The ancient rabbis wrestled with fear too. They found layers of meaning in the words of Psalm 14, specifically the phrase, "There they feared with fear...there was no fear." (Psalm 14:5). How can fear be both present and absent in the same place? It seems contradictory, doesn't it?
Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, offers some fascinating answers.
One interpretation focuses on the historical division of the Israelite kingdom. Remember the story of the ten tribes exiled from the Northern Kingdom? The Midrash suggests that "There they feared with fear" speaks to their plight, their anxieties and uncertainties in exile. But, the Midrash continues, "there was no fear" in the tribes of Judah and Benjamin who remained in the Southern Kingdom.
But that's not all.
The Midrash then pivots to a more universal, almost existential understanding. "There they feared with fear" can also describe the righteous. Those who, in this world, are filled with yirat Hashem, fear of God, and diligently follow His commandments. Because of their devotion in this life, "there was no fear" that they would not fear Him in the world to come. It's a beautiful idea, isn't it? That our present actions can shape our future relationship with the Divine.
And then, a stark contrast. The Midrash considers the wicked. "There they feared with fear" refers to the sinners, but this fear isn't about reverence. It’s the terror they will experience in the future, as Isaiah (33:14) tells us: "The sinners in Zion are afraid."
So, what caused them to not fear God in this world? The answer, according to the prophet Jeremiah (2:19), is chilling: "Your own wickedness will correct you, and your apostasies will reprove you." Their actions, their choices, created a chasm between them and the Divine.
And what caused God not to fear them? Again, the verse from Jeremiah (2:19) echoes: "And you did not fear Me." It's a reciprocal relationship. A lack of reverence breeds distance, a severing of connection.
This passage from Midrash Tehillim isn't just about fear, is it? It's about consequence, about the choices we make and the paths they lead us down. It's about the relationship between humanity and the Divine, a relationship built on reverence, responsibility, and, ultimately, love.
So, the question is, what kind of fear do we want to cultivate? The fear that leads to righteousness, or the fear that arises from regret?