Midrash, the art of interpreting scripture by filling in the gaps, expanding on hints, and drawing out deeper meanings, wrestles with this very idea. Midrash Tehillim, a collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, in particular, shines a light on God's nearness.

One powerful passage in Midrash Tehillim asks, "For what great nation is there that has God so near to it, as the Lord our God is whenever we call upon Him?" (Deuteronomy 4:7). It's a rhetorical question, of course. The answer, emphatically, is none. No other nation has such immediate access to the Divine.

But how does this immediacy actually work?

The text explores this through a series of fascinating anecdotes and interpretations. We hear about a rabbi, Rabbi Yudan, who boldly proclaims that God "has a patron in the flesh." This sounds almost blasphemous! What does it even mean?

The story unfolds: the rabbi's son is caught and sentenced to death. Where is his "patron" now? Can even God intervene in the face of earthly justice?

The text then shifts to the story of Moses fleeing from Pharaoh. Rabbi Yannai asks a pointed question: "Can a person escape from a monarchy?" Seems impossible, right? But the Midrash tells us that when Pharaoh's men tried to behead Moses, the sword miraculously broke. Song of Songs 7:6 is invoked: "Your neck is like the tower of David," suggesting Moses's divinely protected neck. Rabbi Avitar adds a deliciously ironic twist: the sword didn't just break, it fell on the executioner, killing him! Exodus 18:4 is cited: "He saved me from Pharaoh's sword" – saving Moses, but not the executioner. Some see in this a fulfillment of Proverbs 21:18: "The wicked are a ransom for the righteous." Talk about divine intervention!

Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi offers yet another layer: when Moses fled, everyone in Pharaoh's palace was struck dumb, deaf, and blind, unable to identify or pursue him. This, the Midrash suggests, is the answer to God's own question in Exodus 4:11: "Who gives a person speech?"

These stories emphasize God's active involvement, but the Midrash doesn't stop there. It contrasts this divine immediacy with human limitations. Flesh and blood have advocates, but those advocates can be forgetful, overburdened, or simply too slow to help. But God? God accepts all burdens, as Psalm 55:23 reminds us: "Cast your burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain you."

Rabbi Pinchas, quoting Rabbi Zeira and Rabbi Tanhum, says that a human advocate might be unable to prevent a tragedy. But God saved Jehoshaphat from the sword of Aram precisely when he cried out (II Chronicles 18:31).

The Midrash moves into even more profound territory. Unlike human relatives who might shun the poor, God embraces Israel even in distress, calling them "brothers" and "friends," as we see in Psalms 122:8 and Exodus 33:11.

And here's where it gets truly mind-blowing: The Midrash suggests that God even upholds the decrees of the earthly Sanhedrin (Jewish high court), particularly regarding the determination of Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New Year)! It quotes Psalms 47:6, "God has ascended amid shouts, the Lord amid the sounding of trumpets," and Daniel 7:9, "I looked until thrones were set up and the Ancient of Days took His seat," to illustrate this cosmic agreement. The day we decide is Rosh Hashanah is the day God also recognizes it. As Numbers 29:1 states, "There shall be a day of blowing the horn for you," not for Me.

Wow.

The Midrash then addresses a potential challenge: What about Lamentations 3:44, which says, "You covered yourself with a cloud so that no prayer can get through?" Rabbi Samuel explains that while the gates of prayer might sometimes be closed, the gates of tears are always open.

Finally, the Midrash emphasizes the importance of sincerity. Yes, God is near to all who call upon Him, but only "to all who call upon Him in truth" (Psalms 145:18).

So, what does all of this mean for us today? Perhaps the most profound takeaway is this: we are not alone. Despite the chaos and suffering in the world, despite our own doubts and imperfections, God is closer than we think, listening, responding, and waiting for us to call out in truth. And maybe, just maybe, even influencing the breaking of swords when we least expect it.