As the deer longs for the water-brooks, so longs my soul for you, O God. My soul is athirst for God, athirst for the living God; when shall I come to appear before the presence of God? My tears have been my food day and night, while all day long they say to me, "Where now is your God?" Put your trust in God; for I will yet give thanks to him, who is the help of my countenance, and my God.
- Psalm 42:1-3, 15
At times I was aware when my father was teaching me; but more often, my father would place me in enriched, adult circumstances and let me observe.
So it was in the fall of 1963 when he invited me to tag along with him and a few friends to go deer hunting in West Texas. I was sixteen. I didn’t know enough to be intimidated at the time, but among my dad’s hunt buddies were Iverson Noland, Episcopal Bishop Coadjutor of Louisiana and Wernher von Braun, the Director of NASA.
After dinner the night before the first hunt, our guide set the plan for the next day. The day was to end at a watering hole favored by the high desert animals. Our guide went on, “We will get into position an hour before sunset west of the watering hole, sun to our backs and in the eyes of the deer. The they will come, starved for water. The deer drink, even before feeding.”
Bishop Noland, stirring a tumbler of Bourbon and ice with his baptizing finger said, “Damn, gentlemen, downright Biblical!” Into the silence he added, “Right, Psalm 42, ‘As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.’” Another pause, then in a precise German accent Dr. von Braun added, “…My tears have been my food day and night while people say to me all day long, ‘Where is your God?’”
“Wernher,” remarked the Bishop, “you’d better not let your new Episcopal friends know you can quote from the Bible…” That night, after much conversation about the ritual of the hunt, Dr. von Braun invited us into the clear night air to see the constellation Orion, the great hunter. My father later explained to me that Dr. von Braun had recently become Episcopalian, adding, “…and I feel certain he still wrestles with demons from his years in Nazi Germany.”
I did not hunt; I was an “observer” with a pair of high-power binoculars. I watched the watering hole as the deer came single file down a ravine toward the water. A large buck led the way. He lifted his nose to smell the cool, still air. I could see the puff of mist of his breath in the low, golden sunlight. “There’s your shot!” whispered the guide. Carrak! And the stag dropped.
I cannot hear Psalm 42 without remembering my father’s gift of that teaching moment. The significance of the conversation still bears food for my faith. I am haunted by the image of the deer in Psalm 42 and the stag in west Texas. I share their thirst and I am sometimes frightened by the vulnerability implicit in such a thirst.
Musical Reflection - As the Deer - Shane and Shane, The Worship Initiative
