This feeling isn’t new. King David wrestled with it, too. Midrash Tehillim, a beautiful collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, gives us a glimpse into his struggle, and how he found solace.
David cries out, "In righteousness I will behold your face.” But why? The Midrash suggests it's because the wicked seem to get ahead, denying God's existence while the righteous suffer, even dying for their faith. So David declares, "I am not among the sinners before You, but among those who toil in the Torah." He's saying, "I'm striving! I'm not perfect, but I'm dedicated to justice, as it is written, 'Justice, justice, you shall pursue'" (Deuteronomy 16:20). It’s a powerful statement of intent, a refusal to be defined by the apparent injustices of the world.
But the Midrash doesn't stop there. It offers another interpretation, linking David’s plea to a verse in Samuel II (22:7): "And this is to Judah; and he said, 'Hear, O Lord, the voice of Judah.'" It's fascinating how the Rabbis connect seemingly disparate verses, isn't it? They are always searching for hidden depths and connections.
This connection then leads us to a surprising detour – a discussion of mikveh (ritual bath) purity laws! The Midrash tells a story about a dispute between Hillel and Shammai, two towering figures in Jewish history, regarding how much "drawn water" invalidates a mikveh. The Sages couldn't resolve their disagreement…until two ordinary individuals, Gardayim (literally, dung-heap men), emerged from the Ash Heap (a pretty undesirable place in Jerusalem, to say the least!) with testimony from Shemaya and Avtalyon that clarified the law.
Why this seemingly random story about mikveh law in the middle of a discussion about David's righteousness? The Midrash explains that even though the Gardayim were of low status and the Ash Heap a place of little repute, their testimony was accepted because it was true. The story emphasizes that even great scholars like Beit Hillel and Beit Shammai ultimately deferred to the truth, regardless of its source. The lesson? Just as these "fathers of the world" didn't stubbornly cling to their opinions in the face of new evidence, neither should we.
The Midrash continues, questioning why the opinions of Beit Shammai and Beit Hillel are even mentioned if they are ultimately rejected. The answer: to teach future generations not to be inflexible. And why include the opinion of an individual when the halakha (Jewish law) follows the majority? So that individuals don't mistakenly rely on a minority opinion, assuming a court can only overturn another if it is greater in wisdom and number. Ultimately, the Midrash is teaching us to rely on the wisdom of the early sages and to align our words with the words of the Torah.
And here's the key connection back to David: He relied on the words of his teacher, Moses, when he prayed for him and his tribe. David, recognizing the power of prayer and tradition, echoes Moses’ plea, saying, "Hear, O Lord, righteousness." The Midrash emphasizes that the "voice" mentioned in David's prayer is the same voice that Saul recognized as David's (Samuel I 26:17). It's a voice rooted in faith, in tradition, and in a deep connection to God.
So, what can we take away from all this? Perhaps it’s about finding our own voice within the chorus of tradition. It’s about striving for righteousness, even when the world seems unfair. And it's about recognizing that truth can come from unexpected places, and that we should always be open to learning and growing. David's struggle, the mikveh story, the emphasis on tradition…they all point to the same thing: a constant, ongoing pursuit of truth and righteousness, even when it’s hard. What does that pursuit look like in your own life?