cries that pierce me to the heart,
my enemies revile me,
saying to me all the day long:
“Where is your God?”

Why are you cast down, my soul,
why groan within me?
Hope in God; I will praise him still,
my saviour and my God.
                               (vv. 9-11).

The Levite realizes that there is no solution for him apart from God, yet God appears to be absent. His dilemma is that for him God is a rock to lean on, unshakeable, durable and faithful. He leans on God in faith, while trying to grapple with the unanswered problem as to why God has abandoned him. The mystery deepens (v. 9). To be oppressed by inward doubts and anxiety is trial enough, without the added taunts of unbelievers outside. Their scornful questioning as to where God is, only serves to deepen his own doubts, and sense of loneliness.

This first half of the psalm ends with the repetition of the refrain, which sounds like the Levite’s last desperate effort to cling on to God come what may. It is a reminder of Jacob clinging on to the angel after a night of struggle, when he said: “I will not let you go, unless you bless me” (Genesis 32:26).

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