There’s this beautiful passage in Midrash Tehillim (Commentary on Psalms), specifically on Psalm 27, that offers a powerful image of refuge. It says, "For He will hide me in His tabernacle on an evil day; He will conceal me in the concealment of His tent; on a rock He will raise me up. And now, my head will be raised up above my enemies around me."
It's a stunning visual, isn’t it? A sanctuary, a tent, a rock solid foundation when everything else feels unstable. But what does it really mean to find refuge in God’s "tabernacle"? The Sages delve into this verse, exploring moments in Jewish history when individuals turned to God, even in seemingly forbidden ways.
Rabbi Yaakov begins by pointing to a seemingly unrelated verse in Joshua (8:30): "Then Joshua built an altar to the LORD, the God of Israel, in Mount Ebal." Rabbi Yosei bar Chanina adds a crucial detail: "The altar was only dismantled by a prophet." Why is this important? Well, Jewish law, as expressed in Deuteronomy (12:13), says, "Be careful not to offer your burnt offerings anywhere you please." So, what gives? How could Joshua build an altar wherever he pleased?
The rabbis aren't afraid of the tough questions. They acknowledge the apparent contradiction. They wrestle with the complexities of faith, showing us that even sacred texts invite interpretation and debate.
The discussion then shifts to Elijah, a towering figure of prophetic zeal. We're told that Elijah offered sacrifices on Mount Carmel, even though it was a time when altars outside the Temple in Jerusalem were generally prohibited. How could he do that? Rabbi Shmuel offers a powerful explanation from 1 Kings 18:36, "He accomplished all these things with his words." In other words, Elijah's prayer, his connection to the divine, was so profound that it superseded the usual restrictions. It emphasizes the power of intention, the raw, unfiltered communication with God. And that, Rabbi Shmuel implies, can bring about miracles, even rain during a drought, if the people return in repentance.
The conversation takes another turn with Rabbi Yonatan, who brings up Gideon from the Book of Judges (6:25): "That night the Lord said to him, 'Take the second bull from your father's herd, the one seven years old. Tear down your father's altar to Baal and cut down the Asherah pole beside it.'" Gideon, a reluctant hero, is commanded to destroy his father's idolatrous altar and build one to God. It’s a radical act, a complete break with the past.
But Rabbi Acha points out the potential problems with Gideon's actions: "Seven sins were committed with Gideon's bull: it was made from an Asherah tree, it had flawed stones, it was an unclean animal, it was worked and made foreign, it was slaughtered at night, and it was sacrificed on a high place." Seven sins! So, was Gideon wrong? Was he justified?
The Midrash doesn't offer easy answers. Instead, it presents us with a nuanced picture of faith, a journey fraught with challenges and ethical dilemmas. We are left to grapple with the complexities ourselves.
Finally, the Midrash turns to Samuel, citing 1 Samuel 7:9: "Then Samuel took a suckling lamb and sacrificed it as a whole burnt offering to the Lord. He cried out to the Lord on behalf of Israel, and the Lord answered him." Even though Samuel was young and a Levite, implying certain restrictions may have applied, his sincere devotion resonated with the Divine.
What's the common thread here? All these figures—Joshua, Elijah, Gideon, Samuel—faced unique circumstances, moments of crisis that demanded unconventional responses. They all sought refuge, that "concealment of His tent," not necessarily in rigid adherence to the law, but in a direct, heartfelt connection with God.
Perhaps that’s the real meaning of Psalm 27. It's not just about physical protection, but about finding that inner sanctuary, that unwavering faith, that allows us to rise above the challenges, to lift our heads "above our enemies." It's about cultivating a relationship with the Divine so strong that it guides us, even when the path ahead seems unclear. Where do you find your tabernacle? How can you find that rock to raise yourself above the difficult moments?