That feeling… it’s ancient. It echoes through the generations, a universal human experience, especially when faced with hardship and uncertainty.
Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic commentaries on the Book of Psalms, explores this very feeling in its commentary on Psalm 77. The Psalm begins, "To the conductor, on my stringed instruments. I will cry out to God with my voice, and He will answer me." But how does that cry actually work? What does it mean to truly cry out to God?
The Midrash uses the prophet Habakkuk as an example. Remember Habakkuk? He of the famous verse, "I will stand on my guard post and station myself on the rampart; and I will keep watch to see what He will speak to me" (Habakkuk 2:1). According to the Midrash, when Habakkuk was in distress, he didn't just passively wait. He took action. He drew a circle around himself, stood within it, and declared to the Almighty, "Master of the Universe, I will not move from here until You answer me."
Talk about commitment!
But here's the twist. God's response wasn't exactly what Habakkuk expected. God essentially said, "You called upon Me… but you didn't wait for My response!" The Midrash interprets this as Habakkuk prematurely declaring the end, the geulah (redemption), had already passed, even though it hadn't. "Wait for it," God tells him, "for so it is stated, ‘If it [the redemption] will tarry, wait for it'” (Habakkuk 3:9).
So, what’s the takeaway? It’s not just about crying out; it’s about the patience and faith to listen for the answer, even when the answer isn’t immediate or what we expect.
The Midrash continues, connecting Habakkuk's experience to the suffering of the Jewish people. God shows the righteous the troubles endured by Israel, and they stand and plead before Him. This is reflected in the Psalm’s opening, "To the conductor, on my stringed instruments." It speaks to the laws and judgments that the people violated. As soon as they faced the consequences, they cried out, raising their voices in supplication.
When does God listen? In times of tzuris (distress), the Midrash emphasizes, citing Psalm 77:3: "On the day of my distress, I sought the Lord." It's in these moments of trouble that Israel cries out. But even then, as the verse says, "My soul refuses to be comforted" (Psalm 77:3).
Why? Because, the Midrash explains, the soul doesn't know when the end will come. There’s a powerful analogy here. It’s like a parent telling their child they'll receive ten lashes. After each lash, the child knows how many remain, finding a strange comfort in the finite nature of the punishment. But the Jewish people, in their exile and suffering, don't know the "end." They plead, "Let me know my end, O Lord, and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is" (Psalm 39:5).
There's a deep longing for closure, for understanding, for an end to the suffering. It’s a longing we can all relate to, regardless of our background. We want to know the "when" and the "how long."
This Midrash on Psalm 77 is more than just an ancient text; it’s a mirror reflecting our own anxieties and hopes. It reminds us that crying out is a valid, even necessary, response to distress. But it also challenges us to cultivate patience, to listen for the answer, and to find strength in the face of uncertainty, even when our souls refuse to be comforted. Perhaps, in the very act of crying out, and in the waiting, we find a connection to something larger than ourselves, something that sustains us through the darkest of times.