Rabbi Judah bar Simon, in Midrash Tehillim, offers a fascinating perspective. He suggests that while we often loathe our professions, God doesn't hate His. Why? Because "the Lord is righteous, He loves righteousness" (Psalm 11:7). It's a startlingly human way to think about the Divine, isn't it?
But what does it even mean that God "loves righteousness"? The Midrash uses this as a jumping-off point to explore who gets to experience God's presence. Who are the ones privileged enough to "see His face"?
The Midrash identifies seven classes of people destined to stand before God. But the most excellent class, the ones who truly receive the divine presence, are the upright – the yesharim. As it says in Psalm 11:7, "The upright will see His face." And elsewhere, in Psalm 140:14, "The upright shall sit before Your face."
Now, here's where it gets interesting. Why does it say "see" and "sit before?" The Midrash poses a question: what's the meaning of "The upright will see His face"? One interpretation is mind-blowing: before the world was even created, the upright saw the Divine Presence. Imagine that – existing in God's vision before existence itself!
Another interpretation equates seeing God's face with embodying different forms of light and glory. These seven classes of the righteous are likened to the sun, moon, stars, lightning, roses, and torches. "And the wise shall shine like the brightness of the firmament" (Daniel 12:3). Like the sun in its might (Judges 5:31), like the moon established forever (Psalm 89:38), like stars, lightning, roses (shoshannim – a term used in the titles of some Psalms), and torches. Ginzberg, in Legends of the Jews, beautifully expands on these celestial associations, painting a vivid picture of the righteous radiating divine light.
According to the Midrash, the first class of the righteous actually sits before the King, seeing both Him and His face. Then, the Midrash lists further categories of righteous individuals, referencing different verses from Psalms: "Happy are they that dwell in Your house" (Psalm 84:5), "Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?" (Psalm 24:3), "Happy is the man whom You choose" (Psalm 65:5), "Lord, who shall abide in Your tabernacle?" (Psalm 15:1), "Who shall dwell on Your holy hill?" (Psalm 15:1) and "And who shall stand in His holy place?" (Psalm 24:3). Each group represents a different aspect of righteousness and closeness to God.
But what about the wicked? The Midrash doesn't shy away from the darker side. Opposite these seven levels of righteousness are seven apartments in Gehinnom – often translated as Hell. These include Sheol (the grave), Abaddon (destruction), the Valley of Similarity, Tzelmoth (the shadow of death), the Netherworld, and the Land of Dryness. A stark contrast, indeed. The Midrash emphasizes that both the righteous and the wicked are rewarded or punished according to their deeds, each in their designated place.
Then, the text shifts to a chilling story about Ish Tzrorot, the nephew of Rabbi Yosi ben Yo'ezer. Ish Tzrorot, a man from Tsoridah, was tasked with executing criminals. While riding his horse, he lamented the harshness of his task, saying to his horse that some are ridden by a master who is harsh, and some by a master who is gentle. He questioned whether he was truly doing God's will. This internal conflict led him to a horrifying act: he personally carried out four death sentences in a gruesome, ritualistic manner.
Rabbi Yosi ben Yo'ezer, witnessing this, saw Ish Tzrorot's bed floating in the air, a sign that a place had been prepared for him in the Garden of Eden. This is a shocking twist. Could such a violent act lead to paradise? The story is disturbing and unsettling, leaving us to grapple with questions of justice, repentance, and the complexities of divine judgment.
What does this all mean? This passage from Midrash Tehillim isn't just a simple description of heaven and hell. It's a profound meditation on righteousness, divine presence, and the weight of our actions. It suggests that even the most seemingly righteous acts can be twisted and that true closeness to God requires constant self-reflection and a striving for uprightness in all aspects of our lives. And maybe, just maybe, it hints that even in the darkest of deeds, a spark of redemption remains possible.