The Midrash uses a parable to illustrate this point, a story that paints a vivid picture. Imagine a king, journeying through the desert with his army. He carries a delicate crystal goblet, a symbol of his power and status. Parched and weary, he sighs, "If only someone would offer me a glass of wine."
A soldier steps forward, not only offering wine, but lavishing the king with food and drink beyond his expectations. The king, grateful in the moment, eventually forgets this act of kindness upon returning to his palace.
Time passes. The soldier, the one who offered the king such welcome respite in the desert, approaches the king once more. He reminds the king of his service. And the king, remembering his debt, elevates the soldier – first to a ruler, then to a commander. But the soldier, in his persistence, seems to hint at wanting even more, perhaps even to be like the king himself.
Here's where the parable connects to our original question. The Midrash draws a parallel between the king and God, and the soldier and the tzaddikim, the righteous ones. Just as the king was indebted to the soldier, God values the righteous so highly, especially in their final moments.
But why? The text continues, "So, the Holy One, blessed be He, says to the righteous, 'You are like me, perhaps you ask for more than me.'" As we find in Jeremiah 15:19, "If you return, then I will restore you— before Me you will stand. If you extract the precious from the worthless, you will become My spokesman. They for their part may turn to you, but as for you, do not turn to them."
This verse emphasizes the unique role of the righteous. They are God's spokespeople, capable of discerning the precious from the worthless. They stand before God, unwavering in their commitment.
The Midrash concludes with a powerful statement: "Just as I am the Creator of worlds and revive the dead, so are you." This isn't to say the righteous become God. Instead, it highlights the immense power and influence they wield, mirroring God's own ability to bring life and renewal into the world.
So, what does it all mean? Perhaps it's about the profound impact a life lived righteously can have, an impact that resonates even in death. Perhaps it’s about the potential we all have to emulate God’s qualities in our own lives. Maybe it's a reminder that even in our final moments, we have the power to inspire, to teach, and to leave a lasting legacy of goodness. And that, perhaps, is truly precious in the eyes of God.