Jacob and David on the Righteousness That Saves Without Deserving
Israel pleads for salvation through God's righteousness alone. The midrash traces that prayer from David's psalms to the desert generation God carried.
There is a cry that runs through Jewish prayer like a fault line through rock: save me not because of my righteousness, but because of yours. Israel pleads it in the psalms. Hezekiah spoke it from his sickbed. And the rabbis of the Midrash Rabbah tradition traced this cry backward through the generations until they found it embedded in the structure of the covenant itself -- not as an admission of failure, but as a theological claim about what kind of God Israel worships.
The midrash on Psalm 71 opens with the assembly of Israel speaking directly to God: In your righteousness, save me and deliver me. Not in my righteousness. Not in the righteousness of my deeds. Solely in yours -- today and tomorrow and whenever salvation must come. The rabbis pointed to Isaiah (59:16): He saw that there was no man and was amazed that there was no one to intercede, and His arm brought Him salvation, and His righteousness supported Him. God's own righteousness becomes the supporting structure. When human intercession fails, when no prophet stands in the breach, God's righteousness acts on its own behalf -- which is to say, on Israel's behalf, because Israel is bound up with that righteousness through the covenant.
This is not a passive hope. The verse continues: Incline your ear to me and save me. The midrash treats the inclining as a physical gesture -- God bending down, drawing close to the one who cries. If you incline to save me, it is like salvation for the needy, the poorest possible case, the one who has no claim of their own. Hezekiah used the same language: Incline, O Lord, Your ear and hear (2 Kings 19:16). And because God inclined for Hezekiah in that moment of Assyrian siege, Hezekiah could say afterward -- as a rule, as a principle -- for He has inclined His ear to me, and I shall call on Him as long as I live.
Now move from that prayer to its deepest root: the desert. The midrash on Deuteronomy 1:31 -- the Lord your God bore you as a man would bear his son -- unpacks what it means for a parent to bear a difficult child. Rabbi Yehuda observed: in the ordinary world, a person who has a son, if the son angers him, the father immediately casts him away. The Holy One is not so. For forty years in the wilderness, Israel angered God, provoked God, forgot God at every turn. And God bore them. Did not cast them away. Carried them.
Reish Lakish read the same verse differently. The word bore -- nesaakha -- can also be read as exalted: God elevated them, raised them like deities, as the Psalm says, I had said: you are divine. The carrying and the exalting are the same gesture. God does not merely tolerate Israel in the desert; God lifts Israel up by the act of carrying them. And Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai contrasted the human practice -- give the infant to a maidservant, give it to a wet nurse for two or three years and then step back -- with the divine practice: And until old age I am He, and until gray hairs I will carry you (Isaiah 46:4). God does not hand Israel off after infancy. The carrying continues through every age.
What does this have to do with the prayer for righteousness? Everything. The prayer save me in your righteousness, not mine is the prayer of a people who have been through the desert. They have seen what God does when there is no human merit to point to. They have seen God carry them through forty years of rebellion. They know, from that history, that God's righteousness is not a reward dispensed to the deserving. It is an attribute that acts on its own, that bends down when it hears a cry, that carries even a people who have given it every reason to stop. David wrote the prayer. Jacob's descendants lived it. The desert was the proof. And the rabbis preserved the proof in texts within the Midrash Aggadah tradition so that every future generation would know: this is not a new claim. This is the claim Israel has been making since the first waterless camp, when God provided water anyway, not because Israel deserved it, but because God is the kind of God who carries.