Yet, praise is central to Jewish tradition. Why? to a fascinating passage from Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletical interpretations on the Book of Psalms, and see what we can uncover.
The text opens with a plea: "Say another thing and give me the shield of your salvation." It then immediately brings in the figure of Abraham, the patriarch, and a remarkable image: Abraham is sitting, while the Shechinah, the Divine Presence, is standing.
Rabbi Berechiah, citing Rabbi Levi, explains that Abraham wanted to stand out of respect, but God told him to remain seated. Why? "For it is a good sign for your children that they will sit while I stand," God says. The proof text? Psalm 82:1: "God stands in the congregation of the mighty." This isn't about disrespect; it's about a promise, a future where God is present with and for the Jewish people.
And it gets even more intimate. Rabbi Samuel bar Chiya and Rabbi Yudan, quoting Rabbi Chanina, teach that whenever the children of Israel praise God, He places His Shechinah upon them. Psalm 22:4 seals the deal: "Yet You are holy, enthroned upon the praises of Israel." God is not just receiving our praise; God is dwelling within it!
There's a fascinating aside from Rabbi Simon. He suggests that when God revealed Himself to Abraham, He "regretted His words." The Holy One, blessed be He, then sends angels to Abraham, accompanied by the Shechinah, to delay him. This is based on a close reading of Genesis 18:22, "And the men turned from there." Rabbi Simon calls this a "correction of the scribes," implying that the text subtly suggests the Shechinah waits for Abraham. It's a powerful image of God's patience and deference.
The Midrash then explores the idea that "Your answer will increase me." Rabbi Chiya uses the image of a disciple going before his teacher at night. Who lights the way? Not the disciple, but God, as Exodus 13:21 tells us: "And the Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud." God leads the way.
Rabbi Lulianus, in the name of Rabbi Yishmael, contrasts earthly customs with divine ones. Usually, the teacher speaks, and the student answers. But, as Exodus 19:19 reveals, "Moses will speak, and God will answer him with a voice." God responds to us.
Ben Azai continues this theme, noting how mortal kings list their titles before their name, while God does the opposite. In Genesis 1:1, we read: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." God's name comes first, followed by the description of His act. The Midrash then adds a stern warning: "Woe to you who does not understand this!" It's a reminder to pay close attention to the nuances of the text, to the way God reveals Himself.
Rabbi Abba contrasts a human teacher, who might tire of questions, with God, who taught the Torah to Israel for forty days, and then, according to Deuteronomy 1:6, said, "You have wearied Me with your questions." Even in this "weariness," there's a sense of intimacy and engagement.
Rabbi Shimon draws a similar comparison. A teacher might ask a student to wait for them. But God tells Ezekiel (Ezekiel 3:22), "Arise, go to the valley, and there I will speak with you." And Ezekiel obeys (Ezekiel 3:23): "So I arose and went to the valley." Again, the Midrash ends with "Woe to you who does not understand this!"
Finally, Rabbi Yudan, quoting Rabbi Hama, presents a startling vision of the future. God will seat the Messiah King at His right hand, based on Psalm 110:1: "The Lord said to my Lord: 'Sit at My right hand.'" But Abraham will be at God's left, confused. "The son of my son is sitting at Your right, and I am at Your left?" Abraham asks. God reassures him: "The son of your son is at My right, and you are at My right as well," echoing Psalm 110:5, "The Lord is at your right hand." This powerful image highlights the enduring importance of Abraham, even in the messianic age. And, of course, the Midrash concludes with the familiar warning: "Woe to you who does not understand this!"
So, what do we make of all this? This passage from Midrash Tehillim paints a picture of a God who is not distant and aloof but intimately involved with humanity, particularly with the Jewish people. It's a God who listens, responds, and even seems to defer to those who praise Him. It challenges us to consider the nature of our relationship with the Divine. Is it a one-way street of supplication, or is it a dynamic, reciprocal exchange? Perhaps, the Midrash suggests, our praise is not just an offering to God, but a way of creating a space where the Shechinah can dwell among us. And that, in itself, is a truly awesome and humbling thought.