March 2008 Lectio Divina

Psalm 42
Longing for the Lord’s presence in his Temple

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 savior 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 savior and my God.



The movement of this (Psalm) is from despair to praise. The first psalm is the cry of someone who feels cut off from God. The Old Testament canticle prays for God’s glory to be renewed in the life and worship of his suffering people. The final psalm has been called ‘the greatest poem in the psalter,’ and offers exuberant praise to God for his revelation through creation.

The heading of the psalm provides a key to its interpretation: The Exile’s nostalgia for the Lord’s Temple. The psalmist is in exile, probably in Babylon, far away from the Temple, surrounded by the enemies who had destroyed the Temple and the city he loved. The psalm divides into two parts, each part following a three-fold pattern: the psalmist pours out his sorrow, he then deliberately turns his mind away from his distress, and finally he turns to God in the words, Hope in god; I will praise him still, my savior and my God. The psalm is a model of how to deal with spiritual depression, and some interpreters understand it to refer not to the desolation of the Exile but to the sense of desolation brought on by a severe illness.

The Holy Week antiphon takes us deep into the sorrow of Jesus as we pray with him in Gethsemane. Jesus experienced the sense of being forsaken by god at the time of his greatest need, and in this he has undergone the most devastating experience which can come to anyone who loves God. In this psalm we pray with Christ and with all those who have felt abandoned by God. As we share in Christ’s sufferings and the sufferings of his Body the Church, so we will share in his consolation.

(Prayed on a Monday, this psalm can express the prayer of priests and pastors who have led the celebrations of the previous Sunday).

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

In Palestine in the dry season the sun beats down for five long months, May to September. The land is baked dry, rivers cease to flow, and animals die of thirst. The psalmist longs for God with the same desperate intensity that the deer in the dry season thirsts for fresh water, for running streams.

Jesus promised ‘living water,’ the water of the spirit, to all who come thirsty to him (John 4:14; 7:37; and the sentence from Revelation 22:17). There is a true sense in which all who drink of the water of the Spirit are ‘never thirsty again,’ the soul’s deepest longing is satisfied; but there is another sense in which those who drink the water of the Spirit are always thirsty for more. They long to know more of the love and truth of their Lord. This thirst is the pre-requisite of all spiritual growth.

Soul in the psalms means the whole person.

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

The Temple was the place where the Lord met with his people. There he spoke to them through priest and prophet; there the sacrifices for sin were offered; there the great events of Israel’s redemption were celebrated in the feasts of Passover, Pentecost, and Tabernacles. The Temple was at the heart of Israel’s relationships with God, and to be cut off from the Temple, as the psalmist was, was to be cut off from the wellsprings of spiritual life. He asks: when can I enter the Temple again, and know the intimate presence of God’s presence of God, the face of God. The psalmist does not limit god’s presence to the Temple, otherwise he would not pray as he does, but the Temple is the place above all where God is revealed.

This verse can express the Christian’s longing for heaven. We, like the psalmist, are exiles on this earth, for ‘our homeland is in heaven and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ’ (Philippians 3:20).

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

The psalmist is depressed not only by the absence of God, but because of the presence of men who mock him, asking ‘Where is your God?’ These men may be the Babylonians who have conquered Jerusalem and therefore believe that the God who protected the city, the Lord God of Israel, is nothing compared with their gods. They say to the Israelites in captivity: ‘The Lord has been defeated. He is powerless to help you. Where is your God?’ This was precisely the taunt hurled at Jesus by his enemies while he hung on the cross. ‘He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him.’ (Matthew 27:43).

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.

At this point the psalmist turns away from his present troubles and thinks back to the times when he led the processions into the Temple on the great feast days. This may imply that the psalmist is Israel’s king, or a leading priest. In remembering the feasts he begins to remember the events they celebrated: the Exodus from Egypt, the giving of the law and the covenant God made with Israel at Sinai, the entry into the promised land, the building and consecration of the Temple. This memory makes his present captivity even more painful, but at the same time renews his hope that the God who acted to deliver Israel in the past will act to deliver her in the future.

When we feel abandoned by God the memory of his past goodness can be a bittersweet experience. It may make our present trouble all the more painful, but it can also arouse hope. The God who acted in our past will come again to save us.

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

The psalmist’s hope is not a vague optimism but a conviction based on his memory of the way God has acted in the past. The Lord who saved Israel from Egypt will save her from this present captivity. He is my savior and my God. It is this sure hope that gives rise to praise. In his depression the psalmist wills himself to praise and so begins to be lifted out of himself, to see life from God’s perspective.

This is precisely the path St. Paul followed in his own experience of suffering. In the midst of his suffering he looked back to the great events of Christ’s death and resurrection, and then looked forward with unquenchable hope. ‘What shall we say to this? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all, will he not also give us all things with him? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies; who is to condemn? Is it Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who rose was raised from the dead, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us? ‘Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?’ (Romans 8:31-35).

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.

The second part of the psalm follows the same three-fold pattern as the first: the psalmist expresses his anguish; he turns away from himself; he turns to God.

The geographical references in this verse imply that the psalmist is in the far north of Palestine, at the headwaters of the Jordan river, under the shadow of Mount Hermon and the Hill of Mizar (presumably also in the north, but a place unknown to us now). The psalmist may have actually been there in the procession of captives as they made their way in chains to Babylon, or he may be picturing the north of Israel as the furthermost point in the land from Jerusalem and thus a symbol of his present distance from the Temple.

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

The thought of Mount Hermon brings to mind the raging waterfalls which cascade off the mountain in winter. The psalmist feels as though he is in the midst of such a torrent, swept away, drowning. Behind this image there may be the thought of the ancient waters of chaos which God tamed at creation, but which now seems to be unleashed again. The psalmist’s whole world has broken down. Chaos and evil reign.

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

This verse may be out of place, and belong at the end of the psalm, but it can be understood in its present position as an expression of hope. The psalmist has known the continual experience of God’s grace in the past, his loving kindness, and this memory stirs hope that the loving kindness of the past will be renewed in the future.

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

The image of the raging waters is taken up again, and in the midst of this wild river the psalmist clings to God, my rock. The most painful part of this whole experience is the thought that god has forgotten him. He has been abandoned to his foes.

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

The second part of the psalm finishes with the same question as the first, ‘Where is your God?’, and the same refrain, 'Why are you cast down my soul…'

The psalm is not finished here. Psalm 42(43) is a continuation of Psalm 41(42), and in some Bibles the two are printed as one (New Jerusalem Bible).

Commentary from ‘The School of Prayer’ – an Introduction to the Divine Office for All Christians, by John Brook, The Liturgical Press, Collegeville, Minnesota (1992).