Psalm 42

Introduction

Psalm 42 opens Book II of the Psalter and introduces us to a new voice: the Sons of Korah, a guild of Levitical musicians who authored eleven psalms in the Psalter (Psalm 42, Psalm 44-Psalm 49, Psalm 84-Psalm 85, Psalm 87-Psalm 88). The name "Sons of Korah" carries an extraordinary story of grace. Korah was the Levite who led a rebellion against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness (Numbers 16:1-35); God judged the rebellion by causing the earth to swallow him and his household. Yet Numbers 26:11 notes simply, "the sons of Korah, however, did not die." God spared the children -- and from that remnant emerged one of the most gifted worship traditions in Israel, culminating in the psalmists whose work adorns the Psalter. The superscription designates this a מַשְׂכִּיל -- probably a term indicating a psalm of skill or instruction, though its precise meaning is uncertain.

This psalm is almost certainly one psalm together with Psalm 43. Psalm 43 has no superscription (unusual in this section of the Psalter), and the distinctive refrain that appears in Psalm 42:5 and Psalm 42:11 appears again in Psalm 43:5, strongly suggesting a single composition that was split at some point in the tradition. Together, they form a three-stanza lament in which a Levitical singer, exiled far from Jerusalem and the temple, cries out for God's presence. The psalm is dominated by images of thirst, water, and the overwhelming flood -- and by the persistent question, "Where is your God?" that the enemies use to taunt the sufferer.

Longing for God (vv. 1-5)

Notes

The opening simile (כְּאַיָּל תַּעֲרֹג) compares the psalmist's longing to that of a אַיָּל ("deer, hart") that עָרַג ("longs, yearns") for אֲפִיקֵי מָיִם ("channels of water, flowing streams"). The verb עָרַג occurs only twice in the Old Testament (here and in the parallel Psalm 42:2 in the LXX tradition), suggesting a rare, intensive longing. The image is likely drawn from the experience of a deer in the hill country of Judea, driven by thirst to seek out the seasonal streams. The animal's desperate panting becomes a picture of a soul's desperate need for God.

Verse 2 intensifies the image with explicit language: צָמְאָה נַפְשִׁי לֵאלֹהִים -- "my soul thirsts for God." The word צָמֵא ("thirst") is physical -- a biological necessity, not an aesthetic preference. The God longed for is אֵל חָי ("the living God"), a distinctive title that sets Israel's God apart from the dead idols of the nations. The question מָתַי אָבוֹא וְאֵרָאֶה פְּנֵי אֱלֹהִים -- "when shall I come and see the face of God?" -- was the language of pilgrimage to the temple. The MT reads "and appear before the face of God" but many ancient manuscripts and the LXX support "and see the face of God," which the Masoretes may have altered to avoid the implication of literally seeing God.

Verse 3 introduces the taunt that echoes through the psalm: אַיֵּה אֱלֹהֶיךָ -- "Where is your God?" This is not a sincere philosophical question but a weapon of mockery. The enemies see the psalmist's suffering and use it as evidence that his God has abandoned or does not exist. The same taunt appears in Psalm 79:10 and Joel 2:17. Meanwhile, the psalmist's only food is דִּמְעָה ("tears") -- weeping has consumed him so completely that he can barely eat.

Verse 4 recalls a memory of better days. The psalmist was once a leader in temple worship -- part of the סַךְ ("crowd, throng") processing to the בֵּית אֱלֹהִים ("house of God"), with קוֹל רִנָּה וְתוֹדָה ("sound of ringing song and thanksgiving"). The memory of joyful worship intensifies the present desolation. This is the lament of someone who has experienced the living reality of God's presence and now finds himself far from it.

Verse 5 introduces the pivotal refrain, which will appear again at Psalm 42:11 and Psalm 43:5. The psalmist speaks to his own נֶפֶשׁ ("soul") -- an act of inner dialogue, confronting his own despair with an act of will. מַה תִּשְׁתּוֹחֲחִי ("why are you downcast?") and מַה תֶּהֱמִי עָלַי ("why do you groan within me?") -- the verb הָמָה is used of the roaring of water, the buzzing of bees, the clamoring of a crowd. The soul's inner turmoil is loud and disordered. Against this, the psalmist commands himself: הוֹחִילִי לֵאלֹהִים -- "wait/hope in God." The final phrase יְשׁוּעֹת פָּנָיו ("the salvations of his face/presence") is theologically dense: salvation comes from God's personal presence, not merely from his power.

