It’s a very human feeling. And it’s a feeling that resonates deeply within the words of the Midrash Tehillim, specifically in its commentary on Psalm 79. , shall we?

The Midrash opens with a seemingly unrelated, but insightful, teaching. We hear in the name of Rabbi Abbahu, citing Rabbi Yochanan, that one should contemplate their actions. A seemingly simple statement, but it encourages us to be mindful, to avoid situations where we might burden others. Then Rabbi Yudan Meshkalisa comments on the instruments used to praise God, contrasting them with the "two-edged sword" mentioned in Psalm 149:6, a metaphor for God's own instrument of justice.

But things really take off when the Midrash turns its attention to the Psalm itself: "God, nations have come into Your inheritance; they have defiled Your holy temple, they have laid Jerusalem in ruins." (Psalm 79:1). It’s a cry of anguish, a lament over the destruction of the Temple and the desecration of the Holy City.

And that leads to a key question: how could this happen? How could Jerusalem, a city so divinely protected, fall?

The Midrash quotes Lamentations 4:12: "The kings of the earth did not believe, nor all the inhabitants of the world, that the adversary and the enemy could enter the gates of Jerusalem." It was unthinkable! After all the miracles, all the times God intervened… remember King Hezekiah and the siege of Sennacherib?

The Midrash recounts earlier times when God intervened. When Amalekites attacked Ziklag, David sought God's guidance, asking "Shall I pursue after this troop? shall I overtake them?" (1 Samuel 30:8). God’s response? "Pursue: for thou shalt surely overtake them, and without fail recover all." David trusted, acted, and succeeded.

Or consider Jehoshaphat, who, facing a seemingly insurmountable enemy, admitted his weakness and asked God to fight for him. And as 2 Chronicles 20:22 tells us, "when they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushments against the children of Ammon." God literally dressed the enemy in shining garments, causing them to attack each other.

Even Hezekiah, facing Sennacherib, simply declared, "I have no strength to chase or see the war, but when I sleep on my bed, You fight for us." And God did! "And it came to pass that night, that the Lord smote the camp of the Assyrians" (2 Samuel 19:35). A hundred and eighty-five thousand soldiers, gone in a single night!

But how many actually survived that night? The Rabbis debate the precise number, drawing on different interpretations of verses in Isaiah. Rav says ten, based on the numerical value of the word for "young man." Rabbi Eliezer says six. Rabbi Yehudah says five, pointing to the image of gleanings left on an olive tree. Rabbi Tanchum bar Chiyya suggests nine, while another Rabbi Tanhum claims fourteen. It's a fascinating example of how midrashic interpretation – the art of Jewish textual interpretation – can yield multiple, equally valid meanings.

The Midrash then introduces the story of Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king who ultimately destroyed Jerusalem. According to Rabbi Levi, a heavenly voice warned the people for eighteen years, but they wouldn't listen. Nebuchadnezzar himself hesitated, fearing the fate of Sennacherib. He performed divination to determine whether to attack Jerusalem. The arrows he cast towards other cities broke, but the arrow towards Jerusalem remained intact. It was a sign.

Seeing this, Nebuchadnezzar cried out, echoing the lament of the Psalm: "Master of the universe, who would have believed that the haters would enter Jerusalem and destroy it... Woe, for the kings of the earth did not believe!"

The Midrash leaves us with a chilling realization: even the mighty Nebuchadnezzar, the instrument of Jerusalem's destruction, was filled with disbelief at what he was about to do. He couldn't fathom that a city so beloved, so protected, could fall.

So what does this all mean for us? Perhaps it’s a reminder that even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, disbelief and destruction can still occur. But it is also a reminder of the power of faith, the importance of listening to warnings, and the enduring strength of the human spirit to lament, to question, and to ultimately rebuild. Because even in the darkest of times, the possibility of redemption, of renewal, always remains.