Introduction: The Conductor's Song Over the Exile
Psalm 42 opens a pair of closely connected psalms - 42 and 43 - both of which express the soul's deep yearning for God from within a reality of exile and concealment of the Divine countenance (hester panim). We will first examine the identity of the psalm's authors, and then turn to the foundational introduction provided by the Malbim, without which it is impossible to understand the structure of the psalm.
לַמְנַצֵּחַ מַשְׂכִּיל לִבְנֵי־קֹרַח׃ - For the conductor, a Maskil, by the sons of Korach.
Who Are the "Sons of Korach"?
Rashi cites that the authors of the psalm are Asir, Elkanah, and Aviasaf. Initially, they were part of their father's counsel, but at the time of the rebellion, they withdrew. When the earth opened its mouth and swallowed everything around them, a fortified ledge was established for them within the mouth of the earth, and their place remained standing, as it is written, "And the sons of Korach did not die." And there, within the mouth of the earth, they uttered song and composed these psalms. They subsequently ascended from there, the Holy Spirit (Ruach HaKodesh) rested upon them, and they prophesied about the exiles, the destruction of the Temple, and the kingdom of the House of David. All these are the words of the sons of Korach.
The Ibn Ezra explains differently: "For the sons of Korach" means for one of the descendants of Heman, the grandson of the prophet Shmuel, since Shmuel himself was also a descendant of Korach. The Ibn Ezra also cites in the name of Rabbi Moshe that this psalm was uttered in Babylon, and therefore it speaks of the reality of exile, as we will see in the verses that follow.
And what is the meaning of "Maskil"? The Ibn Ezra explains that it lacks an object - meaning, whom does it make wise? Who is instructing whom? Others say that this is not a verb but a noun, similar to "and my splendor was turned into ruin (lemashchit)," which means destruction. The distinction is like the difference between "an iron" - the name of the tool, and "ironing" - the action. So too here: "Maskil" is not the action of instructing another, but a noun meaning insight or wisdom. In the Ibn Ezra's view, "Maskil" is like the other musical headings - such as "LaMenatzeiach" or "Gittith" - the opening of the psalm is called "Maskil," representing a matter of wisdom and understanding taught by the author of the psalm.
The Malbim's Introduction: Three Things We Lost in Exile
The Malbim explains that this psalm was composed by one of the musical conductors from the sons of Korach. The descendants of Korach served as Levites in the Temple Courtyard (Azarah), and the Levites' role was the song - they were the singers. One of these singers, who conducted the song in the Beit HaMikdash, sings here about the exile.
This song is divided into three parts, corresponding to three things we lost in exile. The first is the revelation of the Shechinah and prophecy. During the era of the Temple, there was revelation of the Divine Presence; the Holy One, Blessed be He, revealed Himself to us both through the miracles that occurred consistently in the Beit HaMikdash and through the prophets who received messages from Hashem. The second is the signs and wonders. In exile, we find ourselves in a state of concealment, and we do not see open miracles, as it says, "We do not see our signs; there is no longer any prophet." The third is the suffering itself, the sorrow and pains that we endure while in exile.
The first two are explicitly mentioned in Scripture: "Did any people ever hear the voice of the living God" - this refers to the revelation of the Shechinah and prophecy, speaking with Hashem; "Or did God ever venture to go and take for Himself a nation from the midst of another nation, with trials, with signs, and with wonders" - these are the signs and wonders. Both were present in the Wilderness, and both were also present in the Land of Israel. Likewise in Yeshayahu: "Then He remembered the days of old, Moshe and His people: Where is He who brought them up from the sea with the shepherd of His flock?" - these are the miracles, the Splitting of the Sea; "Where is He who put His Holy Spirit within him?" - this is prophecy. Two elevated spiritual levels that we lack in exile.
Three Times: "Why Are You Downcast, My Soul?"
The absence of prophecy, Ruach HaKodesh, and the revelation of the Shechinah - this is something that touches the soul itself. The soul yearns to connect to God, and when there is no revelation of the Shechinah and no spiritual communication with the Holy One, Blessed be He, the soul feels lonely and forlorn. This is what the first part of the psalm addresses, and this is how the psalmist consoles his soul.
Notice that "Why are you downcast, my soul?" appears three times across these two psalms, corresponding to the three things we have lost. The first time - to console the soul over its dejection due to the absence of prophecy and Ruach HaKodesh. The second matter - the absence of wonders and miracles - is an issue that touches the honor of God, as His greatness was recognized through miracles; upon this the second part of the psalm is established, from verse 6 onwards, where the soul's consolation returns in verse 12. The third matter - the exile, the dispersion, and the suffering of the Jewish people - concerns the entirety of the House of Israel, and of this he speaks in Psalm 43, where he presents the pleas of Knesset Yisrael and its prayer that Hashem gather its outcasts, where the consolation appears for the third time (43:5).
