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David Learned Why the Soul Keeps Returning

A child is drowning in a river while the current rises. The soul sees its Creator filling every direction and cannot find a way to leave.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. David Saw the River Rising
  2. What Rabbi Chiya's Soul Did Every Hour
  3. Five Books and Five Worlds in One Breath
  4. Where Is God's Place

David Saw the River Rising

The child is in the river. The water is rising fast and the banks are far. A weak swimmer cannot reach the child; only a strong one can cross the current and carry that child back. David looks at Israel's situation among hostile empires and sees the same image. Four kingdoms press down. A fifth threat waits beyond them. Ordinary rescue does not have the power to cross this current.

David cries out from Psalm 17. He does not recite his merits. He names the danger and calls for a strength greater than the river. Rabbi Pinchas, citing Rabbi Oshaya, makes the parable of the drowning child the center of the appeal. God is the strong swimmer. Israel is the child in the current. The prayer is not a formality; it is someone going under.

The midrash places this vision inside a larger frame about the soul's movement. David begins with political crisis because crisis is when the soul shows itself most clearly, when the usual distractions fail and the essential thing becomes visible.

What Rabbi Chiya's Soul Did Every Hour

Rabbi Chiya bar Abba of Yaffo taught something quiet and strange: the soul moves inside the body every hour. It does not sit still. It rises, circles, returns.

Each time the soul rises, it sees the Creator filling the world. Not present in one location, not visible from one direction, but filling every space in every direction so that there is nowhere to go that is not already occupied by divine presence. The soul looks for an exit, not out of rebellion but out of its natural tendency to seek its source. It finds the world full. It comes back down.

This is the reason a person wakes up each morning. Not because the body repaired itself through sleep, though that also happens. The soul came back. It could not find the edge of the place where God is not. So it returned to the body it knows, the one that has Torah to study, prayers to say, people to see, the small specific tasks that a soul can perform when it is housed in a body rather than rising through an infinite presence that has no gap in it.

Five Books and Five Worlds in One Breath

Psalm 103 says Bless the Lord, O my soul five times. Midrash Tehillim counts carefully. Five cries of the soul correspond to five books of Torah. They also correspond to five worlds of human existence.

The soul blesses from the place of its origin. It blesses from the place of its current habitation. It blesses across the span of this life, across the threshold of death, and from whatever waits on the other side. The repetition is not rhetorical flourish. It is the soul speaking from every world it has touched, past and present and coming, all at once.

The five books of Torah and the five worlds are the same structure seen from two different directions. Torah is the shape of the world God wants. The five worlds are the shape of the world as the soul actually travels through it. When the soul says Bless the Lord from all five positions, it is saying: I have been in every layer of this existence and in every layer I found You there first.

Where Is God's Place

The midrash asks the question an angel cannot answer: where is the place of God's glory.

The question comes from the Kedushah, the sanctification prayer, where the angels ask each other about God's place. They cannot answer. They do not know where the glory concentrates because the glory does not concentrate. It fills everything. Asking where God's place is like asking where the river begins when you are standing in the middle of it and it runs in every direction you can see.

The angels' inability to answer is not ignorance. It is testimony. The fact that even the beings closest to the divine throne cannot locate a single place for God's presence is the proof that the soul was right to come back. There is no exit to that presence, no boundary where it ends and something else begins. The soul rises every hour, looks, and finds the same answer the angels find: no edge. No empty space. No place that is not already the place of God.

So the soul descends again, and David prays, and the child in the river waits for the strong swimmer who is already crossing toward him.

Midrash TehillimDavidHeavenProphecySoulPrayer
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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Midrash Tehillim 17:8Midrash Tehillim

The ancient Jewish texts resonate deeply with this feeling, offering glimpses into moments where even David, the legendary king, felt overwhelmed. to a fascinating passage from Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Psalms, that speaks directly to this struggle.

Rabbi Pinchas, quoting Rabbi Oshaya, reveals a deeper layer. He says that David, through divine inspiration, envisioned four perilous situations for Israel, each mirroring four kingdoms that would try to dominate them. And in each case, God stood ready to help.

Then comes a fifth, even more intense challenge: the kingdom of Gog. This kingdom, according to the vision, would come against Israel with immense power, demanding that God intervene directly. "Arise, Lord, lift up Your hand," they'd say. David, witnessing this, pleads with God, "My Lord, there is no one to join with her except You."

What does it mean to "Arise, Lord, lift up Your hand?" The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) uses a beautiful analogy to explain. Imagine a strong father helping his son cross a raging river. He holds the boy's hand, guiding him. But as they reach the center, the current intensifies, the rope snaps, and the son is swept away. Desperate, the son cries out, "Father, raise your hand and save me from drowning!"

