That feeling, that raw, desperate plea, echoes in the words of Midrash Tehillim, specifically in its interpretation of Psalm 71.
Imagine the people of Israel, the Knesset Yisrael, standing before the Holy One, Blessed be He, not boasting of their merits, but acknowledging their utter dependence. "In your righteousness, save me and deliver me," they plead. It’s not about us, they’re saying. It's about You. They're not claiming any inherent goodness, no list of righteous deeds to present as bargaining chips. Instead, they’re throwing themselves on the mercy of God's righteousness. They’re saying, "When you save me, it is not because of my righteousness or deeds, but solely based on your righteousness, both today and tomorrow."
This isn't just a one-time request; it's a statement of enduring faith. "In your righteousness, I am destined to be redeemed," they declare, anchoring their hope in something far bigger than themselves. The Midrash then points us to the prophet Isaiah (59:16): "He saw that there was no man and was amazed that there was no one to intercede, and His arm brought Him salvation, and His righteousness supported Him." When no one else could help, God's own righteousness became the source of salvation.
But how does this righteousness manifest? How does it reach down to lift us up?
The Midrash continues, "Incline your ear to me and save me." It's a subtle but powerful shift. It’s not just about grand, sweeping acts of divine intervention, but also about something more intimate: listening. "If you turn to save me, it is like salvation for the needy," the text says, referencing Psalm 116:2: "For He has inclined His ear to me, and I shall call on Him as long as I live."
This idea of God inclining His ear – paying attention, listening intently – resonates throughout Jewish tradition. Remember King Hezekiah? As the Midrash reminds us, he too pleaded, "Incline, O Lord, Your ear and hear" (2 Kings 19:16). And because God listened, salvation came.
So, what's the takeaway here? Perhaps it’s this: that even when we feel utterly helpless, undeserving, and alone, we can still turn to the Source of all being and ask for help. Not because we deserve it, but because God's nature is to listen, to incline an ear to the cries of those in need, and to act with righteousness and compassion. And isn't that a profound source of hope, both today and tomorrow?