"The Salvations of His Countenance" Versus "The Salvations of My Countenance and My God"
מַה־תִּשְׁתּוֹחֲחִי נַפְשִׁי וַתֶּהֱמִי עָלָי הוֹחִלִי לֵאלֹהִים כִּי־עוֹד אוֹדֶנּוּ יְשׁוּעוֹת פָּנָיו׃ - Why are you downcast, my soul, and why do you moan within me? Hope in God, for I will yet thank Him for the salvations of His countenance.
מַה־תִּשְׁתּוֹחֲחִי נַפְשִׁי וּמַה־תֶּהֱמִי עָלָי הוֹחִילִי לֵאלֹהִים כִּי־עוֹד אוֹדֶנּוּ יְשׁוּעֹת פָּנַי וֵאלֹהָי׃ - Why are you downcast, my soul, and why do you moan within me? Hope in God, for I will yet thank Him, the salvations of my countenance and my God.
The first time it says "the salvations of His countenance," while the next two times it says "the salvations of my countenance and my God." What is the meaning of this change? The Malbim explains: If you understand the division, you will also understand the difference. At first, the text speaks of the return of the Shechinah, and therefore says "the salvations of His countenance" - that we may merit to behold His face, that Hashem may shine His countenance upon me and hide no longer. By contrast, regarding the restoration of wonders and the salvation of taking Israel out of exile and its suffering, it says "my countenance and my God," because in this His personal bond with me is manifest. And as the Malbim frequently explains, the name "Elohim" on its own refers to the Ruler of the entire world, whereas "Elohai" (my God) denotes individual Divine providence, watching over me, performing miracles for me, and aiding me. When it comes to salvations involving miracles and wonders, He is "my God," performing miracles for me through individual providence; so too when He redeems me from exile. But regarding the first matter, the revelation of the Shechinah and prophecy, it is enough that Hashem reveals His face to me - "the salvations of His countenance."
"As a Deer Yearns" - The Yearning of the Soul
כְּאַיָּל תַּעֲרֹג עַל־אֲפִיקֵי־מָיִם כֵּן נַפְשִׁי תַעֲרֹג אֵלֶיךָ אֱלֹהִים׃ - As a deer pants after brooks of water, so my soul yearns for You, O God.
What is the meaning of ta'arog? Rashi explains that it denotes the vocal cry of the deer: just as a lion roars, a bear growls, an ox lows, and birds chirp, so deer utter a yearning cry. Thus, aragah is an expression describing the vocal call of the deer.
Rashi also brings the words of Chazal: The doe is the most pious of animals. When the beasts are thirsty for water, they gather around her so that she may cast her eyes upward toward Heaven. And what does she do? She digs a pit, inserts her horns into it, and cries out - and this is ta'arog - and the Holy One, Blessed be He, has compassion on her, and the subterranean deep brings up water for her.
One must understand: why does it say ke'ayal ta'arog, combining a masculine noun with a feminine verb? It should have said ke'ayal ya'arog or ke'ayalah ta'arog. The Malbim explains simply: the noun ayal includes both males and females alike, and therefore this is not surprising. And why is ta'arog phrased in the feminine? Because the female generally yearns and cries out more intensely than the male. This is common among animal names, where a single name encompasses both male and female: Scripture says dov (bear) and you will not find dovah in Tanach, and likewise namer (leopard). By contrast, for a lion there is indeed a distinct word for the female - leviah (lioness).
The Soul's Thirst: By Nature and for the "Living God"
צָמְאָה נַפְשִׁי לֵאלֹהִים לְאֵל חָי מָתַי אָבוֹא וְאֵרָאֶה פְּנֵי אֱלֹהִים׃ - My soul thirsts for God, for the living God; when shall I come and appear before God?
The thirst of the intellectual soul for its source of glory is far greater than the body's thirst for water. And why the addition "for the living God"? Radak explains that this comes to exclude the gods of the nations, for their gods are dead - they possess no power, and all the idols upon which they rely have no vitality. And "When shall I come and appear" - this refers to the pilgrimage to Jerusalem three times a year: When will I once again be privileged to appear before God in the Holy Temple?
The Malbim adds that this yearning comes from two angles. There is a natural yearning - just as the hart naturally thirsts for water, so too the soul, being spiritual by nature, thirsts for God and for spirituality. And there is an additional yearning stemming from the fact that Hashem is the "living God," meaning the God Who gives life to all, and the soul's vitality depends entirely on the Holy One, blessed be He, as it is written: "And you who cling to Hashem your God are alive, all of you, today" (Devarim 4:4). Regarding this, the soul says: "When shall I come and appear before God" as in days of old, for Hashem is the One Who gives life to my soul.