Exile and Flood (vv. 6-11)

Notes

Verse 6 locates the psalmist geographically: he is in the region of the אֶרֶץ יַרְדֵּן ("land of the Jordan") and near חֶרְמוֹן (plural חֶרְמוֹנִים), the great snow-capped mountain range in the far north of Israel near modern Lebanon. הַר מִצְעָר ("Mount Mizar") is unknown -- possibly a small hill near Hermon, or an otherwise unattested location. The psalmist is far from Jerusalem, far from the temple, in what feels like exile. His remembrance of God is not from a place of comfort but from the geographic and spiritual margins.

Verse 7 is one of the most evocative verses in the Psalter: תְּהוֹם אֶל תְּהוֹם קוֹרֵא -- "deep calls to deep." The word תְּהוֹם ("deep, abyss") is the same word used in Genesis 1:2 for the primordial deep over which the Spirit hovered. It conveys something vast, dark, and overwhelming. The צִנּוֹרֶיךָ ("your waterfalls, your cataracts") are thundering torrents -- perhaps the waterfalls at the headwaters of the Jordan near Mount Hermon. The psalmist hears these massive watercourses and finds in them a metaphor for his own experience: wave upon wave of trouble (מִשְׁבָּרֶיךָ, "your breakers") and surge upon surge of sorrow (גַּלֶּיךָ, "your waves") have swept over him. The remarkable feature is that these are God's breakers -- מִשְׁבָּרֶיךָ וְגַלֶּיךָ ("your breakers and your waves"). The psalmist does not attribute his suffering to chance or to the enemy alone; he sees God's sovereign hand even in the overwhelming flood. Jonah 2:3 uses nearly identical language from within the fish's belly.

The phrase "deep calls to deep" has resonated widely in Christian spiritual tradition. Augustine, in his Confessions, used it to describe the way one depth of human need calls out to the depth of God's mercy. Others have read it as the chaos of one crisis summoning another -- affliction compounding affliction. Both readings capture something real. The image of being submerged by divine waves also appears in Psalm 69:1-2 and anticipates Christ's language of his coming "baptism" of suffering in Luke 12:50 and Mark 10:38.

Verse 8 provides a counterpoint of extraordinary gentleness amid the flood: יוֹמָם יְצַוֶּה יְהוָה חַסְדּוֹ -- "by day the LORD commands his loyal love." The verb צִוָּה ("commands, decrees") is striking -- God actively commissions his חֶסֶד (covenant love) as an agent sent to accompany the psalmist. And at night, שִׁירֹה עִמִּי -- "his song is with me." God gives a song even in the night of exile. This song becomes תְּפִלָּה ("prayer") to God. The verse sustains a theology of divine presence even in suffering: the floods have not swept God away.

Verse 9 contains the complaint that sits at the heart of the psalm: לָמָה שְׁכַחְתָּנִי -- "Why have you forgotten me?" This is the same question of Psalm 22:1 ("My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"), ultimately taken up by Jesus from the cross. The verb שָׁכַח ("forgotten") is relational and painful -- it speaks of being left out of mind by someone who should be attentive.

Verse 10 renders the taunting with a physical image: כְּרֶצַח בְּעַצְמוֹתַי -- "like a crushing in my bones." The word רֶצַח or רֶצַח can mean "murder" or "shattering" -- the taunts feel like being crushed to death. The enemies' question -- "Where is your God?" -- is unchanged from verse 3, serving as a dark refrain within the refrain, a taunt that will not let the psalmist alone.

Verse 11 repeats the refrain of verse 5 with one small but significant change: the final phrase expands from "the salvation of his presence" to יְשׁוּעֹת פָּנַי וֵאלֹהָי -- "my salvation and my God." The personal possessive becomes more intimate. The soul that was commanded to hope in God is now able to name God as "my God" personally. The repetition of the refrain is not mere mechanical liturgy but a theological act of will: the psalmist preaches to himself, insisting on hope when feeling offers none.