The Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, gives us some pretty wild and wonderful glimpses into that future.
It all starts with a frustration, a sort of cosmic complaint. The Midrash points out how often the wicked seem to get away with their wickedness. Pharaoh, puffed up with arrogance, sneers, "Who is the Lord?" (Exodus 5). Nebuchadnezzar, drunk on power, challenges, "Who is the god who will deliver you from my power?" (Daniel 3:15). But the righteous? They are, as the text puts it, "constantly plagued and rebuked every morning." Does this sound fair to you?
But don't worry, the Midrash is far from hopeless. It offers a vision of a world transformed, a world where justice isn’t just an abstract concept, but a lived reality woven into the very fabric of existence. And it uses some pretty striking imagery to paint this picture!
Rabbi Samuel bar Nahmani shares a fascinating idea. He says that in this world, men pursue women, but in the future, that dynamic will be reversed. "A woman shall surround a man" (Jeremiah 31:21). Now, this isn't just about gender roles. It’s a metaphor for a deeper spiritual shift. Just as God pursues Israel, urging us to repent, in that future, Israel will be so attuned to the Divine will that we will pursue God, seeking to fulfill the Divine will. We’ll be the ones initiating that closeness, that connection. As it says in Ezekiel (36:27), "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you."
Rabbi Simon, quoting Rabbi Simeon Hasida, takes it even further. Imagine a world where nature itself enforces the Sabbath! Today, someone might pick figs on the Sabbath without consequence. But in the future? The fig tree itself will cry out, "Today is the Sabbath!" Can you imagine such a world?
And it doesn't stop there. The Midrash suggests that even inanimate objects will become moral guardians. Right now, a man might transgress in private. But in the future, "if he tries to do so, the stone will cry out and say, 'There is a menstruating woman here!'" citing Habakkuk 2:11, "For the stone will cry out from the wall."
These aren't meant to be taken literally, of course. The point is that the very essence of the world will be transformed. There will be a built-in, unavoidable sense of right and wrong.
The Midrash beautifully weaves together verses to support this vision. It references Jeremiah 31:21, "How long will you stray? For she will be a firebrand before the Lord," interpreting it to mean that Israel will repent, and God will fulfill their will. And it speaks of a future abundance, where "the mountains shall drip sweet wine" (Joel 4:18). A world where even the heavens respond to our repentance and goodness!
The very end of the text references Ezekiel 20:47, "And He shall scatter to the south." This hints at the idea that even in this future reality, there may still be scattering or challenges, but they are ultimately part of a larger divine plan, a path leading towards ultimate redemption.
What does this all mean? It’s a radical vision, isn't it? A world where even the stones and trees uphold morality. It's a powerful reminder that our actions have cosmic consequences. That the choices we make today shape the world of tomorrow. And that even when things seem bleak, the potential for transformation, for a truly just and righteous world, is always within our reach.
So, what kind of world are we building, brick by brick, choice by choice? Are we contributing to the problem, or are we striving to create a future where even the fig trees sing out for justice?