It’s a question that’s echoed through the ages, and one that our tradition wrestles with beautifully. Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, offers a glimpse into this very question, particularly in its fifth section.
It begins with a powerful statement: "For You are not a God who desires wickedness; evil cannot dwell with You." It's a declaration of God's inherent goodness. God doesn't delight in wrongdoing, nor can He tolerate evil. This isn't some abstract philosophical concept, but a core tenet of our faith.
Think about it. Ezekiel 33:11 emphasizes this point: "As I live, says the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn from their ways and live." God desires repentance and life, not destruction. This verse underscores God's commitment to giving even the wicked a chance to return.
So, where does anger and punishment fit in? The Midrash addresses this head-on, explaining that "the angel in charge of anger is far from God," citing Isaiah 13:5: "They are coming from a far country, from the end of heaven, even the Lord and the instruments of His indignation." Rabbi Berachiah, in the name of Rabbi Levi, suggests that even God's instruments of wrath are distanced from His essence. It's as if anger is a tool, wielded with purpose, but kept at arm's length from the Divine itself.
The text then uses a compelling analogy: a king with two fierce armies. In Psalm 3:6, David proclaims, "I will not fear the myriads of troops arrayed against me on every side." But there are other "armies" at play. Psalm 97:3 tells us, "Fire goes before Him and consumes His foes on every side," and Habakkuk 3:5 adds, "Before Him goes pestilence, and plague comes after Him." What are we to make of these destructive forces seemingly associated with God?
According to this Midrash, the innermost of these forces is righteousness. Deuteronomy 24:13 states, "You shall surely give him, and your heart shall not be grieved when you give to him; because that for this thing the Lord your God will bless you in all your work, and in all that you put your hand unto." Righteousness, tzedekah, is the core. It’s not fire or plague, but acts of compassion and justice that are closest to God's heart.
Rabbi Yudan takes it a step further, proclaiming, "I will let you know how powerful righteousness is and how far the reward of those who do righteousness extends." It’s a bold statement, emphasizing the immense power and reach of our good deeds. And it concludes with a reassuring promise: "No harm befalls you."
This isn't a guarantee of a life free from all hardship, of course. But it speaks to a deeper truth: that righteousness creates a protective shield, a spiritual armor against the chaos and negativity of the world. Righteousness aligns us with God's will, and when we are aligned with the Divine, we are, in a very real sense, protected.
What does this all mean for us today? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in the face of anger, hardship, and seemingly divine retribution, the path of righteousness remains our strongest defense. It's a call to choose compassion over condemnation, justice over indifference. Ultimately, Midrash Tehillim invites us to consider what it truly means to be close to God – and to strive to embody that closeness in our daily lives.