Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Psalms, grapples with this very feeling. Specifically, Midrash Tehillim 31 dives into Psalm 31:22, "Blessed be the Lord, for He has made His wondrous lovingkindness to me in a besieged city." But what does that besieged city really represent?
The Midrash answers plainly: "This is Rome." Rome, or Metzor (מֵצַר), the "besieged city," becomes a metaphor for exile, for a time of oppression and waiting. But it's not just about physical oppression, it's about the spiritual and emotional toll it takes. It's about maintaining faith when the world around you seems to be crumbling.
The text continues, "Love the Lord, all His faithful ones, the Lord preserves the faithful." Who are these faithful ones? They are "those who respond 'Amen' with faith." Think about that for a moment. Even when redemption feels far off, when promises seem unfulfilled, they still say "Amen." They still affirm their belief.
The Midrash gives a powerful illustration: "One says 'Blessed be He who revives the dead,' and they still have not come, yet they believe in me that I revive the dead. One says 'Blessed be He who redeems Israel,' and they still have not been redeemed except for an hour, and they returned and were subjugated. And they believe that I am destined to redeem them." It’s a testament to unwavering belief in the face of persistent hardship. They acknowledge God's power to bring about miracles – revival of the dead, redemption of Israel – even when those miracles haven't yet fully materialized. Even when there are setbacks.
"Be faithful," the Midrash urges, "for the Lord preserves the faithful." But what does it mean to be faithful? It's more than just mouthing the words.
Rabbi Acha bar Ada brings in a verse from Malachi (3:18): "And you shall return and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him who serves God and him who does not serve Him." This isn’t about outward appearances. It’s about the heart and intention behind our actions.
Here's a warning: "A person should not make his Torah a spade to dig with or a crown to adorn himself with." Don't use Torah for personal gain, either material (like digging for treasure) or for ego (like showing off). Don't reduce it to a tool for self-aggrandizement. Torah is meant for something far more profound.
Rabbi Shmuel bar Nachman offers a subtle, yet powerful, distinction: "Between him who serves and him who does not serve – it is not similar to one who repeats his chapter a hundred times to the one who repeats it a hundred and one times." That one extra repetition? That's the key. It's not about rote memorization. It's about going the extra mile, about investing that little bit more of your heart and soul. It's about demonstrating a genuine commitment.
The Midrash concludes with a call to action, drawing from Psalm 27:14: "Be strong and let your heart take courage, all who wait for the Lord." Waiting can be agonizing. But true faith isn't passive. It requires strength, courage, and unwavering belief, even when the besieged city feels like it will never be liberated.
So, what are we waiting for? And how are we waiting? Are we just going through the motions, or are we putting our whole hearts into it, trusting that even in the darkest of times, redemption is possible?