Midrash Tehillim, a collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, dives right into this with the verse, "Be angry, but do not sin" (Psalm 4:5). It’s a provocative idea, isn’t it? Can we really separate the feeling from the action?
Rabbi Acha, in his wisdom, suggests that we should let our inclination anger us, but not let that anger lead us to sin. It's like acknowledging the feeling, giving it space, but not letting it control our behavior. Rav offers a similar sentiment, urging us to deny our inclination so that we won't be led into sin. It's about conscious choice, about recognizing the potential danger and actively choosing a different path.
But how do we purify ourselves when we do stumble? Here’s where it gets really beautiful. We're taught in the name of Rabbi Acha bar Yaakov that "the mikveh (ritual bath) of Israel is the Lord." Just as a mikveh purifies the impure, so too does the Holy One, blessed be He, purify Israel. Isn’t that a powerful image? The idea of God as a source of cleansing, a place to immerse ourselves and emerge renewed.
And who goes to whom? The impure goes to the mikveh, of course. The Midrash extends this metaphor into our daily lives. The Holy One tells us that when we pray, we should pray in the synagogue in our city. But if we can't get to the synagogue, we can pray in our own house. And if we can't even speak the words, we can think in our hearts. "Say in your hearts upon your beds, and be still, Selah" (Psalm 4:5). It’s a reminder that connection with the Divine is always accessible, no matter our circumstances.
Rabbi Yudan adds another layer: "As long as you remain silent about the sin that you have committed, you are forgiven." This doesn't mean ignoring our wrongdoings, but rather, the act of acknowledging and confessing it is powerful. And if you do so, then you should "Sacrifice sacrifices of righteousness" (Psalm 4:6). The Midrash emphasizes that the word used here is “sacrifices,” in the plural. Rabbi Yudan considers this as if you have built an altar and offered many sacrifices on it. The implication is that sincere repentance and a commitment to doing better are akin to a monumental offering.
The passage then shifts to practical advice for reciting the Shema (a central Jewish prayer) during morning and evening services. We're taught that reciting the Shema in the synagogue during the morning service fulfills our obligation, but in the evening, we shouldn't leave until we return home and lie down on our bed. Why? To avoid harmful spirits, apparently! And also, to ensure that we're not saying things that aren't true and reliable.
Rabbi Zeira bar Abba speaks of "three smacks" associated with the morning service – one for leaning (on the animal to be sacrificed, a practice from Temple times), one for slaughter, and one for washing the hands, a blessing, and a prayer for redemption. These actions, though tied to specific rituals, symbolize a deeper commitment to purity, sacrifice, and seeking redemption. As it says, "And he shall lean and slaughter" (Leviticus 1:5).
So, what does all of this tell us? It tells us that being human is messy. We get angry, we make mistakes, we fall short of our own ideals. But the tradition offers us pathways back: acknowledgement, repentance, prayer, and a constant striving for righteousness. It’s a reminder that even in our imperfections, we are always connected to a source of purification and renewal. It’s a powerful and comforting thought, isn't it?