What holds a nation together? Is it military might? Economic prowess? Or something more… intangible? Midrash Tehillim 12, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, wrestles with this very question, painting a vivid picture of a society struggling with its own moral compass.
The text begins with a plea, "Save us, O Lord, for we are godly," echoing Micah 7:2. But is it a genuine cry, or just empty words? The story then introduces Andreas Shechik Tamia, who asks a fundamental question: on what merit does this nation stand? The answer comes quickly: pious men, righteous men, and men who toil in Torah. But almost immediately, a decree is issued to suppress Torah study. Why? Because the very qualities that supposedly sustain the nation are under threat.
The Midrash illustrates this with a story of a pious man who finds a lost box of coins and returns it. Seems straightforward, right? But instead of gratitude, he faces suspicion and a curse. Why? Because his honesty is so unexpected, so out of sync with the prevailing culture, that it's seen as suspicious. "Faith had departed from men," the text laments. This isn't just about a lost box of coins; it's about a loss of trust, a decay of the moral fabric holding society together.
Rabbi Pinchas offers a glimmer of hope, saying, "Men may fail, but the angels do not fail." But what are these men actually doing? Speaking evil of one another. Ouch.
The Midrash then pivots to a tale of villagers and salt. Sounds simple, but stay with me. A group plans to buy salt to sell, but their leader, driven by greed, secretly goes ahead to corner the market. His rationale? If they all go together, the price will drop! This story, the Midrash tells us, illustrates the verse from Jeremiah 9:7, "In vain do they talk to one another." Their words are empty, driven by selfish motives. There's no collaboration, no community, just individual gain at the expense of others.
And it gets even more personal. We hear a story about Rabbi Yonatan, who had lentils for sale. A relative asks for some, and Rabbi Yonatan promises him a good price. But then, Rabbi Yonatan, driven by the market price, sells lentils to someone else at a higher price, then sells it to his relative at the market price and justifies it. It seems that even learned men are subject to the temptation of greed, and the text is clear that this behavior goes against the values of honesty and integrity.
These seemingly simple stories, woven together, paint a portrait of a society where words have lost their meaning, where trust is eroded, and where self-interest trumps communal well-being. It's a stark warning about the dangers of hypocrisy and the importance of aligning our actions with our words.
The Midrash concludes by referencing the Babylonian Talmud, Bava Metzia 58b, which teaches that some people speak with their lips, but their hearts do not agree. They say one thing and think another. So, what's the takeaway? Speak truthfully, with honesty, in both word and deed.
So, what does hold a nation together? According to this Midrash, it's not just grand pronouncements of piety or righteous deeds; it's the everyday acts of honesty, integrity, and genuine care for one another. It's about bridging the gap between what we say and what we do. It's about making sure our hearts and our words are in alignment. A challenge, perhaps, but one worth striving for, wouldn't you agree?