And the Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, really digs into the raw pain and frustration expressed in that particular psalm. It’s a powerful, unflinching look at suffering and the questions it raises about divine justice.
The verse that really kicks things off is, "They have poured out their blood like water on the land" (Psalms 79:3). Imagine that image: blood, precious life, spilled out carelessly, wantonly, like water. The Midrash uses this as a jumping-off point to explore the depths of despair when the righteous suffer. It goes on to say, "Let the flesh of your pious ones be food for the beasts of the earth, to make known that even their bones would not be left unburied.” It's a brutal picture of desecration, of utter disregard for human dignity, even in death.
Now, the Midrash does something fascinating here. It contrasts human limitations with what we expect from the Divine. Imagine someone owes their friend money and can't pay it back. We understand; they've done all they can. But, says the Midrash, God doesn't operate under those same constraints. As it is written in Isaiah 10:18, "From soul to flesh He will destroy." God can take the soul, even if it means taking it from the flesh.
But what about the bones? The Midrash Tehillim emphasizes that even the bones aren't safe from desecration. "The soul and flesh cannot be taken from the bones. As it is written (Jeremiah 8:1), 'At that time, says the Lord, they shall bring out the bones of the kings of Judah.'" This image of bones being unearthed and scattered is deeply disturbing. It speaks to a complete and utter lack of respect, not just for the living, but for the dead, for history itself.
And the pain doesn't stop there. The Midrash highlights the added sting of humiliation. "Not only that, but they shame us, as it is said (Psalms 79:4), 'We have become a taunt to our neighbors.'" It’s not enough to suffer; you have to endure the mocking and scorn of those around you. Talk about adding insult to injury!
But perhaps the most infuriating part is the denial of guilt. The Midrash points out, "And not only that, but they deny their guilt, as it is written (Jeremiah 50:7), 'They say, "We are not guilty."' And it is written (Zechariah 11:5), 'And their buyers say, "Blessed be the Lord, for I am rich."'" Not only do the oppressors inflict pain, but they justify their actions, even thanking God for their ill-gotten gains. The audacity!
What does this all mean? The Midrash Tehillim isn’t offering easy answers. It's wrestling with the age-old question of why bad things happen to good people. It's acknowledging the profound sense of injustice that arises when we see suffering, desecration, and the denial of responsibility.
Perhaps the point isn’t to find a neat and tidy explanation, but to acknowledge the pain, to give voice to the anguish, and to remember that even in the darkest of times, we are not alone in our suffering. The very act of grappling with these questions, of refusing to ignore the cries of the oppressed, is itself a form of resistance, a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to keep us going, even when the world seems to be crumbling around us.