The ancient rabbis wrestled with these ideas too, and left us some incredible insights in a collection called Midrash Tehillim, a deep dive into the Book of Psalms.
Let's unpack a small but powerful piece of it. It starts with a simple declaration: "I will sing of kindness and justice." This reminds us of Isaiah 5:16: "And the Lord of hosts will be exalted in justice." The text goes on to say, "If in justice, then the Lord of hosts will be exalted in justice. If in righteousness, the Holy God will be sanctified in righteousness." It's a fascinating echo – suggesting that God's justice and righteousness are not just abstract concepts, but something that elevates and sanctifies.
Rabbi Huna, quoting Rabbi Acha, beautifully captures this duality: "If in kindness, I will sing. If in justice, I will sing. To you, Lord, I will sing praises." See, it's not an either/or. Whether we experience kindness or justice, the response is the same: praise to the Divine.
But what about when things aren’t so rosy? What about when life throws us curveballs?
Rabbi Yehuda bar Shila brings in a quote from Job (1:21): "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away." That's a tough one. It's acknowledging the pain and loss that are part of life. But the rabbi adds, "Whether He gives or takes, blessed be the name of the Lord. In any case, to you, Lord, I will sing praises." Even in the face of adversity, there’s room for praise. The point isn't to deny the pain, but to find a way to connect with the Divine even within it.
Rabbi Berechiah, quoting Rabbi Levi, offers another perspective, drawing from Psalm 92:9: "You are exalted, Lord, forever." It's a declaration of God's eternal presence and power. He adds, "Your hand, Lord, is lifted high for justice." It's a powerful image, suggesting that justice, even when it's difficult to understand, is ultimately in God's hands. And then comes a poignant statement: "Blessed be the good and benevolent One for the good, and concerning evil, one says, 'Blessed be the true Judge.'" This isn’t about sugarcoating the bad. It's about acknowledging that even in the midst of suffering, there's a deeper truth and a Divine judgment at work.
Rabbi Tanhuma bar Rabbi Yudan then ties it all together, referencing Psalm 56:11 ("In God I will praise His word") and Psalm 52:11 ("In the Lord I will praise His word"). He says, "If judgment comes upon me, I will praise His word. If mercy comes upon me, I will praise His word. In any case, I will praise His word." Whether it's judgment or mercy, the response is the same: praise. It’s about finding the Divine thread running through all of our experiences.
Finally, the rabbis bring in Psalm 116:3-4: "The sorrows of death encompassed me, and the pains of hell got hold of me; I found distress and sorrow. Then I called upon the name of the Lord; 'O Lord, I beseech You, deliver my soul!'" This is a raw, honest expression of pain and desperation. The text then adds, "I will lift up the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. In any case, to you, Lord, I will call out (sing praises)." Even in the darkest moments, when we're surrounded by sorrow and distress, the act of calling out to God, of offering praise, can be a lifeline.
So, what does all this mean for us today? It's an invitation to find praise in every aspect of our lives—the good, the bad, and the everything in between. It's a reminder that even when we don't understand what's happening, we can still connect with the Divine. It's about recognizing that kindness and justice, joy and sorrow, are all part of a larger tapestry, and that praise is a way to acknowledge the weaver. Can we learn to sing, even when the tune is a little off-key? Can we find the song within the silence?