King David certainly did. In Psalms, he repeatedly begs God to rise up and intervene. But what does it really mean for God to "arise"? And when will that moment finally come?

Our story begins with Jacob. Remember him? He’s about to meet his brother, Esau, after a long separation, and things are… complicated, to say the least. Genesis 32:4 tells us, "Jacob sent messengers before him to Esau his brother, to the land of Se’ir, the field of Edom.”

And that seemingly simple act of sending messengers? It sparks a fascinating discussion in Bereshit Rabbah, a classical collection of Rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Genesis. Specifically, Bereshit Rabbah 75 dives deep into the verse and connects it to a powerful plea from King David in Psalm 17:13: “Arise, Lord, confront him and subdue him. Rescue me from the wicked with Your sword.”

Rabbi Pinḥas, quoting Rabbi Reuven, uses this verse to launch into a broader reflection on when God actually answers our calls to "arise." Rabbi Pinḥas points out that David uses this phrase – "Arise, Lord!" – no fewer than five times in the Book of Psalms. He cries out: “Arise, Lord; save me, my God” (Psalms 3:8); “Arise, Lord, in Your anger” (Psalms 7:7); “Arise, Lord God, raise Your hand. Do not forget” (Psalms 10:12); “Arise, Lord; let man not be arrogant” (Psalms 9:20); and finally, the one we started with, “Arise, Lord, confront him” (Psalms 17:13).

So, why the silence sometimes? According to this midrash – this interpretive story – God basically tells David, "David, my son, even if you call for Me to rise many times, I will not rise. When will I rise? It is when the poor are robbed and the indigent are groaning.” That’s a pretty powerful statement, isn't it? It’s not just about our personal struggles; it's about systemic injustice. The verse that follows, Psalm 12:6, reinforces this: “Because of the robbery of the poor and the groans of the indigent, [now I will arise].”

Rabbi Yona takes this idea even further. He suggests that God, in a sense, is also "wallowing in the ashes" until the day comes when Jerusalem can "shake the dust from you, arise and sit" (Isaiah 52:2). Then, Zechariah 2:17 tells us, "Be silent, all flesh, before the Lord, for He is roused from His abode of sanctity.” Rabbi Aḥa compares it to a rooster shaking itself free from the ashes.

But what about the specific plea to "confront" the wicked? Rabbi Aḥa interprets "kadma panav" – "confront him" – as a call to give the wicked their reward early, in this world, before they have a chance to repent. It’s like saying, "Deal with them now, before they can sweet-talk their way out of it!" He wants God to "tip the scales to condemn him [hakhri’ehu] and break him," just like in Psalms 20:9, where it says, “They dropped to their knees [kare’u] and fell…”

And who is this "wicked" that David – and by extension, Jacob – is so worried about? Well, the Rabbis offer a couple of possibilities. It could be Esau himself, who, as Genesis 27:40 says, "By your sword you shall live." Or, alternatively, it could be Rome, seen as descendants of Esau and a force of oppression in the world. Rabbi Yehoshua of Sikhnin, quoting Rabbi Levi, says this wicked one is destined to fall by God’s sword, as prophesied in Isaiah 34:5: “For My sword is sated in Heaven; behold, it will descend upon Edom.”

Here’s the kicker, though. The midrash ends with a surprising twist. God essentially says to Jacob, "He was going on his way, and then you are sending to him and saying: ‘So said your servant, Jacob’ (Genesis 32:5)." The implication? Had Jacob not reached out to Esau, Esau might have just continued on his way, minding his own business!

So, what does all this mean? It’s a reminder that our actions have consequences. Sometimes, our very attempts to protect ourselves can inadvertently provoke the very conflict we’re trying to avoid. It also reminds us that the call for divine intervention isn't just about personal salvation. It’s deeply intertwined with the plight of the vulnerable and the pursuit of justice. And maybe, just maybe, sometimes the answer to our prayers lies not in waiting for God to "arise," but in our own willingness to get up and do something ourselves.