Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations on the Book of Psalms, gives us a list of ten things that are dear to the Holy One. And you might be surprised by what makes the cut.
First, there's wealth. "A man's wealth is his strong city," Proverbs 10:15 tells us. Then comes the Torah, which, as Proverbs 3:15 says, "is more precious than rubies." Seems straightforward, right? But then the list gets more interesting. Am Yisrael, the people of Israel, are precious, as God says in Jeremiah 31:20, "Ephraim is a precious son to Me." And knowledge, too. Proverbs 21:20 notes, "Precious treasure and oil are in a wise man's dwelling."
What else does God treasure? Prophecy, understanding, and… wait for it… foolishness! Yes, foolishness. Ecclesiastes 10:6 states, "Folly is set in great dignity." Now, that takes a bit of unpacking, doesn't it? We'll get back to that. Then there are the righteous, whose thoughts are precious to God, as Psalm 139:17 proclaims. Kindness is on the list, too. "How precious is Your lovingkindness, O God!" exclaims Psalm 36:8.
And finally, we arrive at the tenth thing: The death of the righteous. As Psalm 116:15, the very verse that sparked this midrash, tells us, "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints."
But why? Why is the death of a righteous person considered precious? It seems counterintuitive, doesn't it?
The Midrash then launches into a parable. Imagine a king sending an official to collect taxes. The official stays with a homeowner for eleven days, entrusting him with a hundred coins each day – a total of ten thousand coins! But when the official comes to collect, the homeowner claims he only owes fifty. How can the official possibly recover the rest?
This parable, the Midrash suggests, reflects God's difficulty in asking righteous individuals to die. Think about it: God asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, a son blessed with Heaven and Earth, who sanctified God’s name. It was a difficult request. It was also difficult to ask Isaac himself to be sacrificed, a man who willingly offered himself on the altar. And what about asking Jacob to die, after a lifetime devoted to Torah? Or Moses, who risked his life facing Pharaoh? Or David, who, as the Midrash says, "completed his soul and descended to his eternal rest?"
And it doesn't stop there. Think of Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, who threw themselves into a fiery furnace rather than betray their faith. According to this Midrash, God finds it difficult to ask any righteous person to die.
The text makes a powerful claim: If the righteous didn't, in a sense, ask for death, they might not die at all! The Midrash then strings together verses from the Torah, Prophets, and Writings where righteous figures express a desire for death or acknowledge its approach. Abraham laments being childless (Genesis 15:2). Isaac speaks of blessing his son "before I die" (Genesis 27:7). Jacob says he'll "go down to the grave in mourning" (Genesis 37:35). Moses resigns himself to dying before entering the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 4:22). David knows he's "about to go the way of all the earth" (1 Kings 2:2). Even Jonah cries out, "Please, take my life" (Jonah 4:3).
Because the righteous, in a way, accept and even ask for death, God allows it. “Let these go because of those,” God says.
But why? The Midrash offers a practical reason: succession. If Abraham had lived forever, how would Isaac have reigned? The same goes for Jacob, Moses, Joshua, Samuel, David, and Solomon. God needs to make way for the next generation. "Let these go because of those," God declares.
So, what are we to make of this? Is it simply about making room for the next generation? Or is there something deeper at play? Perhaps the "preciousness" lies in the culmination of a life lived righteously. Perhaps it's the ultimate act of surrender and trust in God's plan. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because the death of the righteous inspires us to live more meaningful lives ourselves. What do you think?