"My Tears Have Been My Bread" - The Bread of the Soul
הָיְתָה־לִּי דִמְעָתִי לֶחֶם יוֹמָם וָלָיְלָה בֶּאֱמֹר אֵלַי כׇּל־הַיּוֹם אַיֵּה אֱלֹהֶיךָ׃ - My tears have been my bread day and night, while they say to me all day long: Where is your God?
The Malbim explains: The bread of the day refers to the morning meal, and the bread of the night refers to the evening meal, as in ancient times people would eat two meals a day, and three only on Shabbat. The Psalmist says: Instead of having morning and evening meals of bread, my tears have become my meals. I weep morning and evening - over what? Over their taunting me all day long: "Where is your God?" And as Radak explains: If He is the true God, why does He not save you? Why does He not take you out of exile?
And this bread, which is the bread of tears, awakens me even more to the sacred waters, to the wells of salvation, to prophecy, and to Ruach HaKodesh. That is, aside from the soul's natural yearning, there is an additional yearning: when light is absent from us, we long to see it anew. Hence springs an intense desire and profound longing that Hashem return us to that state where we will once again be worthy of seeing the countenance of God.
In a parenthetical remark, the Malbim explains why he depicted tears specifically as bread. What is the bread of the soul? "Come, eat of my bread, and drink of the wine I have mixed" (Mishlei 9:5) - this refers to the Torah, the sacrifices, and the Temple service. Now that I do not have this bread, with what can I be satisfied? With tears. How so? When a person weeps, whatever burdens him pours out in tears and calms him. This is a well-known reality: what destroys a person is not what he eats, but what eats away at him from within. The great danger is when a person consumes himself inside. But if he releases it - "If there is anxiety in a person's heart, let him talk it out" (Mishlei 12:25) - and unburdens himself to another, he already feels relief. Even if the person sitting across from him sits like a log of wood and acts merely as a listener, he will leave saying: I feel so much lighter. The listener said nothing, did not interject - and that was precisely his virtue; had he spoken, he would have interrupted. This way, he simply allowed me to pour out everything I needed to say. The very act of releasing what is inside, the weeping, is a form of release and emotional catharsis.
Yet this does not solve the problem. For these tears stem from the fact that I am distant from Hashem, and if so, darkness and thirst still remain - tears are salty, and they themselves induce thirst. This is merely a superficial relief, like taking a painkiller for a severe illness: it soothes for a moment, but it does not cure. The longing and yearning still persist, and the mocking cry still echoes: "Where is your God?"
"Trouble Satiates a Person"
Rashi explains on "My tears have been my bread": From here we learn that distress satiates a person, so that he does not seek to eat. So too it is said of Chanah: "And she wept, and would not eat" (Shmuel I 1:7) - from her distress and weeping she lost her appetite. This is a familiar phenomenon: people suffering from depression lose weight because they have lost their appetite. One of the most difficult challenges with the sick is just this - they tell the patient: Here, eat something, and he replies that he has no desire, no interest, no will to eat; and these were people who once had a healthy appetite.
A story is told of a man who came to a rabbi and poured out his dreadful financial predicament, detailing all his woes. The rabbi asked him: "And do you have an appetite?" He replied: "Oh, Baruch Hashem, an appetite for two! I just don't have the means to feed it." The rabbi said to him: "Know that you already have half a million dollars." The man was astonished: "How so?" The rabbi answered: "Two hours ago, a wealthy magnate came here with his wife. His wife had lost her appetite and had become skin and bones, and he told me that he had spent half a million dollars on doctors, medications, and flights, just trying to restore her appetite. Yet you have that for free. It turns out that you already possess half a million dollars."
Other commentators explain differently. The Radak explains: "My tears have been my bread day and night" - meaning that together with my bread, day and night, were my tears. Even while eating my bread I would weep, as weeping accompanied me constantly. And this weeping, as the Ibn Ezra writes, is over the length of the exile and over no longer being privileged to make the festival pilgrimage and rejoice before Hashem. And "day and night" - the Ibn Ezra explains - means in secret and in the open, as the day is revealed and the night is a time of darkness; my tears were ceaseless. "Where is your God?" - for I was once privileged to ascend three times a year, and now I no longer merit doing so.
In summary:
The psalm is the song of one of the conductors among the sons of Korach regarding the exile, and it is structured corresponding to three things we lost in it: the revelation of the Shechinah and prophecy, signs and wonders, and the suffering of the exile itself - and corresponding to them, the refrain "Why are you downcast, my soul?" appears three times. This also accounts for the variation between "the salvations of His countenance" and "the salvations of my countenance and my God." The soul yearns for God like a hind for brooks of water, both by virtue of its spiritual nature and because its vitality depends on the "living God"; and in the absence of its true nourishment - the Torah, the offerings, and the Temple service - it feeds on its tears. Yet tears merely soothe rather than heal: they are salty and induce thirst, and within them lies that great longing - when shall I come and appear before God?