Sometimes, a seemingly simple phrase can unlock a whole world of interpretation. Take, for instance, the verse from Psalm 80:14, "A pig from the forest ravages it." (Tehillim 80:14).
Now, on the surface, it sounds like a straightforward lament about destruction. But within the rich tapestry of Jewish tradition, and especially in the Midrash Tehillim, this verse becomes a powerful metaphor, pregnant with meaning.
The Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations of the Book of Psalms, dives deep into this image of the "pig from the forest." It's not just about a wild animal causing damage. It’s about something far more insidious.
So, who or what is this pig? According to the Midrash, "A pig from the forest ran away. This is the king." What king is being referred to here is not explicitly stated in this particular Midrash. But it is often interpreted as a symbol of a destructive, oppressive force or ruler. And who will graze her? "Ziz Shaday will graze her, this is Isrteculin," meaning that God will protect his children from the pig.
But there's more. The Midrash makes a fascinating connection to the Hebrew letter ayin (ע), noting "the letter Ayin is dependent on it." The ayin, shaped like an eye, can symbolize both divine providence and the "evil eye." This connection suggests that our fate, whether we are protected or vulnerable, hinges on our merit.
The text contrasts two possibilities. "If you have merit, what fish are in the river, the evil eye does not rule over them, as it is said (Genesis 48:16), 'And let them multiply like fish.' So it is with Israel." Fish, teeming and abundant, are seen as protected from the evil eye. But "if not from the forest of the pig, from the return of the plow, similarly you say (Isaiah 21:1), 'The burden of the desert of the sea.'" If we lack merit, we become like creatures of the desert, exposed and vulnerable.
The Midrash then poses a question: "If it is a sea, why a desert, and if a desert, why a sea?" It’s a paradox, isn’t it? The answer, again, lies in our actions. "Rather, if you have merit, they are like the creatures of the sea, which as soon as they come up on land, they die immediately. But if not, they are like creatures of the desert. 'Be a desert of the sea.'" Those with merit thrive in their element, but those without are exposed and perish.
Another interpretation equates "the desert of the sea" with the non-Jews, who are compared to the creatures of the sea. "This is what is written (Daniel 7:3), 'Four great beasts came up from the sea.'" Rabbi Pinchas and Rabbi Helkiya, citing Rabbi Simon, clarify that this isn't solely about future kingdoms. It's also about understanding the teachings of Moses and Asaph.
Moses, in Leviticus 11:7, describes the pig: "And the pig, for it has a split hoof." The Midrash sees a parallel here. "Just as the pig spreads its hooves and says, 'See that I am pure,' so too do the wicked who steal and rob and commit violence, and appear as if they are true judges." The pig, outwardly appearing kosher with its split hoof, hides its true nature. This is hypocrisy, plain and simple.
Asaph, the author of Psalm 80, brings us back to our original verse: "A pig from the forest ran away." Rabbi Pinchas and Rabbi Helkiya, again in the name of Rabbi Simon, share a story: "There was an incident with one ruler who judged in one day witches, oath-takers, and murderers. And he said to his advisor, 'I have done three things in one night.' 'Be a pig from the forest.'" This ruler, thinking he's doing good by harshly punishing wrongdoers, is actually acting like the destructive pig, bringing only devastation.
So, what do we take away from all this? The "pig from the forest" isn't just a literal animal. It's a symbol of destructive forces, hypocrisy, and the consequences of our actions. It reminds us that appearances can be deceiving, and that true righteousness requires more than just outward displays of piety.
It's a call to examine our own lives. Are we acting with integrity? Are we contributing to the well-being of our community? Or are we, perhaps unknowingly, behaving like the pig from the forest, causing damage in our wake? It's a question worth pondering, isn't it? Because ultimately, the choice is ours.