Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations of the Psalms, offers a pretty powerful image to explain it.

It starts with the question: "Why did the nations rage?"

The answer, it suggests, lies in the words of Isaiah (57:20): "But the wicked are like the tossing sea, which cannot rest, whose waves cast up mire and mud." Think about that image for a moment. A restless sea, constantly churning, bringing all sorts of unwanted things to the surface. That's how the Midrash sees the wicked.

It goes even further. "Just as the sea brings up all its vessels onto its surface, so too the vessels of the wicked are on their lips." In other words, what's inside them – their true nature, their intentions – inevitably comes out in their words. Their mouths become a vessel, revealing the turmoil within.

And the Midrash doesn't just leave it there. It provides examples, historical figures who embody this restless, raging spirit. Pharaoh, for instance, who famously challenged Moses with the question (Exodus 5:2), "Who is the Lord?" That single question wasn't just a query; it was an act of defiance, a rejection of divine authority.

Then there’s Sisera, the commander who "oppressed the children of Israel mightily" (Judges 4:3). The Midrash asks, what does "mightily" mean? And answers: With sword and spear. His oppression wasn't just about physical force; it was fueled by an inner rage, a need to dominate and control. Their words, as it says in Malachi (3:13), "have been strong against me."

And what about Sennacherib? He boasted (2 Kings 19:15), "Who among all the gods of the lands have delivered their countries?" A challenge to the very power of HaShem, the Name, a direct confrontation with the divine.

Finally, there's Nebuchadnezzar, who demanded (Daniel 3:15), "And who is the god who will deliver you out of my hands?" A brazen declaration of his own power, an assertion that no other force could challenge his will.

Each of these figures, in their own way, embodies the restless sea described by Isaiah. Their words, their actions, all stemmed from a deep-seated inner turmoil, a refusal to find peace or accept a higher power.

So, what does this mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder to look inward, to examine the "vessels" of our own hearts. Are we at peace? Or are we constantly churning, bringing up "mire and mud" with our words and actions? Maybe the key to quieting the raging sea around us lies in finding stillness within ourselves.