The ancient rabbis certainly understood that feeling. They saw it reflected in the words of King David, in the 18th Psalm, and explored it deeply in Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Psalms.
The verse we’re looking at today begins with David saying, "My afflictions are the cords of death." But the rabbis, ever attuned to the nuances of the Hebrew language, immediately dig deeper. What exactly are these afflictions?
Midrash Tehillim offers several interpretations. First, it notes that the troubles have reached David’s very nose – they are that close, that overwhelming. Then comes a beautiful play on words. The text suggests we read "my afflictions" (efponai) not as such, but as "my wings" (afafonai). Troubles, it says, fly and come upon me like a bird. We can see this echoed in Genesis 1:20, "and birds that fly above the earth." They roll and come upon me like a wheel, the midrash continues.
It's a powerful image, isn't it? This sense of being surrounded, encircled by difficulty.
Another interpretation: "I am banished from my land." Rabbi Acha adds to this sense of desperation, saying, "I have been turned this way and that, and there is no redeemer but You."
The midrash continues to explore the image of "wings" (afafin), noting that when a woman weaves with two doubled threads, they too are called "wings." So David's afflictions, it suggests, are like doubled wings, speaking in four kingdoms: Babylon, Media, Yawn (often understood as Greece), and Edom. These represent the great empires that historically oppressed the Jewish people.
David’s afflictions, the midrash explains, are the cords of death in Babylon. The rivers of Belial – a term for wickedness – inundate him in Media. The cords of Sheol, the underworld, surround him in Yawn. And the snares of death await in Edom.
It’s a litany of suffering, a whirlwind of pain and persecution.
The Rabbis then ask, "Why did he write 'death' in the first and fourth stanzas?" The answer offered is chilling: because it represents the destruction of the First Temple and the destruction of the Second Temple. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana offers an alternative, suggesting it refers to a decree of pestilence in both instances.
The midrash then shifts to David’s response to this overwhelming distress: "When I am in distress, I call upon the Lord in Babylon, and I cry out to my God in Media. Let my voice come before Him; let my supplication reach His ears in Yawn, and before Him, let my cry come in Edom."
Rabbi Pinchas, in the name of Rabbi Chama bar Chanina, raises a crucial question: "Why was the Temple mentioned in the third stanza?" The answer, the midrash suggests, is because the Temple existed during the time of Yonah (Greece). David says "I am in distress" and not "in distresses," because all the prophets join together the distress of Israel and minimize it, as it says in Deuteronomy 4:30, "When you are in distress, and all these things have overtaken you," and in Lamentations 1:20, "See, O Lord, for I am in distress."
Rabbi Yehuda offers a different perspective: there was no destruction of the Temple during the time of Yonah. He then draws upon Amos 5:19: "Like one who runs from a lion" (Babylon). "And the bear met him" (Media). "And he leaned his hand on the wall, and the serpent bit him" (Edom), echoing Jeremiah 46:22, "Her voice shall go like a serpent."
Finally, Rabbi Yehuda brings an explanation from Song of Songs 5:2, "Open to me, my sister, my friend." "My sister" refers to Babylon, and "my friend" refers to Media in Yonah. And why is she called Yonah? Because they used to offer sacrifices of doves and young pigeons during her time. "Tammuz" (my perfect one) died in Edom. And why is she called "my perfect one"? Because the Israelites were killed with her, and they gave their lives for the sanctification of God's name, as many decrees were imposed on us during her time.
What can we take away from this intricate web of interpretations? Perhaps it's the enduring human capacity to find meaning, even in the face of overwhelming suffering. To see the echoes of past traumas in present struggles. And, above all, to turn to God in prayer, even when surrounded by the "cords of death." It's a reminder that even in our darkest moments, we are not alone, and that the cries of our ancestors resonate with our own.