It's not just about marking time; it's about connecting to something far deeper. Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, sheds some light on this.
Rabbi Shila of Kefar Tamarta, quoting Rabbi Yochanan, makes a fascinating point: we only begin counting the months for the moon when the sun sets. The new month, the Rosh Chodesh, isn't just a mathematical calculation; it's tied to the natural rhythm of light and darkness, a cosmic signal.
But the Midrash doesn't stop there. It takes a turn, painting a vivid picture of the world's challenges. "The heretics roar to prey upon Israel," it says. These aren't just abstract enemies; they're the nations who deny the Holy One, Blessed Be He, those who seek to devour Israel. This feels very real, doesn’t it? We can almost hear that roar echoing through history.
Yet, there's hope. "When the sun shines they will be gathered in." And not just any sun – the sun of the Messiah. When that day comes, the Midrash promises, the nations will be gathered and brought to Gehenna (a sort of Jewish Hell). A powerful image of ultimate justice.
The Midrash then pivots to a different kind of work – the everyday labor that sustains us. "One must go out and do his task." It connects this to Israel's receiving their task from the Holy One, Blessed Be He. As Ezekiel 34:22 puts it, "And I will bring out My flock, and they shall no longer be prey." There's a divine purpose in our work, a sense of being part of something bigger.
And the work continues "until evening." There's a sense of completeness here, of finishing what we started. The Midrash praises the one who completes his task until evening. But it offers another interpretation: working "for His service until evening." It's not just about the job itself, but the intention behind it, the service to something higher.
Rabbi Abbahu, quoting Resh Lakish, adds a layer of depth with a teaching about workers and employers. The Sages, he says, learned that the worker's departure and entry should be compared to the work itself. Just as the worker needs the sun to shine for their work in the field, the homeowner needs the worker to return home at sunset. It's a beautiful analogy, emphasizing mutual respect and the importance of both beginnings and endings. Work isn't just labor; it's a relationship, a delicate balance of needs and contributions.
So, what does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder to see our work, both the grand and the mundane, as a sacred task. To be mindful of the cycles of light and darkness, and to strive for completion and justice. Maybe it’s also a call to recognize the sacredness in the worker, no matter the work. To remember that even in the face of roaring challenges, there's always the promise of a brighter day, a Messianic sun on the horizon. Something to ponder, isn’t it?