This powerful image reflects Israel's plight. The four kingdoms, likened to turbulent waters – as (Isaiah 17:12) says, "Woe to the multitude of many people" – threaten to overwhelm them. Israel, as (Psalm 69:3) laments, is "sinking in deep mire, and there is no standing." If not for Ha-Kadosh Barukh Hu (הקדוש ברוך הוא), the Holy One, blessed be He, being with them, they would surely be lost. (Isaiah 43:2) reassures us, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you."

David, realizing that sin can amplify these threats, turning them into a river's relentless current, cries out, "Arise, O Lord, with Your hand, save me from drowning!" He implores, "Arise, O Lord, remember Your oath" (Psalm 10:12).

And God responds. "As your soul lives," He proclaims, "I raise My hand," echoing the words of (Deuteronomy 32:40), "For I lift up My hand to heaven." And as (Isaiah 49:22) promises, "Behold, I will lift up My hand to the nations."

So what does this all mean for us today? It reminds us that even in the face of overwhelming challenges, even when we feel like we're drowning in the "waters" of life, we are not alone. God's hand is there, ready to lift us up. It's a message of hope, resilience, and the enduring promise of divine intervention in our lives, even when all seems lost. And sometimes, isn't that exactly the kind of reminder we need?

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Midrash Tehillim 62:3Midrash Tehillim

Midrash Tehillim, a collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, grapples with this very idea. Specifically, Midrash Tehillim 62 invites us to ponder the constant, almost imperceptible miracle of life itself.

Rabbi Chiya bar Abba of Yaffo offers a powerful image: imagine your soul, constantly yearning to ascend, to break free. What keeps it tethered? What prevents it from simply… drifting away?

He answers: The Holy One, blessed be He, fills the entire earth with His glory. This divine presence, according to Rabbi Chiya, permeates everything. It's placed, specifically, within the body. So when the soul, in its constant up-and-down motion, seeks to depart, it glimpses its Creator. And, seeing that, it returns. It is drawn back by the very source of its being.

Isn’t that incredible?

This concept echoes in (Nehemiah 9:6), which declares, “You alone are the Lord; You made the heavens, the heaven of heavens, and all their host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them. You give life to all of them.” The Great Assembly, a legendary group of sages, understood this verse as a evidence of God's all-encompassing life-giving force.

But where do we find proof that God's glory truly fills the world? The prophet Jeremiah, in (Jeremiah 23:24), gives us a resounding answer: "Do I not fill the heavens and the earth? says the Lord." It's not just a philosophical concept; it's a divine declaration.

Rabbi Chiya, drawing upon the teachings of Rabbi Meir's students, further illuminates this idea. He points to (Psalm 150:6), "Let every soul praise God." But what does it truly mean, “let every soul praise God”?

It means that every single hour, as our soul ebbs and flows within us, we should offer a Hallelujah – a song of praise. We should acknowledge the wonders that God performs for us every single hour, often without us even realizing it. The very act of being, of existing, is a continuous miracle.

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) concludes with a powerful call to action: "Trust Him at all times. Pour out your heart before Him. God is our refuge. Selah."

This isn't just about blind faith. It's about recognizing the profound interconnectedness of all things, the constant presence of the Divine within us and around us. It's about trusting in the source of our being, and finding solace in the knowledge that we are never truly alone.

So, the next time you find yourself questioning your place in the world, remember Rabbi Chiya's words. Remember the soul's yearning, and the Divine glory that keeps it anchored. Remember the constant, quiet miracle of life itself. And perhaps, offer a small, heartfelt Hallelujah for the gift of simply being.

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Midrash Tehillim 103:2Midrash Tehillim

Midrash, the art of interpreting scripture through storytelling, gives us some fascinating ways to ponder that very question. to a passage from Midrash Tehillim, a collection of midrashic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, specifically Psalm 103.

The Midrash begins with a powerful analogy. Rabbi Levi, citing Rabbi Huna, contrasts a human painter with the Holy One, blessed be He. A painter creates an image, but when the painter dies, the creation remains. But God? God created us. We die, but God remains, alive and eternal. It's a simple comparison, but it hits hard.

It doesn't stop there. The painter's image is limited, says the Midrash. It can only start from the head or the foot. God, however, is the creator of everything. As the prophet Jeremiah (10:16) reminds us, "He is the Creator of everything." The Midrash emphasizes that God can do what the painter cannot.

