The Anguished Heart: Psalm 42 and the Journey of Desperation, Part 3

But in an instant the poem drops degrees in speed, diving back down into the depths as we see the psalmist standing in the middle of utter chaos billowing around him. The image here reminds us of Israel crossing the Red Sea as its walls of water are standing on their sides and thundering all night. One part of the depth calls/thunders to the other part, deafening and silencing the psalmist. One also thinks of the disciples in the boat with Jesus as He is asleep and the storm is fierce around their boat and they are sore afraid. And then there is another similar image of Odysseus in the midst of Zeus’ waves and billows and waterspouts. He is not yet home in Ithaca, but has been washed ashore after being freed by Calypso per Athena’s supplication to her father Zeus who then sends Hermes to tell the seductress of his command. His lone craft is broken up by a storm that Poseidon unleashed in revenge for the hero’s putting out his son’s, the Cyclops, eye. Here, in the land of the Phaiakians, he is recounting a part of his journey previous to his time under Calypso’s seductions to King Alkinoos,

                        Now Zeus the lord of cloud roused in the north

                        a storm against the ships, and driving veils

                        of squall moved down like night on land and sea.

                        The bows went plunging at the gust; sails

                        cracked and lashed out strips in the big wind.

                        We saw death in that fury, . . .

The psalmist here, like Odysseus, is but a speck, and insignificant more so, in the presence of such awesome power. Everything is really out of control and spinning around him, his world beyond his grasp, the power of nature that makes one humble and remember he is but mortal and weak. In painting, it is J.M.W. Turner’s Snow Storm. But these waves and these waterspouts, the psalmist says, are God’s, thy waterspouts, thy waves and thy billows, like Zeus. He knows that God still holds the reins of nature. What is pictured is that of one in the presence of the Sublime, that which inspires in us awe and the instinct for self-preservation, as Edmund Burke described it: “Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime. I say the strongest emotion because I am satisfied the ideas of pain are much more powerful than those which enter on the part of pleasure. Without all doubt, the torments which we may be made to suffer are much greater in their effect on the body and mind, than any pleasures which the learned voluptuary could suggest, or than the liveliest imagination, and the most sound and exquisitely sensible body, could enjoy.” And the Sublime is usually something of and with magnanimous force and power. This is David face to face with it in its awesomeness and awe-fulness.

            Verse eight answers verse seven as the psalmist, despite being in the midst of this dark night, is certain that God will not forget him, that He will command His lovingkindness. Thus shall David sing of his God in the night, His song shall be with me, His song that becomes David’s song, which is his praise and prayer. And what shall that prayer be? We get the answer in the next verse,

                                    I will say unto God my rock, “Why hast Thou

                        forgotten me? why go I mourning because of the oppression

                        of the enemy?”

This is not just prayer, this is conversation, even more, it is questioning God’s providence. Does not God welcome these bold questions? Does He not want us to ask them? After all, a true relationship is one in which questions are welcomed. David is broken. Does God not want us at this point? It is at this point at which He works His work in us. This question echoes Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani? which is My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? which opens Psalm 22 and which is what Christ screamed out when He was on the cross. The enemies are they that taunted and mocked Him. And we also remember verse three when David says he was taunted. And we also think of David taunting himself with whispers of doubt, and even screams, too. It is a man confronting himself and his faith. Is it real? Is God real? Has he wasted his time believing in God? Should he continue to believe in God? Verse ten presents us with another Christ image. The metaphorical sword that David says pierces his bones becomes the real spear that pierced Christ’s side at the crucifixion. And the mocking continues. Again, it is the above-mentioned neglected wife wanting an answer from her husband as she is made fun of by others, “where is your husband?”

            Verse eleven brings us to the end of this journey of desperation with the psalmist still questioning himself. He is still caught up in this psychological/spiritual battle. But he reassures himself and turns his concentration outward and upward to think on God. It is the action of not focusing on one’s situation, whatever it may be, and to look upon God’s faithfulness. I shall yet praise, I will praise, for David is not yet praising, but intends to. Intention is an important aspect, it means and counts for a great deal; it directs. The poem’s journey has been from one of the poet screaming out in isolation desiring ascendancy into God’s presence, and being thrown into the midst of utter chaotic straits, and then to a calmness at the finale in which he is sure of God’s eventual presence and his being brought into God’s presence. And of God’s acknowledging him, approving his existence: I shall yet praise Him, who is the health of my countenance and my God. As a lover see his beloved’s face and is nourished, so to say, by her appearance, so will the psalmist be nourished by God’s face.

            Is not this how the journey really is? There are the heights and the lows, the moments of being on Hill Mizar and then being in the grave, as it were, and this poem is calling, more accurately, screaming from the grave. It is a poem of utter psychological wildness and spiritual desolation and upheaval. It possesses all that the most valuable and successful poetry strives to possess, truth, earnest desire for it, questioning and questing, doubt, trust, emotional and mental traversing, and then a hint of certainty at the end (even if we are not there yet). It is Odysseus’ journey in eleven verses. It is Odysseus knowing that he will finally be restored to his rightful place with his wife, Penelope, after ten years of wandering and being tossed by the gods and the elements and reaching home to Ithaca, and then having to battle her suitors; it is Odysseus, at home, in truth. It is David looking forward to his standing on Hill Mizar. It is the wife no longer neglected by her husband. The presence of God and restoration is coming at the end, somewhere beyond the end of the words.