The ancient rabbis felt that way too. And they wrestled with that feeling in their interpretations of the Psalms, particularly in Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations of the Book of Psalms.
Psalm 13 begins with a raw, almost desperate cry: "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?" It's a question that echoes through generations, a question we've all probably whispered at some point. But Midrash Tehillim doesn't just leave us hanging in that despair. It digs deeper.
Rabbi Chanina, in this midrash, imagines the people of Israel, the Knesset Israel, turning to God with a complaint. "You fought our battles!" they say. "As it is said, 'For then the Lord went out before you' (2 Samuel 5:24). And we expected you would always do so, as it's written, 'And the Lord will go out and fight against those nations' (Zechariah 14:3)." But now? Now, they lament, it seems that "God will not go forth with our armies" (Psalms 60:12). How long, O Lord, will this be?
But then comes the twist. God's response isn't what they expect. "Have I forgotten you?" God asks. "No," comes the reply, in essence. "You have forgotten me!"
Ouch.
It’s a tough love kind of moment. The Midrash doesn't shy away from it. It quotes Psalm 106:21: "They forgot their savior God." And it continues, "Have I hidden my face from you? You have hidden your face from me!" The proof texts come thick and fast: "And they turned their faces away from the Sanctuary of the Lord" (2 Chronicles 29:6) and "And they turned their backs, not their faces, to me" (Jeremiah 32:33).
It’s a powerful image, isn’t it? Turning your back on something sacred. Turning away from the source of your strength and comfort. We can all relate to that, can't we? Times when we felt disconnected, distant. Times when, perhaps, we ourselves were the ones who turned away.
But the Midrash doesn't end there. It offers a glimmer of hope. God acknowledges the present reality: "In this world I have hidden my face from you." But then comes the promise: "But in the future… 'For they shall see eye to eye when the Lord returns to Zion' (Isaiah 52:8)."
That phrase, "eye to eye," is so evocative. It suggests a moment of perfect clarity, of complete understanding, of restored connection. It's a future where the perceived distance between us and the Divine dissolves.
So, what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that our relationship with the Divine isn’t a one-way street. It requires our attention, our intention, our willingness to face the sacred. And perhaps, in those moments when we feel forgotten, it's worth asking ourselves: who turned away first? But also, it's a reminder that even when we feel distant, the possibility of reconnection, of seeing "eye to eye," always remains.