The sons of Korah, whose story we find woven throughout the Book of Psalms, certainly pondered this. In Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Psalms, we find a fascinating take on Psalm 48, a song attributed to them. The Psalm begins, "Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised." Simple enough. But the sons of Korah take it a step further, adding a crucial qualification: "And our God is great only in His city alone."
Now, that might sound a bit… exclusive. Is God's greatness confined to a single location? Is Jerusalem, the "city" in question, the only place where God's presence is truly felt?
The Midrash explores this tension. It acknowledges that God's greatness is particularly evident in Zion, another name for Jerusalem. As Psalm 99:2 states, "The Lord is great in Zion, and He is high above all the peoples." The implication is that what God accomplished in Jerusalem, God did not do for all nations. There’s something unique, something unparalleled, about God’s relationship with this specific place.
But why? Why would God seemingly favor one city over all others?
The Midrash doesn’t shy away from the difficult questions. It quotes Jeremiah 25:29: "For, lo, I begin to work evil at the city which is called by My name; and should ye be utterly unpunished? Ye shall not be unpunished." This is a stark warning. The very city that bears God’s name, the city that should be a beacon of righteousness, is also subject to divine judgment. In fact, it might even be judged more harshly. With great power comes great responsibility. Maybe the same applies to sacred places. Jerusalem's special status means it is held to a higher standard. Its failures are all the more glaring, its potential for corruption all the more devastating.
The Midrash concludes with a somber reflection: "Woe to our God's city..." It’s a poignant reminder that even the most sacred places are not immune to suffering, to destruction, to the consequences of human actions.
So, what does this all mean for us? Is God only "great" in Jerusalem? Of course not. But this Midrash challenges us to consider the unique responsibility that comes with being associated with the sacred, whether it's a physical place, a community, or even a set of values. It reminds us that privilege demands accountability, and that even the holiest of places can fall short of their potential. And it begs us to ask: what does it mean to create sacred space, and what is our responsibility to that space, wherever we are?