And we find a beautiful expression of this in Midrash Tehillim – a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms.
Midrash Tehillim, specifically in its commentary on Psalm 48, delves into the verse: "God is known in her palaces as a refuge." But what exactly are these "palaces"?
The midrash doesn’t take the obvious route. It doesn't focus on literal palaces of kings and queens. Instead, it draws a fascinating parallel to the way governments in ancient times would patrol the city at night, ensuring every gate and entrance was secure. Imagine the watchmen, silently making their rounds, a constant presence against the darkness.
That, the midrash suggests, is how God acts in the future, setting divine guards. As it says in Isaiah 62:6, "On your walls, O Jerusalem, I have set watchmen." These aren't just any watchmen, they're divine protectors stationed to safeguard the city. So, "God is known in her palaces" really means that God’s presence and protection are most evident in the very places we seek refuge.
Think of it: in moments of crisis, when we feel most exposed, that's precisely when God's protective presence is most keenly felt.
The text continues, reflecting on a time of destruction, invoking another verse: "For the kings assembled and passed by…when it was destroyed." This refers to a time when "Many nations have passed over this city," as Jeremiah 22:8 tells us. They passed by, marveling at the devastation.
The midrash then connects this to another part of Psalm 48: "They will see and be astounded." The nations will witness the destruction and ask, "Why did God do so?"
It's a powerful, almost unsettling question. Why, indeed? Why would a protective God allow such devastation? The midrash doesn't offer a simple answer here. Instead, it leaves us with the question itself, a challenge to grapple with the complexities of faith and divine justice.
Perhaps the point isn't to understand the "why" of suffering, but to recognize that even in the darkest times, the possibility of divine protection, of refuge, remains. Even in the ruins, the potential for rebuilding, for finding strength, exists. The very act of questioning, of seeking understanding, is itself a testament to the enduring presence of something beyond ourselves.
So, the next time you feel vulnerable, remember those watchmen on the walls, the divine presence in the "palaces." Remember that even when the world seems to crumble, the possibility of refuge, of protection, is always there, waiting to be discovered.