It turns out, that instinct might be deeply woven into the fabric of our tradition.
Because according to Midrash Tehillim, that feeling is intrinsically linked to music. Specifically, the kind of music that erupts when wickedness is defeated. It says, taking its cue from Proverbs 11:10, “When the righteous thrive, the city rejoices.” But it doesn’t stop there. It connects this joy to a plea for deliverance, quoting Psalm 3:8: “Rise up, O Lord; deliver me.”
The message? When the wicked are vanquished, it’s time to sing!
Think about it: Immediately after the Israelites witnessed God's mighty power at the Red Sea (Exodus 14:31), what happened? "Then sang Moses" (Exodus 15:1). And when Deborah triumphed? "Then sang Deborah" (Judges 5:1). The pattern is clear: deliverance calls for a song!
Midrash Tehillim continues, linking this musical response to the image of God striking down the wicked, breaking their teeth. It's a powerful, visceral image, isn't it? The text references Psalm 3:7-8, where we find both the plea for salvation and the declaration that God has "smitten all my enemies on the cheekbone" and "broken the teeth of the wicked."
But what does it mean, this business of broken teeth? To illustrate, the Midrash tells a parable.
Imagine two travelers, one righteous and one wicked, walking down the same road. They stumble upon a tavern and decide to go in for a bite. The wicked man is immediately impressed by the abundance of food, the fish, the cattle, the sheep, the birds. He wants to indulge, but the righteous man is cautious. "Is today the grand reopening?" he asks, implying a need for careful inspection.
Despite their differing approaches, they both enter. The wicked man orders lavishly, demanding portions of peas, cakes, whatever delicacies are on offer. The righteous man, on the other hand, keeps it simple: a glass of beer, a bowl of lentils.
The wicked man scoffs. "Look at this fool," he thinks. "So much abundance, and he chooses lentils!" But the righteous man sees the wicked man gorging himself and thinks, "He eats and breaks his teeth."
The righteous man, content with his simple meal, asks for two cups of wine to say a blessing, pays his small bill, and leaves in peace. The wicked man, finally ready to depart, calls for the bill. But when the righteous man inquires about the cost of the lentils, an argument erupts. "You ate one portion!" "No, two!"
And in the heat of the argument, the innkeeper begins breaking the wicked man's teeth.
The parable, of course, isn't about lentils. It's about the ultimate futility of wickedness. The wicked man, focused on immediate gratification, ends up suffering for it. As the Midrash points out, this is why it says, "The teeth of the wicked shall be broken" (Psalm 3:8).
The story concludes with a powerful contrast: "The wicked say, 'How can God know?'" (Psalm 73:11), while the righteous declare, "For there is no word on my tongue, but You, O Lord, know it all" (Psalm 139:4).
So, what’s the takeaway? Perhaps it's this: True joy, the kind that inspires music and celebration, comes not from selfish indulgence but from faith, humility, and the ultimate triumph of justice. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of gratitude for the simple blessings in our lives.