That feeling resonates deeply within Jewish tradition, particularly in our prayers and meditations on justice, righteousness, and redemption. to a fascinating exploration of Psalm 119 through the lens of Midrash Tehillim, a collection of homiletic interpretations on the Book of Psalms.

The verse that sparks this particular midrash is Psalm 119:121: "I have done justice and righteousness; do not leave me to my oppressors." It's a cry for help, a plea for divine intervention after fulfilling one's obligations. But what does it really mean to "do justice and righteousness," and how does that connect to redemption?

The midrash draws a powerful connection between justice, righteousness, and the promise of redemption. The prophet Isaiah proclaimed, "Zion shall be redeemed with justice" (Isaiah 1:27). And God Himself, according to the midrash, said that if Israel does justice and righteousness, their redemption will come immediately. Furthermore, God promises to punish their enemies, echoing again, "Zion shall be redeemed with justice" (Isaiah 1:27), followed by a stark warning: "But transgressors and sinners shall be destroyed."

King David, the traditional author of Psalms, also chimes in, emphasizing the vital link: "They shall be redeemed with justice," and urging us to "Keep justice and do righteousness" (Psalm 119:121).

But here's where it gets really interesting. The midrash presents a vulnerability, a doubt. Israel, speaking collectively, laments that they haven't acted with the same assurance as their forefather Abraham, who had a divine guarantee: "For I have known him, that he will command his children" (Genesis 18:19). We, the people of Israel, made our guarantee – we’ve strived for justice and righteousness – so we ask God to make His. Guarantee the welfare of Your servant!

And what's this "guarantee" they're seeking? It's intensely personal: "That I will not descend into Gehenna (Hell); if you do not guarantee me, who will guarantee me?" It's a plea for ultimate salvation, a hope that righteousness will protect them from eternal damnation.

This idea of needing collateral, a guarantee of divine favor, is echoed by both Hezekiah and Job. Hezekiah, in his illness, cries out, comparing himself to a chirping bird, his eyes raised in supplication (Isaiah 38:14). Job, in his suffering, asks, "Please put up collateral for me with yourself; who is there that will shake hands with me?" (Job 17:3).

The midrash beautifully interprets Job's plea. If it were money, silver, gold, or even shoes, Job would offer them as collateral. But who can offer their soul? Who would give their soul for a friend? Who can put up collateral when you have nothing left to offer?

This brings us back to Psalm 119:122: "Pledge Yourself on behalf of Your servant for good." The meaning? That we will do God’s will, and in return, God will bring us good and protect us from the wicked. It's a reciprocal promise, a divine handshake.

The cry continues in Psalm 119:82: "My eyes fail from looking for Your salvation." To which God responds, referencing Isaiah 43:2-3, "When you walk through fire, you shall not be scorched… For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." And further, from Ezekiel 34:22, "I will save My flock." Save us, the Psalmist pleads, as You have promised!

But what if we don’t deserve it? What if we lack the good deeds, the merit? The midrash offers a comforting answer: "You have done kindness with us, as it is said, 'Do with Your servant according to Your kindness' (Psalm 119:124)." The first ones whom You redeemed were not redeemed through their own deeds, but through Your kindness. As Exodus 15:13 says, "You have led with Your kindness." Just as You did with the first ones, do with us. Therefore it is said, "Do with Your servant according to Your kindness."

It all comes down to this: sometimes, even when we strive for justice and righteousness, we need to rely on divine grace, on God's unwavering kindness. Redemption isn't always earned; sometimes, it's a gift. And that's a powerful thought to hold onto, especially when we feel lost and overwhelmed. It reminds us that even in our imperfections, we are worthy of love, compassion, and ultimately, redemption.