Then comes another angle: we, as humans, eat, but our form, our essence, doesn't. But God is different. God doesn't eat, and God's essence remains untouched. As we read in Nehemiah (9:6), "You alone are the Lord; You have made heaven, the heaven of heavens, with all their host, the earth, and all that is on it, the seas and all that are in them. You give life to all of them." God is the source of all life, the sustainer of all things.

And perhaps most profoundly, a human painter cannot create a soul. They can't create what's within. But God did. God created us with both body and soul, with inner depths and complexities.

So, what’s the Psalmist's response to all this? "Bless my soul, O Lord!" In fact, this phrase appears five times in the psalm. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi, in the Midrash, connects these five blessings to the five books of the Torah. Each blessing, each utterance of "Bless my soul, O Lord," echoes the entirety of God's law and teachings. They are: "Bless my soul, O Lord, and all that is within me." "Bless my soul, O Lord, and do not forget all His benefits." "In all places of His dominion, bless my soul, O Lord." "Bless my soul, O Lord, O Lord my God, You are very great." "Let sinners be consumed out of the earth, and let the wicked be no more. Bless my soul, O Lord. Hallelujah."

Rabbi Yochanan offers another interpretation: these five blessings correspond to five "worlds" that a person experiences. The first is when we’re in the womb: "Bless my soul, O Lord, and all that is within me." Then, there's birth: "Bless my soul, O Lord, and do not forget all His benefits." Rabbi Abbahu explains that these benefits refer to being granted judgment in a place of understanding. Rav elaborates, saying it's so we don't look at nakedness. Rav Matnah adds, so we don't suckle from the place of the womb. These are all ways of understanding the separation and development that comes with being born into the world.

Next comes our life in the world, moving "here and there," as the psalm puts it: "In all His places of dominion, bless the Lord, my soul." Then, there’s the moment of death, when we "see the Divine Presence": "Bless the Lord, my soul, the Lord my God, You are exceedingly great." Finally, there’s the future, when "sins will be eradicated from the earth." This is why, the Midrash concludes, we bless the Lord, we say "Bless the Lord, my soul."

What does this all mean? It’s an invitation to recognize God's infinite power and presence in every aspect of our existence – from the grand sweep of creation to the most intimate moments of our lives. The Midrash reminds us that God is not just a creator, but a constant presence, a source of life, and a promise of a future where good triumphs. So, take a moment. Reflect on the blessings in your life, and perhaps, whisper a "Bless my soul, O Lord" of your own.

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Midrash Tehillim 103:3Midrash Tehillim

Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic commentaries on the Book of Psalms, offers a breathtaking insight into the unknowability of God’s presence. It begins with King David's heartfelt plea in Psalm 103: "Bless the Lord, O my soul." But what does it truly mean to bless God?

The Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) suggests a profound parallel: "Just as no person knows where the place of this soul is, so too with the Holy One, Blessed be He: no creature knows where His place is.” Where is your soul? Is it in your heart? Your mind? Everywhere at once? It’s an elusive thing, isn't it?

So, according to this interpretation, is God’s presence.

It goes even further, stating that not even the celestial beings, the ones responsible for upholding the very Throne of Glory, know where God dwells. Their response? A humble acknowledgement: "Blessed is the Presence of the Lord in His place" (Ezekiel 3:12). They recognize and bless the presence, even without fully comprehending its location or essence.

But there's another beautiful way to understand David's call to bless the Lord with his soul. It's a comparison, a mirroring of qualities. The Midrash asks, why specifically the soul?

Because, it answers, just as the soul fills the entire body, so too does God fill the entire world. God’s presence isn't confined; it permeates everything. And just as the soul suffers when the body suffers, so too does God, in a way we can barely fathom, experience the suffering of the world.

The soul is unique within the body, unlike any other part. Similarly, God is utterly unique in the world, beyond comparison. The soul needs neither food nor drink to sustain it, and neither does God. The soul is pure, untouched by the physical world, and so too is God, elevated above creation. And perhaps most poignantly, the soul sees everything within the body, but it remains unseen itself. Just so, God sees all, but remains ultimately unseen by mortal eyes.

David, recognizing these shared attributes, declares: let the soul, possessing all these qualities, come and praise God, who possesses them infinitely. It’s an invitation to connect with the divine through the very essence of our being.

So, what does this mean for us? Perhaps it’s a reminder that we don’t need to fully understand God to connect with God. Maybe it's an invitation to recognize the divine spark within ourselves, that elusive "soul," and to use it to offer praise, gratitude, and connection to something far greater than ourselves. Perhaps the mystery itself is the point.

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