That tension is at the heart of our story today, drawn from Midrash Tehillim 58, a beautiful exploration of Psalm 58. It grapples with a difficult question: "Do not destroy the conqueror. Is justice truly mute?"
The midrash, this rabbinic method of interpreting scripture, begins by questioning the very nature of justice. Is it blind? Unfeeling? No, it argues, quoting Solomon from Proverbs 21:8: "The way of a man may be straight in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the heart." It's about inner truth, not just outward appearances. The crooked ones, it suggests, are those who break their word, who say one thing and do another.
And who better to illustrate this than King Saul?
The midrash paints Saul as a prime example of this "crookedness." Remember the story of Saul pursuing David, consumed by jealousy? Saul himself admits to David, "You are more righteous than I...you have rewarded me good, whereas I have rewarded you evil." (1 Samuel 24:18). He even acknowledges that David will be king. As Proverbs 12:26 says, "The righteous is more excellent than his neighbor," and in this case, the midrash identifies that neighbor as Saul. Yet, despite this recognition, Saul continues to pursue David.
Now, David has multiple opportunities to kill Saul. He could have ended the chase, secured his future. But he doesn't. Instead, he shows remarkable restraint, honoring Saul as the anointed king of Israel. He even makes Saul swear an oath not to harm his descendants, according to 1 Samuel 24:22-23. But what happens when Saul leaves?
Saul's men question David’s mercy. "Behold, we see that the king is in your hands, and that you did not kill him. Therefore now be content and let your heart rejoice." David's response is powerful: "Do not destroy him; for who can stretch forth his hand against the Lord's anointed, and be guiltless?" (1 Samuel 26:9).
The midrash finds deeper layers here. When David says, "As the Lord lives, surely the Lord shall strike him; or his day shall come to die; or he shall descend into battle, and perish," (1 Samuel 26) why does he invoke God's name twice? One explanation offered is that he's making a double vow: not only will he not kill Saul, but if anyone else does, he will hold them accountable. Another interpretation suggests that he is swearing an oath against his own yetzer hara, his own evil inclination. A constant battle, as many traditions remind us.
Then there’s the incident with the spear and the jug of water, vividly described in 1 Samuel 26. David confronts Abner, Saul's general, questioning his loyalty and competence. "You should speak with righteousness and judge with fairness," David rebukes. The midrash connects this to the Torah's commands in Deuteronomy 16:20, "Justice, justice shall you pursue," and Leviticus 19:15, "You shall judge your neighbor with righteousness."
The midrash then shifts its focus inward, urging us to "cast out the wicked from your womb," to banish wickedness from our hearts. It reminds us that our hearts were created for truth, echoing Psalm 15:2: "He who speaks the truth in his heart." The Holy Spirit, through prophets like Jeremiah and Isaiah, knew us even before we were born.
But what about innate wickedness? The midrash points to Esau, who struggled with his brother Jacob in their mother's womb (Genesis 25:22), as an example of inherent evil. Yet, even with this potential for darkness, we are called to choose righteousness.
The midrash concludes with a powerful image: the wicked are like a serpent, deaf to the voice of reason, or a snail that melts away as it goes (Psalm 58:9). They will face the consequences of their actions, falling into Gehenna, the fiery abyss. While the righteous will ultimately rejoice, we are reminded by Proverbs 24:17: "Do not rejoice when your enemy falls."
So, what does all this mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder that justice isn't just about punishment, but about inner transformation. It’s about the constant struggle to choose righteousness, to speak truth in our hearts, and to resist the temptation to rejoice in the downfall of others. It’s a call to examine our own “crookedness” and strive for a more just and merciful world, starting within ourselves.