The great King David felt that way too.
In Midrash Tehillim, a collection of rabbinic teachings on the Book of Psalms, we find a beautiful exploration of Psalm 119. It's all about seeking wisdom and understanding from God, and it starts with David's plea: "Teach me, O Lord, the way of Your statutes."
But what does that really mean?
The text points us to Proverbs, where Solomon, renowned for his wisdom, declares, "Happy is the man who finds wisdom, and the man who gains understanding." (Proverbs 3:13). He goes on and on about how amazing wisdom is! Better than silver, better than gold, more precious than rubies! (Proverbs 3:14-15).
Interestingly, the Midrash tells us that three figures specifically requested wisdom from God: David, Solomon, and the Messiah. David, of course, with his heartfelt cry, "Teach me, O Lord, the way of Your statutes." Solomon, in 2 Chronicles, asks directly for "wisdom and knowledge," (2 Chronicles 1:10) and God grants it to him. (2 Chronicles 1:12). And concerning the Messiah, Psalm 72 implores, "Give the king Your judgments, O God." (Psalm 72:1).
So, why does David ask to be taught? Isn't the wisdom already out there? David clarifies, "Don't tell me it's simply in front of me, easily accessible. No, teach me." He echoes this sentiment later in Psalm 119, saying, "Give me understanding, and I shall keep Your law; indeed, I shall observe it with my whole heart." (Psalm 119:73). It's not enough to just know the law; we need to understand it, to internalize it, to make it a part of who we are.
But there's more to it. What does "the way" even mean? The Midrash beautifully explains that it means to "make the Torah a way for me." It's about making Torah a path, a guide for our lives. And what about treasuring it with your whole heart? That sounds nice, right? But the Midrash dives deeper. It means that the Torah should be so ingrained in you that even when you set it aside, it’s like you’ve never stopped thinking about it.
The Midrash uses a powerful analogy: Imagine crafting a vessel for the king, pouring all your skill and effort into it. But then, it breaks in your hands right before you present it. All that work, seemingly for nothing. Similarly, if you engage with Torah and then simply set it aside, you risk losing that connection, that understanding.
The text then brings up Ahithophel as a cautionary tale. He was known for his wisdom, but what good did it ultimately do him? David, in contrast, prays to be taught and to treasure the Torah with his whole heart.
This echoes in Psalm 19: "Moreover by them Your servant is warned, and in keeping them there is great reward. Who can understand his errors? Cleanse me from secret faults." (Psalm 19:11-12). And again, in Psalm 119: "Great peace have those who love Your law, and nothing causes them to stumble." (Psalm 119:165).
So, what's the takeaway? It's not enough to passively receive wisdom. We need to actively seek it, internalize it, and make it a constant presence in our lives. We must constantly ask ourselves, "How can I make the Torah a way for me?" How can I apply these ancient teachings to my modern life, and how can I hold them close, always? Because true wisdom isn't just about knowing; it's about living.